Resistance: The Umbra Chronicles Book 3

by Grace Martin

  ‘That wasn’t my daughter, Emer. That wasn’t my Rhiannon. My daughter is one of Umbra’s heirs. She will look just like you. Rhiannon doesn’t look like you, not even under those tattoos. She is taller, slimmer, different eyes, different hairline. There is no possible way that she is my child. I don’t know what lies Aoife told her, but Aoife telling lies doesn’t surprise me. That poor girl. But she isn’t my girl.’

  I hadn’t seen it. I hadn’t even looked for it. But it was true. Rhiannon was taller. Her hair was different. Poor Rhiannon indeed. ‘Then what happened to your daughter?’

  Aine’s face was remote, resolute, even, in the shadows of the room. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘She is in Caillen with her father. And soon, Caillen will be destroyed.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Back in my room, I indulged myself. I buried my face in the pillow, cried my eyes out and went to sleep. Just a little sleep, I told myself. I needed my rest for the journey ahead.

  And then, in the morning, when I had the luxury of rising after dawn, when the sunlight was spilling across my comfortable bed with its sumptuous linens, I went to breakfast with the others. I need to eat, after all, I told myself. I needed sustenance for the journey ahead.

  Breakfast was held in the same room where we’d eaten yesterday — no, the day before yesterday. Yesterday, I was in prison. They were all sitting around the table when I entered the small dining room followed by my guard, whose name I didn’t even know. They looked up when I entered. Aine got to her feet and came to greet me.

  She halted, just within reach but not touching me. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  I was new to small talk. It’s awkward, isn’t it? ‘Yes. Thank you.’ I looked around. ‘Am I allowed to eat here with you today?’

  Aine’s lip twisted in mute acknowledgement of why I had to ask and why my voice was so small. ‘You’re our family,’ she said. ‘You’re always welcome. Please. Come sit down.’

  Of course, I was always welcome. That’s why breakfast yesterday was in prison. With a history like that, I shouldn’t even have to ask.

  Gwydion rose as I approached and pulled out my chair. A bit different from last time when he refused to sit at the table with people he deemed “traitors.” Andras rose to his feet as I drew near, out of courtesy. I tried to catch his eye, to say something about the difference in Gwydion’s behaviour but Andras’s head was bowed and he didn’t look up. Was he upset because I’d turned him away last night?

  The King’s chair scraped a little as he rose. I jumped a little nervously at the sound. I wasn’t ready for this kind of courtesy. Was it even proper for a King to show me this kind of courtesy? I felt hopelessly confused, hopelessly out of my depth and wished I’d just flown right out of the window at dawn and foraged something on the way. If I’d had any idea where I was going, I think I might have gone out of the window there and then.

  ‘I’m glad you decided to join us this morning, Emer,’ the King said. ‘Each of us wanted the opportunity to apologise to you for the way we treated you, the last time you sat at this table.’

  ‘She still in prison?’ I asked. Gwydion slid the chair in behind me as I sat.

  ‘Under lock and key and magic shield,’ the King replied. He made a gesture to the footman, who started to bring the food around… starting with me.

  ‘You don’t have to serve me first,’ I said. ‘Please, I… I feel so self-conscious.’ And awkward as hell, but I didn’t need to vocalise that for it to be obvious.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Aine said. ‘We’ve had enough additions to this family lately that it’s going to become a tradition.’ I was not ready for her grin. ‘Whenever we have a new addition to the family, they have the honour of being served first.’ She flashed that grin to the King. ‘Father did it for me.’

  Her smile fixed itself a little. I knew that feeling. She was uncomfortable, but was going to plough ahead regardless. ‘We did it for Saoirse. And now we’re doing it for you. So just enjoy it. And look forward to the next person to join our family.’ She reached out for my hand over the top of the table. She’d done that the last time we had breakfast together. It felt like today was making up for everything that happened that time. ‘Maybe the next person to join our table will be Rhiannon.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘Maybe the next person to join our table will be David.’

  Aine let go of my hand and I served myself from the plate the footman was holding, standing patiently on my left. The King was served next. ‘It would be nice to have children in the family again. I missed so many childhoods — my two girls, you and your sister, Emer, David, Rhiannon. It would give me the greatest joy of my old age to have all my family together again.’

  Andras had asked what would make me happy. I rather liked the picture the King was painting. But in order for that to happen, I had to stop Aoife getting to Ce’deira first.

  Gwydion was managing to eat without stuffing himself this morning. He was much more appealing when he wasn’t using his fork as a shovel. ‘So, Emer, when were you planning on making a run to Ce’deira?’

  I managed not to choke. I think this was a win. ‘Um, what do you mean?’ How anyone believed me when I lied was beyond me. I was clearly not skilled in the art.

  ‘I mean you’re going to run away, right?’ He winked at me, the devil. Not many men seem to know what a wink will do to a woman, but Gwydion did. I was instantly disarmed.

  ‘Why would I, um, run away? I mean, the army is getting together…’ There was probably a technical term for that. They probably didn’t call the assembly of an army a “get together” but whatever.

  ‘They won’t be able to move fast enough,’ Andras said, finally looking up at me. His gaze lingered on me, my eyes, my hair, my neck; he almost seemed to have to tear his eyes away from me.

  ‘And you couldn’t possibly do it on your own,’ Oisin added. I hadn’t even seen him there, sitting on the window-seat, half concealed by the curtains, half concealed by his very stillness. ‘Ce’deira might be on the map, but there are so many wards around the fortress that only someone who knows the land could pass.’

  ‘That would be you, would it?’

  Oisin simply bowed, a roguish grin gracing his lean features, and turned his attention back out the window.

  ‘I, of course, will protect you,’ Andras said.

  I raised an eyebrow. Just one. ‘Protect me?’ I asked. ‘Is this journey likely to be fraught with magical danger, or will I be in danger of being coshed in the head?’

  ‘I’ll be around to stop you being coshed in the head.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve got to be good for something.’

  ‘Andras is good at healing,’ Gwydion said. ‘He can heal you after your magical battles. And I’ll need to go as well. In my… shall we say, secret journeys?… in the area around Ce’deira, I have learned much that will be of use to you.’ He shrugged. It was like they passed the shrug around the room, from person to person.

  ‘Alas, I will not be going with you,’ the King said. ‘Aine and I will remain here in Ce’Branna.’

  ‘The hell I will!’ Aine cried.

  The King’s eyebrows went up.

  ‘No, Father, I’m not staying here while Emer goes into danger. I’m not. I’m sorry.’

  ‘But you couldn’t protect yourself! You wouldn’t be safe! My dear, reconsider.’

  ‘No, Father. I’ve been learning how to defend myself ever since I arrived here in Ce’Branna. You can ask Mihall. He’s been training me. And I can defend myself magically, too. I’m strong enough to make a difference. I have to go.’ Her eyes locked with mine. ‘She’s my daughter. I need to know that she’s safe. And she’s my friend. Friends don’t walk alone in the darkness. I will always be there for her.’

  Well, that hit me right in the heart. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even swallow and pretend that I was still eating to hide my emotion. Gwydion’s hand covered mine where it rested on the table
as I struggled to hold back tears.

  It turned out that Gwydion had it all arranged. He’d even had Aine go to talk to Sparrow and Rhiannon to see if they were coming with us. Aine’s face was unreadable as she told me that both my sisters, neither of whom were my sisters at all, as it turned out, were coming with us. They were currently staying with Rhiannon’s friends in the city. They would join us at the palace shortly.

  We were to leave right after breakfast. There was me, Aine, Sparrow and Rhiannon, Oisin, Andras and Gwydion. Call me superstitious, but it seemed significant that there were seven of us. It was a magical number, a good luck number. We needed all the luck we could muster.

  The King bade us all a tearful goodbye. I watched him embrace Gwydion, and Aine, and was surprised that he went to me afterwards. ‘May I?’ he asked, holding out his arms. I allowed it, and it was warmer, sweeter than I’d realised, to receive an embrace from someone who cared about me. ‘Come back to us, Emer, and we will have bright days in our future,’ he said, his hands still on my shoulders.

  There was one thing I wanted to know, though. I probably had no right to the information and would understand if the King refused to tell me, but I had to ask. Aine would want to know, and she would never be so impertinent.

  ‘Grandfather, can you tell me what happened the night Aine and Aoife were born?’

  One side of his lip pulled. ‘Such a night, granddaughter. Such a tragedy. That woman today assumed it was murder and false accusations that made the memory of that night indelible. In fact, it was simply a tragedy.

  ‘My wife died in childbirth. I was jealous of her friendship with Lynnevet and I refused for Lynnevet to attend the birth. I was unable to heal Saoirse when she wouldn’t stop bleeding. When Lynnevet learned Saoirse died, she accused me of killing her. That much was true. I hadn’t realised that Lynnevet had a great power to heal. She might have saved Saoirse.’

  ‘And then what happened? Why did you leave Rheged? Why didn’t you stay to look after your babies?’

  The King’s gaze went far beyond me, far beyond the road that led through the city. ‘Because I felt I was guilty. My jealousy killed my wife. If I had called for Lynnevet, Saoirse might be alive today. I could never forgive myself for that. So, I fled. I came back to Camaria, where I was born. I married the girl my parents had long picked out for me. Eventually, Gwydion was born. Lynnevet made sure that it was impossible for me to ever enter Meistria again. She recommenced old feuds, reignited old arguments. Within a twelvemonth, we were at war again.

  ‘But think not on these things, granddaughter. Think of the great task ahead of you, and the great future that may lie beyond it.’ He tried to smile through the threatening tears. ‘You seemed so keen on my library. Come back to us and I will create for you a library of your very own. Would you like that?’

  Books of my own? Absolutely.

  As we prepared, Andras tried to hurry past me without making eye contact, but I caught his arm and forced him to look at me. ‘Andras, I understand I have you to thank for finding the evidence against Saoirse. How did you manage to find the soldiers? I thought you were sleeping.’

  ‘I was. I woke up and you were gone. I went to Gwydion to see if he could scry for you, but he couldn’t locate you. We didn’t want to alert everyone, so we went out to look for you alone.’

  ‘Alone — together,’ I corrected. Andras surprised me with the sudden flush that ran along his sharp cheekbones. What had happened between him and Gwydion to cause that flush? Was that why he wouldn’t meet my eyes?

  ‘We were hoping to find the dragon rider,’ he said. ‘He could have given us valuable intelligence.’

  ‘Kiaran,’ I muttered. ‘That son of a bitch wouldn’t voluntarily give intelligence unless he thought he’d get something out of it.’

  ‘Kiaran?’ he repeated, finally looking at me directly. ‘That’s my son’s name.’

  I stared back at him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said eventually. But it was obvious. Both tall, both well built, both darkly handsome, there had to be a relation. And if Andras’s son was named Kiaran, it was pretty clear they were the same person. ‘It’s a co-incidence. It’s a common name. I’ve… um… got to go talk to Gwydion.’

  I went to Gwydion and pulled him aside.

  ‘I want to thank you for organising all this,’ I said. ‘You don’t know what it means to me.’

  ‘I was in your head, Emer. I know exactly what this means to you.’

  Awkward. ‘Still, I wanted to thank you. I know it can’t have been easy, changing your mind about Saoirse. It’s not easy to change your mind.’

  All of a sudden, he was very, very busy. He moved away to check the backpacks, opening one and rifling through it. I followed him because I’ve seen that tactic before. ‘You did change your mind about me, didn’t you?’

  He put down a packet of sultanas, wrapped carefully in waxed paper. ‘Actually, no, Emer, I didn’t change my mind.’

  I felt like he took all the air out of the room. ‘You mean…’

  ‘No. I mean I never believed her.’

  I stared at him. ‘That can’t be true. You were on her side. You…’ I put my hand up to cover my cheek, like I’d just been struck. ‘You nearly hit me, you were so mad with me.’

  He tried moving things around in the backpack again and only succeeded in bursting the packet of sultanas. They went everywhere. Now at least, he had something to do. Eventually, he sighed and stopped. ‘That was a farce, Emer. It wasn’t real. I believed you. Of course, I believed you! Do you think I don’t know you well enough by now to know that you wouldn’t do the things she said? But I had no choice. Father believed her. Believed her implicitly. If I’d disagreed with him, he would never have listened to me. He had to see the consequences of believing a stranger over his own family. So, he had to see me raise my hand to you. He had to see me be abominably rude at breakfast. He had to see me agreeing to put his own granddaughter in prison because a stranger said she might run away. By seeing those things he could judge them to be wrong without judging himself.’

  ‘How could you know I was telling the truth?’

  ‘How could I not?’ He started to empty out the pack again in search of sultanas. ‘Do you think that when I went to Rheged was the first time I ever acted as a spy? I don’t like it, but I’m good at it. I know what you did in Rheged. I know what you did in the Halls of Youth. I know what you did in Am Dien yesterday. Someone who can defend others like that, at the risk of their own life, isn’t selfish. So, Saoirse had to be lying, because I knew that you were telling the truth.’

  ‘Andras said much the same thing,’ I mused. ‘He had to believe me, because both our stories couldn’t be true, and as much as he didn’t like mine, her story was less believable.’

  ‘He cares deeply for you.’ He sighed again and set the backpack down, turning to lean against the edge of the table. ‘Do you love him?’

  I turned and leaned back against the table so we were side to side and I didn’t have to see those piercing grey eyes. ‘I love Caradoc,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  He nodded, like he already knew. He’d been in my mind. He probably did. ‘Andras loves you enough to stay with you, regardless. You could have a family with him, make a life with him. He would be faithful to you. He would do his best to make you happy. He would give you everything in his power to give. You could be happy together.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘No. I only want to be happy with Caradoc.’

  He straightened up and came to stand in front of me. ‘I’m so sorry, Emer. I wish I could change this for you. I saw inside your mind. It’s full of Caradoc. Andras will be here when you’re ready, though. He cares for you. You just need to be patient. I believe that you could fall in love with him if you wanted to.’

  My voice was very, very small. ‘I don’t want to. I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else.’

  Gwydion looked unhappy. ‘Then you need to tell him, Emer. You can
’t let him live between dreams forever.’

  ‘I know. I know.’

  Sparrow refused to talk to me and Rhiannon just did what she was told, so they didn’t delay our departure even by as long as it would take to make introductions.

  One last person I made sure I had a word with before we left was Oisin. I gestured to all the preparations that had been made. ‘None of this means that we’re abandoning Niamh’ I said. ‘We’re going to save her. I promised you and I meant it.’

  He shouldered his backpack. ‘I know that. Aside from anything else, it’s because she’s being held at our destination. Niamh is held in the fortress of Ce’deira.’

  ‘Isn’t that co-incidental?’

  ‘Not as co-incidental as you might think. Master Darragh was my father. He took her to Ce’deira to taunt me. Excuse me. I have to ask someone a question.’

  He left me with that explosive message and went to talk to Gwydion.

  We travelled as birds and our pace was dizzyingly fast as we flew to the south-eastern shore of the Thousand Counties. Our backpacks and clothes transformed with us. We would still have them when we stopped for the night and resumed our own forms. Even in our bird forms, it would take us several days to make the journey.

  Even this far from Rheged, Aoife’s troops had already caused damage. We saw it again and again as we flew over the countryside: village after village burned to the ground. Outside a hollow mountain, people had left clothes to dry on the ground, the only sign of occupation. They were starting to live in hives.

  We saw refugees, battered and bereaved on the road, carrying their possessions on their backs, or pulling them in small carts, harried by Aoife’s troops. Whole villages were burned to the ground, nothing more than a sooty streak on the landscape, if you didn’t look too closely.