Resistance: The Umbra Chronicles Book 3

by Grace Martin

  Sooner or later, it wouldn’t be a lie. So, help me God.

  I went over to where Caradoc was badly burned and gave him enough power to heal him. I’d never had much healing power before, but it shone bright in me now. He looked up at me like I was the sunrise, like I was the only thing that brought light into his life. He reached up and pulled me down into an embrace. He held me tightly.

  I looked over at Lynnevet’s body, to Aoife’s body. One day I might tell him, but not today. The child now growing inside me would one day be ours. And maybe, now, we might have a future together. All of us.

  The library became a hospital. Oisin’s mother, Grainne, hurried away to fetch servants to become impromptu nurses. The Camiri, Wild Ones and family Ganainn turned to their fellows and offered what healing they could. I went to the tree in the centre of the room, Nimue.

  ‘Nimue, can you lift me up, please?’ I asked.

  She obliged, lowering her branches to form a sling I could stand in. I stepped into it, holding onto the supporting branch in front of me, and she raised me into the air.

  When I was high enough to see everyone at once, I kept hold of the branch with one hand, and reached the other out over the library. I could see the walking wounded, the critically ill and the dead. I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes. Inside me, I felt all the power of Ce’deira, there for my taking. I let the breath out, and let the healing power flow from my hand.

  I turned, so that I could reach everyone, and Nimue turned the sling beneath my foot to make it easier. A golden glow fell from my hand like a shower of sparks. People looked up and gasped. I smiled encouragingly and they stared in wonder.

  I couldn’t heal the dead. They remained where they were, but those who were within my power to save were healed. They sat up, astonished by the sudden withdrawal of pain. Wounds knitted themselves together, broken bones mended, everything short of re-attaching limbs. And there were those who had fewer limbs than they’d had this morning.

  They sent up a cheer. ‘Nimue, lower me, please,’ I muttered, embarrassed.

  My friends were there to receive me when I reached the ground again. Caradoc reached, unnecessarily, to steady me as I took my foot from the sling Nimue had made for me. I let him hold me, and it was nice to have someone to lean on.

  ‘I’d better go see to the people outside,’ I said. ‘There will be wounded out there, too.’

  As I moved towards the door, a small hand crept into mine. I felt like the bottom dropped out of the world.

  ‘Darling!’ I whispered, unable to help myself. David had pulled himself free of Gwydion, squirming until he was put down, and run to me.

  ‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘You’re the good girl.’

  Well, that deserved a hug. I held him so tight he squeaked. He pulled away. ‘Did you see that Uncle Gwydion is well again?’

  The last time he saw Gwydion was when Maldwyn slit his throat. Gwydion had died. I’d dug him a grave. But how do you explain that to a four-year-old? I didn’t even try. I just stroked the dark hair back from his face and smiled unevenly. ‘Yes, he is,’ I said. ‘And you, David, are you well again?’

  He nodded vigorously. ‘Can I help you make the people outside well again?’

  I embraced him fiercely, but briefly. ‘No, darling, I can manage. Why don’t you stay here with Uncle Gwydion?’ I wasn’t going to show him another battlefield. He’d seen enough. Grainne and her servants had returned and I heard their astonished cries when they realised there was no one in need of nursing in the room. They bent to the task of removing the bodies of those I had been unable to save.

  I went outside, glad I hadn’t brought David. It had been a slaughter. From the moans of pain, some had survived, but the grove was littered with bodies. I needed to be above them, to let the healing light fall on them.

  The shattered remnants of the bridge were still in place, held there by the watermaids. ‘Can you raise me up?’ I asked the river.

  The answer was an enthusiastic “yes.” I was cautious, since the last time I’d asked something of the watermaids, I’d ended up half-drowned and fully submerged. This time they simply raised the block of stone I was standing on until I was precariously balanced atop a waterspout.

  I opened my arms over the suffering and the dead in the grove and let the healing light fall upon them. The moans of pain that had filled grove turned to celebration. I asked the watermaids to lower the stone, so the survivors could join their fellows in the library. I crossed the bridge and stood on the grass so they could pass me.

  Caradoc came out of the library to stand beside me. His arm wrapped around my waist and my head bent onto his shoulder.

  The last person to cross the bridge was Cuchulainn.

  Caradoc didn’t even recognise him, which was funny. But then, I suppose Caradoc couldn’t know that in the future, after twenty years of suffering, his hair would turn white and his body grow thin from starvation in Aoife’s prison. There was no reason for him to suspect that the old warrior before us was himself.

  Who would even think of such a thing?

  Cuchulainn reached out and took my hand. He smiled warmly. It made him look younger. I tried not to quail when I noticed the massive tear in his shirt, reaching all the way from his left shoulder to his waist at his right.

  ‘How did you not die?’ I breathed.

  He didn’t even lose the grin. ‘I’m not ready to die, Bach Chwaer. I’ve learned how to wait. I knew you’d come.’

  I turned to Caradoc. This was going to be the most awkward introduction of my life. ‘Uh, Caradoc, meet Cuchulainn. He is a great Camiri warrior… like, um, like you.’

  Cuchulainn’s grin nearly split his head in two. Caradoc shook his hand. ‘Honoured to be introduced to you, sir.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve met,’ Cuchulainn said, eyes dancing. Dancing. Like he was happy, for the first time in decades. ‘But you were very young at the time.’

  ‘Did you know my parents, sir?’

  Cuchulainn turned grave. ‘I did, son. Ronan was a brave man. A good man. He would have been proud of you. He would have wanted you to find happiness with the woman you love. And you, Bach Chwaer, may every happiness be yours, with the man who loves you.’

  Oh. Warn me next time, Cuchulainn, before you break my heart.

  I leaned towards Caradoc, resting against the warm, curving muscles in his arm. ‘We will be happy,’ I said. ‘Promise.’

  Cuchulainn passed along the bridge and into the fortress, going towards the library. Caradoc and I went to free Aine. I didn’t know if he could hear the trees whispering, ‘Umbra, Umbra,’ because he gave no sign. He held my hand. Halfway through the grove, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder behind us, then to either side.

  ‘Do you reckon we’re alone?’ he asked.

  ‘As alone as it’s possible to be in Ce’deira,’ I said. It was going to take a while to tell him that the whole place was haunted. It would take a while to convince him that the ghosts here were on our side, but I would need to find a way to tell him because I’d need his help freeing the forestmaids and the watermaids.

  ‘Good,’ he muttered, swept me into his arms and kissed me senseless.

  We didn’t waste another moment and I felt like I was alive. I loved him. How I loved him! And right now, we were alone and in each other’s arms and all we breathed and tasted was each other.

  It was quite a while before I thought about Aine again.

  The tree relinquished her willingly and the three of us walked back to the fortress. My fortress.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That night we celebrated. The Wild Ones sang for us and Oisin’s mother, Grainne, produced a harp. Oisin sat very close to his mother. Niamh sat very close to him. And Caradoc? Caradoc sat very close to me. David was in my lap and stayed there.

  We celebrated in the banquet hall, where Kings and heroes had been entertained since Umbra first build the fortress. Grainne organised the feast with what was left in the pantries fr
om Darragh’s time.

  It wasn’t much. But then, I wasn’t used to much anyway, and there was enough. We had bread and cheese, with cold chicken and cured meats. There was a lot of us to feed. I sat in the centre of the high table, uncomfortable with all the attention, but I could hardly refuse. David sat to one side of me and Caradoc on the other. Caradoc had gallantly offered Aine or Gwydion, as the heirs of the Dark King, the seat to my right, but they’d seen some of my memories of him and graciously declined.

  Aine sat beside Caradoc while Rhiannon sat on her other side and refused to speak a word to her. Sparrow sat very quiet and small between Rhiannon and Grainne. Rhiannon was gentle with my little Sparrow. She watched how my little bird moved food around her plate and made sure that some of the food made its way into Sparrow’s mouth.

  At the other end of the table, Oisin had Grainne on his left and Niamh on his right. It was a wonder any of them could eat, since they touched hands so often. Cuchulainn was beside Niamh, the sister he hadn’t seen for twenty years or more, and didn’t speak a word to tell her who he was. He clearly had decided that he was Cuchulainn now. He still loved Caradoc’s loves, but he didn’t need to hold them to love them.

  After the meal, there was dancing. Rhiannon and Sparrow were among the first on the floor, showing us all how it was done. They moved well together, both graceful and sure. Caradoc stood up and reached out to me with a hand that trembled slightly.

  ‘Will you do me the honour of a dance?’ he asked.

  I put my hand into his right away. We’d danced together once before, at the ball after Aine’s sham wedding to the walking piece of excrement known as Sir Cai. I’d worn a silk gown then, hardly the equal of the well-worn leather I had on now. The look in Caradoc’s eyes, though. It made me feel like I was sitting there naked as he visually stripped every garment from my body.

  Dancing with him, oh, my. It wasn’t even the same as it had been the last time we’d danced. Then we’d had to observe a certain propriety because the Empress, Lynnevet, had insisted that Caradoc stay away from me. The poor woman.

  I mean, for an evil Empress, she was a poor woman. She’d been traumatised when she was a child and it sounded like her husband was no better than the man who had abused us. It had been clear that she didn’t understand the thrill I felt when Caradoc touched my skin.

  The Empress was Lynnevet, who had been my Sparrow. And from the way Rhiannon was leaning into Sparrow’s arms as they danced, Sparrow was never going to find out what it was like to be with someone who didn’t love her. There was real happiness in her future. I could see it from here.

  Maybe my hands shook a little, too, as we reached the floor in the centre of the hall and Caradoc drew me into his arms. He didn’t bother holding my right hand, just slid both hands around my waist and coaxed me close to him. By the time our bodies touched, I was shaking all over.

  The crowd of dancers moved around us and we were practically invisible. It was obvious that neither of us was a skilled dancer, but I let myself melt against him. He leaned his head forward, so he could whisper in my ear how much he loved me. My arms tightened around his neck and I buried my face against him.

  That night, Caradoc and I went upstairs together. Grainne had organised rooms for everyone, giving me the room that had been Umbra’s. It was high in a tower, with a view of the forest, the river and the sea. There was a balcony, where the moonlight now shone. I’d gone out there earlier, to taste the salt tang of the sea.

  I wasn’t so much concerned with the view now. Well, not the view of the forest.

  I felt so nervous, though. When Caradoc closed the door behind him and turned the key, I found myself puttering around the room like we didn’t have housemaids or something. I hurried to the balcony doors and pulled the drapes, the fabric tangling in my fingers in my clumsiness.

  He came up beside me. Always considerate. He could have come up behind me, and it would have been romantic if he had, but he knew I liked to see people coming. His hand curved around my shoulder, smoothing it through the fabric as though he was smoothing flesh. My breath came faster.

  ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about,’ he murmured. ‘You know me, Emer. You trust me, don’t you?’

  I nodded. Then said, my tongue too thick in my mouth as I examined the drapes with unnecessary vigour, ‘Yes.’

  His hand curved around my shoulder and his other hand came up to cover my other shoulder and turn me towards him. Encircled by him, I looked up.

  Oh, that dear face. He was thinner than before, more haggard. My heart hurt to realise that the days he’d suffered in the dark were the first days that had turned Cuchulainn into an old man. My hands went up to caress his cheeks. He’d taken time to shave before the celebration, and the skin was smooth.

  ‘Oh, Caradoc, I love you,’ I whispered.

  His head came down so his lips could brush mine. I rose onto my toes, chasing the contact. I held his face between my palms as he worshipped my lips with his own. Oh, this was love. This was love. This was everything I had ever wanted, right here between my palms, as we loved each other.

  I pulled away suddenly at the thought of Andras, who had loved me too. I felt wretched. I had to tell him. I had to. Caradoc’s hands were still gentle on my shoulders. ‘What is it, Emer?’

  I couldn’t face him as I said it. My hands slipped from his cheeks and came to rest on his shirt. ‘Caradoc – I’m so sorry. When I was away from you… there was someone else. I was… I was intimate with someone else. With another man.’

  I didn’t dare meet his eyes, but I had a perfect view of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down. A perfect view of his chest as it rose on a deep breath. ‘Would you rather be with him tonight?’

  I flew towards him, hitting his body with a thud as I wrapped my arms tight around his middle. ‘Oh, no, Caradoc, this is where I’ve always wanted to be! I want to be with you!’

  His voice was rough. ‘Do you love him?’

  I held onto him tightly. His hands were still on my shoulders and I was so afraid he was going to use them to push me away. I thought of crying, No! but that wouldn’t be honest. So, I said, ‘I cared for him. He was a good man. He loved me. I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never love anyone again, and maybe caring was enough, but it wasn’t. I longed for you. I never stopped loving you.’

  A tremor ran through him and he did what I’d feared – used those big, gentle hands to pull me away from him. Not as far as I was dreading, just enough so that he could meet my eyes.

  His voice was still gravelly when he said, ‘Then I don’t care. If you love me, that’s all I want in the world. And if you found comfort with someone else… well, I understand.’

  ‘How could you possibly?’

  His face was tortured. ‘Do you think I never thought that might happen? I thought I’d die in that prison in Rheged. I thought I’d die along the road to Ce’deira. I hoped that you’d find love again. I dreamed long, painful days and nights, holding onto the hope that even if I died, you could be happy. I wanted you to find someone else. And if you found someone who loved you, that’s as much as I ever asked from the world.’

  ‘Aren’t you…’ I should probably shut up, but that was never my superpower, ‘jealous?’

  He shook his head, but it was as though he was batting away the thought instead of disagreeing. ‘Maybe. But how could I ask you for faithfulness after I was dead? I was as good as dead in those dungeons. I want you to be happy, Emer.’ One hand rose from my shoulder to cup my cheek. ‘If I can be happy with you… that seems like more happiness than I can ask for.’ His voice lowered, but that rough tone was gone. ‘So much happiness can’t be real.’

  I rested my cheek in his hand. ‘Right now, I’ve never been so happy in my life. Not ever.’ I closed my eyes to savour the sensations. At once, I was even more conscious of how close we were, how my hands still rested on the firm muscle at his waist, how the fading calluses on his hands were a light abrasion against my chee
k and the fabric covering my shoulder. I wanted to be skin to skin with this man. I wanted to be even closer. ‘I love you, Caradoc, with all my heart.’

  ‘I love you, Emer!’ It was a cry, a breathless shout before his lips met mine and his arms finally, finally, swept around me to crush me against him. One arm went behind my head to hold my head in place for his kiss, the other around my waist to pin my body against his. I was anchored against him and I felt like the world had finally stopped spinning, like I’d never realised until that moment what stillness was.

  I opened my mouth for him, inviting him in, and he swept past every barrier. I plastered myself against him, offering him everything.

  He took what I offered, but he gave me all he had in return.

  We nearly didn’t make it to the bed. I was experienced enough now to know that our first time together nearly took place up against the balcony doors, tangled in the drapes. I met his passion with my own. There was no fear, no troubled thoughts or memories. There was just this moment, just this man, just the touch of his skin against mine, his mouth, his hands.

  Every touch was a revelation. I thought I’d known love before. I hadn’t. This was love, giving and taking, utter surrender. He was so big, so strong, demanding and passionate. I was consumed by him.

  When we joined, devastatingly gentle, I gasped into his skin, pulling him close to me. He lowered himself, sliding an arm under my back, bracing himself on his other arm, until his body covered the length of mine. My legs rose to encircle his hips, to draw him even closer, until he reached the deepest part of me. I was filled utterly by him. Our mouths sought for each other and we moaned together, his deeper voice covering my piercing cry as he began to move.

  There was nothing like it, no passion to match love like this. I burned like an ember in his arms, growing brighter and brighter, until we both caught fire. We cried out together and I was lost to everything but him.