The Brehon held up a second finger. The room grew so silent I could hear my ragged breathing.
The fear didn’t help. I hadn’t known it would hurt so badly. I longed to put something in my mouth to keep from screaming, but I couldn’t. Those watching would guess that I could speak.
I glanced up at the Ri, and he held my gaze as if that alone could give me the strength I needed.
Three more.
I pulled in a deep breath, distracting myself by wondering where Moyle would hit again. Low on the left side, close enough to the ribs he’d just bruised, but in a new enough spot to spread the pain.
A shout and the whistle of the cane cutting through the air.
I’d guessed aright: the blow fell low on my left. I smiled as the white rolled across my vision. He was so predictable—
A breath later, another blow fell across my shoulder blades. I felt my skin split. The pain pounded my back with every heartbeat, as if the pulse beat at me from the inside. The only coolness was on my left cheek.
I’d fallen on my side, face on the cool cobblestones, mouth open as I dragged air inside me. But it hurt to breathe, too, hurt so much that I wondered if I could bear it.
I looked at the Ri, fury and pity warring in his face . . . at the Advocate with his four fingers held up.
There was only one more.
One more.
The pain made the dream so much closer. Once more I held the cudgel in my hands, wood smooth against my palms as I neared the man who watched the black swans fall from the sky. I wouldn’t let him hurt my brothers. I wouldn’t let him dishonor or imprison me when I was so close to finishing the tunics.
One more blow and I would unravel Moyle in front of these people.
I pressed my palms to the cool stones and pushed myself upright, panting around the pain, wincing as my dress clung to the blood on my back.
I turned my head, even though the white light burned the edges of my vision, and stared at Moyle. He was sweating from the effort of the blows, face flushed. If I were younger, I’d have made the gesture Cadan was so fond of. But I didn’t have to anymore.
I met his glare.
I wanted him to know he would lose. I wanted him to see I knew how small he was inside and that his whole community knew it too.
I saw the moment he understood. His eyes widened, his shoulder rose as he drew back his arm—
I looked away. He was cowardly enough to try to break my jaw.
The cane landed between my shoulders, near the base of my neck. The white light engulfed me one last time, darkness dancing between it like night sky behind a fire, and the room disappeared.
In my dream, I saw the black swans’ wings catch the air beneath them. My brothers flew away.
I had won.
“Five!” thundered the Ri.
Then Ionwyn was kneeling in front of me, holding my hands, keeping me from falling.
“You did it, Wyn!” She wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Can you stand?”
My body seemed distant from me, trembling and broken. But I nodded. I wouldn’t be carried from the room. I pulled in as deep a breath as I dared, looking around. Moyle was being dragged away, his face slack with losing. Connach looked shattered.
And the cane lay beside me where Moyle had dropped it.
I curled my fingers around it. How could such a small movement hurt so much?
Then, leaning on Ionwyn, I stood. The white light flickered for a moment, and I swayed. But I didn’t fall. I didn’t drop the cane.
I limped toward the Ri and the Advocate, Ionwyn supporting me. The room quieted with each step until I stood before the Ri.
I pressed my free hand to my heart, my only way of thanking him.
I saw that he understood, as if I’d been signing to him for years.
Then I turned to Finn, who stood beside the Ri, and handed him the cane.
“My lady.” Finn took the cane in his huge hands and nodded at Moyle. “I’ll put this to good use.”
My eyes filled. It had been so many years since I’d been called a lady.
“Tend to her, Ionwyn,” said the Ri.
Ionwyn supported me as I walked from the room. As I passed the chiefs, I saw that I would never have to stand trial before them again. Some had eyes bright from tears they would not shed. Others nodded as I passed. None looked at me coldly.
I’d earned a place for Carrick and me among the Eyre.
If I chose to claim it.
Chapter 43
I woke to a dark room. Carrick had been given to a different caretaker for the night, and I hadn’t protested. I could barely move, let alone care for him, and I didn’t want my injuries to frighten him.
The pain had settled to a dull red color, only flaring to white when I tried to move. The nurses had insisted I sleep on my stomach, and the pain pinned me there.
I couldn’t feel the Kingstone. Where was it?
Finally I saw the pale smudge of gray on the low table beside my bed.
I pulled in several deep breaths to smooth out the pain. One of the maids who had bandaged my ribs remained in the room—and so did Ionwyn. Her mouth was settled in a firm line while she slept, as if she was guarding me even in her dreams.
I still didn’t feel safe.
Then I realized that I’d hoped the Ri would be there when I opened my eyes.
Don’t be a little fool. I turned my face back into the blankets, wincing at each breath.
I’ve earned it. For one night, I’ll let myself be a fool. With the darkness pressing in, I closed my eyes and imagined I rested beside the Ri, my back not against a tree or stone, but him. I imagined he held me close enough that the pain didn’t matter anymore.
* * *
“How do you feel this morning?” Ionwyn asked when I next opened my eyes.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to see where the pain lay. I felt brittle as a brown leaf, cracked in a million places. But I would heal.
I smiled.
“Good,” she said. She watched as the maid smoothed more salve over the cuts on my back and rewrapped the bandages around my ribs.
When they’d fed me and left, Ionwyn sat on the floor beside the bed, her face level with mine. “Wyn, I must ask you something.”
I nodded, worried. Had something happened to Carrick?
She spoke slowly, as if feeling her way along a path. “Your lips moved in your sleep last night. You could speak once, couldn’t you?”
The question drove the breath from me.
She didn’t stop. “And the women last night, they said that Carrick couldn’t be your son.”
Anger and fear burned bright in me. I wouldn’t fail Tanwen by losing her son. I balled a hand into a fist and held it against my heart. He is mine!
Ionwyn didn’t look triumphant. Just determined. Perhaps a little sad. “You don’t have the body of a woman who has borne and suckled a child.”
I wouldn’t let them take him!
I pushed myself up, shrugging away her attempts to help. And then the pain from my back and ribs was so great that I sat hunched there, unable to sit or lie back down again.
“Lie down,” said Ionwyn. “Nothing will happen to you or Carrick.”
I put my hand on my chest again, pressing it to me, as if it could touch my heart. He’s mine. Carrick was the child of my heart if not my body. I wouldn’t fail Tanwen by losing her son.
“I know you love him,” whispered Ionwyn. “Come. Let me help you lie down.”
I let her help me, even though I hated how much I needed her assistance. Then I turned my face away from her.
I heard her sit beside the bed again.
I expected her to push for answers that I couldn’t give. But she waited until I grew calm.
Finally she spoke, her voice low. “You frightened me the first time I saw you. You were a wisp of a thing, this Otherworldly lass Corbin had brought from the forest.” She paused, a laugh in her voice. “I know it sounds foolish.”
I re
membered our fear when Father brought the Queen from the forest—I couldn’t blame Ionwyn for hers. Whether I liked it or not, I’d brought some of the Queen’s evil with me.
I heard her dress rustle again as she settled her skirt around her. “In every tale, there is a sentence or word where the story turns—earth and sky trading places. A good bard knows that place in her soul. She may not discover it until she tells the tale a hundred times. But once she knows the turning point, she tells the story with even more power and wisdom.”
She paused, as if hoping I’d face her.
I didn’t, though sadness crept over me. Another time, Ionwyn and I might’ve been friends. But I couldn’t let her into this story. Tanwen had become part of this story, and she had died.
Please, I thought. Leave us in peace. Leave us alone.
“You are that turning point, Wyn. I knew it the moment I saw you.”
Father. My swan-brothers. Tanwen. I had changed the story for so many lives, and none of them was the better for it.
She sighed, as if she knew I wouldn’t face her.
“Corbin has given so much for his people. After his father lost everything, Corbin paid everything to reclaim it.”
She put a hand on my shoulder, so very lightly.
This is when she tells us to go, I thought, just as I’d predicted where Moyle’s blows would fall. She was worried I’d hurt the Ri somehow. I couldn’t fault her for it. Connach had used me to challenge the Ri.
But while I waited for her to tell me to go, I realized how much I wanted to stay.
“I worried for Corbin until yesterday. You turned the story. In one action, you disgraced a family that has challenged Corbin ever since he first wore the crown. I’m convinced you’re supposed to be here. You were meant to step into our story, Wyn. And I think—I hope—that you will turn it in a way we never could have imagined. It’s already begun. I’m glad Corbin brought you here.”
The words were balm, soothing heart-wounds I’d borne for years.
I turned to face her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
I’d been so many people: princess, swan-keeper, prey, wild girl from the forest. I tapped my chest with a finger. Myself. I am myself.
“Will you tell me why you’re here?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“But you could speak before?”
It was such a small question! If someone had found out last night . . . but I would trust her with it.
I nodded.
She raised her eyebrows. “So you could have cried out?”
I nodded.
She laughed. “Oh, it would break Moyle to know that! He cried like a child after Finn’s third blow.” She shook her head. “Finn was as angry as I’ve ever seen him, and so was Corbin. But then, so was Moyle.”
She smiled. “Do you know what it means to be Ri here?”
I shook my head.
“It means that you protect your own. More than anything. Above anything. You act like a queen. Carrick is your own. And yesterday, you acted as if we were your own. You protected Corbin too.”
Ionwyn’s praise left me breathless.
“You have many secrets, and I won’t demand that you share them. Not after yesterday. But I insist on this: if one of them threatens us, you must tell me.”
I will.
“We have an understanding.” She raised an eyebrow. “Rest well, Wyn. This afternoon, you will walk out with me.”
Chapter 44
Ionwyn and I walked near the castle that afternoon. No one looked at me askance. No whispers followed me.
“Wyn!” A patter of feet against stones, and Carrick wrapped himself around my knees.
He’d have knocked me over if Ionwyn hadn’t steadied me.
How I’d missed him beside me last night! I signed Carrick’s name, and he held his arms up to be held. I gingerly knelt down to be closer to him.
His arms wrapped around me before I’d lowered myself to the ground, and once more, Ionwyn’s hand kept me from falling. I smiled my thanks up at her.
It wasn’t Ionwyn.
It was the Ri, and he kept his hand on my shoulder. I ducked my head quickly, blushing that I’d let myself dream of sleeping beside him the night before. But Carrick didn’t care about blushes or smiles. He burbled on in his mix of new words and signs, and I savored the sight of him. His cheeks were fuller, his arms almost chubby. He’d been such a skinny child ever since Tanwen died.
I pulled him close and kissed his cheeks until he squirmed free and trotted off to collect a stick. Ionwyn helped me stand.
I dipped my head in acknowledgment to the Ri.
“Good afternoon to you, Lady Wyn,” he said.
I looked up, startled.
“The ‘Lady’ surprises you?” he asked.
I nodded.
“It suits you,” he said.
I stared at him. He’d seen me burst from the forest like a wild animal. I’d let everyone in Fianna think I was deaf and mad, more a creature of the forest than a girl who merely lived there. And yet the Ri called me Lady—as if I was still in Lacharra, with my servants and finery around me.
For a moment, I felt as if he’d given my kingdom back to me. I straightened, despite the pain in my ribs, and stood as if I wore a crown once more. I could see the Ri knew, somehow, what his words meant to me.
Carrick tugged at my skirt, and I looked down, grateful for a reason to turn away.
Up, signed Carrick, a stick clutched in his grimy hand.
I shook my head. I wouldn’t be able to hold him till I healed.
“Here,” said the Ri, and he swung Carrick up onto his shoulders so that he could be nearer me. “Come up here.”
Carrick squealed to be up so high and rested his dirty hands in the Ri’s gold hair.
How many moonlit nights had I seen Aiden carry Carrick so? It was like seeing a ghost.
And it was a reminder that no matter the Ri’s hospitality or kindness to me, I didn’t belong here, no matter how they welcomed me. I had my brothers to save. We had a kingdom to reclaim.
“I meant no harm, I assure you.” The Ri had seen my grief. “He’s a sturdy lad.”
I forced a smile, but the Ri wasn’t convinced. He reached up and plucked Carrick from his shoulders so quickly that Carrick dropped his stick. Carrick fussed, and the Ri tucked the boy under his arm like a sack of feed.
Carrick laughed and signed for more. Then he actually said it: “More!”
I smiled, despite the tightness in my chest.
The Ri looked at me, asking permission. I nodded.
“Well then.” He swung Carrick from one side to the other, then threw him over his shoulder for good measure. Carrick laughed and beat his fists against the Ri’s back. He wasn’t a small boy, but he looked tiny, draped over the Ri’s broad shoulder.
The Ri glanced at me again, almost like a boy himself, and when he saw my smile, he grinned. Grabbing hold of Carrick’s ankles, he let the boy slide down his back till Carrick dangled down almost to his waist. Carrick’s face was red from hanging upside down for so long, but he shouted and laughed till I couldn’t help but laugh silently.
“What’s that I hear? Where’s Carrick?” The Ri spun as if looking behind him so that Carrick swung out behind him, laughing his delight. The Ri did it again and again. Finally, he reached behind him and pulled Carrick up over his shoulder and into his arms. For a moment, Carrick stopped clamoring for more and laid his head against the Ri’s chest. The Ri looked down at the boy lying still in his arms, surprised, then smiled up at me.
It was as intimate as a kiss.
Not once had I ever felt that way watching one of my brothers play with Carrick.
And that’s a very good thing, Cadan would have told me. What a way for a sister to feel about her brother! Though I am a fine-looking man one night out of the month.
I smiled just to think of it—and realized not even Cadan would speak so glibly this close to the end of the enchan
tment.
Not now, he’d say. For pity’s sake, Ryn, not now.
I looked down, ashamed I’d let myself go so far. Dreams were one thing, but to watch the Ri like that . . .
The Ri put Carrick down, and Carrick scurried after something else.
Ionwyn’s gaze danced between the Ri and me. “I’ll watch him,” she said, then followed Carrick.
“Will you walk with me, Lady Wyn?” The king extended his arm to me, a question in his eyes.
How I wanted to walk with him!
I wanted to reach up and smooth the tawny hair that Carrick had rumpled when he rode on his shoulders. I wanted to find some way to thank him for sheltering us here, for trusting my courage enough that he let me challenge Connach, for calling me Lady.
I wanted it—all of it—so desperately. I realized I was already a heartbeat away from staying in Fianna.
No. I was a heartbeat away from wanting to stay with the Ri.
I couldn’t afford that, not when I was so near the end of my brothers’ enchantment and our return to Lacharra.
So I smiled and shook my head and pointed back at my room.
Anger erased the Ri’s smile, and I stepped back.
Then I saw he was angry with himself.
He sighed and lowered his arm. “You should have been safe as my guest, Lady Wyn. Instead, you bore an attack and a beating.” His gaze dropped to my still-swollen lip. “I don’t wonder it’s hard to walk with me—I’ve a hard time bearing it myself. But believe me when I swear I’ll settle this debt between us.”
Debt? He thought he was in my debt?
He turned away, shoulders rounded just a little. They’d been so straight and strong when he’d played with Carrick.
Then he stopped and turned back. He straightened his shoulders and met my gaze squarely. “I’ve fought with sword and battle ax and spear. I’ve even seen battle with cudgel, which you are familiar with.” He smiled ruefully and brought a hand up to the shoulder that I’d struck. “But I’ve never seen battle joined with only a cane—and it was battle, what happened yesterday with Moyle, even if you began by giving him the only weapon. It was one of the finest pieces of fighting I’ve ever seen. You have my respect, Lady Wyn.”
The Flight of Swans Page 22
