by Megan Chance
I heard again my mother’s last words, the ones I’d refused to listen to until this moment. “It’s a new world, a leanbh. Remember . . . be true . . .”
To yourself.
When Mama had told me that Grandma’s madness and regret came from not being true to herself, I’d thought she was telling me to choose duty.
But she hadn’t been saying that at all. She had only wanted me to do what was right for me.
Act bravely in the world.
To be brave meant never flinching from the truth, no matter how hard it was, or what it told you about yourself. And the truth was that I was grieving not just because of what Diarmid had done, but because he was gone. In spite of everything, I still loved him. I did not want to be without him.
And now—at last—I knew what I was meant to do.
Later that afternoon
Grace
It was already late, moving into evening, and Patrick insisted I take his carriage. When Leonard heard where I wanted to go, he reached into his pocket and took out a gun, laying it on the seat beside him. “Are you certain about this, miss?”
“I am. I’ll be safe enough,” I answered.
Once we arrived, I knew why he was worried. It was a terrible part of town, and the building was almost worse than the tenement they’d lived in before. People were everywhere, shivering in the cold, huddling on fire escapes and around fires leaping from ashcans.
I saw the curious, almost threatening stares, but I wasn’t afraid. I felt Aidan’s question and concern almost the moment we stopped, and so I knew they were there. I asked Leonard to wait, went past two scowling women on the stoop, and up the dark and narrow stairs to the top floor. When I reached it, Aidan was already hurrying toward me from an open door at the far end. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Well, something did, but . . . I’m here to see Derry.”
Aidan froze. “Derry? Why? What about Patrick?”
The others emerged. Finn leaned against the doorway, watching; Oscar cocked a brow. I tried to look past them for Diarmid.
I lowered my voice. “I have to see him, Aidan.”
“What about Patrick?” My brother asked again. “Why would he let you come here?”
“I’m not going to marry him.”
“I thought we’d agreed—”
“I’ve decided to continue my training instead.”
“You’re not going back to Iobhar’s! He’s too dangerous.”
I glanced at the others, who were unabashedly listening. “I am going to do this, Aidan. Patrick’s agreed that it’s best. And I’d like you to see that. But if you don’t”—I lifted my chin—“if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. I’m a brithem. I’m not meant to be a wife. I think you know it too.”
“Patrick loves you.”
“But I don’t love him, Aidan. Not the same way I love—”
“He can’t support you.” My brother looked agonized. “He has nothing. He killed Mama, for God’s sake!”
“Because he had to,” I said calmly. “She accepted that, and I know you have as well, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Grace—”
“It’s my right to choose the life I want. I’m the one who has to live it. I’ve tried to stop loving him, but I can’t. I just want to see him before I go to Iobhar in the morning.”
“The lass knows her own mind,” Finn put in. “No use arguing with a brithem, lad. ’Twill only bring you sorrow.”
“I’m your legal guardian. I can stop you,” Aidan said.
“But you won’t.”
He sighed. “No, I won’t. I’d be lying if I said this surprised me. But Grace . . . I want you to come home every week or so. I can’t hear you in that pawnshop. I want to know you’re safe. Otherwise, I’ll send Patrick and half our militia after you.”
“Agreed.” Again, I tried to look past him into the room, but Diarmid was nowhere to be seen.
“Derry’s not here, lass,” Oscar said.
“Then I’ll wait.”
“Grace . . . he hasn’t been here since Samhain,” Aidan said.
I was startled. “Not since Samhain? You didn’t tell me.”
“I thought it was better not to mention it.” Aidan raked his hand through his hair, looking weary and miserable. “You didn’t want to talk about him anyway.”
Which was true. “Where is he?”
Finn said, “We don’t know. But I’d like to have him back. We need him. If you find him, will you tell him that for me?”
“You don’t know where he is? How could that be?”
“We’ve been looking for him,” Aidan said. “But he obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
Diarmid was gone. He’d been gone for months. Even through my grief and anger, I should have known.
The music would have told me if I’d listened, but I had banished it. I felt stunned as I let Aidan walk me back to the carriage. “Don’t leave for Iobhar tomorrow without me. I’ll take you there. Promise me you’ll wait.”
I was hardly aware of agreeing. When Aidan left me, I looked unseeingly at Leonard, who held open the carriage door for me, and I had an idea.
“I want to ride up with you.”
“Miss, it’s too cold and too dangerous—”
“I want you to take me somewhere. But I don’t know where yet. I’ll have to tell you as we go.” I climbed up to the driver’s seat, my skirts tangling about my legs. He looked displeased, but he climbed up beside me and took the reins.
I said, “Just go anywhere to start.”
I closed my eyes and listened. The city’s music descended upon me in a tidal wave, a thousand melodies, a hundred thousand, the heartbeat of the river, and the pulse of the lowering sun. I felt as if a part of me had been gone, and now it slipped so easily back into place, I could not imagine how I’d lived without it. I searched for the song I wanted, the song I knew as well as my own, focusing until, one by one, the others fell away.
There it was. Faint but true. “North,” I breathed. “Hurry.”
We went into an even worse part of town and then out again. The music grew stronger. I bade Leonard turn here and then again there. When we reached it, I understood why Diarmid had stayed hidden so long. No one would have expected him to be in a place that catered to society—a livery in Central Park. I wanted to laugh, because when I’d first met him, he’d been Patrick’s stableboy. The end is the beginning.
I flew into the building, nearly bursting with nerves and excitement and fear. The floors were scattered with straw. A chalkboard listing names and dates and times hung on the wall. Just beyond, a man waited impatiently while a tall stableboy, his back to me, saddled a big bay horse.
Diarmid.
The waiting man looked at me and tipped his hat. “Afternoon, miss.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Diarmid said without turning around, his deep voice caressing my skin.
“I’ll wait as long as you need,” I said softly.
He froze. Then, slowly, he looked over his shoulder. That dark-blue gaze had seared me the first time I’d seen it, and it was no different now. His jaw tensed. He finished saddling with abrupt, tight movements. “She’s ready,” he said to the man, and the whole world stopped until Diarmid and I stood alone in that vast barn.
This was not how I’d imagined it. I wanted to be in his arms. I wanted to see joy in his eyes, not that bleak expression.
He called to an older, sandy-haired boy near the stalls. “D’you mind covering for me a bit? I need a break.”
The boy looked at me and winked. “I’ll say you do. Oh, won’t Susie be mad!”
My courage wavered in the wake of jealousy and dismay. I’d waited too long. He’d found someone else. I followed him past the wide-open door. I saw him note Patrick’s carriage. He led me into the tack room and turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. It was obvious that I was the last person in the world he wanted to see. “Why did Patrick bring you here?”<
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“Who’s Susie?”
“The owner’s daughter. She’s twelve.”
“A little young for you, isn’t she?”
He regarded me steadily. “Is he waiting for you?”
“He only lent me the carriage to come to you.”
His surprise would have been comical if I hadn’t been so tense and afraid. “To come to me?”
“I thought you were with the others. I didn’t know you’d gone. No one told me.”
“Would you have cared if they did?”
My pulse was racing. “Aidan said they didn’t know where you were, so I listened for you. For your music.”
“You still have your power?” He looked astonished.
What we weren’t saying was so loud I couldn’t hear above it. “Yes. So does Aidan.”
“Did you tell Finn where I was?”
“I’ve only just found you this minute. I haven’t had time to tell them. But they want you back. Finn says they need you.”
It hurt to see the stark pain in his eyes. He glanced away. “I’m not returning. You can tell them that. Now you’ve done what they asked, so you can go home.”
So hard, so controlled. So . . . angry. He didn’t want me or the Fianna, and the knowledge was so awful, so unendurable—but no, a jarring note, one that didn’t belong, and I realized that what I heard in his voice wasn’t anger but sorrow.
It gave me hope. “I didn’t come here for Finn. They didn’t send me. I came for myself.”
A flash of longing, ruthlessly snuffed. “Why? D’you mean only to torment me?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you hate me. I understand, believe me I do.”
“I don’t hate you.”
He frowned.
“I’ve been angry with you. And afraid. But I’m not anymore.”
“Maybe you should be.”
“Diarmid—” I stepped toward him, and he backed up hard, sending a halter swaying. I stopped. “My mother was a vater. She knew what she was doing. She wouldn’t want you to feel guilty or to turn from everything you—” love. I couldn’t say it.
“My hands were covered with her blood, Grace. Your mother’s blood. How could I even touch you now?”
“You couldn’t have acted otherwise, not without betraying yourself. I understand that. Truthfully, I always knew it.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Hope perhaps? I was almost afraid to believe in it, but I took advantage, moving closer still. He was already against the wall; there was nowhere for him to go.
“I saw Mama say something to you before . . . What was it?”
“She said she knew what I had to do.” He wouldn’t look at me. “And she asked me to love you well.”
She’d known how I felt about him in the end and accepted it. The evidence of her love for me erased the last of my fear. “So when were you planning to start doing that?”
He made a sound of despair. “Sweet Danu, Grace, how can you ask me? You come here in Patrick’s carriage, and I know you’re meant for him—”
“Patrick and I broke off our engagement.”
His fingers flexed as if he struggled to keep still. “Why?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
He blinked. “The lovespot will wear off in time. When it does, he’ll take you back.”
“I’m not going back to him, and it’s not going to wear off. I forgive you, and I love you. That’s not going to change, and I don’t want it to.”
He flinched.
“Don’t tell me it’s too late,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me you don’t love me anymore.”
A desperate, short laugh. I felt his misery as my own. “Why would you want me to love you? ’Twould be best if you just . . . forgot I existed. ’Twas what I meant for you to do, and—”
I leaned forward and stopped his words with a kiss. He went motionless, and I thought he wouldn’t kiss me back. But then he moaned and pulled me closer, and I felt the quick burn of him and knew he was as helpless as I against what was between us.
The kiss lasted forever. It didn’t last long enough. He drew away, pushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “Aidan told me to leave you alone. I’ve nothing to offer you. In the eyes of this world, I’m only a gang boy, a stableboy. Who knows if I’ll ever have more?”
“I don’t want anything. Just you.”
“I can’t ask you to live in poverty with me.”
“Then don’t. I’m not ready to be a wife. Not Patrick’s and not yours. I’ve so much to do first. In the morning, I’m going back to Iobhar to take up my training. I think my power can help the Fianna and the Fenian Brotherhood. It’s what I was meant to do.”
Diarmid brushed his thumb against my mouth. “You’ll be a good brithem, lass.”
“Iobhar says it may be fifteen years before I’m done. Maybe then, if you’ll still have me, we can talk about a wedding. But for now . . . I only want to be with you. I don’t know what will happen in the future and neither do you. I’m not asking for anything. Just that you love me.”
His eyes blazed with a love and desire that thrilled me. “I can do that. But I’m warning you, I won’t be able to stop. Not even when the lovespell wears off, and you don’t want me anymore.”
I smiled at him, because I knew that how I felt had nothing to do with the lovespot. Someday, he would believe it too. “I suppose I’ll just have to live with that.”
Wonderingly, he touched my face. “I never thought to hold you again.”
He leaned to kiss me, but a noise at the tack room door made us spring apart.
“Oh, sorry, Derry. But I need that bridle, if you don’t mind.” The sandy-haired boy grabbed a bridle hanging near the door. He gave me another wink before he left again. I went hot with embarrassment.
Diarmid said wryly, “’Twill be a miracle if we ever have a moment alone.”
I put my arms around his neck, tangling my hands in his hair, my face growing hotter as I said, “I might be able to manage something. I mean, I do have an empty house. And a bedroom with a door.”
He smiled so that long dimple creased his cheek. His hand went to my upswept hair. He drew out a pin, and then another, dropping them to the ground. Click click click.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you mine. So no one can mistake it.”
I could have stayed there, kissing him for an eternity, but he led me from the tack room, calling to the other stableboy, “Taking the night off, Johnny.”
The boy laughed. “Aye, no doubt. ’Tis slow enough; I can cover it. Have a good time, eh?”
Diarmid drew me close, his arm around my shoulders. The sun was setting, gold and red and purple layering the sky. It was like every romantic dream I’d ever had, everything I’d ever wanted in those days when I’d spent my hours reading Tennyson. Except the reality was better, because then I’d yearned for a white knight to save me, and now I knew that I could save myself. I was the white knight that Diarmid had once told me I could be. It had been hard won, but I owned it. The power to determine my life was mine. I was never letting it go.
Music spun in my head, a hundred melodies, some wrong notes, an unfinished symphony waiting for my hand, and the one I loved was beside me, and the whole world smelled fresh and clean and new.
We walked into it, together.
It’s always so difficult to say good-bye to a book, but this time it is more difficult than usual. Over the three novels of The Fianna Trilogy, I have worked with some wonderful people. My editor, Robin Benjamin, has been a joy, and I have appreciated her insight more than I can say. Thanks also must go to my team at Skyscape, who have made this journey a very smooth one: Miriam Juskowicz, Timoney Korbar, Erick Pullen, Andrew Keyser, Vivian Lee, and Courtney Miller. Thank you to art director Katrina Damkoehler, artist Don Sipley, and designer Regina Flath, who together created such beautiful covers. As always, I am hugely appreciative of Kim Witherspoon and Allison Hunter and everyone at I
nkwell Management. I could not have done this without Kristin Hannah, who brainstormed, critiqued, and generally listened to all my tales of woe with a compassionate ear, or without Elizabeth DeMatteo, Jena MacPherson, Melinda McRae, Liz Osborne, and Sharon Thomas, who enthusiastically helped with early drafts. And lastly, I owe all of it to Maggie and Cleo, who were my inspiration, and to Kany, for his continuing and patient love and support.
Photo © 2012 C.M.C. Levine
Megan Chance is the award-winning author of several adult novels, including Inamorata, and The Fianna Trilogy for young adults: The Shadows, The Web, and The Veil. A former television news photographer with a BA from Western Washington University, Megan lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two daughters. Visit her at www.meganchance.com.
