Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [284]
There was naught to say; I bowed my head. Drustan turned his horse, calling his men, and we set out for the Hall of Innisclan. I translated our conversation for Joscelin as we rode.
"I am going to do somewhat else," I said then, "that you will not like. Just. . . abide it, and hold your tongue. I swear to you, on Delaunay's name, I've a reason for it."
For three days, we met and talked. Word of our arrival had spread, and Dalriada clan-lords appeared daily in Innisclan, until the hall could scarce hold them. Tall and fierce, all of them, in many-colored woolens and the fine, ornate goldwork on which they pride themselves. Some came ready for war, hair stiffened into white crests with lime; Rousse had spoken of it, but it was the first I'd seen.
But the Twins were the Lords of the Dalriada, and while Eamonn held out, there would be no war. And that he did; not alone, either, for there were those among the Dalriada who'd no will to risk war for the Cruithne's sake.
"A fool's errand, and one we're like to return from empty-handed," Quintilius Rousse said grimly, observing the proceedings. I'd spoken that day until my mouth was dry and my mind a tangled knot of words, D'Angeline and Cruithne coiled like a serpent's nest. Eamonn listened, and watched me with hot eyes, caring nothing for what I said. I am no orator, to sway men's hearts with words. My skills lie elsewhere.
"We've four days, yet." I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, fighting exhaustion. Three days of politely declining Eamonn's unsubtle interest, pretending not to notice. I couldn't even count the other offers. I dropped my hands and grinned at Rousse. "Are you so quick to leave the Lady Grainne's bed?"
He blushed all over his scarred face, muttering, "Wants to get a child."
"I know. She thinks you're good stock. She's very direct in her desires." Actually, they were rather well-matched, but I thought it privately.
"Sibeal had a dream," Hyacinthe announced, referring to Necthana's middle daughter. "She saw you, Phedre. You were holding a scale, tipped all to one side."
"You understood this." I raised my brows at him.
He looked at me nonplussed. "They are teaching me Cruithne. And I am teaching them about the dromonde. You have been busy elsewhere, doing the Queen's business."
"Yes, well, tell your dreamers that the scale is not yet ready to balance," I said wryly. "Do they see you as well, in their dreams, O Prince of Travellers?"
Hyacinthe shook his head, frowning slightly. "Only once. Breidaia dreamed me on an island, and asked if I was born there. Naught else."
"Passing strange," I said, forgetting about it in the next instant, as Drustan beckoned me to spin tales of the glories of a D'Angeline alliance for an eager-looking Dalriada clan-lord. We'd done a good job of that, at least. I made my way across the hall, feeling Eamonn's gaze at my back. So it had been, ever since I'd bedded his sister.
But I'd spoken true to Hyacinthe. If I was no diplomat, still, I knew to gauge a patron. Eamonn was a slow man, as cautious and deliberate as his sister was impetuous. He'd cast his luck and lost the first night; he'd be wary of approaching the brink. And I needed him to be desperate.
Four days, and then five. Grainne and Eamonn had shouting matches, backed by their factions. I saw the first quarrel between Dalriada and Cruithne, when one of Drustan's men was set upon by three outlander Dalriada. And I saw then why Eamonn had declined to test Drustan's steel. Outnumbered and outsized, the Cruithne warrior fought with a cunning and speed I'd never witnessed, holding his own until Drustan came at a run, half-gaited and furious, shoving Dalriada swords aside with his bare hands.
They could have killed him, then; they didn't, looking with fear and respect at his blue warrior's marques, the red cloak and the gold torque of his birthright, the