Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [11]
"Tell them what?" Cillian smiled ruefully. "That I well nigh got shot by a woodsprite with a child's bow?" He looked at my expression and sobered. "Nay, I'll not speak of it if you wish. I'll make you a bargain. Give me your name and I'll give you my silence."
I paused. "Moirin."
"Moirin." He nodded. "My word on it."
I made another gesture with the tip of my arrow. "You should go now."
"All right." He turned, then turned back. I had already breathed a cloak of twilight around me. Cillian blinked. "Moirin?"
I didn't bother to make myself visible. "Aye?"
"May I come again?"
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I like tales of magic. This is the nearest I've come to living in one. I'll bring more peaches," he added when I didn't answer.
I plucked out the arrow that had pierced the satchel and licked the gleaming nectar that coated it. It was thick and sweet, tasting of long hours ripening on the branch and sunshine's promise fulfilled. "These are the last harvest."
"They are?" Cillian sounded startled. "Apples, then. Whatever you like." ..
"Apples," I agreed. "And honeycakes."
He grinned. "Apples and honeycakes it is."
* * *
CHAPTER FOUR
"Cillian mac Tiernan," my mother mused. I nodded. "Are you angry?"
"At who?" She bit into a peach. "Him for spying? Or you for showing yourself?"
"Either."
"Neither." She shook her head. "He's a lad; they're full of curiosity and daring at that age. And mayhap I've protected you overmuch. You're old enough to begin making your own choices. I've no fear that Lord Tiernan will meddle in our affairs even if the lad talks. The Dalriada know to leave well enough alone." She took another bite, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "It would have been a shame to waste such good peaches."
I was relieved. "You're not angry."
"I am not."
"Good," I said. "Because I told him he could come again."
For the first time, I found myself keeping track of the days. Ten passed before Cillian returned. I daresay I would have sensed him this time—I'd not let my awareness lapse as I had before—but there was no need. As though to apologize for his former stealth, he made a racket this time, clattering through the underbrush. Before he was even in sight, he called.
"Moirin?"
My mother and I were mending clothes on the hearth. I glanced at her. She raised one eyebrow in reply.
My choice.
"Aye," I called. "Down here."
Cillian's head appeared over the ridge, then the rest of him. He froze for a moment on seeing both of us, then scrambled down. I was pleased to see he was carrying a satchel even larger than the first one. He reached the hearth and looked uncertainly from one of us to the other and back.
"Lady Fainche?" he inquired, a little breathless.
"And who else would it be?" My mother sounded amused.
He colored and offered a courteous bow. "Forgive me. Well met, my lady. I am Cillian mac Tiernan."
"Well met, Cillian mac Tiernan," she said. "You've a look of your father. Is he well?"
"He is." He proffered the satchel. "Apples and honeycakes. And I thought a wheel of cheese wouldn't go amiss."
She smiled. "You're a thoughtful lad. I'll store these in the back and do you the courtesy of returning your satchel."
Cillian watched her walk into the cave. "Is that her true form?"
"Aye," I said. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"You—" He paused, flushing again.
"I don't look like her," I said softly, understanding. "Is that it?"
"Aye… no. Yes and no." He blew out his breath. "You do and you don't. No mind." He glanced around. "This is the whole of it? Your home?"
"You should know," I said. "You spied on it long enough the other day."
His flush deepened. "Dagda Mor! Are you always so rude?"
I blinked. "Am I?"
"Aye!"
"I suppose so, then." I thought about how I might best make amends. "Would you like me to show you how to catch a trout with your bare hands?"
Cillian shrugged. "Why not?"
I showed him first working in ordinary daylight, reckoning it was only fair. It worked that way, too, only it took a lot longer and you had to be almighty patient.
"'Tis no match