Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [28]
"The rite will be arranged." She hesitated. "Unless you've changed your mind and wish to wed the lad."
"Cillian?"
She gave me a ghost of her wry smile. "Is there another?"
"You know there isn't." I ran my hands over my face, remembering how hard it had been to summon the twilight at Innisclan. "No. No, I do not. That was the cost of it all along, was it not? If I were to wed him and become the proper wife his world would make me no matter what he claims, I would suffer myself to be tamed. And I would no longer be a child of the Maghuin Dhonn."
"Aye," my mother murmured. "But as the wife of the only son of the Lord of the Dalriada, you would not be very far lost to me. So I do not speak against it."
"Do you speak for it?" I asked.
She summoned another smile, this one rueful. "No. I would have you follow your heart, Moirin mine."
"Then I would seek the blessing of the Maghuin Dhonn," I said firmly. "Whatever else I may be, whatever foreign gods seek to lay claim to me, I am Her child and yours, first and foremost. Whatever else may follow, all things proceed from that point."
My mother kissed my brow. "May it ever be so."
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
When Cillian came next, he was in a rare state. "There's been a raid!" he informed me, his mood somewhere betwixt jubilant and belligerent. "A Tarbh Cro raiding party wearing the mac Niall's colors. They made off with two dozen head of cattle in broad daylight, taunting us all the while."
"Oh, aye? Listen—"
"They reckon the Dalriada have gone soft," he interrupted me. "Studying at the Academy and all. 'Tis true, my father's men were slow to respond—"
"Cillian—"
"But we mean to go after them!" he finished triumphantly.
I folded my arms. "We?"
He flushed. "Do you not reckon me a proper warrior?"
"I reckon you a lover and a scholar," I said in a soothing tone. "Cillian, don't be daft. Didn't Eamonn mac Grainne and his Skaldic bride found the Academy to give young men wiser and more productive pursuits than cattle-raiding?"
"Aye, but I don't imagine he meant to geld us in the process!" he said sharply. "A man must defend his home and property. Do you not think me capable?" I do.
"You don't seem it."
I sighed. "Is it not a matter for the courts?"
Cillian glowered. "Oh, courts be damned. What do you and your wild kin care for courts? It's just a bit of sport, Moirin. Will you begrudge me the chance to prove myself a man?"
"I wasn't aware it was in need of proving," I said pointedly.
"Look…" He took a deep breath. "You don't understand. I have to do this. As my father's son, I cannot let this insult stand. Arguing about it won't change matters. And I fear I can't linger, either. We ride out before dawn. Will you come back to Innisclan with me? Aislinn says you can wait and worry with her."
I made a face at him. "All right, then. I reckon I'd rather endure your mother's disdain than wait and worry on my own."
Cillian kissed me. "That's my girl!"
Although there was ample time on the ride to Innisclan, I didn't tell him about my mother's revelation as I'd intended before he arrived. His head was filled with details of the raid to come, and I didn't want to distract him. Truth be told, I'd no idea what manner of warrior Cillian was. I knew he was trained to wield a sword, and that on the hurling field where the young men played with sticks and a ball, he was one of the most skilled athletes.
But Alba had been at peace for a long while. The Cruarch, Faolan mab Sibeal, was reckoned a wise and sensible fellow, carrying on the legacy of Alais the Wise, our common ancestor. There hadn't been a major dispute on Alban soil in living memory, only foolish skirmishes like this promised to be, between young men with an excess of high spirits and a shortage of common sense.
I didn't care for it, not one bit.
Cillian, however, was in uncommonly good spirits now that I'd agreed to come. He related with relish the tale of how the D'Angeline prince Imriel de la Courcel had won the respect of the folk of Clunderry by staging