Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [30]
"My mother said as much," I murmured.
"Your mother sounds like a wise woman," Aislinn said.
I felt betrayed. "You claimed you were glad I came here."
"And so I am," she said steadily. "Today, because I wished to do you the courtesy of saying these things to your face. On the morrow, for Cillian's sake. I do not ask you to spoil his moment of triumph. But will you think on what I've said?"
Little though I liked it, it was fair. "I will."
She kissed my cheek. "Thank you."
There was a great feast that night, platter after platter emerging from the kitchen. The long table was thronged. Uisghe flowed freely, and when the food had been picked over by the ravenous horde, there was music to accompany bloodthirsty songs bawled at the top of the young men's lungs. Lord Tiernan watched it all with an indulgent smile. It was hot and sweltering and awful and I hated every minute of it.
Many of the would-be warriors passed out from drink and began snoring where they lay, Cillian among them. I brushed the auburn hair from his brow and kissed him, preparing to make my escape. I couldn't face the prospect of trying to sleep in the tiny guest-chamber.
"Moirin," he said blearily. "Don't go."
"Only to the stables," I assured him. I'd slept there before. "I'll be here in the morning."
He uttered a faint snore in reply.
The guard on duty let me out without comment. I'd been here a few times by now, and they were accustomed to the witch's daughter's strange ways. Outside, it was cooler by far. I slipped out of the hated pinching slippers and breathed deeply, feeling free and easy in my skin for the first time in many hours.
As always, there was a part of me that longed to flee—but I'd promised Cillian I'd be there. He'd worry if I left, and the worry was a distraction he didn't need. So I made my way to the stables and made myself a bed of loose hay in an empty corner. It was prickly, but fragrant and clean-smelling, and the warm presence of dozens of horses dozing in their stalls was comforting in a way that human presences seldom were.
There, I slept.
I awoke in the dim hours before dawn to considerable commotion and scrambled out of my makeshift nest, dodging horses and men. Despite the night's excesses, the raiding party was assembling.
I found Cillian yawning beside a chariot and conferring with its driver. He gave me a glad, sleepy smile when he saw me, his eyes crinkling and his dimples showing. "There you are. I thought mayhap I dreamed you."
"Ah, no. I promised."
"So you did." He plucked a few stray bits of hay from my hair. "You look a mess. A gorgeous mess. Kiss me for luck?"
I did, pressing myself close to him, ignoring the hoots and envious comments it provoked. "Come back safely, will you?"
"Marry me if I do?" Cillian teased. I didn't answer. He gave my hair a gentle tug, then cupped my chin and kissed me again. He tasted of stale uisghe, and underneath it, his own familiar self. "Ah, Moirin! Don't take it so seriously. I told you, it's just a bit of sport. We'll be back before you know it."
"I pray you are," I murmured, shoving him away. "Go on with you."
They went.
They went in a great thunder of hooves, laughing and boasting and shouting to one another. I suppose it was a fine and glorious sight, all of the glossy horses, proud chariots, and long-limbed young men, but it still seemed foolish to me. I came from a dwindling people, and we cannot afford to risk our lives for sport.
It felt strange to be at Innisclan without Cillian's presence. I declined an invitation from Aislinn to pass the hours learning the fine art of embroidery and decided instead to explore the Academy's library. With all the lads away on a raid, it was quiet and empty. I found