Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [32]
One chariot…
"No!" I breathed, clutching Aislinn's arm. "Ah, no!"
Even beneath the cloak that covered him, I knew his shape. There was no part of Cillian I did not know. One arm was outflung, jouncing with the chariot's jostling, pale and sinewy and freckled. The chariot-driver looked miserable.
My knees gave way. "No," I whispered.
"Forgive me, my lord, my lady," the miserable chariot-driver was saying. "I did my best, but—"
His mother wailed.
"—flung loose and trampled…"
I ached all over. The words flowed over me, meaningless. Cillian was dead. I'd spent the day thinking about giving myself to some lad I didn't know while Cillian was dying.
"Get out." A hand knotted itself in my hair, wrenching my head upward. On my knees, I gazed into the blazing eyes of Lady Caitlin. "All he was trying to do was prove himself to you! And it wasn't enough, it was never going to be enough! All the while, you meant to leave him!"
"My lady!" I protested.
She shook me violently. "Get out!"
I got to my feet. No one spoke.
"I loved him," I said. "I did."
A few cattle lowed, a plaintive sound. In the chariot, Cillian's body lay unmoving. I uncovered it, flinching at the sight of his dented skull. Blood had dried in his auburn hair. I kissed his cold lips. "Good-bye," I whispered.
"You should go now," Lord Tiernan said in a stony voice.
It was unfair—and yet it wasn't. I had tried to dissuade Cillian from taking part in the raid. But I hadn't loved him enough to wed him. And somehow it seemed to everyone including me that his death was my fault because of it.
Bowing my head, I started walking. When I had gone far enough that I no longer felt their eyes on me, I summoned the twilight and ran, blind and mindless with grief.
It wasn't long before I heard the sound of hoofbeats.
"Moirin!" Aislinn shouted. She passed by me, a shadowy figure on a silvery horse in the twilight—but then she turned and circled back. "Gods be damned, Moirin!" Her voice was raw. "You can't have gotten that far! Show yourself!"
I did.
The horse startled, rearing. Aislinn swore and grabbed at its mane, losing her grip on the rains. For one terrified instant, I thought to see a second scion of Innisclan thrown and trampled. I snatched the loose reins and yanked her mount's head downward.
"Be still!" I shouted at it.
For a miracle, it obeyed. Aislinn took a deep, shaking breath and dismounted. Her face, so like her brother's, was streaked with tears.
"It was their grief talking," she said. "I didn't want those to be the last words spoken to you."
My throat was almost too tight to reply. "You're kind."
"It wasn't your fault." She shook her head. "That stupid, bedamned raid… it wasn't your fault."
"I know," I murmured. "And yet."
Aislinn didn't argue with me. She didn't lie and tell me that her mother would regret her harsh words, that I would be welcome to return and share their grief. For that, I was grateful. Instead, she took my hand in hers and squeezed it, fresh tears flowing. "If things had been different…" She fell silent a moment, breathing hard and struggling for composure. "I would have been proud to call you my sister."
It was a great kindness and one I didn't deserve. I swallowed against the lump it brought to my throat. "So would I."
There was nothing left to say. Cillian was dead. Aislinn let go my hand and reclaimed her horse's reins. I held its head while she mounted.
In the saddle, she drew a kerchief from her bodice and wiped her eyes. I dragged a forearm over my own, realizing I was weeping without even knowing it.
"Thank you," I managed.
She nodded. "Good-bye, Moirin."
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a long way home from Innisclan on foot. I remember little of the journey. My grief was so vast and unexpected