The tentative softness in the girl's face ripped away, leaving her eyes hollow with a pain and disappointment so great it stunned him. "I fear you did not make it big enough," she said. "It cannot hold my father's cairn. Do you think I would leave him behind? Abandon him as you did?"
The accusation cut deep, a surge of grief and loss crippling Niall as he stared into the hate-filled face of his sister. He could not bear to suffer her loathing another moment without trying to explain—explain what? Impossible things, things he could never alter, regrets he would carry forever. Perhaps he might even make her understand.
"I did not abandon him!" Niall said. "I left him because he told me to do it!"
Fiona wheeled on him, snarling. "What are you saying?"
"Perhaps it is time you heard the truth. You think you know what I did so long ago, Fiona? Why I did it?"
"Why should I care?"
"I do not know! But you are going to hear it. The day Conn took Father prisoner, I went with the riders because I believed I could save him somehow. It sounds absurd now. I know it. A boy pitted against Conn's whole army. But my head was bursting with hero tales, the tales Father told us around the fire on long winter nights. Cuchulain, the greatest hero Ireland has ever known, was just a boy when he performed some of his greatest feats. And when we held mock battles, Father had always claimed I was strong as Cuchulain himself."
"Aye," Fiona whispered. "I remember."
"When Conn scooped me up onto his horse, I remember thinking that if only I had not forgotten my wooden sword, I could have dashed him to the ground. But I knew I would have to find some way to help Father without it." Niall's hands tightened into fists as he remembered his anger, his confusion, his childhood terror that somehow he would not be strong enough, braveenough, cunning enough for what lay ahead. That he would fail the father he adored.
"When we reached Glenfluirse, Father was dragged away, and I was taken to Conn's own rooms, thrown in among his sons and the warrior training them. I begged Conn to let me see Father every time the chieftain came near. I even got down on my knees. I knew Father would hate it that I had, but I just wanted to see him so much. If I could just see Father, he would laugh and make me believe this was just some grand adventure like the legends we loved. In the end, everything would be well." Niall's voice broke. He turned away from his sister's gaze.
"The warriors and Conn's sons said terrible things about Father. They claimed he had murdered his best friend, raped his wife. And when Conn rode to stop him, they claimed Father killed the woman so no one would bear witness to his treachery, leaving her fortress burning and her babes in a pool of blood."
"I heard it all, too, Niall," Fiona cried, "spat out by Conn's men when they destroyed Daire. I still do not believe it!"
"Do you think I wanted to, Fiona? Believe that our father was capable of such treachery? That he could sweep me up on his horse, ride and laughin the sunshine, play at swords with me and make flower crowns for our mother, when he had done such hideous things?"
"How could you even think it for a moment?"
"Because Father confessed the truth to me, Fiona! I heard it from his own lips!" Niall shuddered inwardly, the ball of fire in his gut as if, even now, he stared through the barred window of his father's dungeon.
"Late one night, I managed to sneak away from the warrior guarding me. I had plotted and planned for weeks, discovering where the dungeon was, learning how to slip through the fortress without alerting the guards. I had even managed to steal the key from Conn's own room. I was going to release Father, Fiona, so that both of us could ride back to you. But when I reached him, he sent me away. Father told me to leave him to his fate. He was the one at fault. He said that the truth would always be stripped bare in the end."
Tears streaked Fiona's cheeks. "Nay," she whimpered, sounding so much a child. "He loved our mother. Loved us! He would never—"
"Then why did he tell me he had done such terrible things?" Niall demanded, his own voice tearing. "He was going to die the next day, Fiona.I was his son, the only one on earth who could have—would have—defended his honor with the last drop of my blood. I wanted to believe he was innocent, honorable, all the things I had always believed he was! No one wanted to believe in our father more than I did!"
"He was Ronan of Daire!" Fiona shrilled. "The bards sang of his honor, his honesty!"
"Do you not see, Fiona?" Niall asked in stark despair. "That is why I had to believe him when he told me. I never heard him tell a lie, did you?"
Fiona choked on a sob. "There must—must be some reason—"
"Why? Why would he make me believe such terrible things about him if it were not true?"
"Because Conn threatened to kill you if he did not.”
"Conn did not even know I was there. He never knew, Fiona. I was alone with Father that night. Why would he lie?"
"I do not know!" Fiona cried, shaking. "I only know I will not believe—"
"You do not have to." Niall reached out, gently touching his sister's tear-wet cheek. "But believe this, Fiona. Our father would not want you clinging to this land, alone, half-starving in his name. I know Father loved you too much to wantto see you destroy yourself this way. Staying at Daire is not being loyal to him,
Fiona. It is the greatest wrong you could commit against his memory."
There was a longing, a grief, so fierce in Fiona that it made his chest ache. In that instant, she was his tiny sister again, with her shining hair and bright eyes, clinging to his hand as if he could slay dragons.
"This chest I made is to hold things you remember, Fiona. It is time for all of us to let go of old pain, to take what is good and treasure it."
Fiona stared at him, and he could see battles being waged in her eyes. After an inner struggle so fierce it seemed she might shatter, she backed away. "Nay, Niall. I will not listen to you! Even if Father..."
