"Because Niall has turned death into life, he will be granted the reward he sought with such courage and bravery. A new name."
Conn glimpsed a small boy dancing in glee, and a sliver of dread pierced through him. Always Niall had gained the loyalty of such little wastelings. And if one in particular—that wee demon Owaine—managed to reach his hero, even this plan might fell. Conn cut off the swell of cheers with a wave of his hand.
"There is more to rejoice in." His eyes narrowed. "Niall will be given the rank oftainist."
"A murderer's son! Future chieftain?" Magnus exploded in a black oath. "You promised it to me! You cannot—"
"I name Niall of the Seven Betrayals heir to all I command." Conn's voice boomed over his son'sprotests. "All the fortress of Glenfluirse will prepare to give him glorious welcome. Now, ride. Search every hill and glen near Castle Daire."
Conn raised high the exquisite circlet of gold scribed with Fintan's name. "This bracelet—a treasure greater than any you have ever seen—will reward the man who brings Niall of the Seven Betrayals back to this proud father's embrace."
Chapter 18
Fiona was crying, fierce, silent tears that tore at Niall's heart. She would have been horrified to realize he knew her guilty secrets. He’d detected her weeping despite the cold rain that dampened her cheeks, aye, and knew that she clutched a fistful of Daire's black earth in her hand as if to cling to a piece of the land she loved forever.
Even as a boy, he had always known when she cried, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. He had sensed it like a cold fist in his gut, been willing to attempt anything from wild jests to dangerous feats of daring to playing at fairy king in his efforts to cajole her from her sadness.
But as the bedraggled, rain-soaked band oftravelers trudged away from Castle Daire forever, there was no comfort Niall could offer.
He was taking his sister and bewildered mother away from the place they called home. He was forcing Caitlin to trudge farther and farther from the dreams they had both shared. He was marching them all toward a future none of them could imagine.
Niall glanced up to the two figures who sat upon his horse, Fiona's young arms keeping their mother balanced astride it as Aniera's eyes strained backward in confusion, a wilting flower crown on her rain-soaked hair. Did she really understand that she would never be able to return to the castle where Ronan had made her his bride? Did she guess how terribly Niall regretted it?
Aye, regretted it, Niall thought in aching surprise. In a few short weeks, the castle that had haunted his nightmares had been transformed into the cradle of his dreams. Dreams so precious, so new, they still left him awestruck. He wanted to tell Fiona that he forgave her now for her desperate bid to keep the only home she had ever known. He understood why she had stolen the cow. Fought so hard. For Niall remembered at last—not just the one, terrible day that hadcleaved their family but treasured moments without number: pulling silvery salmon from the streams, building fortresses behind fallen trees, the forays they had made into the woods fairy hunting, using Fiona's fresh-picked berries as bait.
He had wished for a lifetime at Daire to remember it all. Had imagined sharing those adventures with a brood of his own babes. Sisters and brothers he prayed would share the fierce loyalty, the gruff affection, he and Fiona had known before it was stolen away from them.
I would have slain every dragon in Ireland to please you, my wee sister,Niall thought, a lump in his throat. I would slay the dragon that threatens you now, if I could. Find some other way, any other way, to keep you safe.
He would have given his sword arm for the strength to say those words aloud. But what difference would it make? How could he expect Fiona to believe he had rediscovered his love of Daire when he scarce believed it himself?
Maybe one day he would tell her, but for now, Fiona had no room in her heart for anyone's pain but her own. Defeated in her lifelong struggle to hold on to Daire, she had still not surrendered the land she so loved. Her fingers clenched tightaround a clump of soil she had scraped from the garden she and Caitlin had sown with such high hopes.
Niall swallowed hard, his own eyes burning. Perhaps his mother's misty confusion was a blessing this day. Aniera carried with her the shadow figure of her husband, always young and strong and invincible beside her.
The rest of them traveled this road alone. Oceans stretched between them, leaving them solitary even though they had only to reach out their hands to touch one another.
Only Caitlin had had the courage to try to bridge that impossible chasm. She walked close by his side, and twice she had tried to take his hand. He had avoided her touch, busying himself with checking the horse's girth or the reins he used to lead it. He did not want to be comforted now.
He deserved to feel the anger and loss, the guilt and futility. He had created this disaster. Deserted his mother and sister because he had not had the courage to face his own pain, then intended to use Daire as a haven when he was in peril. He had brought the threat of Conn's vengeance to their door.
Aye, they had been scarce scraping along, inpoverty that had alarmed him—or had it jabbed at his pride? The sister of the champion of Glenfluirse scrabbling for food like a wild dog?
Yet Fiona had felt rich enough. Niall understood that now, when it was too late. She had been rich in the land and the secrets it kept. Her treasure the bones it cradled and the stories the white wind told. She was unique and rare, a creation carved from Daire's soil by the fingers of wind and rain. Her soul drew strength from the castle walls her ancestors had raised, her remarkable courage pulsing into her spirit from Daire's green turf, life force pounding inside her in the ancient, earthy rhythm of thebodhran.
In that instant, he envied his sister. No honor won in battle, no quest he had triumphed over, no feat of daring or courage he ever performed had given him the wealth Fiona possessed. She belonged to Daire the way sea cliffs belonged to waves. She understood what the old ones and the land expected of her. And she had fought for them more valiantly than any warrior Niall had ever battled.
Would Daire have granted such a gift to him if he had possessed the courage to return to it? Or was it possible that he had not squandered thatinheritance after all? In spite of his determination to turn his back upon Daire and everything it stood for, had that primitive bond to the land only been sleeping inside him, waiting patiently to awaken? Daring him to risk, to prove himself worthy...
It is too late, he charged the voices in his head.Can you not see that?
Too late for him. Too late for Fiona and his mother. Too late for the woman who walked beside him, sorrow and resignation in her soulful blue eyes.
Fingertips drifted onto Niall's arm, and he stiffened, unhappy that he had been too distracted to avoid Caitlin's touch. He angled a glance at her, his eyes filled with anger and loss, the tempests he was feeling. She winced, and he cursed himself for letting her see.
"Niall," she said softly. "Someone is coming."
Every battle-honed nerve sizzled to awareness. He swung to face the horse, reining the animal to a halt. "Fiona, you and Caitlin take Mother, hide in the underbrush. Make haste!"
