She fell silent for a moment, the pain of that tearing apart somehow new.
"I left Fiona with servants, took Keefe, Daire's most trusted man, and tried to follow Ronan to Glenfluirse, but the new babe in my womb made it difficult. I had just told Ronan about the babe that day by the standing stone. His joy had been so fierce. We would name the child
Lorcan if a boy. Scota if a girl. I agreed. Jealousy banished, I mourned them both as much as he did."
She swallowed hard. "That wee life fought me every step of the journey. What little food I ate I could not keep down. The constant jostling on the horse bruised me, battered the babe inside me. I miscarried the little one a day's ride from Glenfluirse. A little boy."
Grief washed over Aniera's features. Caitlin grieved with her, tears dampening her own cheeks.
After a moment, Aniera went on. "I buried him beneath a bank of elderflowers, healingflowers that could bloom as my babe never would. By the time Keefe and I crawled into Glenfluirse, it was over. Ronan was dead."
Too late—were there any more tragic words? And yet someone else had been waiting at the fortress, too, grieving and confused and helpless.
"What of Niall?"
"I begged a word with Conn. Asked for my son. Aye, and to take the body of my husband back to the land he loved."
Caitlin's heart broke at the image of Aniera begging mercy from the man who had executed her beloved.
"Conn was... kind." The word seemed to choke her. "He had me bathed, gave me a new robe. Fed Keefe and me. Then he sent for me. He grieved over Ronan's death as I did. But there was no doubt Ronan had killed Lorcan. Conn was a chieftain. Sometimes chieftains were forced to make terrible choices. Justice was a brutal master. Because of the love he once bore Ronan, he asked me to let him protect us from those angry enough to take vengeance on all of Ronan's blood. He asked for my son."
"Your son?" Caitlin cried. "How could you let him—"
Aniera shrugged, hopeless. "What could I do?A lone woman in a land of strangers? I had no family nearby, strong enough to help me claim my child. I had no proof Ronan was innocent, except for the certainty in my heart. All Glenfluirse was lauding Conn's great mercy in making Niall his foster son. I asked to see my son one last time, waited for him, but Niall never came. Conn said I was part of his old life. A shame to him. The boy had suffered much, Conn insisted. I was dead to Niall because of his shame."
"I do not believe it!" Caitlin protested. "If only Niall had come to you—"
"But he did not. I carried back to Glenfluirse my husband's body, my empty womb, and the knowledge that my son despised me. That was when the madness came, filling those empty places where Ronan, Niall, and the new babe had been, brewing visions and voices. They lured me toward the cliff edges and high arrow slits, urging me to fling myself off, join Ronan and wee Lorcan wherever their spirits wandered, but I could not bear to leave Fiona. So I stayed with her, the only way I could, with half a heart and pretty dreams to hold the madness at bay."
"I am so... so sorry," Caitlin grieved, knowing words were not enough.
"If I could wish you one thing,asthore, itwould not be happiness, though I hope it will be yours. Nay, not even love, glad as I am that you hold my son's heart. I would wish you no regrets."
Caitlin opened her arms to the older woman, and Aniera leaned against her breast. Sobs ages old poured from Aniera, a flood of healing tears raining forth.
Regrets? Caitlin had only one. She had let her beloved, her bold warrior, ride into danger without her.
She had scarce dried the last of Aniera's tears when she heard odd, dragging footsteps. Fiona burst from the underbrush, her shoulder wedged beneath the arm of a scrawny, dirt-encrusted youth. Vicious scratches scored his face, and a hunted light flickered in eyes all but obscured by a ragged fall of straw-colored hair.
Caitlin sprang to her feet, Aniera scarce a heartbeat behind. "Who is this? What is wrong? Fiona?"
"Found him under a blackberry hedge, hiding like a wounded deer. Mad with some kind of fever." Fiona raised fear-glazed eyes to Caitlin's. "He keeps calling Niall's name."
"You brought him here? In spite of fever, in spite of danger?" Caitlin asked.
Fiona's voice broke on a sob. "I would havedragged the devil himself to Daire if he could help my brother!"
Caitlin nodded, her own eyes filling with tears. She hastened over to help Fiona with her charge. It seemed forever before the three women got the lad into a bed. Caitlin smoothed a cool cloth scented with wild rose over the boy's badly scratched face. She looked up at Fiona. "He looks like a beast run to ground. What could have happened to him?"
"I know precious little. He carried a message for Niall. Was trying to find him."
Caitlin bent over the lad, stroking back a lock of his hair. "You are safe now. I pray you, tell us your name."
The lad looked up at her with helpless, fear-filled eyes. "Owaine."
"You were searching for Niall. I... am his lady. You may trust me. I love him more than life."
The boy grasped at her leine with shaking fingers. "Tell him..."
