"I feared you had abandoned me forever for the company of the bard. Of course, he will carve your name in the standing stones of time. What feat can even the wisest chieftain perform that can compare to that?"
"In truth, I come to you with a request." Niall chuckled, thinking tenderly of the grimy, fury-spitting scrap of humanity he had hauled out of the dust of the road.
A hard light sparked somewhere deep in Conn's eyes. "I thought I had already granted you one, withdrawing my... invitation to the woman—Fintan's daughter—to join us at Glenfluirse. Not that I had much choice. Your reasoning was sound. It would do me little good to have the people see the marks of strain on the girl's face. It might rouse their sympathies where they are not needed. Make them question—"
"Yours was an act of great kindness and understanding, after all she has suffered."
"At my hands, my foster son? Or at yours?"
"I would say neither of us is blameless, would you not agree?"
Conn chuckled. "You never were able toflatter your chieftain as every other warrior manages to. Nay, painfully honest you are, when it is needed. So tell me, what is this request you bring to me?"
"I was appalled to realize there is someone I should have given thanks to long since. I would remedy that omission."
The chieftain's eyes glittered. "You need not be so harsh with yourself, my son. I am certain you have thanked me aplenty."
"You?" Niall shifted, uncomfortable, as if the hearth flames suddenly licked beneath his feet. "You know that you have always had my gratitude."
"And once your unquestioning loyalty. But that, it seems, is altered."
Was something hidden beneath those words? A sharp stone beneath a deceiving blanket of moss? Nay.
The strain of the past weeks was telling at last, causing his imagination to run wild. The chieftain's grin stretched so wide his teeth shone beneath his mustache.
Niall returned Conn's smile with his own. "Rebuke me all you wish, but I know the truth. Even before I rode through the fortress gates thatfirst day with your missives in my hand, you knew I would never harm the woman."
"There are few men either brave enough or foolhardy enough to profess to understand the workings of my mind." Conn's lashes drooped, concealing what Niall was certain was a conspiratorial twinkle. "However, I suppose you might possess special powers of understanding. You are the chosen one of fate, he who is about to step into immortality."
Niall snorted in dismissal. "You know as well as I do that I am not the hero they think I am. They see what they wish to see. A creature of imagination."
"Wise words, those. And surprising ones. I remember other revels in your honor when we celebrated your triumph over other quests. Then you believed as they do—that your feats could carry you to a plane far above the rest of us mortals. You cannot deny it."
Niall grimaced. "I was an arrogant fool, thinking all the mysteries of the world were unveiled to me when I understood nothing at all. Some would say I was scarce even alive."
Some, he thought, his heart squeezing. One vulnerable woman had dared to tell him that truth, shake him from his cold existence of dutyinto a world of color and joy and the only immortality that could ever hold real meaning—that of being cherished forever in his Lily Fair's heart.
"Ah, so now the mysteries of the world are truly unveiled to you, is that what you are saying? I would be most intrigued to know how you were so enlightened in the brief time you were parted from me. Perhaps you will share your secret, if I share a treasure with you."
The chieftain reached for his jeweled cup, drained it, then gave it to the son standing closest behind him. Magnus, his eyes glittering with a frantic gaiety, his face flushed from drink
"You will fill this for yourtainist," Conn commanded with a careless wave of his hand. "For soon the cup of leadership shall belong to him."
Niall expected a show of the poisonous hatred seething inside Magnus for so many years because Niall held Conn's favor. But the warrior merely bowed, carrying the goblet away as if he were a servant instead of a chieftain's son.
In a season full of surprises, little had astonished Niall as much as the manner of Magnus's departure did now. Niall peered after him. Was it possible that the most ambitious of Conn's sons could become so quickly reconciled to losing his place as Conn's heir? From the time they wereboth boys, Magnus had brooded endlessly over the most insignificant slight Niall had dealt him and exacted revenge for it in some way. Niall would have to be careful, watchful and wary.
Conn's voice roused him from his dark musings. "Now, tell me again, why have you come to me?" Conn inquired. "You bring me a request, was that not what you said? You wished to thank someone you are grateful to?"
Niall's unease faded as he remembered his purpose in coming to Conn. Owaine. Despite his concern regarding Magnus, Niall could not keep his lips from curving into a half-smile at the memory of Owaine's feral determination, the abundance of anger and humiliation, pain and courage warring in that small, battered face. Emotions Niall understood far too well, pain he remembered all too clearly from the days when he first drew his sword on the practice field of Glenfluirse, believing he could slice away the aching in his heart if only he were brave enough.
"I wish to thank the boy who carried my words back to Glenfluirse," Niall said. "Young Owaine who would become a warrior."
"Owaine?" Conn's brows knitted in confusion, then awareness seemed to dawn, and he laughed. "Ah, Owaine. A most determined lad."
Niall himself had chuckled over the boy more than once. Why, then, did Conn's amusement regarding Owaine chafe? "The boy will make you a fine warrior if you give him the chance," Niall attested. "I would stake my life on it."
Conn's lip curled in an odd expression.
