"Promised... he promised..." Magnus whimpered like a child, tears running down hischeeks. "All would be well if... just did as he... said."
"Who?" Niall roared. "Curse you, who plotted this? Who put that knife in your hand?"
Magnus's agonized gaze pierced Niall's. "Father."
"Impossible!" Niall recoiled, remembering the shimmering gold between Conn's fingers, the burning intensity in the chieftain's eyes. "He drank from the cup before he offered it to me."
"Pretended. Lull any suspicion later."
Niall's stomach churned with realization as Magnus's mouth curled with triumph even in death.
"My... father. He was... mine," Magnus cried fiercely. "N-never yours." The warrior convulsed, cried out. His body went still.
Niall struggled to his feet, fought for balance. There were people spilling out of the fortress, their faces weaving dizzily around him, weapons ready. Had they heard the sounds of battle? Believed it an attack by an enemy? A few of the faces shone stark with shock. Disbelief. Horror as if they had heard...
He glimpsed Caitlin, held back by a pair of spear casters, an intruder, a stranger who might be responsible for whatever had just happened.Her beloved features contorted in terror, anguish. Real. She was heartbreakingly real and in the grimmest of danger.
For if Conn had plotted Niall's death, the chieftain must thirst for Caitlin's as well. How much time did he have left before the poison finished its work? He had to save Caitlin! And there was only one sure way: his sword buried in Conn's lying throat.
"Conn!" Niall bellowed, staggering around the ring of people, searching for the chieftain's face. "Murdering coward! Come forward! Face me like a man!"
A murmur of discomfort, disbelief, rippled through the crowd. Suddenly, Niall glimpsed the chieftain, standing apart upon a raised dais, his red hair gleaming in the torchlight, his robes seeming to writhe like flame.
"I am here, betrayer's son," Conn said. "Come forth if you dare. The rest of you, stay back! This matter is between me and this foster son of mine."
"Nay!" Caitlin cried out, struggling against her captors. "Niall, do not!"
But there was only one way he could free his lady now. Niall staggered toward Conn, determined to face the chieftain, kill him, before the poison ended his own life. But the wound in hisside was draining what little strength he had left, his head threatening to explode. Niall stumbled to the dais, the sword in his hand so heavy he could scarce hold it. He dragged himself up the stairs to the floor which seemed to heave beneath him like waves in a sea storm.
Conn shimmered, swam in the orange glow, like a dragon in a hero tale, deadly and terrifying. Invincible. "The sword is too heavy, Niall," Conn murmured with peculiar gentleness. "I know you cannot lift it."
Niall tried to prove his nemesis wrong, but it was as if the chieftain's words had cast a spell upon him, robbing him of the last of his strength. "You..." Niall struggled to force the words from his throat. "You wanted to kill me. Why... not do it with your own hand?"
Conn's eyes widened with something like hurt. "I had an affection for you."
"Yet you used your own son?"
"Some men value sons far more than others. I view them as expendable—regrettably expendable, but expendable nonetheless. Perhaps because I had so many of them. Your father, however..." Conn tugged at his mustache meditatively.
"My father..." Niall echoed.
"Perhaps it is safe for you to learn the truth at last. An eternity of guilt will be a fitting blood price for killing my son. All these years, you have hated Ronan of Daire. Loved me. Were loyal to me. All this time."
"Nothing you can say will change anything. I know the truth. Father... told me himself. Love him... in spite of it."
"How generous of you. You love your father in spite of the fact that he lied to you."
"Never... lied."
"Everything he told you from his prison was a he. He killed your love for him with those lies so that you might live."
"K-killed?"
"I gave Ronan a choice. Condemn himself to you and to all of Glenfluirse, declare to all Ireland he was a traitor who murdered his closest friend for the lust of a woman. Make everyone believe he was responsible for the blood that was on my hands, and I would let his son live."
Niall staggered back, horror all but buckling his knees. Horror and the certain knowledge that Conn told the truth. "You?"
"Scota was a most intriguing woman. Sons sired on her body would have been magnificent. A fitting legacy to my rule. Not like the puling lotI got on my wife. It was simple enough to smear your father with guilt in the minds of everyone in Ireland. Merely dipping Scota's finger in blood, writing Ronan's name. I could not believe my good fortune when the lout rode up to Lorcan's fortress scarce an hour after I had killed her. I made certain many people saw him. Then I appeared, shocked and grieving at the carnage I found. Only my most trusted men knew what had really happened. I missed them very much when accidents befell them."
