Page 55 of The Pirate Queen

“To gather reinforcements.” She stands again and looks down at the messenger. “Have you eaten?”

“A bit of bread.” He nods at Murray. “And the soup he left for me.”

“Was it cold?”

“Hot. Cold. Tastes the same when you’re hungry and just spent twelve hours dreaming you were dead.”

“I will send breakfast and clean dressings in the morning. You’re free to leave then.”

“Why not now?” he demands.

“Because you can’t walk home. And rousing the stable master will ensure that you do wake up dead.”

Gráinne moves to the door and Murray opens it with a bloody hand. They follow her out. Finn shifts between her and the flickering torch so the flames don’t bend and lick the wild tendrils of her hair. This earns a warning glance from Murray before he reaches back to pull the cell door shut.

“Make sure he gets food and clean dressings in the morning,” she tells the guard, then lowers her voice to a whisper. “But wait until well after sunrise. We need as much of a head start as we can get before the rest of the castle learns that my husband is dead.”

The guard nods his assent and Gráinne pulls at the chain connected to her leather belt until a compass slides out of her skirt pocket. She has carried it on her person every day that Finn has known her and she consults it not just at sea, but at times like this, when there are decisions to be made. He thinks she is looking, always, for true north. She holds the compass in her palm and stares at the still needle for a few seconds before snapping the lid closed and stowing it in her pocket once more.

“Gráinne?” Finn asks. “Where are we going?”

She holds a finger to her lips as she leads them through the cellar, up the stairs, and by the kitchen. Up and around they go, then back through the Great Hall and out the front door.

Only once they are beneath the stars again, night breeze on their cheeks, does she speak. “We’re going to ensure that The Joyce cannot take Cock’s Castle.”

“I would have thought the new O’Flaherty would stake his claim on it now that your husband is dead,” Murray says.

“I will go to my grave before I call Murrough The O’Flaherty of this clan.”

Finn clears his throat. “He’s been named so by the English queen.”

“And what right did she have to do that?” Gráinne demands. “She defied Brehon Law with her order. And while my husband’s father was still alive! Elizabeth stole the title and gave it to a minor chieftain, a man no one in this clan voted for. And for what? To spare her treasury and quell a local rebellion? No. I reject that she has any authority to do so.”

“Because it removed your son from the line of succession?” he asks.

“Because it is wrong! Ireland is its own kingdom. We have our own laws. And I have sacrificed nineteen years of my life—nineteen years!—to ensure that Young Eóin is made chieftain, a thing that our laws entitle him to. Are you going to tell me those years were spent in vain?”

A smile twitches at the left corner of Finn’s mouth. “I have learned not to tell you anything, Taoiseach.”

This earns him another uneasy glance from his brother.

“And what does any of that have to do with Cock’s Castle?” Murray asks.

“I’ll not let the Joyces have it. Nor will I let Murrough take anything else from this family. If we do not defend the castle now, we will lose it forever—along with control of the trade route into Connemara and the taxes we collect as a result.”

“It will take two hundred men to defend that island!” his brother argues.

Gráinne shakes her head. “We have the twenty who remain there, plus another fifty at the garrison. Which is why you will leave now to collect them.” When Murray doesn’t immediately turn on his heel, she adds, “Or shall I send Finn for the second night in a row?”

“Gráinne,” Murray says with a curt nod, then bounds down the stairs.

Between moon and stars there is just enough light to make out the soft lift of her cheekbones and the full curve of her mouth. The flash of white teeth. Her dark eyes are still hidden in shadow, however, as are her thoughts.

“You did not love your husband,” Finn says.

Gráinne frowns.

“If that’s a secret, it was poorly kept.”