Page 86 of The Pirate Queen

“He is fourteen, Gráinne.”

“I wasn’t sent until thirteen. And Donal was older than that.”

“Only because your father refused to let you go any sooner. And Donal refused to go without you. It wasn’t until you—”

“I remember when he sent me,” Gráinne snaps, her words laced with bitterness.

“ ’Tis long past time. Same for Margaret. And Merrick. You must not coddle them any longer.”

“Their father is dead. They have been moved to a strange place. And now you would have me send them away altogether? Do you intend for them to hate me as well?”

Maeve has thought about this every day since her grandchildren arrived at Clare. “Donal has only daughters.”

“I know.”

“Your sons lay claim to the chieftaincy of two clans, Gráinne. Merrick is O’Flaherty to the bone, despite your attempts to train that out of him, so he’ll need to foster with his own people. But Young Eóin? He may well be asked to carry on the legacy of his namesake one day. He must be prepared.”

“And how am I to do that?”

“You send him to Ulster,” Maeve says. “To foster with the O’Neill clan.”

“Why not the MacMahons? They are closer. Just north of Achill.”

Maeve shakes her head. “The MacMahons hate us, Gráinne, and for good reason. Your father has prevented them from taking an inch of our territory. Despite their best efforts. No alliance can be formed there—they will only look for opportunities at betrayal. Young Eóin should go to the O’Neills.”

“So far? You would send him north? Nearly two hundred miles away?”

“I would send him where we need allies. To a larger, more powerful clan. There will come a time when our survival depends on the northern clans, Gráinne. The English queen has taken much from us already. Do not think she will stop by stealing your husband’s chieftaincy.”

“I have no husband,” she says.

“And that is something else we must discuss.”

When Gráinne doesn’t respond, Maeve says, “Margaret should go to Castle Bourke on Lough Carra. She can shore up our alliances inland.”

Maeve can see it then, the way her daughter stiffens, how her spine grows straight and her eyes narrow as they look across the bay.

“I am happy to make these arrangements,” Maeve says. “If you will let me.”

Gráinne turns on her. Crosses her arms. “Are there any other arrangements that I should know about? At this rate, I fear you’ll have me married off again within the week.”

“I think you should consider it.”

She snorts. “I hated it the first time.”

“And I would never suggest you accept a bad match again.” Maeve raises a brow. “Certainly not The Joyce. Or that piss pot Rory.”

“Can I not just be widowed? ’Tis only been a week.”

Maeve changes tactics. “You have been gone for many years, Gráinne. And much has changed. Clare is an impressive stronghold. But when your father dies, it will become vulnerable. The first to come sniffing out our weaknesses will be the MacMahons. They will take any opportunity to seize these waters. They have long controlled Caher Island to the south. And they want Clare as well.”

“I cannot see how my being married will stop that.”

“It creates a bulwark. A new alliance.”

“And I suppose you’ve got a solution in mind? A name already?”

“As a matter of fact, I—”