Moister Cleurach had given over his other duties and students; Jenna's instruction was now his only task. She learned about the clochs na thintri. their history, their behavior, their quirks, how previous Holders had dealt with handling their power. She was shown meditations that helped her deal with the pain of her interaction with the mage-lights, she was guided through the bright landscape she saw when she looked at the world through Lamh Shabhala’s eyes. She and Moister Cleurach pored over the texts left by previous Holders of Lamh Shabhala, and Jenna realized that I had only touched on the surface of the cloch's abilities. As Moister Cleurach had said, some of what was stated in the book was false, but much more of it illuminated pathways within the cloch that Jenna had not even guessed at. The Moister pushed her and prodded her, never letting her rest, taking her past what she thought were her physical and mental limits, never accepting less than her best effort.
"Was he this way with you?" she asked O'Deoradhain after a particu-larly grueling day. "After all, he expected you to hold Lamh Shabhala had you found it. Did he drive you like this?" They were standing on a balcony of one of the White Keep's towers, overlooking the crags and cliffs atop which the cloister perched. The houses and buildings of the village were a collection of dots far below already in deepening shadow. Only the upper rim of the sun was still visible, the clouds above burning molten gold and rose, the waves of the sea tipped with shimmering orange. A sparkling column of wind sprites lifted from the cliffs halfway down the mountain, and several seals had hauled out of the sea, roaring and honk-ing where the waves crashed foaming onto black rocks.
"Consider it a good sign," O’Deoradhain grinned. "He’s hardest on the ones he feels have the most potential. The time to worry is when he’s easy on you."
"You still haven’t answered my question. Was he this hard on you?"
O’Deoradhain smiled again. "That would be telling, wouldn’t it?" Jenna laughed and his smile grew broader. "I knew you could do that," he said.
"Do what?"
"Laugh. Enjoy yourself."
Jenna felt herself blushing, and she glanced down toward the village so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. Her flight from Lar Bhaile now seemed ages ago, and over the intervening months her feelings toward O’Deoradhain had been slowly changing: from suspicion and caution to grudging admiration, to friendship, to… she didn’t know how to term what she felt now. Or perhaps you’re simply afraid to give it a name, for all manner of reasons. .
Below, the seals were leaping into the waves, one after another, dozens of them. "Are those blue seals?" Jenna asked to shift the subject, but O’Deoradhain moved closer to her to peer over the balco-ny’s stone railing. She could feel the heat of his body against her side.
“I don’t think so," he said. "Just the normal harbor seals. There’s a family of blues here, but they’re usually on the other side of the island."
"Are they. .?"
"The ones I first swam with?" he finished for her softly. "No. That was on Inish Thuaidh itself. But I’ve been with this group, when I felt the need.
They know me, and Garrentha, who saved you at Lough Glas is one of the Inishfeirm family." His hand touched hers on the railing — her right hand. She didn’t move away this time. His fingers interlaced with hers, pressing gently. Though the fingers of that hand, as always, moved only stiffly and with some pain, she pressed back. "Jenna. ." he began but his voice trailed off. The throng of wind sprites rose in the darkening air, chattering in their high voices as they swarmed past Jenna and
O'Deoradhain before darting around the bulge of the tower.
"What were you going to say, Ennis?" Jenna asked, and O'Deoradhain chuckled. "What?" she said into his laughter.
"I think that may be the first time you've called me by my given name."
She smiled back at him. "Is that wrong? Is that too familiar for you?"
"No," he answered, still smiling. "I like the way you make it sound."
They were still holding hands. "Ennis. ." she began, and this time the tone was different.
"I know. You don't have to say it."
Her eyes searched his. "What do you know?"
"I'm a bit too old for you. A bit too strange. A bit. ." He shrugged. He let her hand fall away from his grasp. "I understand all that. Truly. But I hope you know that I will always be your ally. When you need my cloch to stand with you against the other Clochs Mor-and I don't think that can be avoided-I will be there."
He started to turn away. She reached out with her left hand and touched his arm. "Wait, Ennis."
His head tilted, his gaze questioned. Jenna reached up for him, slowly, wondering at the gesture even as she made it. She brought his head down to hers. The kiss, when it came, was softer and sweeter than she expected, and longer. There wasn't the bruising urgency there'd been with Coelin; there also wasn't the awkwardness. This was deeper and stronger.
It was more frightening.
The fright overwhelmed her. She turned her head, breaking off the kiss. His breath was warm at her ear. She heard him swallow.
"I'm sorry, Jenna," he said. "I shouldn't have. ."
"Tell me that you have no more secrets, Ennis."
A quiet, tentative laugh. "None that I know of."
"Then tell me that you won’t hurt me the way Coelin did."
His arms closed tight around her, pressing her close. "Not the way he did, no. I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you, Jenna. But I’ll promise that I’ll love you, for as long as you want me."
"Ennis…" She didn’t know how to say it, to tell him how scared she was of this, how confused. How she didn’t-couldn’t-trust her own feelings, not after Coelin’s betrayal. That the things he had told her about himself did matter, even if she said they didn’t. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if shaking the cage of its confinement; her pulse throbbed in her temples, and the pain of her arm came again, making her close her eyes. She shook her head. "I’m not ready… I don’t know. ."
He nodded. She could see the hurt in his eyes. His hands left her. "Ah," he said. He tried to smile. "I understand," he said. "I do."
She wanted to explain it all to him, but she had no words.
The seals called plaintively below them, and the sun’s disk slipped below the line of the sea.
Chapter 40: The Ri's Request
"JENNA?"
The knock on the door was tentative, and the husky whisper was that of Ennis. Jenna blinked sleepily. It was dark in the room, though dawn was just beginning to paint the sky. Jenna reluctantly put the covers aside and drew her night robe closer around her in the cold air as she sat up.
After their conversation a few days before, she'd hoped he might come to her, that he might begin the conversation again, that he might kiss her and she would let herself open to him. She'd also feared the same thing, not knowing what she wanted.
There was an awkwardness now when they were together, when their arms accidentally brushed. She wanted to be next to him; she was frightened to get too near. Not now. Not this way. . she thought as she moved to the door. No! Let him in. You want the feel of his body on yours, his mouth. . another part of her shouted. She opened the grille in the center of the door and peered through, and all the voices inside died as she saw his face.
"Ennis? What's the matter?"
Ennis' face, candlelit, filled the opening on the other side of the grille, serious and unsmiling. "Moister Cleurach would like to see us in his rooms immediately."