And he faced her now.
The Banrion's tsk was a torrent of cold water into the heat. Jenna and Aron both turned to her to find her shaking her head. "This won't do," she said.
"The Rl Ard would be laughing himself silly, seeing the Inishlanders at each other's throats as usual. This is exactly what he wants. It's time to set aside your grief, Brother. Are you planning to demand eraic of the First Holder? Well, she has no blood payment to give you and we need her as an ally."
"I don't need her at all, Sister," the man retorted, swinging around to her angrily. "It's you and the fools on the Comhairle who think that. We don't need her. The Rl Ard also knows his history and will recall that every army the Tuatha have sent here has been broken by the Inish. It-and, unlike you, I think it's no certainty, Aithne-the Rl Ard manages to get the tuatha to work as one and come against us, we will break them again-without Lamh Shabhala." His gaze flicked toward Jenna. "And don't trust the Order, which has already failed Inish Thuaidh by losing their clochs to the Tuatha. In fact, Sister, I find it interesting to note that it was within a few weeks after the clochs na thintri were stolen from the Order that the First Holder chose to open them."
"I knew nothing about that, Tiarna," Jenna told him. "And I didn't choose the timing of the Filleadh."
A sniff. The huge man pulled himself up to his full, towering height. "So you say, Holder. Yet if I were the Rl Ard. . how convenient for me that the First Holder would show herself to be a threat to the Riocha; that she would dare to kill a Banrion and destroy a keep; that she would then flee to Inish Thuaidh. Curious, too, that along the way the person sent to pursue her would be the very tiarna who shares a bed with her mam-and she just happens to defeat him publicly in her flight. Wouldn't it be tragic if during the battle Lamh Shabhala suddenly turned against us, as it was intended to do all along."
"This is insane," Jenna protested. "You're concocting a conspiracy where none exists."
Aron ignored Jenna, his voice riding over hers. "Why, if I wanted to create an outside threat to pull the Tuatha together just when they were starting to war among themselves, I could ask for nothing better. What does it cost, after all? Only the death of a sickly woman who would proba-bly die soon anyway of the consumption in her lungs, and whose husband already has the children which were all he ever wanted from her."
"Aron! "The rebuke was sharp. Aithne pushed herself up, the chair scraping back as she confronted him. "This is not why we came here. We were in agreement, we were going to put together a plan… "
Aron towered over his sister: a mountain standing before a wisp of cloud. "I listened to you once before, Sister, when you told me that it would be good for Inish Thuaidh and for Cianna to have her marry Ri Mallaghan. But I do agree with you that there’s a threat to Inish Thuaidh looming." He pointed at Jenna. "The threat stands there. I know that now. I came with you because I wanted to see her. I wanted to listen to her voice. I wanted to look into the eyes of the person who killed my child before I made my final judgment. Well, I’ve looked, and I’m not im-pressed. I see no remorse or sorrow in her gaze, and I tell you, Aithne, that if you go into battle expecting her aid, you will find yourself crushed between the cloudmages of the Tuatha in the front and Lamh Shabhala at your unprotected back-because that’s exactly what they plan for you to do."
Tiarna," Jenna said, her hands wide, "I’m sorry for what I did. Truly. I wish I could undo it, but-"
Aron spat, deliberately and loudly. The globule pooled on the wooden floor a scant fingertip from her feet. "I have no more to say to you, First Holder," he told Jenna. "I’ll give you the warning you were too cowardly to give poor Cianna. From this day forward, I am your enemy. Remember that" The door shivered and trembled on its hinges as it slammed shut be-hind the man. The sound rang in Jenna’s ears for long seconds.
Chapter 44: Juggling Possibilities
THAT evening, Rl MacBradaigh declared that the Feast of First Fruits would take place in three days.
"What," Jenna asked Ennis, "is the Feast of the First Fruits?"
He kissed her throat before replying, and Jenna lifted her chin with a trembling gasp at the touch. His mouth traveled from throat to chin to mouth, and then he pulled slightly away from her, smiling down as he rested on one elbow on the bed, his other hand at the loose collar of her night robe, undoing the satin ribbon tied there. "The Feast of First Fruits. . Have you seen the blackberry vines on the columns of the Temple of the Mother-Creator?" When Jenna shrugged, he continued, his fingers slipping under the cloth of her gown. "Traditionally, the Feast takes place close to the Great Festival of Meitha, when the Dralodoiri who keep the temple first see that the vines show ripened berries. In truth, though, the Dralodoiri are sometimes told by the Comhairle that now would be a good time to proclaim the feast, regardless of the state of the vines-a few green berries can easily be dyed to provide justification."
The memory of Aron's declaration in Moister Cleurach’s chambers was a distraction to the pleasure of Ennis' roving hand. "And because of what happened today with the Banrion, her brother, and me, this is one of those times."
Ennis nodded. "I would think so, given the timing. I'd wager that this was the Banrion's doing to try to dissolve some of the tension." His thumb grazed her nipple; his hands cupped her breast. She closed her eyes, tak-ing a breath, and he laughed softly. His mouth came down again, brushing her lips. "Do you want to talk about this now?"
"No," she answered. "Not now."
"Then what do you want?" His lips touched hers once more, moist and warm, more insistent this time. She opened her eyes as he drew away loving the way he watched her.
"I just want to be with you."
"That's all I want, too," he told her. His hand had moved lower. "I would like that forever."
"Is that a proposal of marriage, Ennis O'Deoradhain?"
"It’s quite possible," he answered, almost teasingly. "But I also know it’s not what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach or probably even your mam would advise. They would tell you that the Holder of Lamh Shabhala should use marriage as a tool and use it when it’s most advantageous."
His voice had gone serious. His hand was still. "Do you think*I care what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach would advise?" Jenna asked him. "Do you think I need their approval? And my mam. . She would tell me that I should do what my heart says. And my heart says that I love you, Ennis."
She sat up abruptly, on her knees on the bed as she pulled the night robe over her head.
Underneath, she was naked except for the chain hold-ing Lamh Shabhala. "All I want is what is best for the two of us," she told him. "Is that what you want?"
He gazed at her. "Aye," he said huskily.
"Then you are overclothed," she said.
The Feast of First Fruits:
Street vendors appeared as if by summoned by magic. Booths were hastily erected around the main square of Dun Kiil, selling everything from hand crafts to potions. Street musicians, jugglers, and sleight-of-hand magicians stood on every corner. Bright banners were hung around the square and from the tessellated walls of the Keep high above. Carts groaning under the weight of apples, early corn, freshly slaughtered pigs-and new-brewed ale rumbled into town from the outlying farmlands. A sense of desperate gaiety infected the population; there was talk of little else. The Comhairle suspended their meetings (though Jenna suspected that the Banrion, Tiarna MacEagan and Bantiarna Ciomhsog still gathered to talk), and the lesser Riocha and ceil giallnai came in from the nearby townships, filling the inns and the taverns and swelling the population o Dun Kiil.
Jenna and Ennis moved through the laughing, shouting throngs in the street. As they walked from between the pair of standing stones that marked the entrance to the square, Ennis stopped Jenna and pointed. To their right, a juggler with a hatchet, flaming torch, and dagger wove bright, dangerous