I flinched like I’d been struck. We never spoke of that day. It made me feel sick to be reminded of it after doing the same to áthair. He stood, and again I reached out as if to steady him, but his words stopped me.
“She was right. You are an abomination, a monster who threatens her own family.” His eyes leveled on me, remorseless. “You leave me with no choice, despite the terrible loss of you as a warrior. But I can no longer fear who you will turn on next.”
His words hung heavily in the air, and I took a step back in horror when I realized who he was implying: my sisters.
“I want you to leave. There are convents far from here—the kingdoms of Connacht or Munster on the other side of éirinn. They will take you in. Go there, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
I held on to my swelling rage; I knew once I took a moment to absorb my father’s words that I would face endless despair. Exile! I thought again of Branna and Deirdre, of my clansmen, and the kingdom of Mide. The Morrigan had said I had the ability to save them. I couldn’t let anything stand in my way. Not even my own father.
I did the only thing I could do: I turned and ran.
No one tried to stop me as I flew out of the castle, angrily brushing away the tears that fell unchecked from my eyes. I had broken the one rule I’d vowed to always uphold: to never use my abilities on a member of our family. Certainly not him. Never him.
“I am a monster,” I whispered to myself.
I had always been a monster in his eyes. But I would gladly be a monster if it meant saving my sisters.
Banishment. Exile. I never thought I’d hear those words directed toward me, and as the initial anger slowly abated, I had the strongest urge to run back to the castle and beg his forgiveness. The mere thought of having to leave the kingdom and not see my sisters again was so devastating I let out a cry of pain. It didn’t matter that I was the princess. áthair was known for his quick temper, and many clansmen who had committed far lesser crimes had been exiled before. My particular crime subjected me to both Brehon Law, the law all kingdoms obeyed, and the Church. I wouldn’t be brought before a tribunal of judges, though—no, my father had already issued my punishment. As soon as he had recovered from my attack on him, he’d send his guards after me to escort me out of the kingdom.
There was only one place I could go . . . to the Northman.
And then what? I demanded of myself. Even if he knew of the invaders to our land, what would I do? Ask him to join me in exile?
I let out a noise that was disgust and frustration in one.
If I wanted the prisoner to answer me, it was in my best interest to bring him the food he demanded. There wouldn’t be time to force the information from him, no matter how desperate I was.
It was easy enough to retrieve bread and cheese from the larder, as well as a flagon of water, but I ground my teeth when I found a massive cauldron of fish stew bubbling over a fire. How I would hate the look of triumph on the Northman’s face when I brought him exactly what he had asked for.
I was as nervous as a hare that scented the fox as I hurried back through the bailey with my parcels of food. I couldn’t be detained. Lying was not my strength, and I was short on daylight.
A shock of red hair drew my attention as I made my way to the stockade. The Lord had mercy on me. It was Fergus and not Conall, for obviously it was he who had told my father about the prisoner. I should have anticipated it, really. Conall’s loyalties above all were to his king. I shouldn’t have expected him to keep silent on something like a captured Northman prisoner.
Fergus hailed me, one hand raised. “I was just coming to find you, milady. I checked on the prisoner not long ago, and he seemed to be asleep. Pity, that.”
I tried not to dance in place. I was desperate to continue on my way, but running off now would only make him suspicious. “Thank you, Fergus. I’m sorry to have left you at the foot of the trail for so long. áthair summoned me the moment he returned.”
“And I apologize for having to leave my post, but the king will want to see me.”
My hands tightened on the food I carried. “Of course.”
Thoughts of how Fergus would react when he learned I’d attacked my own father and had been exiled for it tried to fill my mind, but I pushed them aside. They were too painful. His gaze drifted to the food I carried, and both bushy eyebrows lifted questioningly.
“It’s better not to ask,” I said.
He frowned. “You are feeding him now?”
I kept walking. “It’s none of your concern, Fergus.”
“It is, milady. I’m to keep watch over ye.” He touched his hand to my arm. “Does your father know?”
In this, at least, I need not lie. “He does. This is to be the prisoner’s last meal.”
That silenced him for a moment. “Should I come with you?”
“No,” I said—a little too sharply. “I must speak to him privately first.”
I tried to hurry away from Fergus, but his words stopped me. “What more do you need to know? The king has returned to us safely. The Northman has nothing to offer you now.”
I stopped and turned toward my clansman. I held his watery gaze with mine, praying that I could convey the direness of the situation. “Fergus, do you believe the talk about me? That I’m a changeling?”
He floundered, all round eyes and gaping mouth. “I—” He seemed to gather his thoughts. “I wouldn’t consider myself an authority on such a matter. I only know you have the ability to . . .” And there he trailed off. “. . . control others in battle,” he said. “You are able to interpret omens.”
“Then know this. I have seen things, Fergus. Terrible things, destruction to our world I pray never comes to pass. I believe this Northman may have answers, and I will do anything to get them.”
“Even bringing him food like a servant?”
“Even that.”
Fergus nodded. “Very well, milady. But once you have your answers, if you find you cannot bring yourself to do what must be done, only call on me, and I will help you.”
He was offering to take the burden of executing the Northman for me. Not that I intended to go through with the act—not when the Northman could be the only remaining ally I had. “Thank you, Fergus, but you can be most helpful in making sure my interrogation stays private.”
He nodded once before watching me go, his brows a dark furrow of concern. My heart twisted to see his expression. Fergus had always been a friend to me. And now, because of my monstrous abilities, I’d lose him, too. With the bowl of stew still balanced precariously in my hand, I walked as fast as I could to the cave.
On the path, the wind threatened to tear the food from my hands, but I held on tenaciously. He will likely complain the stew has gone cold, I thought, squishing the bread in my clenched fist.
Silence greeted me when I entered the cave, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, the bowl of stew shattered at my feet. The Northman was gone, the chains torn from their rings on the wall.
6
I flew back down the trail as fast as I dared, cursing the Northman as I went. Obviously he’d escaped the moment Fergus had left his post. I nearly stumbled once; the goat trail was treacherous, but not nearly as dangerous in the light of day. I’d seen for myself in battle how agile the Northman was—and clearly much stronger than I’d anticipated. No doubt he’d had enough time to put distance between us. Sleipnir was my only chance of catching him now.
But as soon as I reached the bottom, I slid to a stop. Chasing after the Northman alone was madness, but what did I have left to lose?
Exiled, I told myself again, just to test the amount of pain the word would cause me—much like someone might test a wound. It nearly doubled me over. Physical pain, I could take, but the torturous thought of having to leave my home . . . my family . . .
My mind filled with the previous night’s vision: éirinn reduced to ashes, my sisters broken and lifeless, and I knew exile meant nothing to me if they could be saved. I would follow him to the depths of hell if it meant preventing that from becoming reality.