happened.”
“Your moment is coming. Be ready.”
Hope surged inside Conor and was just as quickly squelched by reality. If he ran, Aine was as good as dead.
If she wasn’t already.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After all she had been through, Aine had thought she knew the depths to which humans could sink: their propensity to be fooled by lies, how easily they could be seduced by darkness. Even on the battlefield, her life had been easily divided into black and white, right and wrong, friend and foe. Now, riding north to the fortification of a family member who would be far happier if Aine had turned up dead, protected by mercenaries who fought and killed for money rather than honor, she wondered if she hadn’t gotten it all wrong.
Seare had once seemed hopelessly backward, rough. Aron, despite its clan organization only loosely governed by a king, had always seemed very civilized and modern. Even its dislike of magic, while inconvenient, meant that few people fell prey to the superstitions of the less-enlightened world. But when the mere existence of Aine’s gifts put her life in danger, she had to wonder if her homeland weren’t the one clinging to its outdated superstitions.
“What are my options?” Aine asked Taran on her second day with the mercenaries.
“I was wondering when you might ask that.” He reined his horse beside her, his eyes still scanning his surroundings. “I’m not sure you have any, besides returning to Forrais. Should you fall into another clan’s hands, they will use you against your clan as bait, bargain, or punishment. As long as Macha does not learn about your gift, you have the strength of clan law and your extensive holdings to protect you in Forrais.”
“What do you know of those holdings? And why didn’t they revert to Lady Macha when she took clan leadership?”
“Those that belonged to the clan did. But your father was a wealthy man in his own right. You would have to speak to Macha’s exchequer to learn the full extent of his estates.”
“You’re well informed for the lord of a midland clan. Maolain has shifted allegiances a dozen times in the last two hundred years, hasn’t it?”
Taran chuckled. “Your father was one of the few men I truly respected in the north, Lady Aine. I might have even liked him, as much as you can like a man such as him.”
“What do you mean?”
Taran shifted his position on the horse’s back, the upward cast of his eyes telling her he was considering his words. “He was hard. Unyielding. Expected things to be done his way without question. Yet he was also fair and honorable, and he put his tenants’ well-being before his own. Not many lords would be roused in the middle of the night to help fight a barn fire or arrange subsistence for a family who had lost the head of their household. The people on his land both feared and respected him. I daresay some might have even loved him.”
It was no less than she’d ever expected from Alsandair Mac Tamhais, but it was the first time she had heard it from the mouth of someone with nothing to gain. “And Lady Macha?”
“She is your father’s sister, but I fear she lacks his morealtruistic qualities. Lady Aine, you must be prepared that she will not take your reclaiming your birthright well. She has benefited from the rents and taxes on your lands. That means thousands of tenanted acres of farm and pastureland, not to mention the livestock and the hives.”
“What would you do?”
“What I would do and what you should do are two entirely different things. Your best hope is to rely on clan law. Give Macha a chance to do the proper thing. She will not want to risk losing the support of the clansmen by taking your rightful inheritance. But she might take some convincing.”
“And exactly whose sort of convincing would that be?” Aine asked with an arch of her eyebrow.
Pepin laughed behind them. “My dear, as much as I would love to serve you, our sort of convincing would cause more
“Your moment is coming. Be ready.”
Hope surged inside Conor and was just as quickly squelched by reality. If he ran, Aine was as good as dead.
If she wasn’t already.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After all she had been through, Aine had thought she knew the depths to which humans could sink: their propensity to be fooled by lies, how easily they could be seduced by darkness. Even on the battlefield, her life had been easily divided into black and white, right and wrong, friend and foe. Now, riding north to the fortification of a family member who would be far happier if Aine had turned up dead, protected by mercenaries who fought and killed for money rather than honor, she wondered if she hadn’t gotten it all wrong.
Seare had once seemed hopelessly backward, rough. Aron, despite its clan organization only loosely governed by a king, had always seemed very civilized and modern. Even its dislike of magic, while inconvenient, meant that few people fell prey to the superstitions of the less-enlightened world. But when the mere existence of Aine’s gifts put her life in danger, she had to wonder if her homeland weren’t the one clinging to its outdated superstitions.
“What are my options?” Aine asked Taran on her second day with the mercenaries.
“I was wondering when you might ask that.” He reined his horse beside her, his eyes still scanning his surroundings. “I’m not sure you have any, besides returning to Forrais. Should you fall into another clan’s hands, they will use you against your clan as bait, bargain, or punishment. As long as Macha does not learn about your gift, you have the strength of clan law and your extensive holdings to protect you in Forrais.”
“What do you know of those holdings? And why didn’t they revert to Lady Macha when she took clan leadership?”
“Those that belonged to the clan did. But your father was a wealthy man in his own right. You would have to speak to Macha’s exchequer to learn the full extent of his estates.”
“You’re well informed for the lord of a midland clan. Maolain has shifted allegiances a dozen times in the last two hundred years, hasn’t it?”
Taran chuckled. “Your father was one of the few men I truly respected in the north, Lady Aine. I might have even liked him, as much as you can like a man such as him.”
“What do you mean?”
Taran shifted his position on the horse’s back, the upward cast of his eyes telling her he was considering his words. “He was hard. Unyielding. Expected things to be done his way without question. Yet he was also fair and honorable, and he put his tenants’ well-being before his own. Not many lords would be roused in the middle of the night to help fight a barn fire or arrange subsistence for a family who had lost the head of their household. The people on his land both feared and respected him. I daresay some might have even loved him.”
It was no less than she’d ever expected from Alsandair Mac Tamhais, but it was the first time she had heard it from the mouth of someone with nothing to gain. “And Lady Macha?”
“She is your father’s sister, but I fear she lacks his morealtruistic qualities. Lady Aine, you must be prepared that she will not take your reclaiming your birthright well. She has benefited from the rents and taxes on your lands. That means thousands of tenanted acres of farm and pastureland, not to mention the livestock and the hives.”
“What would you do?”
“What I would do and what you should do are two entirely different things. Your best hope is to rely on clan law. Give Macha a chance to do the proper thing. She will not want to risk losing the support of the clansmen by taking your rightful inheritance. But she might take some convincing.”
“And exactly whose sort of convincing would that be?” Aine asked with an arch of her eyebrow.
Pepin laughed behind them. “My dear, as much as I would love to serve you, our sort of convincing would cause more
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