stood a low table scattered with wooden bowls and earthen cups. A thick fur pelt covered the bench beside the table and some plainly woven cloth hung between posts, hiding the beds
Yet what caught Shiovra ’s attention the most was a very familiar loom leaning against a support post. The wood was well worn and a partially woven cloth sat ready to be finished. The priestess ran her fingers down the side of the lo om, taking in every nick in the wood. It was the same as it had been ten years ago. The loom had once been her mother’s.
“ The Milidh clan already have a foot in this village,” muttered Daire angrily, pulling Shiovra from her memories.
“Odhrán?” asked Shiovra , dropping her hand and turning to her cousin. “You believe he may have been sent to watch us? To learn our weaknesses and such?”
Daire nodded. “Aye.”
“ Odhrán…is from the Milidh clan of D ún Fiáin.”
Shiovra looked at her brother curiously.
Mahon crouched down beside the dwindling fire in the hearth, poking at it with a stick . “He was sent here by the chieftain of Dún Fiáin to guard you, Shiovra , and ensure that you fulfill the betrothal agreement when the time comes,” he admitted in a low voice .
“To guard me?” protested Shiovra angrily.
Nodding, Mahon sat the stick down and continued, “ Ceallach informed me that when you returned to Tara, Odhrán was to serve as your guardian warrior.” He exhaled, ru n ning his hands through his hair. “I protested the decision, but Ainmire informed me it was for the sake of the alliance. I cannot go against him.”
“How are we to know that Odhrán isn’t a dagger waiting to strike?!” demanded Daire . “Are we to believe that the Milidh clan of Dún Fiáin is so concerned for Shiovra ’s safety that they sent was warrior to protect her?!”
Mahon held a hand up. “ I have tried to reason with Ainmire, but he will not listen,” he said. “ All we can do is watch for any hint that would betray ill intentions.”
“I do not like this in the least,” Daire muttered.
“Lord Mahon?” came a tentative voice. A young boy stood looking shyly into the cottage. “Lord Ainmire wishes to speak with you.”
“Aye,” he told the boy. His eyes turned bac k to his sister, “Keep a wary eye out when Odhrán is near. We cannot be too sure what he may be thinking.” Turning back to the boy, he left the cottage.
Shiovra moved to stand in the doorway , watching as her brother walk ed away. Though she had left Rúnda on her own terms and had been discovered by one of the Milidh clan, she knew that if she had remained and left on Réalta’s conditions , she would have still be found out eventually. It would not be long before the enemy started to hunt her.
Sighing, the priestess leaned in the doorway, running her fingers along her side . The wound she had received would serve as a warning, reminding her that she could have easily lost her life that day. Since her arrival to Tara, Shiovra learned of attacks on villages where a priestess resided, a few had even lost their lives. It was a cruel tactic to cripple the strength of the village by removing the power and influence the priestess held sway over.
Shiovra glanced down, her eyes trailing over the blue woad markings covering her left arm. She was marked , as Daire had put it, evermore to be known by both ally and enemy. Shiovra did not doubt her own strength and skill, but if she was to survive, she would need trusted warriors at her side.
A gentle breeze drifted into the cottage, brushing past her, whispering and calling to her .
Following the wind, Shiovra turned to see her cousin standing before her. The breeze danced around Daire , lingering as it circled him, before drifting back out the door. Shiovra ’s lips parted as she regarded Daire for a moment. The words passed her lips before she realized she was speaking them , “Ha il to the chosen warrior of the east, by the power of air, I greet thee .”
A
Yet what caught Shiovra ’s attention the most was a very familiar loom leaning against a support post. The wood was well worn and a partially woven cloth sat ready to be finished. The priestess ran her fingers down the side of the lo om, taking in every nick in the wood. It was the same as it had been ten years ago. The loom had once been her mother’s.
“ The Milidh clan already have a foot in this village,” muttered Daire angrily, pulling Shiovra from her memories.
“Odhrán?” asked Shiovra , dropping her hand and turning to her cousin. “You believe he may have been sent to watch us? To learn our weaknesses and such?”
Daire nodded. “Aye.”
“ Odhrán…is from the Milidh clan of D ún Fiáin.”
Shiovra looked at her brother curiously.
Mahon crouched down beside the dwindling fire in the hearth, poking at it with a stick . “He was sent here by the chieftain of Dún Fiáin to guard you, Shiovra , and ensure that you fulfill the betrothal agreement when the time comes,” he admitted in a low voice .
“To guard me?” protested Shiovra angrily.
Nodding, Mahon sat the stick down and continued, “ Ceallach informed me that when you returned to Tara, Odhrán was to serve as your guardian warrior.” He exhaled, ru n ning his hands through his hair. “I protested the decision, but Ainmire informed me it was for the sake of the alliance. I cannot go against him.”
“How are we to know that Odhrán isn’t a dagger waiting to strike?!” demanded Daire . “Are we to believe that the Milidh clan of Dún Fiáin is so concerned for Shiovra ’s safety that they sent was warrior to protect her?!”
Mahon held a hand up. “ I have tried to reason with Ainmire, but he will not listen,” he said. “ All we can do is watch for any hint that would betray ill intentions.”
“I do not like this in the least,” Daire muttered.
“Lord Mahon?” came a tentative voice. A young boy stood looking shyly into the cottage. “Lord Ainmire wishes to speak with you.”
“Aye,” he told the boy. His eyes turned bac k to his sister, “Keep a wary eye out when Odhrán is near. We cannot be too sure what he may be thinking.” Turning back to the boy, he left the cottage.
Shiovra moved to stand in the doorway , watching as her brother walk ed away. Though she had left Rúnda on her own terms and had been discovered by one of the Milidh clan, she knew that if she had remained and left on Réalta’s conditions , she would have still be found out eventually. It would not be long before the enemy started to hunt her.
Sighing, the priestess leaned in the doorway, running her fingers along her side . The wound she had received would serve as a warning, reminding her that she could have easily lost her life that day. Since her arrival to Tara, Shiovra learned of attacks on villages where a priestess resided, a few had even lost their lives. It was a cruel tactic to cripple the strength of the village by removing the power and influence the priestess held sway over.
Shiovra glanced down, her eyes trailing over the blue woad markings covering her left arm. She was marked , as Daire had put it, evermore to be known by both ally and enemy. Shiovra did not doubt her own strength and skill, but if she was to survive, she would need trusted warriors at her side.
A gentle breeze drifted into the cottage, brushing past her, whispering and calling to her .
Following the wind, Shiovra turned to see her cousin standing before her. The breeze danced around Daire , lingering as it circled him, before drifting back out the door. Shiovra ’s lips parted as she regarded Daire for a moment. The words passed her lips before she realized she was speaking them , “Ha il to the chosen warrior of the east, by the power of air, I greet thee .”
A
Similar Books
