Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) Read Free Page B

out of sight. I was still smiling when I went back into the ringfort.
    Gormlaith and the others were waiting to greet me on my return. She studied my face closely. “You didn’t cry.” She made it sound like an accusation.
    I shrugged. “That would have been bad luck. Better to send them on their way with a smile, to ward off mischance on the road.”
    “I never heard that before.” Ula sounded suspicious.
    “Do any of the women here cry when their men ride out to risk their lives in battle or on a cattle raid?” I asked.
    “No, but—”
    “Oh, Ula, let it go,” Dairine said, linking arms with me. “Just because you cried whole floods of tears when you were left here doesn’t mean everyone’s such a baby.”
    “I was nine years old,” Ula said stiffly. “And besides, Brygtold me that when you came here, you wept louder than Aifric ever did, and she yowled over everything .”
    “Who’s Aifric?” I asked. It was the second time I’d heard her name.
    An uneasy silence fell over the three girls. Gormlaith looked ready to have the earth swallow her whole. Ula, cool and proud, was the one to answer me at last.
    “Aifric was a fosterling here for longer than any of us. She was only three when her parents gave her to Lady Lassaire to raise. They were noble, but ranked almost as low as Dairine’s father.”
    “My father earned his rank!” Dairine exclaimed, furious. “He’s one of Èriu’s foremost warriors. He wasn’t born into a soft bed like yours.”
    Ula took the gibe as if it carried no more weight than a falling flower petal. “Aifric’s mother died the year she came here, and her father the year after that. All she had left were some cousins, and they saw no reason to take her away from Dún Beithe.”
    “She was happy here,” Gormlaith said quietly. “We were friends.” She fidgeted with the end of one of her tiny braids. “Like sisters.” Those words came out barely above a whisper.
    I was confused. “Where is she now? Did she marry and leave?”
    Again, no one answered my question until I raised a new one: “Did she fall sick and die?”
    Dairine tossed her head, sending her three black braids flying. “We’re all going to die if we don’t hurry up and join Lady Lassaire,” she said, artfully brushing my words aside. “Comeon, Lady Maeve.” She tightened her hold on my arm and broke into a run.
    As I stumbled along beside her, I managed to say, “I’m not Lady Maeve to any of you, Dairine.”
    “Oh? Is that why Ula and Gormlaith haven’t been using your proper title? I thought they were just being their usual bad-mannered selves.” She seemed disinterested.
    “I asked Gormlaith to call me Maeve when we first spoke early this morning and Ula must have overheard. You were still sleeping.”
    “Well, that’s as good a reason as any for letting me be the last to know.” She laughed, short and sharp as a fox’s bark.
    I pulled back, forcing her to slow down. “I didn’t mean to slight you, Dairine,” I said. “I want all of us to be friends. It was an oversight.”
    “Who said it wasn’t?” Dairine was all smiles. Despite this, I wasn’t reassured.
    We found Lady Lassaire in the great house, seated by the hearth. Two of her women attended her, and a little girl dressed in yellow stood by with a basket of raw wool almost as big as she was. The distinguishing color of her dress marked her for a slave, the first one I’d noticed at Dún Beithe.
    “There you are, my darling girls!” Lady Lassaire exclaimed, hurrying forward to meet us. Her thick, silver-blond hair was neatly braided into a single plait that hung down to her hips. If she’d worn it loose, I think it would have reached her knees. Her small, slender body moved with the grace of an elfin woman from the Otherworld, and when she spoke it was like hearing a little songbird chirping pleasantly in the sun. Shedrew me away from Dairine and embraced me, her cheek soft against mine.
    “Welcome, my dearest