Naamah's Kiss Read Free Page A

Berlik had made, and pity for the poor princess and the babe that bore the cost of them. Aye, and her husband, too. The D'Angeline prince. Morwen had died here that night, but Berlik had fled, north and ever north, mayhap seeking the land of our distant origin. The D'Angeline prince had tracked him to the snowy ends of the earth and brought back his head.
    Dusk was falling.
    One last note lingering in the air, then the harp fell silent. An entourage from the castle was approaching across the field. A woman dressed in a fine gown rode at the head of it astride a chestnut horse. The armed men fell in to flank the party. Oengus moved to meet them. He inclined his head in greeting. Her gaze swept over the assembled Maghuin Dhonn. I felt my mother's hands on my shoulders, pulling me close to her. The twilight deepened around us as she summoned it, cloaking me as though I were still a babe.
    "Oengus, son of Niall," the finely dressed woman said. "All is well between our people?"
    He inclined his head a second time. "By stone and sea and sky and all that they encompass, I swear it, Lady."
    This time she inclined her head in response. "Go in peace." She glanced once more over us. "We give greeting to our wild kin."
    With that, she took her leave and her entourage went with her. My mother released the twilight and I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.
    "She's kin?" I asked.
    "Aye," my mother said. "A descendant of Alais' and Arwyn's line. There's always one in residence at Clunderry."
    "Oh." It meant we shared as kin my great-great-grandmother Alais the Wise, daughter of the Cruarch of Alba and the Queen of Terre d'Ange. What tenuous place the Maghuin Dhonn held in Alba was due to her. She'd wed one of usor at least a half-breed. Conor mac Grainne, son of the Lady of the Dalriada and a wandering Maghuin Dhonn harpist. Their eldest, their daughter Arwyn, had gone on to be named the Cruarch Talorcan's heir and ruled Alba in the latter days of her life.
    Alais' and Conor's other two daughters had answered the call of their diadh-anam and gone back to the wild places we liked best. They had married and mingled with others of our kind.
    "Why didn't you want her to see us?" I asked. "Surely we're at peace?"
    "Aye." My mother looked around. The Maghuin Dhonn were beginning to drift away in twos and threes. "There's to be a revel, but there's somewhat I wish you to see first. There, we will speak."
    We slipped back into the twilight. She led me back toward the castle, then into the woods along a path. In an ancient oak grove, she paused and breathed deeply. I did the same.
    It was a sacred place. I could feel the slow pulse of the earth beneath my feet. The oak trees dreamed their slow dreams, roots reaching deep into the earth, remembering year upon year of libations poured in tribute.
    A good place.
    But we didn't linger. She moved on along the path until we reached the circle of standing stones. This, too, was a sacred place. But it smelled of old blood, and the fine hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end.
    "She died here," I whispered. "Morwen."
    "Aye."
    "Am I named for her?"
    My mother hesitated. "Not quite, no. Come."
    I let her lead me into the center of the ring. There was a slab of a boulder there, half buried. Here was where the blood-smell came from. My mother sat atop it with thoughtless grace. I stood before her, still clutching the bow and quiver my uncle had given me.
    "You know the old ones were able to summon visions from the standing stones?" she asked. I nodded. "Here is where she showed the D'Angeline prince what his son would become. Only when it had come to that. Only when there were no other futures to see. And there were others at first." She was quiet a moment. "In one, Morwen bore the D'Angeline prince a child."
    "A daughter," I murmured.
    My mother nodded. "She would have been a great magician who brought balance to the struggle and peace to the land. But the prince refused her, and her attempts to bind