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alight even as she smiled. A small, bittersweet smile meant for neither of
those who loved her, but only for herself.
Aileen looked at Brennan. Then directly at Rory, frowning, until her
expression cleared.
"Sean,"
she said, laughing, "when did you dye your beard red?"
Fourteen
My kinfolk deserted me, they and the man I had known as Rory. They left me
alone in the hall with only the Lion for company.
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The Lion and Liam's eaglet.
Mail glittered as he moved. The red beard
dyed

was burnished by sunlight. A tall, strong man, nearly as large as the other.
Alike and unalike, both bred in the Aerie's mews.
He stood very close, too close, looking down on me. And then, with no change
of expression, he drew his knife and cut into his hand, tipping blood across
his palm.
"Rory " I checked.
"Sean."
He put his hand in front of my face, allowing the blood to run free. It rolled
to his wrist, stained the cuff of his tunic, hid itself beneath mail. "Red,"
he said, "Erinnish. Will that do for you?"
I stretched out a single arm, bare of everything save Mujharan rubies and
hammered, clan-worked gold, and pointed to the throne but three steps away
from us both. "Ask that."
Blood ran from his hand. "I said something to you earlier. I'll be saying it
again:
'I'm not caring what you are, but who.'"
Blood dripped onto stone. "I don't want the beastie, lass. What I want is
you."
Slowly I shook my head. "With me, you get the
'beastie.' What do I get with you?"
He turned from me then, sheathing the knife, and mounted the dais steps: one,
two, three. Stood be-
side the Lion, then put his hand upon it. Blood glistened dully; was taken
into wood.
Sean sat down in the throne. I opened my mouth to protest, closed it almost at
once. His House was as of d as my own; I thought the Lion of Homana would not
begrudge the eagle of Erinn his moment.
" 'Twas not a jest," he said. "I never meant it to hurt."
Until the last, it had not. They had fooled me utterly.
" 'Twas well known, lass, what manner of woman you were. A high-tempered,
sharp-tongued lass not in mind to lie down with the lads . . . not even the
Prince of Erinn." He paused.
"Especially the Prince of
Erinn."
I swept the circlet from my brow. Hair fell over shoulders.
He shifted in the Lion. "Never in my life have I
had to beg a lass. We are both of us, Rory and I, accustomed to filling our
beds with naught but a flick of an eyelash." He did not say it to boast; he
spoke frankly and evenly, commanding more with quiet candor than anything else
could do. "I was four," he said softly, "and you yet unborn. Our fa-
thers linked us, lass, without considering what we might feel . . . without
considering what we might do."
I
clutched the circlet in both hands, but looked at him instead.
"I knew what I felt, lass, when it came time to think of wedding. And not
being blind to women no lass, I'm not I knew what you'd be thinking; you with
such glorious freedom and no one to understand . . .
not even, I'm thinking, your brothers."
I recalled the day he had asked it:
"Make me feel it, lass."
And recalled how I had answered, showing him how to fly.
The quiet voice continued. "I thought of sending
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for you. I thought of coming myself: I, the Prince of
Erinn. But neither would do, I knew . . . 'twould lose you rather than win
you." He sighed, chewing his lip. "And so I went to Rory, who shares with me
so very many of my feelings ... between us, thinking of you, we conjured the
tale we hoped might win a
Cheysuli princess."
"A thief."
"I robbed no one; the coin I spent was my own, come all the way from Erinn."
"You stole Brennan's horse."
"And gave him back, lass."
So I could lose him in Hondarth. "They were your guard, those men."
He smiled. "To keep me alive in a foreign land where shapechangers are more
than myth."
"You told me you murdered your brother."
Sean's mouth hooked wryly. "I told you I
thought I
had, or might have, was more likely. I near broke his head, aye, 'twas true
... but I made it sound worse than it was, to make the tale better. And it
wasn't much of a lie, lass ... it was the Redbeard who suffered the hurt, not
me not the Prince of Erinn.
We only twisted it a bit, or traded places, in all the tales we told."
With effort, I kept myself calm. "How long was it to last?"
His mouth altered into grimness. "Not so long, lass. Rory was to come sooner,
but Liam kept him back. I meant it to go on only long enough for you to be
certain . .. for you to want the marriage or, I
hoped, want me
 and then I'd tell the truth."
"What part had Rory to play in this?"
He smiled. "None of what I told you is a lie. He is indeed my brother, though
bastard-born, and he is indeed Liam's son, freely acknowledged, a captain in
my guard. The words I was saying in his place are [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]