“Oh, it’s just the food I have brought that you are glad to see,” Coiteann protested with a little laugh, giving his thigh a pat even as she watched him carefully.
“But it is true. I am glad to see you.” Donaill still stared at the other woman, and even through her anguish Rioghan saw that he kept himself always facing Coiteann. He was even beginning to lean toward her. “It is always good to see you.”
Coiteann smiled in great satisfaction. “Here,” she said, handing him the wooden plate. “Take this, and while you eat I will ease the tension in your shoulders. It will take away any pain from your head that the wine may have left, I promise you. Turn around now—that’s it, turn around—”
Slowly, reluctantly, he shifted around on the ledge until he faced away from her, and took the plate she held out to him. Coiteann reached up for his shoulders, running her hands up his back and caressing him as she did so.
“There,” she said, patting his shoulders and then beginning to knead them with her hands. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He set the plate aside and turned to face her again, staring and silent, as if he had something to say to her but could not recall what it was.
Rioghan looked away—and got another shock. Piled up in the straw near the far end of Donaill’s sleeping ledge were a stack of gowns and cloaks and household things: Coiteann’s things. Coiteann’s clothes.
She was moving in. Moving in with Donaill, to live with him in his house.
There was a knock at the door. With a haughty look at Rioghan, Coiteann walked across the room to answer it, as though she were already the lady of the house. And there in the doorway, with cold gray light behind him, was Airt.
For a moment he stood very still, blinking, as though he could not believe what he was seeing. “Coiteann!” he said at last. “I thought…I thought you must have left our home early to begin your work! Why are you here?”
“I am where I wish to be,” she said, her voice cool and superior. “Come inside. We will explain it to you.”
Slowly, with confusion clear in his wide eyes, Airt walked inside and saw Rioghan there. We wear the same face this day, you and I, she thought, looking up at him. Both of us wear our shock and pain and confusion for all to see…and we both know that it will only get worse.
Over on the sleeping ledges, Irial and Lorcan were finally beginning to stir. Rioghan glanced again at the cups that lay in the straw beside each man’s sleeping ledge. It did not seem normal that they should continue to snore past dawn when there were visitors coming and going in their house. There had been no late-night feast the evening before to keep them up late…but perhaps there had been specially prepared wine for these three men.
Donaill sat on the edge of his bed, again holding his head. His two brothers slowly sat up on their own beds and did the same. Airt and Rioghan stood beside the stone wall of the hearth, unable to do more than simply watch the bizarre scene unfold before them.
Coiteann returned to the sleeping ledge to sit close beside Donaill on the furs, sliding her arm through his as though they had always been together. It was clear that she loved being the center of attention, loved having all eyes on her…especially the eyes of Rioghan and Airt.
“Tell them, Donaill,” Coiteann prompted. “Tell Rioghan and Airt and your brothers what we have decided.”
Again, he looked at the smiling blond woman for a long time. “Coiteann and I are to be married,” he said at last, and smiled back at her.
Rioghan felt both hot and cold all at once, felt as though the pit of her stomach were dropping into the earth. She could barely get her breath. This was not real. This could not be happening. Just two days before, he had come to her and promised her a courtship…and she had accepted.
Was she caught up in some terrible dream from which she could not awaken? If she was, then Airt was trapped there with her, for he clearly felt the same horror and disbelief at Donaill’s words that she did.
Had it been only yesterday that he and Coiteann had come to Sion, where Coiteann had hung her head and vowed that she wished to become the respected wife of Airt, where she had begged for a charm of binding to keep her forever bound to him?
There was no sign of the amulet now. Not on Coiteann, not on—
Another blow seemed to hit Rioghan and take the breath from her. Had Coiteann tried to use the charm of binding on Donaill? Rioghan did not see it on him, but even if Coiteann had tried such a thing it would not have been strong enough to force him into forgetting all else but her. It could not have done this! And neither could the poorly made but newly dyed black tunic that Donaill wore. It seemed just like the one Airt had worn, which had been just enough to nudge him into Coiteann’s waiting arms…a place where Airt had already been inclined to go.
But what had happened here?
Lorcan stood up and walked across the room, wrapping a cloak around himself. He seemed shocked, too. “Donaill,” he said, trying to get his brother’s attention. “I thought you said yesterday that you were looking to the Lady Rioghan.”
Donaill gazed off into the distance for a time, then shook his head. “I may have said that once, but it was very long ago.”
“It was yesterday,” Lorcan said.
Donaill tilted his head and blinked, then gazed at his brother. “I may well be hungover this morning, but I can only tell you that I am driven to Coiteann as I have never been driven to any other woman.”
Driven…
No one in the room could fail to see the smirk of victory on Coiteann’s face. Rioghan began to feel cold again as she wondered just what this woman could have done to so thoroughly control a powerful man like Donaill, to play with his will the way a child played with a toy.
Irial, too, came to stand beside the hearth and look closely at his brother. “If no one else will say it, I will. Coiteann has been through half the men of this fortress, and now, it seems, she has started on the other half. She is not—”
Donaill leaped to his feet, knocking the plate of food on his bed to the straw. “You will not speak of her in such a way! Those tales are only malicious gossip spread by a few jealous women. Coiteann has told me so herself!”
“Donaill—”
“It is true that she was greatly popular among the men here, and how could it be otherwise? She is wise. She is lovely. She is skilled. She is wonderful. And I will defend her with all the power of the king’s own champion against any who would dare to speak ill of her!”
“You intend to marry her?” Airt whispered.
“I do! And I will consider myself a fortunate man to have been the one to win her!”
Silence fell on the gathering, as cold and ominous as a winter wind. “Then I will leave you to her,” said Airt, and he turned and left the house without a single glance back.
Irial and Lorcan stood across from their brother and shook their heads. “I think you made the better choice yesterday,” said Lorcan.
“But if this is your wish, then I wish you joy of it,” said Irial. “Perhaps we can all go hunting later…if you still want to go.” Then, with an apologetic yet resigned glance at Rioghan, the two brothers also left the house, leaving Rioghan alone with Donaill and Coiteann.
The slamming of the door echoed in the cold silence. Rioghan flinched at the sound. And as she looked at Donaill, who still seemed not to notice her, the darkness that surrounded him seemed real enough to taste.
This could not have been his choice alone. She could never believe that. But perhaps she was simply denying the hard reality of it all. So many men seemed to consider it their primary goal in life to collect as many women for themselves as they possibly could, in any way they could. Rioghan was under no illusion about that—but perhaps, in her growing desire for Donaill, she had closed her eyes to the fact that he was in truth no different from any other man.
It seemed now that he had merely been trying to add her to his own group of women, intending to keep her out at Sion while having Coiteann—a
nd any other woman he wanted—here at Cahir Cullen.
Perhaps the darkness she felt was only the reflection of her own despair.
Rioghan closed her eyes and thought of how easily she had allowed all this to happen. She had been the one who fled the fortress on the night of the feast. She had shown Donaill that she preferred the isolation of Sion. She had made it oh, so easy for him to keep her apart from all his other women here at Cahir Cullen, for she had stayed out at Sion, where she would never know what he did while he was here.
So easy.
Rioghan made herself take a step forward. She could not let it end this way. If she had been wrong about Donaill and his intentions toward her, she wanted to hear it directly from him.
But Coiteann stood up and faced her with a cold glare. “You will not touch him,” she said in a hiss.
“I am not asking you for your permission,” Rioghan whispered, still watching Donaill.
“Very well, then! Ask him. Ask Donaill if he wants you to touch him!”
Rioghan struggled to draw breath. “Donaill,” she said, trying to get his attention. “Donaill…you told me that you cared for me. You offered me a courtship, and I accepted. Have you changed your mind? Or was there never any truth in any of it?”
Very slowly, he turned in her direction, meeting her gaze at last. “There was truth,” he said. “I did not lie to you, Rioghan.”
“Then why… How is this possible?”
He looked away again. “I do not know,” he said, shaking his head. “I do not remember. I only know that Coiteann is here, and she is my partner, and she is very special to me.”
“And is she the only one who may touch you?”
“Why…of course she is,” he answered, looking back at Coiteann again. “I do not want her to think I am giving my attention to some other and am not here for her. She is the only one who may touch me, or do whatever else she wills with me. She and no other.”
Rioghan closed her eyes as pain and despair did their best to overwhelm her. As she turned to go, all she could hear was Coiteann’s cold laughter calling after her.
“Feel free to visit us whenever you like!” the woman said, as Rioghan stumbled toward the door. “He will take no notice of you. Please do visit us often!”
Chapter Eighteen
Rioghan again fled the fortress of Cahir Cullen, her dogs running by her side through the open gates. She intended to run all the way back to Sion and never look on the place again—but she got only a short way down the forest path before dropping to the earth beneath the glossy green leaves and bright red berries of the holly trees.
She held her head in her hands and waited for the tears to come…but though her eyes burned and her chest was locked up tight, she did not weep. Instead of grief, she found there was only anger—anger that threatened to grow into rage, anger at both Coiteann and at Donaill.
Coiteann had done this thing. There was no doubt of that. She had somehow been able to force Donaill’s will and bring him under her control, but first she would have had to get close to him—closer than he should ever have allowed her to get. He had just made an offer of marriage to Rioghan. What was such a man doing with another woman in his home?
She shook her head. If Donaill had not wanted Coiteann to be there with him, she could never have placed her charm or enchantment or curse upon him in the first place. None of this would have happened.
Rioghan clenched her fists and slammed them into the earth. Then her wailing filled the wintry forest, the terrible lament of one who has loved and trusted…and been betrayed.
Coiteann lifted up the last of the leather bags filled with her possessions and left her house one final time. It was certainly going to be nice to live in the large, fine house of the king’s champion instead of in these cramped quarters with five other women. Pulling the door shut after her, she was mildly surprised to see Airt standing there waiting.
“Good afternoon to you,” she said coolly, walking past him. But he reached out to catch her arm and forced her to face him.
She thought he would be angry—but all she saw in his eyes was pain. “You must explain yourself to me,” he whispered. “You owe me that, if nothing else.”
She jerked her arm away. “I owe you nothing,” she said with a sneer. Then, after smoothing the sleeve of her gown where he had grabbed it, she smiled. “But I will tell you, since you are so sure you want to hear. Come with me.”
Coiteann walked across the very center of the fortress, through the scattering of houses, walking proudly with her head held high while Airt hurried after her and everyone in Cahir Cullen saw them. At last they reached the cattle pens, where the five black winter cows and their calves lay resting in the straw beneath the sheds. Coiteann stood next to the wooden rails, set down her leather bags, and looked up at Airt.
Airt shook his head, searching for the words. “Why?” he asked again. “Why have you done this?”
She folded her hands atop the fence rails and smiled sweetly at him, unable to conceal how pleased she was with herself. “You are the reason why,” she began. “It should be crystal clear to you. You told me you wanted a life with me. You told me you would take me as a wife. You even moved into my house so that I would believe you were serious.”
“I was serious. I was—”
“Yet when your beloved Sabha told you she would take you back if you got rid of me, you wasted no time accepting her very kind offer. But you, one of the king’s bold warriors, did not have the courage to tell me what you had decided to do.”
He hung his head. “I thought I could still make it work. I thought I could still persuade her to accept you as my second wife, once she took me back.”
“I am sure you did,” said Coiteann, brushing a strand of pale blond hair from her face. “You lied to both of us. And now you have neither one.”
Airt closed his eyes. “But yesterday…yesterday you went with me to Sion, and you told me, you told Rioghan, that you wished to build a life with me and be respected as my wife.”
Coiteann laughed. “So, Airt, it is well if you deceive a woman with your promises and lies, but you are shocked when a woman dares deceive you in return? I said what was necessary so that Rioghan would give me what I required: a charm of binding.”
“Binding,” he whispered, his eyes growing large. “Did you…did you use such a thing on me? Is that how—”
She only laughed again. “Oh, Airt, there was no need for any such thing with you. It was clear to everyone—especially to me—that you had an appetite for the company of other women whenever your dear wife was not present. It took hardly any effort at all to turn your attention to me…and only the smallest amount of dark magic to convince you to take me inside your very own house.”
“Dark magic?”
She raised both her hands, showing him their dark-stained palms. “I am the one who makes the dyes,” she said. “The reeking, bitter dyes that ruin my hands but add such beauty and color to everyday life here.
“I spun thread to make a tunic especially for you, and when I prepared the black dye for this thread it was no trouble to add a few special things to it…dark, cold things to encourage dark, cold actions.
“I used the burned ashes of my hair and the dust and earth from my boots at the end of the day. I used red heather, for that is the shrub of unbridled greed and of passion that knows no boundaries. And, of course, I used a drop of my own blood, drawn with no pain and no sorrow.”
“Then you took me from Sabha with dark magic,” Airt said, his voice beginning to shake. “You forced me to—”
But Coiteann only laughed as she put down her hands. “There was no need for force,” she said in a sneer. “It was like forcing a dog to fresh meat. The magic that I wove into your black tunic merely gave you the courage to do what you wanted to do all along, which was take me into your house and into your bed.”
“Donaill, too, wore a new black tunic this day.” Airt’s face was gray as ash. “Is that how you tur
ned his attention to you?”
“In part. But there was more, for he is not like you. He had indeed set his sights on Rioghan alone and intended to make her his one and only wife. I knew this task would be more difficult, so I gave him my very personal attention.” She fixed Airt with a smug look, as if daring him to ask any more.
“I fear to ask you what else you might have done. But…why Donaill? You had never shown interest in him before. Why did you try to take Donaill?”
Her eyes narrowed, and a slow, grim smile spread across her face.
“I know very well who was behind Sabha’s revenge. Rioghan was here to tend her on the night you left her for me. It is no coincidence that Sabha tricked you and lied to you and then cursed us both. She did not have knowledge of how to do such things. She had help, and she got it from Rioghan.”
Coiteann’s face grew dark. “It was Rioghan who ruined our relationship and who tried to ruin my life. She tried to destroy me when I had done nothing to her, and now I will have my revenge.
“She took you from me, when you were the man I wanted. Now I will take her man away from her, using some of her very own magic…and a little more, as well.”
“You must undo it,” Airt said urgently. “You must let him go! You must undo whatever it is you have done to him!”
Again, the laughter. “I cannot hold him by force. I can encourage him, but he will do what he wants. He can leave me, if that is truly his wish—but is Rioghan so much better a woman than I am? Can that cold and lonely midwife do the things for him that I can do so well? We will see which he prefers.”
She ran her fingers down Airt’s chest. “Do not worry for Donaill,” she said. “He will have a good life with me. A very good life. You, of all men, should know that.”
With that, Coiteann turned and walked away, leaving Airt standing alone with his despair to watch her as she returned to Donaill’s house.
They had been watching her for quite some time now. They always accompanied her whenever she left Sion, and they would have come running when she cried out. They were there in the trees now, and in the brush, keeping watch over her. The Sidhe.
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