Outside the pavilion I hesitated. Last time, the Lord of the Oak had come out to greet me. Now the silken curtains remained closed. Mac Dara’s hall looked deserted. But then, I had been told to be ready for tricks. I cleared my throat. I must try to sound both confident and courteous. “I am Clodagh, daughter of Sean of Sevenwaters!” I called out. “I seek an audience with the Lord of the Oak!”
There was a silence. Behind me on the open sward, the folk of the Otherworld had hushed their talk. Then the curtains parted and there was Mac Dara in the entry, looking me up and down, unsmiling. Behind him the pavilion was in darkness. “There is no audience tonight,” he said flatly.
“I will not take up much of your time, my lord,” I said, making myself dip into a curtsy. “I want to see Cathal. Tell me where to find him and I need trouble you no further.”
His gaze was so blank as he stood there staring at me that I began to wonder if he was under the influence of a potent herb or mushroom, the kind that sends folk into a trance. Or perhaps he had been scrying and I had interrupted him. Then he said, “Come in,” and ushered me into the pavilion.
The fire was out; the lamps were dark. There was a clammy chill about the place. Something was terribly wrong here. The only light came through the silk of the walls from the lanterns outside. It showed Mac Dara’s lean face as pallid and lined, the dark eyes sunk deep in their sockets. He motioned to one of the cushioned seats and sat down on the other, long legs stretched out before him. “I should offer you a drink,” he said vaguely, glancing toward the small table.
The same hearth, the same jug, the same goblets . . . I saw it again, Becan falling, the flames taking him; I heard my own shriek of anguish. “There’s no need,” I said. I could not look at Mac Dara without seeing Cathal. They were so alike, the two of them. There was a terrible sorrow on Mac Dara’s face, and in it I saw Cathal broken, defeated, despairing, somewhere out there all alone. “My lord, is something wrong?”
He gazed at me in the dimness. “Why are you here?” he asked.
I must stick to the plan; I must not allow myself to feel sorry for this man who had done the unthinkable. “I don’t know if you remember me,” I said. “I came here with your son, and you made him stay. It’s time for him to come back now. I’m here to fetch him home.”
Mac Dara got up to walk restlessly around the pavilion, his dark cloak moving about him like smoke. “You’ve left it a long time,” he said. “Why bother now? You should have wed a nice lad of your own kind and settled down to produce a brood of children.”
“My lord, I went out from here one day and came back the next, by human counting. You say, a long time. How many moons have passed here in your realm since I went away?” Don’t say it’s years, I willed him.
“Remind me,” said the Lord of the Oak, “what season was it when you last favored us with your presence?”
As if he would forget the momentous day when he had finally lured his son across the threshold. “Spring,” I said.
“And it is autumn here, as you will have observed. You are not so lacking in your wits that you cannot make a count of seven turnings of the moon, daughter of Sevenwaters. Or did you imagine it to be far longer, long enough for his little friend to have faded entirely from my son’s memory? Was that what you feared?”
My mouth was dry. “I knew that was possible,” I said. “That’s why I turned around and came straight back. My lord, I hope Cathal is well.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “Well in body and mind. I did not see him ride by with your court tonight.”
His lip curled. He stopped by the table and filled a goblet, then stood with head bent, looking down at it. “This can’t be what it seems,” he said. “My son would not attach himself to a woman who was stupid. What is your true purpose here?”
Why wouldn’t he tell me if Cathal was all right? Had something terrible happened? The plan. I must stick to the plan. “Firstly,” I forced out the words, “I wish to thank you for allowing me to leave here in safety before and to take my baby brother with me. I know you didn’t have to do that. I owe you a debt of gratitude. My parents will be overwhelmed with joy to see Finbar back home.”
Mac Dara fixed his dark eyes on me. “And yet you did not take time to deliver him to them yourself, that’s if you’re telling the truth about turning straight around. Who took him home?”
“My sister, who happened to be in the forest where I came out.” I must move this on; I did not want Sibeal brought into it. “So, thank you on behalf of my parents for your generosity. It shows that the goodwill between the human folk of Sevenwaters and your people is not entirely gone, even with the departure of those my family knew somewhat better than yourself.”
A wintry smile appeared on his face. “You did not think me so generous last time we met.”
“I don’t deny that. I was horrified that you would discard the changeling with so little thought. I hated what you did to lure Cathal in here.”
“You refer to the attack on your father’s holding in the southwest?” Mac Dara asked idly, making my jaw drop. “You found that excessive? It did burn very nicely. Provided a stunning show, I thought. And achieved its purpose. Along with your brother’s well-timed disappearance, it sent Cathal running from Sevenwaters lest he bring down more havoc on the place. Which underlined his guilt in Lord Sean’s eyes, as I anticipated it would. My son shared his vision with you, didn’t he? The one in which a certain member of your family appeared in an unfavorable light? I was sure Cathal would feel obliged to warn his little friend. Don’t look at me like that, young woman.”
“You . . .” I breathed. “It was all your doing. You burned Glencarnagh. That lovely house . . .”
“Houses can be rebuilt. Even changelings can be rebuilt, so I’ve heard.”
“People died in that fire,” I said, outraged. His response had been so casual; so careless. He had spoken of Aidan’s death in just the same way. “It was completely unnecessary, even in your scheme of things. Cathal was already gone by then—” I made myself stop. I was supposed to be placating the Lord of the Oak, not challenging his actions. “My lord,” I said, “I’ve come here for exactly the reason I told you before. I love your son. I want him back. Will you please consider my feelings and Cathal’s and let us be together? He never wanted this life. All he wants is to return to Inis Eala and be a warrior. And to have a family of his own.”
“I am his family.” The statement was final, absolute.
“You love your son. I understand that. I saw how my own father felt when Finbar was born: as if the whole world had changed. It is a powerful bond. But a son cannot love his father if that father denies him the future he wants, my lord. What if Cathal never comes around to your way of thinking?” This was risky; I based it on what I had seen in Mac Dara’s face earlier, something akin to despair. “What if he just isn’t suited to being a prince of the Tuatha De?”
Mac Dara looked me straight in the eye. “You’re wasting my time,” he said.
“Are you afraid to answer my questions?” Inwardly, I was quaking with fear.
“They are irrelevant. My son is here. He set foot inside my hall. That ensures he must spend the rest of his life in my realm. There is no charm strong enough to break that one. There is no enemy with the power to stand against me. Most certainly not you, young woman, courageous as you are. Perhaps foolhardy would be a more accurate term. Take my advice. Go home, find yourself a suitor Lord Sean approves of and live the rest of your life.”
A deep breath. “That’s just it,” I said. “I love Cathal and only Cathal. He is the man I want to spend my life with. He is the man I want to father my children. I will have no other. Do not dismiss this as a girl’s folly, my lord. I don’t want a suitor of my father’s choice. I want your son.”
I had seen it in his eye as I spoke, a spark, a gleam of interest. He was quick. He had picked up the message I wanted him to hear.
“What if he doesn’t want you?” he asked.
�
��Whatever you’ve done to him,” I said, blinking back tears, “it can be undone. I believe that. I can see you’re unhappy. Disappointed. Perhaps that’s because your son has been more resistant than you expected.”
“That’s not your concern,” said Mac Dara, dark eyes intent on me. “You know you can’t have him. You know who I am and what power I wield.”
“You took long enough to get him back,” I said before I could stop myself.
He smiled again, thinly. “My son is strong,” he said. “I would think the less of him if he had not fought me, evaded me, outwitted me. I would think the less of him if he had been quickly bent to my will. He’s not leaving here.”
I let the tears spill. “I knew all along that you would refuse,” I said, wiping my eyes. Every word must be chosen to aid my plan. “But . . . it’s very hard. If I can’t have Cathal, I will never marry. He’s the only one in the world for me. And it chills my heart to imagine the future alone, with no husband. I can’t bear the thought that I will never have children of my own.”
After a moment he said, “Children are easy enough to get. And you’re a comely enough woman in your own way. There’d be no shortage of takers, I imagine.” I saw in his eye that he would be all too ready to provide such a service himself.
“I do want a child, so much,” I whispered. “But not just any child. I want his child. His son.”
“Who would, of course, be my heir after Cathal,” said Mac Dara. “Oh, you are a clever little thing.”
He had seen right through my strategy. Clever? Compared with him I had the subtlety of a newborn babe. “Thank you,” I said softly, continuing to play the game since I had no other plan ready. “You know what I really want. I want Cathal as my husband, for the rest of my life. I want him to live in my world. I want us to bring up our children together.” It was easy to sound convincing, since my heart was in my words.
“You know that’s not going to happen,” said Mac Dara. “But perhaps there is room for compromise. Would you do it? Would you bear a son for Cathal, knowing you could not remain together? Knowing such a son would be yours only until he reached his seventh birthday? For I could not agree to such a plan unless I were sure my son’s son would cross to this world when he was ready to be trained in the ways of his own kind. What if you raised your boy and then, when it was time, found that you could not bear to give him up? Such a dilemma would break you. Besides,” he added after a moment, “chances are you would have a daughter.”
I put my chin up and squared my shoulders. “You make the bargain sound very one-sided,” I said. “Don’t forget what I would bring to it. Whatever you may think of humankind, you should realize that my bloodline is as fine as can be found anywhere in Erin. Not only do I carry the lineage of the chieftains of Sevenwaters, but I also bear the blood of the Old Ones from time long past.” Mac Dara hissed under his breath; I saw that perhaps this had been a mistake. “My son would possess both a flawless human heritage and the powerful blood of the Tuatha De, passed down by Cathal,” I added. “Imagine what such a child could become. He would inherit not only your remarkable skills in the craft of magic, but the wisdom and strength of the human line of Sevenwaters. In time, he could be a peerless leader.” But not in your realm. I would make sure of that.
The Lord of the Oak drained his goblet. I was trembling with nervousness, my hands pressed together, my palms sweating. I had no idea what he would say.
“Let me get this right.” He fixed his dark eyes on me. “You are suggesting I should replace Cathal? My own son?”
“No, my lord. But even if Cathal became exactly what you wanted him to be, you would still value a grandson highly, I imagine. I don’t want to give you my child. If I did, I would not be much of a mother. But I want to see Cathal, and I want his baby. To have that child for seven years would be better than never having him at all.”
“You have truly surprised me,” said Mac Dara, and I felt a surge of hope. “I’m forced to confess that I like your style. Supposing I agreed to this. Supposing I said you could have one night with my son, one night only, to do what you needed to do. There would still be an impediment to the plan.”
“Oh?” I tried to sound calm.
“A man cannot put a child in a woman’s belly, willing as she may be, if he does not desire her,” Mac Dara said. “Have you observed a stallion or a ram when the females are in heat? His member stands up with excitement; his body readies itself for the fray in dramatic style. It is just the same with men, though I see from your blushes that you are not accustomed to hear such matters discussed so openly. And yet, here you are asking to share my son’s bed tonight. Aren’t you afraid, maidenly little thing that you are? Are you sure you’re not lying to me?” The edge in his voice was dangerous.
I cleared my throat. “Of course I’m nervous. I’ve never lain with a man before. But I want to do it. Tonight. If I cannot take Cathal home with me, I will not stay here any longer than I must.”
“You missed the point,” said Mac Dara flatly. “He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want anyone. Don’t you think I’ve tried, offering him woman after woman over the months he’s been here? Don’t you think I’ve done whatever I could to break through that wall of reserve? I provided him with a girl fashioned in your exact likeness. Cathal was as indifferent to her as he was to all the rest. And it’s not as if you are an expert in the art of seduction. The unpalatable truth is that my son’s just not up to it. If you’re after a child of your own, you’d be better to let me give you one.”
He must surely see me shaking; he must surely hear the terror in my voice. “It is Cathal’s child I want,” I said. “As for his capacity to . . . perform . . . I will deal with that when we are alone together. I wish to have this time undisturbed. And unobserved. A woman does not want others to spy on her intimate moments.”
Mac Dara’s brows shot up. In that moment he looked painfully like his son. “Oh, you set conditions?” he drawled. “Then I will make my own absolutely clear. On his seventh birthday your son is mine. You give him up to me willingly.”
My heart was pounding. Finding the right words was like teetering along a thread. You must not make him promises you intend to break, Ciarán had said. He would destroy you. “If I conceive a son from tonight’s encounter,” I said, “then I will give him to you when he is seven. I promise.” If the Fair Folk could not understand selfless love, then Mac Dara would never dream of the possibility that Cathal might be willing, able and enthusiastic, and might still be prepared to restrain himself for the sake of our future together. I was counting on that. My belly twisted tight with apprehension. If I was wrong, there was everything to lose.
“Tonight’s encounter or tomorrow night’s,” Mac Dara said, sharp as a knife. “Because that is the other condition. If my son can’t perform, if he’s incapable of bedding you tonight, then I have you tomorrow. That way you get two chances of a child. The bargain’s not ungenerous. If it’s a girl, as so many of my progeny have been, you’ll get your daughter to keep with no conditions at all. If you don’t conceive, you can go home and put all this behind you. You won’t be pristine on your wedding night, but it seems that doesn’t bother you.” His lips twisted in a smile that was the twin of Cathal’s at its most sardonic.
I drew a deep, shaky breath. “I agree to your terms if you agree to mine,” I said. If this went wrong, if I were forced to lie with this hideous man, my life and Cathal’s would be forever blighted by it. If it went as I planned, I promised myself I would never, ever take risks again. I would devote myself to a life of mending my husband’s shirts and cooking him nourishing soups. “You’re to leave us alone tonight,” I reminded him. “No spying. No scrying. No coming in the door. This is just the same as a wedding night and it’s private.”
He laughed. “I fear you will find it a deep disappointment. But we’ll make up for it tomorrow night, I promise. As for the spying issue, I won’t peep. I doubt there will be much worth seeing.”
“I w
ant your word on it. And that I will be allowed to return home safely afterward.”
He looked astonished, as if it were remarkable that there existed in the world someone who might believe his word was a thing worth having. “I give you my word, then,” he said. “No spying. But I’ll have to leave the guards on the door. I don’t trust anyone, not even those who seem too weak to be a threat. As for the other, I’m willing to spend a night with you to get a child, but I can’t think of any reason why I would want to keep you. Shall we go?”
He led me out of the pavilion. It was quite dark now, a moonless night, and the sward where Mac Dara’s people had been gathered not long ago was completely deserted. A chill breeze sent dead leaves tumbling across the withered grass. I wondered if the glittering company had moved elsewhere once it became clear that their lord did not intend to entertain them tonight. Or maybe time was playing tricks again, and hours had passed while I was pleading my case. I was glad that I need not endure those people’s uncomfortable stares. I felt transparent, with such a tumult of feelings inside me that they must be plainly visible. Mac Dara must know that I planned to trick him. How could he not? Was I walking straight into a trap? Somehow it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that in a short time I would see Cathal again.
We did not walk far. Mac Dara took the lantern that hung outside his hall and carried it as we made our way across the circle, out between the white stones and along a crooked path between thornbushes. I glanced surreptitiously to left and right, back over my shoulder, up into the dark shadows of the trees, wondering if Fiacha would make an appearance and whether Mac Dara might find the bird in any way suspicious. There is no enemy with the power to stand against me, the Lord of the Oak had said. And Ciarán had said, There is a time for everything, and now is not the time for me to do battle with Mac Dara.
[Sevenwaters 04] Heir to Sevenwaters Page 39