Kushiel’s Dart

But the Twins were the Lords of the Dalriada, and while Eamonn held out, there would be no war. And that he did; not alone, either, for there were those among the Dalriada who’d no will to risk war for the Cruithne’s sake.

"A fool’s errand, and one we’re like to return from empty-handed," Quintilius Rousse said grimly, observing the proceedings. I’d spoken that day until my mouth was dry and my mind a tangled knot of words, D’Angeline and Cruithne coiled like a serpent’s nest. Eamonn listened, and watched me with hot eyes, caring nothing for what I said. I am no orator, to sway men’s hearts with words. My skills lie elsewhere.

"We’ve four days, yet." I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, fighting exhaustion. Three days of politely declining Eamonn’s unsubtle interest, pretending not to notice. I couldn’t even count the other offers. I dropped my hands and grinned at Rousse. "Are you so quick to leave the Lady Grainne’s bed?"

He blushed all over his scarred face, muttering, "Wants to get a child."

"I know. She thinks you’re good stock. She’s very direct in her desires." Actually, they were rather well-matched, but I thought it privately.

"Sibeal had a dream," Hyacinthe announced, referring to Necthana’s middle daughter. "She saw you, Phèdre. You were holding a scale, tipped all to one side."

"You understood this." I raised my brows at him.

He looked at me nonplussed. "They are teaching me Cruithne. And I am teaching them about the dromonde. You have been busy elsewhere, doing the Queen’s business."

"Yes, well, tell your dreamers that the scale is not yet ready to balance," I said wryly. "Do they see you as well, in their dreams, O Prince of Travellers?"

Hyacinthe shook his head, frowning slightly. "Only once. Breidaia dreamed me on an island, and asked if I was born there. Naught else."

"Passing strange," I said, forgetting about it in the next instant, as Drustan beckoned me to spin tales of the glories of a D’Angeline alliance for an eager-looking Dalriada clan-lord. We’d done a good job of that, at least. I made my way across the hall, feeling Eamonn’s gaze at my back. So it had been, ever since I’d bedded his sister.

But I’d spoken true to Hyacinthe. If I was no diplomat, still, I knew to gauge a patron. Eamonn was a slow man, as cautious and deliberate as his sister was impetuous. He’d cast his luck and lost the first night; he’d be wary of approaching the brink. And I needed him to be desperate.

Four days, and then five. Grainne and Eamonn had shouting matches, backed by their factions. I saw the first quarrel between Dalriada and Cruithne, when one of Drustan’s men was set upon by three outlander Dalriada. And I saw then why Eamonn had declined to test Drustan’s steel. Outnumbered and outsized, the Cruithne warrior fought with a cunning and speed I’d never witnessed, holding his own until Drustan came at a run, half-gaited and furious, shoving Dalriada swords aside with his bare hands.

They could have killed him, then; they didn’t, looking with fear and respect at his blue warrior’s marques, the red cloak and the gold torque of his birthright, the Cruarch of Alba.

"Tell them tomorrow," I said to him when the Dalriada had apologized and gone. "Not in council, but after, when they’re feasting in the hall. Tell them what you have decided."

He looked at me and nodded. "I will do as you wish."

So it was that it happened on the sixth day.

As on the others, nothing was decided, the Twins at odds. Still, they honored the laws of hospitality, fêting their guests. It was in the hall, before the roaring fire, that Drustan rose to address Grainne and Eamonn.

"My lords of the Dalriada," he said, bowing. "You have given shelter to me and my people, and I am ever grateful. But I have sworn a pledge." He held up his right hand, firelight gleaming from the gold of Rolande’s signet. "I must honor it, or die trying. A usurper sits upon my uncle’s throne, mine by right, my father-slaying cousin, Maelcon. On the morrow, I ride east, to reclaim that which is mine. And if I live, we cross the Straits."

Pandemonium erupted in the hall, noisy and familiar. I waited, then made my way to the Twins' thrones.

"My lords," I said, kneeling. "We thank you for your hospitality. Prince Drustan has spoken. We will depart on the morrow, carrying his words to our Queen."

Grainne gave me a regal nod and turned away, concealing an amused glint in her grey-green eyes. She knew what I was about to try; she’d given me the key. I stood and made my curtsy, with all the grace of Cereus House, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Eamonn protested, following to catch my shoulder. "You need not depart in such haste, my lady! At least…at least drink with me, will you not? You have not…you cannot…" He shot an evil glance at his sister. "We are alike, she and I, born of one womb! You cannot favor one over the other!"

"My lord!" I shook off his hand. "I am the Queen’s ambassador! Would you treat me so?"