"Her brother!?!" Angus and Garrett stopped at the sound of Maeve's angry, raised voice. "And you knew nothing of this?"
"He said they had been childhood playmates, my queen, and that he had learned of her gifts then."
The two knights exchanged a curious glance.
"With the sister's power, it is only natural that the brother has power of his own. What is his name?"
"Conlonn of Galway, my queen."
"Bring him to me immediately."
Garrett started forward, but Angus held him back.
"That's not why we're here, remember?" He hissed.
"We already tried the dungeon, and the guards will wake up soon. Torc will know where she's being held."
"We don't have time to deal with Torc. And you're in no condition to face him anyway." Garrett glared at him, and Angus shrugged. Let Garrett be mad. At least he'd be alive to be mad.
They heard grumbling down the hall, and peered around the corner to see a boy carrying two buckets of water.
"Bathing a prisoner…prisoners are supposed to stink…I don't care who the prisoner is…" The two knights exchanged a glance and nodded.
Aisling leaned back against the samite-covered pillows. The room looked like it was fit for visiting monarchs, but the bars on the window ruined the image. She looked up when she heard the door open, not surprised to see Conlonn enter. She waited until the door was locked behind him, and then threw the chamber-pot with all her might.
"Aisling!" He ducked, and the chamber-pot shattered against the door. The door was quickly opened, and the guards came in, ready for battle.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." Conlonn replied. "All is well. Go and find a new chamber-pot." The guards nodded and left. As soon as she was sure they were gone, Aisling threw everything in the room she could get her hands on at him, starting with the candlesticks. Eventually, she ran out of projectiles—she didn't bother with the pillows, they wouldn't cause any damage anyway—and, while looking for more weapons, he grabbed her from behind and threw her onto the bed.
"What in the name of Lugh do you think you're doing?"
"Me? Exactly who had who locked up in Queen Maeve's castle?"
"This wasn't my idea! I was trying to help you!"
"By making me Maeve's slave?"
"You have a duty to Temra!"
"No, I don't!"
"Then what do you have a duty to?"
"To myself. To the land. And the land is more than merely Kells and Temra."
"And Kells and Temra are upon the land."
"But they are not the land itself."
"Have you forgiven them, then?"
"What?"
"The Kellsmen. Have you forgotten—forgiven—them for what they did? Have you forgotten Galway? What they did to our parents? What they did to—"
"I will never forget."
"Then why won't you join in the fight against them?"
"You can't blame an entire people for the acts of a few."
"They acted under Conchubar's orders. And Conchubar is Kells."
"You don't know that."
"Why else would they do what they did?"
"Oh, how would I know?" Aisling threw a pillow at him, and then laid back in the bed and screamed into another.
Conlonn sighed. "Are you through yet?"
She lowered the pillow to glare at him. "Hardly."
He crossed to the door. "I'll see to it that you get a bath, you need it."
She threw the pillow at him.
