There was a time when Ivar would have done almost anything to retrieve the sacred chalice of his homeland and return to his family; but things had changed since then. He had friends in this land now; true, they were a strange people; but then what would they think of his land? No doubt their feelings would be much the same as his own.
Ivar sighed as he walked along the dusty road, studying the pasture for Temra troops; of course he saw none, and had seen none since that day almost eight months ago when they had sent Queen Maeve packing. All was quiet for the moment. Ivar thought perhaps he should return to Kells castle and give King Conchobar the same tired report, and indeed had already turned to do so...but he heard a sweet singing from just the other side of a hedgerow.
*Now I wonder who that could be?* He thought as he crept stealthily toward the hedge. He raised himself up on tip-toe and gazed over the green shrubbery...and saw the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in all his wanderings.
Her hair was as golden as the sunlight glinting on Rohan's armor, her skin as richly tanned as Garrett's bronze helmet. Her voice was more pure than silver shimmering beneath a babbling brook. Her eyes, more green than the greenest grass in all of Ireland.
Her eyes...she was staring at him. Ivar blushed and turned away, realizing that the young woman was almost naked.
"Forgive me," he said softly in his most calming voice. "I didn't realize..."
"Realize what?" Asked the girl. Ivar whirled around in surprise, for she was standing right beside him. It was true that she was almost naked, but only because her clothing was so sparse. She wore a tunic top, sleeveless, made of white fur, which exposed her smooth tan stomach from navel to a few inches beneath her breasts. Her skirt was short, the length of it barely covering her buttocks at all. The hem rested against her legs at mid-thigh; only a little longer than Deirdre's armor. Her boots were mid-calf, the tops lined with white fur. She appeared rather wealthy for all that her clothing was odd and her skin so dark; at least, dark compared to Deirdre.
"I...I..." Ivar stammered, not knowing what to say. He'd really never been good with girls; they never seemed to like him, especially now when he had such handsome friends as Rohan and Garrett...though there had been that dance when Bridie was still with them; but that seemed so long ago now. "I mean, it must have seemed that I was spying on you. I wasn't...I am sorry."
"Don't be," said the girl in the softest voice imaginable. She glanced down at her tunic as she fastened one last button. "I was only sun-bathing. I didn't think hardly anyone came down this road anymore. You needn't worry about it," she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Ivar looked up sharply, feeling something deep in the pit of his stomach at her touch that he'd never felt before. The girl raised an eyebrow as she reinforced her words with a gentle squeeze of her fingertips. "It's a simple mistake that anybody could have made."
Ivar managed to gain a little control over his senses as he took a step back.
"Allow me to introduce myself, my lady," he said, his deep voice a little shaky as he bowed low before her. "I am Ivar. A prince in my homeland; though here I am only a humble knight; and forever at your service."
"I'm Nadia," said the young woman. She studied the top of Ivar's bent head, then tapped him on the shoulder, laughing softly to herself as he raised his head and glanced at her. "I take care of the animals in the forests and the lakes, and in return they watch over me. Daikuda!" She called into the woods beyond the infamous hedgerow. In moments a huge silver wolf emerged from within the brush, coming to Nadia's side. She knelt beside the animal, stroking its soft fur. Ivar knelt as well, watching Nadia's face as she placed it upon the wolf's furry back, smelling the scent of forest, dirt, and water buried in each hair. Suddenly Nadia lifted her face from Daikuda's back, reaching out and taking Ivar's hand. He felt another strange sensation at her touch, but repressed it quickly lest she se it on his face.
"Touch him," she said softly, placing Ivar's hand upon the wolf. "He won't bite you; not unless it is my wish."
Ivar studied her, his hand immobile on the wolf's shoulder-blade.
"Go on. I trust you, and he knows it."
"How do you know you can trust me?" Ivar found himself saying as his hand stroked the creature's fur. He'd never known how soft wolves really were, even though he could feel the steely strength of the muscles rippling beneath his outstretched fingers.
Nadia studied Ivar closely, reaching out to place the fingertips of one hand against his temple.
Ivar gazed at her, his brow furrowing, as hers did, in concentration.
"What are you doing?" He asked. She placed a finger of her free hand against his full lips, shushing him. Ivar closed his eyes at the feel of a woman touching his lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Nadia, and opened his eyes, startled and half-ashamed.
Nadia was smiling as she watched him. She nodded.
"I can trust you," she said gently. "I can see into your mind, into your heart. You are noble, kind, and uncorrupted by greed or guilt. Those are fine qualities in a man," she whispered.
Daikuda growled softly; a warning, apparently, to Nadia, for she stood suddenly, her eyes gone glassy. Ivar pushed himself quickly to his feet, gazing off in the direction she stared toward.
"Someone's coming," she said forcefully. She turned to look at Ivar, and on an impulse took his hand. "You must go back to your home, Ivar. If these people see you here they will not waste time on idle chatter; and you will be captured."
"I am a mystic knight, my lady," Ivar replied, touching the trident strapped to his back. "I can handle these ruffians."
"No, you can't," she said, glancing quickly in the direction Ivar had come, then turning back to him, looking deep into his eyes. "Can you get away from...wherever you live...tonight?"
Ivar studied the road, then pulled Nadia behind the hedgerow, giving them a little more time.
"I live in Kells Castle, my lady," he said, studying her face. "The dangers are very great should I attempt to sneak out."
"But could you succeed?"
"Of course."
"Then meet me by the ruins of the castle at the Silver Shore. I'll be there around midnight, waiting for you. We can finish our conversation then."
Nadia leaned up on tip-toes and kissed him softly on his cheek, lingering for a moment to breathe in the scent of him; musky and cool, like a refreshing drink of water. Then, quicker than lightning, she was gone, and her wolf with her. Ivar sighed and hurried into the woods, deciding to take the cross-country route back to Kells Castle.
Halfway there he found himself singing the song Nadia had been singing before she saw him. He reached up and traced the tingling mark he felt sure her soft lips had left upon his cheek. He felt lighter than air knowing he would see her again that night...when everyone else was fast asleep and merely dreaming of true love, he would be with the woman he knew was his destiny.
Meanwhile, during Ivar's adventure in the forests of Kells, somebody else was having a relatively bad day. Garrett's combat skills had suffered since King Cochobar had banished Maeve. The Temran soldiers had returned to their homes and families...peace came with a price.
"Harder, Garrett!" Rohan said, raising his sword up to block Garrett's downward swipe, the look on his face one of fierce concentration. "You may be one of the best sword-handlers in the kingdom, but your warrior skills stink."
"Come on, Garrett!" Aideen cheered from her seat on Angus' head; Angus, who had fallen asleep a few hours ago, when Rohan and Garrett had first begun their one on one training, had his head leaning on Deirdre's shoulder; and even the princess looked about to fall asleep.
"Aideen, I thought you were on my side!" Rohan said, smacking Garrett's sword from his hands once again, pointing his sword at Garrett's throat.
Aideen looked sheepish. "I am, my handsome brother," she replied. "But Garrett does look to need some encouragement."
"Begging your pardon," said a guard, coming part-way down the steps into the courtyard. "The knights are wanted in King Conchobar's throne-room immediately."
"Angus," Deirdre said, yawning as she prodded the young man with her elbow. "Angus, come on. My father wants to talk to us."
Angus didn't move.
"Angus!" Deirdre cried, shoving him hard. He tossed and tumbled as a result of her prodding, but didn't move to yawn or open his eyes.
Rohan and Garrett rushed over, joining in the attempt to wake their friend.
"What should I do?" Deirdre asked, panic in her voice. "He's not breathing!"
"I think you have to blow air into his mouth," Garrett said uncertainly, rolling Angus onto his back. "In Regart the druids do it to breathe life into someone who's...dead."
Deirdre took a deep breath, covered Angus' nose a little with her left hand, and knelt her head down toward Angus' face. Her lips touched his, and Angus' hand came sneaking up, gently holding her to him. Deirdre startled and pulled away, but slowly. Rohan and Garrett stood back as she began sputtering, jumping down from the wall.
"That's an evil trick to pull, Angus, even for you!" Deirdre cried.
Angus sat up, a grin on his face the length of a dragon's wing-span.
"I'll have to remember that trick," Rohan muttered to Garrett, who began laughing. Deirdre whirled on him.
"You! Were you in on it as well?"
"No!" Garrett replied, holding his hands up before his face, palm out. "No, of course not."
"Come on," Deirdre said grumpily, trudging toward the stairs. "Let's get inside."
"Tell me, princess," Aideen asked softly, "is he a good kisser?"
"Considering it's the first kiss like that I've ever had," said Deirdre, a tiny smile crossing her face, "yes; he's a very good kisser."
Aideen giggled and floated away. Deirdre fought her smile back into her throat as the knights neared the throne-room.
"Ah, finally," said the king. He gestured toward the table, at the head of which he would sit. "Please, join me."
"Forgive me, my king," said Rohan, holding up one hand, "but where's Ivar? He's never late to a meeting."
Just then Ivar came rushing in and sank into his usual seat. Rohan noticed something different about him, like he was more relaxed or something, but decided against pointing it out. The knights sat at the table, wondering what this meeting was all about. King Conchobar and Cathbad, the druid, took their places at head and foot of the longish table.
"I have called this meeting because Maeve has contacted me with a very important announcement," the king said. "I have received a missive from her; a treaty, if you will; that will bring order to both our lands."
"Are you sure it's not a trick," Angus asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's fooled us too often in the past, with her promises of peace."
"I am more than certain, Angus," said Conchobar. He leaned forward, as did Cathbad, and all the knights felt that they were about to be let in on some great secret. "And I said order, not peace."
Cathbad glanced at the king, who nodded once. The druid looked at the knights.
"Maeve has been in exile these eight months; yet now she has returned to her castle. I met with her, at her behest. Mider has called off their arrangement; at least, for the moment; Maeve's sceptre and rune-stone have been destroyed. I used my second sight to look into her heart; she is telling the truth. Her numbers have been sorely depleted, and she herself is not as young as she once was. She fears that the powers she has left to her will fail the moment she needs them most; and so she has decided to give up her quest in gaining Kells to her lands. She is content being Queen of Temra."
The knights applauded the end of the long war, clapping each other on the back. Rohan turned to the king, the druid, and his friends; looking especially at Angus.
"Mider has taken his revenge for Bridie's death as well, then. At last justice has been served."
Garrett and Ivar glanced at each other, wondering if they were still welcome in Kells now that the war was over.
It seemed Conchobar read their minds.
"Of course Kells must still be defended. There are other enemies out there; and just because we've seen the last of Maeve doesn't mean Mider has completely given up. And then there's Maeve's sister, Numaine. I order the princes Garrett and Ivar to remain in Kells...as permanent residents of Kells Castle. And I would be honored if you and Angus would come to live in the castle too, Rohan."
Deirdre caught the surprised look on Rohan's handsome face as she gazed at her friends and wondered what it would be like to have four brash, wild young men living in the castle. Not that she didn't like the idea of having Rohan and Garrett there; she just wasn't sure about the idea of them fighting over her like they had been lately. She thought she preferred Rohan to Garrett, though she wasn't positive; after all, she'd known Rohan since she was eight or nine, and Garrett had only been around for almost a year.
It was too much to think about for one afternoon. She retired to bed early after the evening meal that night, as did everyone else. It had been one of the longest days she could remember having suffered through in her whole lifetime; and she wasn't the only one.
Ivar tossed and turned in his huge, empty bed, wondering how much longer he had to wait before beginning his journey to the silver shore. Thoughts of Nadia assured him of no rest this night, and finally he could wait no longer. He slipped out of bed and began dressing in his usual outfit of blue, but paused for a moment and finally shook his head, deciding against it. He had borrowed a grey short sleeved tunic and brown trousers from Rohan for mushroom picking a few days ago, and had worn it only the once. It seemed ideal for his purposes on this unusually warm night; and besides, the pants were just tight enough to show off his powerful leg muscles. He grinned as he fastened his belt quickly, fumbling with the ties that held his trident to him. *Just in case the treaty proves false*, he told himself as he straped on his weapon. He hurried quietly down the stone steps, waiting until he reached the courtyard to pull on his boots. The moon was still close to the eastern horizon as he stepped foot on the road to the Silver Shore.
In the corridors of the castle, someone else found that sleep eluded him. Dreams of a mysterious girl had risen Garrett from his slumber; and now he paced the cold stone floors of the corridors and empty hallways of Kells Castle. The only guards were those on the topmost walls of the castle, watching for Temra troops who might not have heard of the treaty. Garrett rubbed his blue eyes with a fist, wishing he could get some sleep.
"Garrett," said a whispering voice near his ear, soft and sweet as bee pollen. The prince looked up from his study of the floor, glancing around, studying the shadows.
"Who's there?" He whispered, following the voice down the hall. The scent of white roses filled the air around him, and he closed his eyes for a moment to breathe deep of the sweet scent.
"Garrett, come to me," said the voice softly, echoing in the hall. "Come to the king's garden."
"I'm coming," Garrett said, beginning to run quietly, stealthily. He took the steps down into the courtyard two at a time, pushing open the silver gate that led to the king's private garden. Of course the garden was open to the knights, nobles, and ladies of the castle; but Garrett had never felt brave enough to go inside. Beautiful things often scared him with their power, and the garden caused that feeling within him.
As he entered the garden Garrett caught the scent of roses again; turning his head he saw the rose bush beside him, and reached out to touch the silky petals of one of them. He used to imagine Deirdre's skin feeling like that; now he wondered if Aideen had this soft feel to her skin.
"Garrett," the voice said again. He looked around, but saw no one.
"Who are you?" He asked. "Where..."
There was a burst of golden light near the stone fountain in the midst of the garden. Garrett shielded his eyes from the glow. When he was at last able to open them again, he beheld a female form, shrouded within the folds of a soft emerald green cloak. Garrett approached her slowly, reaching out a hand as though to remove the hood, but he couldn't bring himself to take the velvet cloth between his rough fingertips.
"Do you know who I am, Garrett?" The girl asked. Garrett shook his head slowly. The girl slowly brought a hand up beside her hidden face, pulling back the hood with her own slender hand. Her soft blond curls leapt forth from beneath it, and Garrett gasped, his eyes widening.
"Aideen," he whispered. "What..."
"Come to me," she said gently, opening her arms to him. He hesitated, but only for an instant, dropping to his knees, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and burying his face in the folds of her emerald green skirt. He began to weep with the loneliness and confusion he had felt since arriving in Kells. He was surrounded by silk and velvet and the scent of white roses that filled his head and heart, and his tears, unshed since childhood, were falling like a gentle sad rain.
Aideen held Garrett to her, feeling all the love in the world for this human man. She had waited for the longest time to be held by him, to comfort him in his time of need; to be with him as Bridie and Angus had been, as Rohan and Deirdre no doubt would be someday. Aideen's hand stroked Garrett's hair, unbound now from its leather ties, falling loosely around his ears. It felt like corn-silk in her hands, and beneath she could feel the tingly roughness of his shaven skin. Slowly the tears stopped falling from Garrett's eyes, and he rose to his feet, gazing down into her face.
She reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Garrett smiled as he took her hand, laying it over his heart. He placed a hand upon her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her face as she closed her eyes and leaned into him.
"Why?" He asked softly, wonderingly. "Why now, Aideen? I've been waiting for some sign that you cared for me since Bridie came to Kells; I thought I was alone in my feelings for you."
Aideen shook her head vehemently.
"No! I've loved you for the longest time...have wanted you to...hold me, love me too."
Garrett smiled weakly. His body was reacting to the feel of her hips against his own, and he wanted so much to kiss her...
"Now isn't the time for this," he groaned, taking a step back and leaning his head against her collar-bone. "We need to know each other, Aideen; as more than friends. I barely know anything about you. Your favorite color, your favorite food, what you like best to drink..."
"Green, Cathbad's special biscuits, honey nectar," Aideen said quickly. Garrett grinned, kissing her forehead wetly.
"I...ummm...I better go to bed," Garrett said, taking her hand off his chest, kissing each fingertip gently. "I'll see you in the morning," he promised, and Aideen placed a kiss of her own on his cheek.
"In the morning," she agreed, and they parted ways, their hands clasping quickly as Garrett retreated to his room. He couldn't stop shaking, wondering if Aideen had felt such a jolt from the feel of their bodies touching in that special way.
Little did he know that indeed she had, and was at that moment holding for dear life to a statue to keep herself from falling to the ground in a faint. She paused before leaving the garden for the night, taking two roses with her back to tir na nOg. A memory of her first 'date' with Garrett.
Ivar reached the ruins around midnight, and as he had suspected Nadia had arrived before him. She stood with her back to him, her hair waving in the breeze, her body encased in a purple and crimson velvet nightshirt no less revealing than her afternoon garments. He smiled as he snuck up behind her, covering her eyes with his large dark hands.
"Guess who," he said playfully, his lower lip brushing her ear lobe.
Nadia reached up and touched his hands, taking hold of them and pulling them away from her eys. She held onto one as she turned, letting the other drop as she faced Ivar. Her eyes still closed, she fell into such a perusal of his face with her fingers, touching Ivar's cheek, his lips, exploring it as though she were truly blind. Finally she opened her eyes, smiling up at him.
"Ivar, I thought you wouldn't come," she said, hugging him.
"You told me you trusted me. I...I want to assure you that I am worthy of that trust."
"That's not the only reason you came, though, is it," she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. Ivar grinned sheepishly and shook his head.
"Not entirely. I wanted to see you again."
"That's what I thought. I wanted to see you again too."
Nadia took Ivar's hand and led him toward the ruins atop the hill.
"There's a place I want to show you," she told him. "Close your eyes."
He did, and she led him into one of the ancient rooms. The stone ceiling, once magnificently painted, had fallen to form the floor, and Nadia had laid out several thick soft furs for them to rest on.
"All right," she whispered, looking up at him. "Open them."
Ivar opened his eyes, gazing in awe at the view from the open windows and high vista. Nadia waited until he'd gotten a good look around, then pushed him down playfully. He fell onto his bum on the furs, resting his arms beneath his head as he laughed and gazed up at the stars. Nadia sat down beside him, her arms wrapped around her knees, which were pulled up to her chest.
"I like the new ensemble, Ivar," she said, reaching out to tug on his tunic; which was open down to just beneath his chest-spoon. "It suits you far better than royal robes."
"Thank you, my lady," he replied.
Nadia pushed him back again as he tried to sit up, straddling his abdomen as she held him down.
"Call me 'my lady' again, and I'll..." she stated.
"Forgive me, Nadia," Ivar returned, a mischievous glaze in his sparkling brown eyes. He rolled her so that it was he who straddled her stomach. "Now what would you do...my lady?"
Nadia lifted up her head and kissed him lightly on the mouth. While Ivar was still half in shock, Nadia slid out from beneath him, jumping up and grabbing his waist, her weight evenly proportioned on his back. Ivar swung his arms around, trying to pull her off, but she held like a thistle. They wrestled until they could wrestle no more; half the night flew by as they laughed and played like small children. To any onlookers it would seem that Nadia had won over the foreign prince...yet they agreed it was a draw.
"Why did you kiss me?" Ivar asked breathlessly, leaning on his elbow as he watched Nadia close her eyes and control her breathing.
"I wanted to," Nadia said. "And that wasn't really a kiss," she added, turning her head swiftly, staring wide eyed at him. "You've never been kissed before, have you, Ivar."
Ivar swallowed and shook his head as he let his weight fall upon the furs beneath him. "No."
"So virtuous," Nadia whispered, rolling over onto her stomach. She reached out a hand, touching his head, tracing the patterns on his closely shaved scalp. She was almost certain she could sense tension even there. Ivar kept his eyes closed, head tingling, certain that if he opened his eyes all this would just be a dream.
"Hardly virtuous," he replied, knowing full well that the thoughts in his head were anything but. "Just not the man women adore."
"I adore you," Nadia whispered. She pulled herself toward Ivar by hooking her fingers under his collar and belt, tilting her face toward his. When her lips touched his, tentatively at first, Ivar felt a thousand sensations zinging through his body. He'd never felt the likes of it before. Silky soft and smooth, Nadia's kisses made him believe in the gods. Ivar found himself wondering what it would be like to make love to this young woman, to see her golden skin dotted with the sweat of passion. He sighed as they watched the sunrise together, and groaned in disappointment when they had to part ways.
"My father may already be suspicious," Nadia said as they kissed again. She groaned into his mouth as he pulled her body against his own.
"He has every right to be," he said. He tore a thin strip of grey cloth from his tunic and gave it to Nadia. "A remembrance," he said, "until we meet again."
Nadia passed him a purple flower from the bunch she had just placed in her long wavy hair. "Come to the hedgerow later today if you can," she said. He nodded and watched her race away, knowing he would give up the world to kiss her again.
"What in the name of Lugh is wrong with Ivar?" Rohan asked at the morning meeting. "He hasn't come down yet; that's two days in a row he's been late to a meeting."
"Yeah," Angus said, "and he's always getting after us for being late." His fingers began messing with the scroll before him; Cathbad's hand reached out and slapped Angus' away; Commander Uaan placed his hand over his mouth, stifling a giggle.
At that moment Ivar appeared in the doorway. "Forgive me," he said. "I had important matters to attend to."
"More important than the safety of Kells?" Deirdre asked. She motioned to Garrett's seat.
"What about Garrett?" The princess pointed out. "He's missing as well."
"Aideen," Rohan said. "Aideen, where are you?"
The tiny fairy fluttered in through the window.
"I'm here, Rohan."
"Have you any idea where Garrett is?"
"He's still asleep," she told him. Rohan began to stand up, saying he would go wake Garrett, but Aideen stopped him.
"I can travel faster, Rohan. I'll get him up," she said, a mischievous grin on her face.
Garrett lay fast asleep in his oversized bed, a gentle smile on his face. Aideen flew in the window and landed lightly on the plush fur rug by the bed. She asked for the power to grow big, and soon she stood over the sleeping prince. She watched him dream for a moment, but knew she must hurry before Rohan or one of the others came to check on her progress.
"Garrett," she whispered, tracing a finger along the side of his face. Slowly Garrett's eyes opened, and he gazed upon Aideen, turning over in the bed, pulling the covers up over his bare chest, a look of wonder on his face.
"So it was you last night," he said, sitting up. "Why didn't you tell me you felt that way about me?"
"I thought it was so obvious, Garrett," she whispered. She averted her eyes; she wished she hadn't, because she noticed by the outline of the sheets that Garrett was naked beneath them. She sat down, as close to the edge of the bed as she could get, taking one of his hands in both of hers. "I thought you had to know."
Garrett looked down at their hands, placing his other hand atop hers.
"I do now," he said. "And it's important to me that you know I feel the same way. I have since that first time you spoke to me, asking me if I was going to take Deirdre away. But then you loved Rohan; and look what happened."
Aideen nodded. "I know."
"What do we do now?" He asked, and she shook her head, shrugging.
"I don't know. You have to get up and go downstairs. You've already missed most of the morning report."
Garrett grabbed the covers, almost pulling them off before he remembered he was naked. He blushed and gazed at Aideen.
"Could you turn around, Aideen?"
"I'll just leave..."
"No," Garrett said as she stood up, grabbing her hand before she got very far away. "No; stay. Please. Toss me that shirt over there."
Aideen turned, picking up the longish shirt he'd pointed out, smelling it. She smiled softly as she smelled his scent; deep, musky, manly...and not a little dirty. She shook her head, tossing it in a corner. She clapped her hands, forming up from her fairy magic a black tunic-style shirt and a matching pair of pants.
"There you go. Clean clothes for the first time since you've come here."
"I've washed my clothes. It's not my fault I only brought the one pair."
"Well you've got another pair," Aideen said, tossing the pants to him first. He wiggled into them beneath the covers, and Aideen blushed as she imagined him fumbling with the ties. He threw the covers off, resting his legs over the side of the bed. His stomach was well muscled, a light sprinkling of hair on his chest, a happy-trail leading down to his navel. His nipples were taut, and once again Aideen blushed, averting her gaze to the safe floor as she tossed him the black shirt. Garrett watched her as he shrugged into the shirt.
"Have you never seen so much of a man before?" He asked. Aideen shook her head.
"No. I always knew when Rohan and Angus were changing; so I never saw them like that."
"I see," Garrett told her. He stood, shoving his feet into his boots. "You'll probably be seeing a lot of me like that," he told her, walking slowly toward her. His fingers dug lightly into her upper arms, pulling her slowly toward him. Aideen closed her eyes as their lips brushed past one another, barely touching, tickling like feathers.
There came a pounding on the door before Garrett could kiss her like he wanted to.
"Garrett, are you coming down or not?" Asked Rohan through the thick oak door.
"Coming!" Garrett replied. He kissed Aideen once more on her soft cheek, a lingering kiss but no less chaste than before. Garrett waited until he was certain Rohan had gone before speaking again.
"Can we meet somewhere later?"
Aideen nodded, asking him;
"But where?"
"I think I know a place," he replied. "There's a glen not far from here, a little clearing. I go there sometimes to collect my thoughts. Can you meet me there tonight? Say...when the moon rises?"
"I'll be there," Aideen said. She reached down, tapped his fumbling hands away from his belt, buckling it for him, helping him wriggle into his yellow kilt-like sash. "I'll think about you all day."
Garrett grinned, wiggling his eyebrows a little. "I'll be kissing you in my thoughts...little one." He pressed his lips to hers for one last, lingering kiss before openeing the door and going downstairs.
"Garrett; it's about time," said Deirdre. "We were going to go patrol the border without you."
"Aideen came to wake me up, but she didn't stay long enough to make sure I actually got out of bed," Garrett lied. "Then Rohan came up; well, there was no way he was going to let me sleep more."
Rohan grinned, almost wishing he could have really woken Garrett up. He would have rolled the poor guy right out of that comfortable bed. But he couldn't complain. Soon he'd have a bed just as good; and closer...oh so much closer...to Deirdre.
"Well," said Ivar, smiling happily. "Are we going to stand around all day or are we going to patrol?"
The other knights looked at one another in amusement. Ivar rarely if ever smiled; it was a welcome diversion, Rohan thought, whatever made him so happy now.
"I'll go with you, Ivar," Angus said, clapping his friend on the back. Garrett paired off with Rohan, leaving Deirdre to go off alone for the first time in many weeks. She was glad to have the time to think-about herself and about Rohan.
"Come on, Rohan," Garrett said, tapping his friend's arm, noticing the look of longing Rohan threw at Deirdre's back. "Let's hurry and get this silly patrol over with."
It appeared that Maeve had told the truth when she claimed she wanted peace between the two nations of Kells and Temra. There wasn't a single soldier stirring in the forests or on the roads that day, and the patrol went the fastest it had gone since Rohan was knee-high.
Garrett returned to his chamber when the knights got back to the castle. He wanted to be good and ready for tonight's meeting with Aideen; he told the others he was just catching up on some well earned rest.
"I wonder if he's sick," Angus thought aloud at lunch that day.
"Surely he would have told us if he were," Rohan replied. He was silent for a moment, then turned to Deirdre. "I'm going to start moving mine and Angus' things into the castle this afternoon, princess," he said softly.
"I'll help," she answered. Rohan studied her, wondering at this sudden change. He had expected her to make some excuse as to why he couldn't move in so soon; but she actually seemed eager to have him installed. Deirdre glanced at Rohan and then back at her plate. "I mean, you'll need help with Angus' things. I assume you don't want to share quarters?"
"No; unless it's a problem," Rohan said. "It'll be nice having a place of my own."
"Yeah, no kidding," Angus muttered, stuffing a bread roll into his pocket and leaving the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" Rohan asked his old friend. Angus paused by the door, glancing back over his shoulder.
"I'm going for a walk, if you don't mind. It's been a long time since the roads have been so quiet."
"I must be going as well," Ivar said. "I still don't entirely trust this treaty of Maeve's; and I would prefer to do a little of my own spying."
With that both Angus and Ivar left; Rohan and Deirdre were alone, except for the inevitable and ever watchful guards. Deirdre stood and moved herself to a seat right beside Rohan. It seemed they both had something to say to one another, but both wanted to say it at the same time.
"...Rohan, I..."
"...Deirdre..."
They stopped, looked at each other. Rohan waved his hand.
"You go first, princess."
"No, Rohan," Deirdre shook her head. "You go."
Rohan lifted an eyebrow and pointed his finger at her. "As Draganta, I order you to speak."
"As princess of Kells, I demand you say what's on your mind," Deirdre countered.
Rohan sighed loudly in defeat, throwing up his hands.
"Fine. Look, Deirdre, I'm a little uncomfortable about this whole 'living in the castle' business. And frankly I think you are too. Will things still be the same between us?"
"I hope so," Deirdre said, placing her hand on his arm. "I do feel a little strange about all this, but...well, I mean, you've earned your right to live in the castle, Rohan. Not only as Draganta, but as my friend." She sighed and gently rubbed her hand along Rohan's strong arm, absentmindedly Rohan thought, but then again...
"It will make it easier for us to talk," he said. "I mean, in the past when we wantd privacy we've had to wait until Angus went off by himself or the throne-room was empty; but now you can come see me, or I can visit you."
"It'll still be difficult Rohan." Deirdre said softly. She began tracing her name on his arm. Rohan's flesh was tingling from the attention it was receiving, and his heart was beating more fiercely than it ever had in the heat of battle.
"We'll see each other at night then," Rohan told her; softly, lest the guards should be listening. He grabbed her busy little hand and held it still. Deirdre looked up innocently at his handsome face.
"I'm sorry; was that bothering you?" She asked, a tiny grin settling on her face as she removed her hand from his and continued writing; his name this time. He shuddered gently, hoping she didn't notice.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," he said. "So how about it?"
"How about what?" She hedged.
"Will you come to my room tonight?" He whispered.
"It'll be a mess in there. I suppose I could go to help you straighten things up a bit; add a woman's touch and all..."
"Aye," he said, standing up. Deirdre looked at him funny as he grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him.
"Where are we going?" She asked quickly, looping her fingers into his belt loops.
"To my hut. You said you'd help me move, remember?"
At that instant, Deirdre greatly regretted ever having made such a promise. She knew that Rohan wasn't the most orderly man; neither was Angus, but at least one could see the floor on his side of the hut. The princess sighed, knowing it would be yet another very long day; but she couldn't complain. She would be spending the entirety of it alone with Rohan. She sighed again; it was a happy sigh. She was a happy girl.
Maeve paced the floor of her throne-room, glancing now and again at the pathetic, twisted and charred remains of what had once en her pwoerful scepter and rune-stone.
"My queen," Torq said as he entered the throne-room and bowed low. "I believe you have made a terrible blunder."
Maeve whirled on the general. "How dare you question my authority! If I still had my powers, I'd turn you into a spriggan!" Then she looked down at the floor, thinking; *I've made the stupidest mistake in my entire life, and the idiot calls it a mere blunder?*
"What I meant was," Torq backtracked, trying to appease the queen, "that the knights are so unsuspecting now, rebuilding their kingdom, it would be the best time to attack. They are beginning to recall how safe everything was before you called on Mider for your rune-stone and the powers within it." Torq sat down on Maeve's throne, swinging a leg over the arm nad leaning against its wide, fur-clad back.
"Get off my throne," Maeve threatened, her voice dangerously low, "or I'll..."
"Or you'll what?" Torq asked. "You can't do anything without your precious scepter, Maeve, admit it. If I had such power as you once had, I would have known just how to defeat those impudent children."
"How, Torq!?! You couldn't even defeat Rohan when I placed the coward spell on him. All you did was make him give up; when you had every opportunity to strike him dead. You would have done no better than me."
"You're probably right," Torq sighed. "But if I had killed your precious Rohan, you would have killed me."Torq complained, leaning his head against his hand, his elbow resting against the other arm of the throne. "But if you'd ever let me help with your plans, we might be rulers of Kells and Temra; instead you made Mider angry enough to crush your scepter ike a twig." He sighed again and laughed. "Remember the good times, though. Ah, we did have good times, didn't we, Maeve?"
Maeve smiled. She had to admit, he was right.
"My time will come," she said. "There will come a day when Mider forgives me. When the knights are all too busy to notice me coming; or perhaps forgotten me altogether. Then we'll get those mystic knights...once and for all!"
Nadia passed the remainder of the morning trying to calm herself, gazing up at the ceiling of her small room, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her parents had never noticed that she was gone; if they had, they would have been waiting for her when she returned. They had told her that morning that they would be gone for at least three days; she was to stay out of trouble. Nadia sighed as she let herself fall back on the bed. Her thoughts were only for Ivar. For his silky soft lips, for his innocent and tender mouth, those eyes that could melt her heart. She shuddered with the knowledge that he'd never been kissed before she came along. When she had placed a hand against his chest and abdomen as they lay on the grass among the ruins she had felt the power and strength in him, every muscle taut and striving for...something.
Her insides quivered with excitement as she wondered what it would be like to lie beneath him, Ivar making love to her...to share the one thing neither of them had done before. She wasn't certain but felt that the experience would be fantastic.
Nadia's hand floated up to her face, her fingers tracing the outline of her own lips, wanting Ivar to be there with her, kissing her. She was starving for his touch, and knew it would be hours before she saw him again. But she smiled thinking about that wonderful moment...this afternoon!
Ivar hurried toward the embankment where he had first set eyes on Nadia. She wasn't there yet, but he took the moment of silence to breathe deep of the springlike scent of heather around him, sitting crosslegged on the green cushion of grass.
He heard a rustling in the bushes and placed a hand on his trident, ready for anything.
Nadia jumped out from the bush behind him and grasped him about the neck, running her hand along the clean-shaven-ness of his head. Ivar took a deep, ragged breath. *She can't possibly know what that does to me* he thought as he turned his head and seized her soft lips with his own. Nadia somehow moved around to position herself in front of him as they kissed, reaching down the length of his body to grasp his hand and pull him to his feet.
"Where are we going?" He asked as they disappeared into the forest the way she had come.
"My parents left the house to me for three days," she told him. "Three whole days! All by myself!"
She was so excited that she raced ahead of him, jumping into a series of cartwheels and flips that left Ivar deeply impressed. He had never seen such skill before except in the hands of the palace jesters in his homeland.
"Can we be trusted alone in your house?" Ivar asked, only half-joking. Nadia turned and ran toward him, diving into his arms and wrapping her long legs around his waist.
"Probably not," she whispered into his ear, "but what does that matter? It'll be great!"
Ivar carried her the rest of the way on his back; it was surprising how light she was, for her height. Nadia pointed the way for him and shoved the door open; there was no lock.
"Welcome, Prince Ivar," Nadia said, spreading her arms wide as he let her down and took in every inch of the manor-house. "Welcome to my humble home."
"Humble?" Ivar asked, trying out a handsomely carved wooden chair. "You live like a princess."
Nadia looked away suddenly. "I feel like a princess when I'm with you," she countered, flying toward the bed with arms outstretched. She belly-flopped on the soft mattress and turned mid-bounce to rest on her back. Ivar stood slowly from the chair, approaching her carefully, reminding her for all the world of a predatory cat.
Ivar sat beside her on the bed, his arms resting one on either side of her as he bent down to kiss her, as soft and gentle as any of their other kisses had been, maybe moreso.
"Are you nervous?" He asked her in a whisper. Nadia shook her head slowly.
"Not with you," she said.
"Well," Ivar said quietly but no less serious as she slid his tunic off his broad shoulders and strong back; "I'm terrified. I've never done this before...what if I hurt you?"
Nadia looked into his eyes and shook her head as she scratched a fingernail along his chest. "You won't hurt me," she replied, grasping his neck and pulling him down to her.
Meanwhile...
Rohan and Deirdre were busily trying to move all of Rohan and Angus' possessions out of the tiny hut where they had lived for nearly ten years and into the castle. Deirdre had borrowed a pair of trousers that Angus had grown out of years ago but never thrown away; they were tight even on the princess, so she found a tunic of Rohan's (while he was away from the hut) and slid into it, tying a rope around her middle for a belt.
"Very becoming, princess," Rohan said, trying to hide his smile at seeing her in his shirt. It sent a flicker of emotion into his gut, thinking of them as a couple, this way forever; working as they were now...playing as they had when they were young.
"Do you really think so?" Deirdre asked, feeling not a little foolish in the boys' clothes and her own dainty slippers. "Or are you by any chance trying to humor me?"
Rohan shook his head, tucking a strand of curls behind his ear. "Not at all. You look very...nice...in my shirt. And Angus' pants."
Deirdre punched him on the shoulder.
"That's not nice," he said as she picked up a heavy basket with all their dishes. She merely smiled at him.
"I think that's the last of it," she told Rohan as they took one last look around the hut. Rohan's eyes began to water as he thought of all the good times he and Angus had shared in this old building. Deirdre put down her basket and placed her hand on Rohan's shoulder. Are you going to be all right?" She asked.
"I'll be fine," Rohan said, rubbing a hand over his chin and lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned around, picking up the basket and walking out of the hut forever. Deirdre caught up with him on the stairs.
"Rohan, I don't care what people think. You're my friend, and you need someone to talk to; I'll be right by your side when you're ready."
Rohan paused and gazed at the princess, then nodded. Deirdre rested her hand against the small of his back, giving the young man much needed comfort as they carried the last of his belongings to his new home.
"My king!" Said Cathbad, entering the throne-room with more haste than Conchobar knew the old druid was capable of. "My king, I have had another vision."
"Well out with it, Cathbad," said the king, waving his hand as Commander Uaan prepared to leave. "Commander, please, stay. What have you seen, Cathbad?"
"A jumble of images, my king. A fairy ring on the far off Aran islands, filled to overflowing with silver wolves."
"Silver wolves, Cathbad?" Siad the king. "Are you certain?"
"That is not all, my king. I also saw a young woman, clad in clothing similar to those of Queen Maeve. In my vision she was with Prince Ivar."
"This could be serious. Find the mystic knights," he said to Uaan, "and summon them here. I fear another meeting is in order."
Commander Uaan bowed and hurried off to gather Rohan, Deirdre, and Garrett; the only three still near the castle.
"Angus said he was going for a walk," Rohan said. "I'll go find him."
"When you find Angus, I want both of you to look for Ivar as well," said the king. "He may be perfectly alright, but all the same I want him here."
"Yes, your majesty," Rohan bowed, his eyes catching Deirdre's as he turned to leave.
"Garrett, you look a little...what? Nervous, maybe," Conchobar said. "Are you feeling well?"
Garrett nodded. "I'm fine, my king. I think I overslept is all." Deirdre glanced wide-eyed at the prince. "No kidding," she said softly, and Garrett started laughing under his breath. It caused a domino effect, for soon everyone in the throne-room, even the commander, was laughing, and by the time it was finished they all felt more refreshed than they had in months.
Nadia stretched happily as she opened her eyes. She hadn't expected to feel so...wonderful...after the strenuous activities of the afternoon. She turned her head and gazed lovingly at Ivar, who still slept at her side. Nadia traced a finger along his cheek. He was so sweet and gentle, making sure he wasnt hurting her when she was worried about him. What did men feel their first time? Pain, exquisite delight? Nobody could tell her except her prince.
Nadia watched Ivar's soft brown eyes open and fall upon her. All the feelings of their long afternoon of love-making came rushing back to him. How many times had it been? Three; four? Damned if he could remember. Ivar smiled at his green-eyed angel, feeling like a new man.
"Good morning," Nadia whispered, planting a soft kiss on his swollen lips.
"Many happy returns of the day," he answered, raising an eyebrow as though it were a joke between them. They laughed together, and Ivar knew that he could wake up beside Nadia every day for the rest of his life and never grow weary of seeing her lovely tan face floating beside him...or above him in passion.
Suddenly Ivar sat up in the bed.
"What's wrong?" Nadia asked, reaching for Ivar's hand.
"My friends will be wondering where I have gotten off to," he told her thoughtfully, squeezing her hand gently. "I should go before they come hunting for me." Ivar slowly maneuvered his legs over the side of the bed.
"Are you all right?" Nadia asked. Ivar smiled and nodded.
"A little weak. I think I've used up more energy in one day than I normally would have in a month."
"I'll fix you something to take with you," Nadia said, jumping out of bed. She hurriedly wriggled into her tiny tunic and skirt, sliding her boots on.
"Thank you. What about you? Are you all right?"
"A little sore, but I think that's expected. Otherwise I'm fine."
She popped a basket from a small cupboard in the kitchen and placed a few rolls, three chicken legs, and a tumbler of goat's milk inside. As Ivar finished pulling on his blue trousers and boots Nadia set the basket on the bed; but not before glancing at the small red stain on the sheets. Ivar saw it too, she noticed, and he pulled her to him in a warm embrace.
"If I hurt you at all, I'm sorry," he said softly in her ear. Nadia turned to whisper:
"You took me to the stars, Ivar," she said. "There's nothing to be sorry about for all that."
"Can I see you again soon?"
"I'll be here waiting for you," she said, "the next time you can get away."
"I will see you tonight, my angel," Ivar said, kissing her once again before leaving.
"Don't forget to bring the basket back!" She called after him. Ivar turned mid-stride, blowing her a kiss as he practically skipped away. Nadia slumped against the side of the door, sighing deeply, happily. Then she turned and began pulling the sheets from the bed to wash in the stream. Her thoughts that day were full of Ivar; and she knew his were full of her as well.
"Ivar, there you are!" Rohan called. "We've been looking for you forever."
"Well, now you've found me," said the foreign prince.
"King Conchobar's called another meeting...and you look different," said Angus, studying Ivar. "What's different about you?"
"I want to tell you both, my friends," said Ivar, "but not here. Not now. I'll tell you tomorrow, when I'm certain."
"Sounds mysterious," Rohan replied, "but we've no time for it now, anyway, Ivar. I'm sorry to have to say so, but Cathbad said this meeting has to do with a vision he's had about you."
"I feel priveleged," Ivar said. "He's never had a vision involving me before."
"Well anyway, let's go get it over with. I'm curious to hear about it," said Angus, lifting up the covering on the basket in Ivar's hand. "What's this then? You've met a girl, haven't you? Haven't you...?"
Ivar opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head.
"Later," he said.
"So as you can see," said the druid to the gathered knights and king. "I fear that this woman may be the one mentioned in the scrolls...it is obvious she has something to do with the wolves and the circle at Inishgard."
"Silver wolves," said Garrett thoughtfully. "There are silver wolves in Regart who are thought to have magical powers and to converse with witches and warlocks; but I've seen none of their like since coming here."
"There have been no silver wolves here for many years," said Cathbad, taking a seat at the table. "But this vision may reaveal the identity of the ceillach."
"The ceillach?" Asked Ivar. "Forgive me, but your language still confuses me on occasion. What does it mean?"
"A ceillach is a powerful sorceress, one who is born with her powers," Rohan clarified, grinning at Cathbad, as if to say *see, I have learned something from you after all.* "If Cathbad has seen the ceillach, she would be more powerful than Maeve, Mider, and Numaine put together."
Ivar turned his gaze almost guiltily to the table. *Could Nadia be this ceillach they speak of? Cathbad said she would be involved in my destiny somehow; Nadia is the only woman I've ever been so close to.*
"I think I know of whom you speak, Cathbad," Ivar said. All eyes turned to him, each gaze filled with questions unasked. "Her name is Nadia; and I love her."
"How do you know this girl, Ivar?" Rohan asked, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands.
"We met on the road yesterday, by Ballyloch," Ivar said softly, studying the knots in the wood beneath his arms. "I heard her singing, and went to investigate...we got to talking. Then last night we spent the night talking at the Silver Shore ruins; today I spent at her home. I have fallen in love with her."
"Do you realize the implications of a coupling between yourself and the ceillach?" Asked Cathbad. "Your child...and there will be one...will possess the gift of sight; to see into the future as well as current happenstances...such a gift can be dangerous to a child."
But Nadia and I will help our child through such difficulties, Cathbad," Ivar said, lifting his gaze to meet with that of the old druid. "I feel that I know her already; as though our fates were entwined. If she is part of my destiny, as you said, surely she must be told. Perhaps she doesn't even know that she is the ceillach...and maybe she isn't the ceillach after all."
The druid nodded slowly. "Perhaps you might bring her here, Ivar. Ask her if she would like to meet with the king of Kells and his old druid. Tell her that you desire it be so."
Ivar agreed, hoping it would be so easy to convince Nadia to accompany him out of her precious forest.
Nobody noticed, as they left the throne-room, that Garrett had disappeared in the middle of the meeting.
Garrett managed to sneak past the guards without being asked where he was off to; sometimes it was good having a thief for a friend. He found his way to the glen just as the moon began to rise in the east; a full moon, lighting the sky as well as any old sun.
"Aideen," he whispered into the air, his breath hanging visibly before him as he sat beneath a cyprus tree. "Aideen I'm here. I've come."
"I'm here too, Garrett," Aideen said, stepping out from behind a tall oak. Garrett smiled and drew in a sharp breath at the same time, for he'd never seen Aideen dressed so...beautifully. Her long curls hung down her back, a white flower tucked behind her ear. She wore a long white gown, sparkling in the moonlight.
She knelt before him, pulling her dress up a bit so she would be sure not to trip upon the hem, and took his hand.
"Garrett; I'm glad we have this time together."
He nodded. "So am I Aideen." He grinned, tucked his chin, and opened his arms. "Come here."
Aideen turned and rested full length against him, smiling softly, dreamily as he tickled her cheeks with a long blade of grass. She dared not look into his face, not to see the passion and desire that she knew was in his blue eyes. But she did turn her face to breathe deep of the scent of him. He smelled of the forest itself. It seemed odd to Aideen; who was small enough as a fairy to sneak into the laundry and discover such things; that each of the knights actually smelled more or less like his or her element. Rohan smelled of wood-smoke; of warmth and musk, like a fire itself. Angus smelled like good clean dirt; the odor of a man who might one day take great joy in working the earth. Deirdre smelled like a summer breeze, fresh and fragrant. Ivar like water, cool and clean. And Garrett, like the trees and the moss and ferns at their feet...and something else. He smelled vaguely like...
Aideen wrinkled her nose and sat up.
"The silver wolves," Aideen whispered. Garrett tucked his chin to look at the top of her golden ringlets.
"What was that?"
"You smell of silver wolves," she said, turning to study him. "How is it that you can smell like them if you've seen none since leaving Regart?"
Garrett shrugged widely, obviously confused. "I've no idea. I suppose because wolves live in forests...maybe they're under my care...I don't know." Then he seemed to grasp an idea. "Ivar's maiden...Nadia...she is supposed to have something to do with the silver wolves, isn't she?"
Aideen nodded. "I know what you're thinking. Let's go see Cathbad."
The following morning, at practice...
"Rohan, no! It doesn't matter!" Deirdre covered her face with both hands as Rohan punched Angus in the face, sending the former thief flying back against the castle wall. This whole fight had started because Rohan had found the thief talking rather privately with Deirdre in the thief's new bedroom.
"Leave it! Said Angus, trying to cover both his face and his body as Rohan seemed to go mad for a time. "We did nothing! I was just talking to her, Rohan, I swear on Balin's sword!"
Rohan stopped, fists raised, coming back to himself. He looked at his friend, whose face was covered in blood; then he glanced down at his hands, studying them. Angus let his arms drop back to his sides as Rohan sank to the ground, dumbfounded at what he had done.
"I'm sorry, Angus," he whispered, staring at his hands, which were streaked with Angus' blood. "I'm so sorry."
Angus tried to shrug it off, placing a trembling hand on his friend's shoulder.
"It's alright. But you're getting better. You never made my nose bleed before."
Rohan started laughing, amazed that the thief could still joke after receiving such a beating. Draganta grasped Angus' arm in a gesture of forgiveness and friendship, and Deirdre sighed happily, hoping the butterflies in her stomach would settle soon. No matter how horrifying it had been at first, she had to admit it was exciting to have two men fighting over her; as long as Garrett wasn't one of them.
"Come on," the princess said gently, taking Angus' arm, looking at the cut beneath his right eye, his busted lip. "I'll get you fixed up in no time." She glanced at Rohan, and after a moment's thought took his hand in her own...a gesture that both startled and pleased the young man, and he smiled as the three of them walked into the castle.
"I see," said Cathbad, applying a moist cloth to the cut on Angus' forehead as he listened to Aideen. Garrett stood by the door, arms crossed rather nonchalantly; although inside his heart was beating faster than fairies wings. Aideen had changed clothes before his eyes, using her fairy glamour spell. Now she was dressed quite plainly, albeit in a boy's tunic and leggings, calf-high boots, and arm bands.
The old druid nodded. "I suppose that, as a mystic knight of forest, Garret would also have some sort of connection with the silver wolves; but we will not know for certain until Ivar returns with Nadia.
"Ow! Cathbad, be careful!" Angus complained, taking control of the cloth himself. The druid glanced at Angus and shook his head, retreating to a nearby cabinet, from which he drew a small green bottle. He passed it carefully to Rohan. As his hand closed over that of the young knight, Cathbad's eyes closed. Rohan's hand began to glow, and the glow passed through his entire body.
"What in the name of Dagda?" Rohan said, and then he felt a sharp shock race through his body. The druid looked into the eyes of his once apprentice, nodding slowly, more to himself than anyone else.
"You may now use all the powers you've learned from me, Rohan. The magic of a druid is within you; all of the magic I possess, as well as much more that is deep within your soul, will now come to you when you've need of it. Use the power for good only; if you use it for self-gain, it may destroy you."
Rohan nodded sagely, feeling for the first time in his nineteen years much older and wiser than his teacher. Deirdre reached out and touched Rohan's shoulder, and he turned to look at her.
"We should go see if Ivar's returned," she said, and the two of them walked hand in hand out the door.
Garrett found it odd that he felt no jealousy whatever; but then he looked at Aideen and knew why such a feeling was absent from his emotional vat. All the feelings he had for anybody were focused on the fairy princess.
Rohan drew a deep breath as Deirdre's fingers rubbed against his own. He wished he knew what the princess' feelings for him were; but that didn't matter now.
"I wonder what Maeve's up to," Deirdre said softly, releasing Rohan's hand as she seemed to pick up a trail. "Look, footprints. I'm not half as good at this as Ivar; but these here beside them...I think they're wolf tracks."
"And you'd be right, Deirdre," Rohan said. He glanced around. "I don't like this wolf business. You remember the Rock Wolf, don't you?"
"The sentinal that Angus defeated for his armor?"
"Yes. Maybe he's working with my mother to try and trick us somehow, to make us think this Nadia person is on our side. She might be Maeve or Numaine in disguise."
"Impossible. Cathbad would have sensed danger and told us. At least he'd have told Ivar."
"I don't know," Rohan said. He took off his cloak and swung it to the ground, sitting down upon it for a rest. Deirdre sat beside him, gazing up at the sky, leaning back against her arms. "Ivar seems pretty interested in Nadia. Maybe Cathbad just didn't want to worry him too much."
"Rohan?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you ever think what it would be like...if you and I...well," Deirdre let a tiny chuckle escape, more air than sound. "If we...became interested in one another?"
Rohan looked surprised.
"I mean...that way. You know."
"Deirdre, I...I already feel that way about you," Rohan admitted, gazing deep into her eyes. "I worried that you didn't feel the same toward me."
"Rohan, how could you think that? Of course I...feel that way about you as well." Deirdre moistened lips gone dry. She looked into his blue eyes, reading easily the one emotion in them. She let herself move forward, her knee falling to touch his.
Rohan shifted a little, still watching her face. One sign that this wasn't what she wanted, and he'd never be able to show his face in the castle again. She looked...eager...ready for him to kiss her. He, too, licked his lips, closing his eyes as their mouths came together. His heartbeat quickened, and he slowly lifted a hand to touch her breast; he couldn't, though, not unless she asked him to. His hand stopped a mere inch away from her breast, fingers itching to touch her. His eyes opened when Deirdre placed her hand over his and moved it forward...she had just asked. Slowly they pulled away, touching their foreheads together as they tried to catch their breath.
"Deirdre," Rohan moaned as she pushed on his hand a little, and his fingers tightened and loosened, squeezing her gently. She shut her eyes, then looked back at him, a tiny smile on her face.
"Rohan," she gasped, trying to control the crazy thoughts running through her head. "Rohan, we should head back to the castle. They might start wondering..."
Rohan nodded. It was best, after all. Who knew how much more of being alone with her he could take for now, anyway? Best not to get too far ahead of himself.
"Right," he agreed shakily, sighing long and low. He picked up his cloak as they stood, grasped hands, and began the trek back to the castle.
"But," Deirdre said, pulling him to a stop, "it's not like Maeve is going to be able to try anything for a while." She looked deep into his eyes again...he wished she'd stop that; because every time she did it, those crazy thoughts went running through his head. He was only a man, after all...
He relented, bending downward to kiss her again. There was plenty of time to get back to the castle...especially if they took the long way home.
"Torq, do you realize the implications of this mess?" Maeve said angrily, once again pacing the floor. "If Ivar discovers our secret, we may be ruined."
Torq glared at the queen from his seat on her throne. "Stop that. You're making me dizzy. And how could Ivar find out about her?"
"If she tells him, you half-wit!" Maeve turned so swiftly it made Torq's head spin. Ivar has been 'seeing' Nadia for several days now. Cathbad knows she is the ceillach; if she aligns with Kells all hope for our future is lost! She is our only heir!"
"The only one who can successfully kick your sister's butt; I know." Torq said, rolling his eyes. He sat up, scooting forward in the chair. "I will go check on her. Do you want me to bring her back to the castle...my queen?"
Maeve thought for a moment...then smiled.
"No. Go check on her; make sure she's alright. But if Ivar comes for her, let her go with him. I'd like to hear the story she comes up with when he finds her alone at the cabin again."
Torq bowed, then seemed to have a second thought. He took Maeve in his arms and kissed her, softly, passionately. For a moment she seemed ready to melt into his embrace; but then she pushed herself away from him.
"Go; you may be my husband, Torq, but you'll never find yourself in my bed."
Torq bowed his head. He came up behind her, his barrel chest touching her back, his cheek almost touching hers as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear:
"There was a time when you would have given anything to have me in your bed, Maeve. When did things change between us?"
With that he planted a soft kiss on her cheek and left the castle. Had he turned back, he might have seen Maeve sink into her throne; her facedrawn into the most pathetic vision of loneliness and heartache of any woman in Ireland.
Ivar found Nadia alone at her parents' hut, sitting outside in a wicker chair, tanning as she had been when Ivar first saw her; except this time she had left her clothes on. He knelt beside her and kissed her cheek; unaware that they were being watched.
Torq smiled warmly when he saw the knight with his daughter. He had never really hated the mystic knights; it was just that with Maeve so angry all the time and those...children...defeating him at every turn; well, it would wear on anybody's last nerve. He turned to go back to the castle, leaving the two to their embrace.
"I want you to come to Kells Castle with me," Ivar said, taking Nadia's hand in his own. "I want you to meet my friends; and the king."
Nadia shook her head slowly. "No; the king will hate me once he learns who I am."
"Who are you?" Ivar asked gently. "Please; tell me the truth."
Nadia took a deep breath. "You'll want me to help you fight Queen Maeve and her sister. I can't."
"Why not?"
"Maeve is my...mother. Sort of."
Ivar gazed into her eyes, disbelieving at first what she was telling him. Then he stood, still holding her hand.
"I think we should go to the castle. Now."
Nadia agreed half-heartedly, nodding subtlely, and the two of them followed the path into the forest, hand in hand.
"I think you should explain yourself, Nadia," King Conchobar said. "What's this about Maeve being your mother?"
"Not really my mother, your majesty. My mother was a young woman named Nikole; she was a French princess who was pledged in marriage to a young prince of Ireland. But she died when I was born, so I never knew her. Maeve was the midwife who brought me into this world; Torq is my father, the prince. He is Maeve's husband, and king of Temra. I have lived in the hut Torq built for me for as many years as I can remember."
"That's a sad tale, that is," Angus said. He looked slightly depressed; everyone knew he was thinking of Bridie. Ivar placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, and Angus nodded slowly.
The Moorish prince gazed at Nadia, wondering why she had kept this from him; especially after all they had shared already.
"I don't know how you'll all fell about me, now that you know what you do," Nadia said softly. She shook her head, narrowed her eyes, and gazed at Cathbad. "You are the druid Ivar spoke so highly of. Why did you summon me?"
Cathbad approached the girl slowly. "I want to ask you to extend your arm. No; the right one."
Nadia did as he asked, and the druid pointed out the scar just below her elbow, on the inside of her arm.
"As prophesied. This proves to me all I need to know," said Cathbad.
"What does it prove, Cathbad?" Asked Conchobar.
"Just what I told you. My second sight has shown me that this tatoo was made when Nadia was born, by the fairy folk of Inishgard. It is the head of a wolf; done in silver and black. There is a prophecy..."
"Another prophecy?" Asked Rohan in a whisper. Garrett elbowed him to keep him quiet.
"...a prophecy," Cathbad continued, glaring at Rohan. "Which foretells of the coming of the ceillach. Unlike Bridie, the Sorceress of Kells, this woman is more powerful than any druid on the island. She has the gift of second-sight...and the mark of the silver wolf on her arm. This could only hold true of one woman in all of Eire."
"How can you prove it is me?" Nadia asked. Cathbad took her hand.
"It is said that the ceillach will prove herself. Look into your heart, call out into the land itself. Bring forth one who can prove your identity."
Nadia closed her eyes, calling for Daikuda, the wolf, to come to her. As she opened her eyes, she saw all the knights looking expectantly into her face.
"I have called Daikuda," she said, more to Ivar than anyone else in the room. Ivar smiled and nodded, and there was a scratching at the heavy oak door of the throne-room.
"That was fast, Rohan said as Ivar opened the door and the giant wolf leapt into Nadia's waiting arms.
"Yes," said Cathbad, eyeing the wolf. He approached Daikuda, extending the wolf's right front leg. There was a mark the same as Nadia's tatoo on the inside, just beneath the elbow. "Nadia is the ceillach; it is she alone who can bring an end to Numaine; and one day to Maeve's evil ways, making her as she was before..."
"Before what, Cathbad?" Rohan asked. The druid shook his head and a finger at the young man.
"That is what you must learn on your own, Rohan. You must continue to perfect your warrior skills."
"Yes; but what good will that do us, now that we are no longer at war," asked Garrett.
"Not much good until Numaine or her sister strike again," said King Conchobar, "and they will. In the more than ten years since you first came to my castle, Rohan, Maeve has brought to my attention enough treaties to make a horse shy at; but this time she has no more soldiers, no more magic. All of her defenses lie in Torq and the hydra Tyrune. Without Mider or her scepter, she has no control over her powers, and so is no great threat. But there will come a time when she is once again ready to battle; and we will be waiting for her. Waiting and watching."
Rohan nodded. "And Draganta will be ready to defeat her again, my king. She may be my mother, but that doesn't make her any less evil. I am ready and willing to die defending Kells and her people, sire, as I have always been." He placed his fist over his heart in salute. "For Kells!"
The cry was caught up and echoed by all present.
"For Kells!
