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Authors: Juliet Marillier

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BOOK: Dreamer's Pool
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‘I’m fine. I need a rest, that is all. Perhaps if I could hold your arm on the way back . . . Mhairi, you take Bramble.’

That plan was unworkable, since Bramble refused to walk with anyone but me. When Mhairi or Donagan tried to take the leash she complained at the top of her voice. What was wrong, there was no telling, but since the noise was hurting my ears, I could imagine how poor Flidais must be feeling. In the end, my lady walked back with Mhairi on one side and Donagan on the other, and I came behind with Bramble, who trotted quietly at my heel as if she had never set a foot wrong in her life.

Back at the women’s quarters, Flidais brushed off my concerns, assuring me she would be better soon. It was only after the door closed behind them that I realised she and Mhairi had forgotten Bramble, now seated at my feet, gazing up at me. Donagan went to knock.

‘Leave it,’ I said. ‘Flidais needs quiet, and it seems Bramble is not allowing that. She can come with us for now.’

He lifted his brows. ‘Better tell them, at least, or they’ll assume she’s run away again.’

‘Later. Let Mhairi settle Flidais to rest first. I’ll send someone.’

In my chamber, as I changed into my indoor shoes, I felt the weight of my friend’s gaze and was uncomfortable. ‘What?’ I snapped, not looking at him. Bramble had settled herself on the bed, curled into a ball, her eyes hardly open.

‘You seem somewhat on edge,’ observed Donagan, who had moved over to the storage chest under my window and was rearranging something. ‘Your demeanour is not what I would have expected, my friend. I hesitate to say this, but you don’t seem happy.’

I lay down at full length on my bed, one hand stroking the small form of Bramble. She was not happy either and nor, I suspected, was Flidais.

‘What is it?’ Donagan closed the chest. ‘If it’s simply the weight of having too much to do, coupled with the unsettling presence of the lady at Winterfalls, you must know you can depend on me, as on your whole household, to share the load. There is no requirement that you take so much on yourself.’ When I still said nothing, since I did not really know how to answer his question, he said, ‘I’m sure Lady Flidais will be fine, Oran. If you wish, I can send for Mistress Blackthorn.’

Bramble wriggled closer, pressing herself up against me. ‘Flidais said she didn’t want the services of either wise woman or physician,’ I said. ‘I’ve already upset her by insisting on taking Bramble walking with us. If I produce Mistress Blackthorn against her wishes, I’ll only make matters worse.’

‘Mm-hm. Oran, I need to brush down those trousers. And your tunic, I suspect, if that creature is shedding. You might put on these clean things, and I will take those away.’

Not a word of reproach for my moodiness. He was a good man. I rose from the bed and let him assist me with changing. Bramble lay low, watching every move.

‘Better,’ said Donagan after he had examined me. ‘One more thing, if the creature’s to stay in here.’ He fetched a folded blanket from atop the chest and laid it on the bed next to Bramble. ‘Fíona won’t be impressed if there’s dog hair all over the bedding. I suggest we sacrifice one blanket for the good of the others. You can move her onto it. At such a busy time, I’ll be needing the use of all my fingers.’

Bramble had not growled when he came close; she had not snapped. ‘No, you do it,’ I said, using my princely tone. ‘Consider it an experiment. Bramble, no biting.’

Donagan gave me a look, but reached to lift the little creature onto the blanket – a good one in grey wool, softened from laundering. My friend did know how to handle dogs. He had helped me with Grey when my beloved hound was old and sick; he’d had his own dog, which had died when Donagan was sixteen. He had sworn he’d never have another.

‘There,’ I said as Bramble settled down again, snuggling in. ‘You have the touch.’

‘Or this one knows a good thing when she sees it. How long is she staying up here? Are you adding frequent trips outside to my duties, or will she be doing her business in a corner of your bedchamber?’

‘How long? I don’t know. Long enough to give Lady Flidais some respite at night.’

‘Not much respite if she does her barking in here, with the lady just through that door.’

‘If that occurs we’ll take her somewhere else.’ I was almost certain Bramble would sleep peacefully, tucked in next to me. Her whole demeanour was different here. ‘Once my parents arrive, Aunt Sochla might take charge of her. She should quickly identify what is wrong. I hope so, anyway. I believe Bramble’s apparent change of character must be responsible for Flidais’s low spirits. At least in part. They were devoted companions.’

‘I’ll make sure word gets to the lady that her dog is safe here and will be looked after. And I might speak to Fíona about the headaches, with your permission. We may not have a healer in the house, but very likely one of the women knows a remedy – we coped without Mistress Blackthorn’s services until very recently.’

‘I suppose my parents may bring one of the court physicians with them. But I believe Flidais will refuse his services as well. She does seem to believe her malady is not serious.’

Donagan was scrutinising me again. ‘And no doubt she is right,’ he said. ‘Oran, what’s really troubling you? Are you concerned that Lady Flidais may be too frail to serve as the wife of a future king? That she may not be fit to bear the required sons?’

I felt myself flush. ‘Of course not! That had not occurred to me for a moment!’ The idea shocked me.

‘Then what?’

‘Nothing. I’m concerned for her health, that’s all. Angry with myself for insisting we go walking when I should have known it would be too much for her. Troubled by Bramble’s turning against her mistress for no reason, when they were so close. And . . . no, it’s nothing.’

Donagan waited. He had grown patient over the years.

‘I was expecting . . . no, this is fanciful.’

Donagan seated himself on a bench. Leaned forward with elbows on knees. Spoke not a word.

‘Don’t laugh at me. I had imagined the bond she and I shared, through our letters – the closeness that made my reluctance to wed vanish as if it had never been – would be apparent from the moment we met. We have so much in common. We love the same pastimes, we share the same philosophies, we were both so full of hope . . . Am I a fool, Donagan? Flidais is lovely. If anything, she’s even more beautiful than her portrait. I find her desirable to a degree that is at times uncomfortable. I understand that she’s exhausted from the journey and distressed by her maid’s death. I know only a few days have passed. But . . . the Flidais of the letters would have let me comfort her. She would have wished to spend time with me, even if she was a little unwell. She would have . . . never mind. I should stop this. I despise myself.’

‘May I speak honestly?’

‘I’m sure you will, whatever I say. But yes, please do.’

‘Lord Cadhan is only a district chieftain. It’s possible that Lady Flidais’s home is a far more modest establishment than Winterfalls. And you are a prince, if a somewhat unconventional one. You are a future king. Very possibly the lady feels overwhelmed. Shy. Not sure how to speak to you.’

‘Everything I say to her comes out laboured and formal. I’ve lost the ability to share the words of my heart.’

Donagan smiled; his expression was kindly. ‘No man would be comfortable doing that in the presence of chaperones. After the hand-fasting, when you are alone with your new wife, those words will come back to you, Oran.’

‘I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted her to be happy. Indeed, I expected it. In her letters she spoke so warmly of Winterfalls, of the things we would do together, of . . . of me, Donagan.’

‘Letters are not the most reliable guide to matters of the heart.’

‘You’re wrong.’ I sat up, making Bramble start. ‘Letters tell the truths a person will not speak. They contain the deepest of feelings, the wisest of stories. Letters are powerful. They contain messages of hope, love, change.’

Donagan raised his brows. ‘Oran,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Have you considered that a scribe might have assisted the lady to write those letters? A household like Cadhan’s would almost certainly have one.’

‘Of course not!’ Now he had really shocked me. ‘Her letters were . . . they were personal. Deeply personal. And utterly in tune with my own. Flidais would not have shared them with anyone else.’ He must be wrong. I could not bear to consider the alternative.

‘If a letter can contain the truths that are too difficult to speak, why don’t you write her one?’ Donagan suggested. ‘I’ll take it to her.’

‘Now? She’ll be resting, probably asleep.’ For some reason my heart was racing.

‘I’ll leave it with one of the waiting women.’

I did not answer. What I wanted to do was lie on the bed with Bramble beside me, and surrender to my dreams. I knew quite well that if I sat down at the writing desk, no words would come. There was a restlessness in me that would not allow them. ‘You can leave me now,’ I said. ‘If I need you I will call. You must have a great deal to do.’

‘Very well, my lord. Oh, you’ll need a dish of water. For the dog.’

‘Go, Donagan. I’m fine, Bramble’s fine, I just want to be left alone.’

The door closed behind him, so quietly I barely heard it.

I wrote no letter. I lay on my bed awhile with Bramble quiet beside me, and imagined how horrified my mother would be if she could see me.
Have you forgotten that one day you will be king of Dalriada, Oran? Such self-indulgence is entirely inappropriate. I will remind you once, and once only, that this marriage is taking place thanks to your own dogged insistence. It is time you recognised that you live in the real world, with real responsibilities, and not in some fairytale.
Then she would look at me, and perhaps the mother would for a moment overcome the queen, and she would say,
It’s natural to feel a little nervous at such a time, son. Remind yourself that your life is one of privilege. You are young and healthy. You have a beautiful bride, suitable in every way. Your doubts do no service to Flidais or to you. Cast them aside and walk forward as the prince and the man you are.

‘Entirely true, Bramble,’ I murmured. ‘And very soon I will rise, and go out there, and do exactly that. This is all in my head. It’s not real. Probably all Flidais needs is a good night’s sleep.’

The next morning Flidais was at breakfast again, with some colour in her cheeks and a new brightness in her eyes. She thanked me for her undisturbed sleep and professed herself happy to walk to the stable with me and see her new horse. I had brought Bramble down early to run about outside awhile, then prevailed upon Brid to give her a meaty bone. The dog was even now devouring this in my bedchamber, not the tidiest of arrangements, perhaps, but it should keep her quiet for some time.

The morning gave me new heart. Donagan was busy, but Mhairi and the older maidservant, Nuala, came with us. Flidais was delighted with the grey mare, whom she named Apple. The creature was well bred and well schooled, which was no more than I expected. My father had a good eye for horseflesh; had he not been born into kingship, he might have made a name for himself as a breeder. Eochu led Apple around the yard, explaining her finer points to Flidais, and Flidais, more animated than I had seen her before, stroked Apple’s neck and asked a number of questions.

‘She’ll need a bit more time to get over the journey from Cahercorcan, my lady,’ my stablemaster said. ‘But I’ll have her ready for riding within a few days. Good country in these parts for a gallop, if you’re so inclined.’

Flidais glanced my way. ‘I will look forward to that. What a wonderful gift! More than I could possibly have hoped for. Which is your riding horse, remind me Oran?’

I introduced her to Snow; the two horses would look very fine going side by side, which my father had perhaps thought of when selecting the grey for Flidais. ‘After the betrothal, we might ride to the settlement to speak with the folk there, and afterwards go on to Silverlake. That’s a fine ride.’

‘I’d like that, Oran.’ Flidais slipped her hand through my arm, and for a moment her whole body brushed against mine, setting my heart racing.

‘It’s settled, then.’ Gods, two whole turnings of the moon until the hand-fasting! How did other men cope with the ache of desire? Her closeness made my manhood stand to attention in a manner entirely inappropriate to the circumstances. Much more of this and I’d have to start wearing shapeless robes like an elderly scholar. ‘I have another gift for you, in my library. Perhaps after we walk back, if you are not too tired, I might show you my collection.’ Every word I spoke seemed heavy with double meaning. My cheeks were hot; I must be red as a ripe apple. And no doubt Eochu and his assistant, and the two waiting women, and possibly Flidais herself, were aware of the reason for my discomfort. ‘Let’s go now, shall we?’

I longed to give Flidais my personal gift. But by the time we reached the house, her headache had returned.

‘I’m so sorry, Oran. I need to rest awhile. I have enjoyed this morning; I look forward to riding out with you when Apple is ready.’ She laid her hand on my arm and favoured me with a smile.

‘Rest well, my dear,’ I said, and risked a formal kiss on her cheek. ‘Perhaps before supper, for the library.’

‘Perhaps.’ She turned away, and her maidservants ushered her indoors.

I was disappointed. But there was plenty to occupy my time. Our guests were starting to ride in: chieftains from Dalriada and Tirconnell and Ulaid, landholders and lawmen and their wives. And, of course, their guards and attendants. All would be accommodated in my household until some days after the betrothal ceremony, as Winterfalls was a considerable ride from any other major establishment. In the absence of Flidais, I greeted the new arrivals with Donagan by my side, and Aedan’s helpers shepherded them away to their various quarters. We had sufficient private apartments to house the chieftains and their wives; others went to the men’s or women’s quarters, which we’d expanded considerably in preparation for Flidais’s arrival. Some of my people had vacated their cottages to make room for visitors, and if needed, we’d use the grooms’ quarters out by the stables for any overflow.

BOOK: Dreamer's Pool
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