When Day Turns Night (3 page)

My heart broke, but
stoically I nodded and we followed him home.

Trian delivered Ita
and I to my father's bedchambers. He lay in his fur and wool quilts,
his hair laying against the pillows beneath him. My mother at his
side, her hand in his. Only last night he was hearty, and so much
better. He coughed again, and my mother wiped a bit of blood from
his mouth.

I stopped right
inside the door, feeling Trian respectfully at my back, close enough
I could touch him, but far enough for propriety.

Ita crawled up on
the bed beside my father, her head dropping to his chest, and he
tried hard to wrap his arm around her.

I could feel the
tears on my cheek, knowing that we were losing him. I stepped
forward and knelt beside my father's bedside, praying for his pain to
ease quickly. I heard Trian's voice dismiss the other guards, taking
his post beside the head of my father's bed.

Trian offered a
song of praise, a soft prayer song, and I watched as my father
slipped away to his lovely voice.

Winter, Ireland,
1139

I refused to use
the feast of my father's funeral as the feast for my wedding, sending
Conchobor away until spring. I would wed him then and he would
become king. My mother was in deep mourning – secluded in my
father's chambers she barely exited to speak with my sister and I,
her heart broken. As acting queen I could demand a stay of marriage,
surely.

Conchobor was
furious, as was his mother. But as acting queen, my lord, even my
future husband the king could not overstep my rule until we were wed.
He and Muirenn had disappeared into the night two days after my
father's passing. Before even the funeral.

I stood at my
window, peering through the chilled slit, staring down into the
courtyard, watching my soldiers as they went through their morning
routines in the softly falling snow. I saw Trian, giving orders and
adjusting their ranks.

I had learned that
he was a Captain, his force had come from the borderlands the week
before my engagement party. I had also learned that there was some
concern about my future husband. He was known along the borderlands
as a hard man, his father they said was feeble minded, and Muirenn
had raised him alone and poisoned him with her black heart. He had
passed me letters from a Baron whose lands bordered Artan's.

It did little to
dispel my concerns I had upon meeting him. The Baron had sent Trian
and fifty of his best men, and said that he would send us many more
come spring time, or, should I need it, sooner. He had begged my
father to rescind his blessing on Conchobor.

I sighed. None
shall usurp him save a son of his blood. I was not a son. I crossed
to my desk, and the stack of other papers I had inherited with the
refusal to marry until spring. It was going through those papers
that I had discovered the Baron was not the only one who had begged
my father to denounce Conchobor. There were examples of him being a
hard man, of him hanging a woman for refusing to give him her
virginity.

Ita came in as I
pondered these missives again, dozen's of them, appealing to my
father's heart and trust. Begging him to realize the crown prince
was as horrid as Mac Raith had been.

“I'm bored,”
my sister said, flopping on the bed, “Lets go riding.”

I looked at her, as
though she had just entered the room.

“I'm busy,
sister. In a few months time I am supposed to marry.”

“Ugh,
Conchobor is so secretive. He refused to talk to me. You should
have insisted that he go hunting with us, if he's to be my brother
I'd like to know what he's like.”

I looked at her.
“So would I. Have you done your music lessons?” I
asked.

Ita sighed with the
petulance of a child. “Yes, and my stitches, and my reading.
Lassi says I'm ahead of where she wanted me to be by year's end and
gave me the rest of the day to my self. So lets go riding!”

The last ride I had
taken was our hunting party, side by side a man I should not be
craving. He was from the borderlands – perhaps he would know
more of Conchobor, or dispel my fears. My father had often taught me
to trust my readings of people, and with those initial thoughts and
the many letters. I needed to decide. As queen unless my soldiers,
my council... everyone around me really, supported me I could easily
be usurped going against my father's wishes for future king.

Discretion was key,
I needed to discover the thoughts of my council and family, I needed
to discover if my men would follow me or their would-be king.

Sitting at my desk,
I penned a quick letter to Trian, asking him to bring five of his
most trusted soldiers for a ride with my sister and I. I thought
quickly. How could I deliver the missive that I was thinking sure
treason against the future king? What if Trian was loyal to
Conchobor? I knew in my heart that wasn't the case. “I hope
to find you well, and not frozen by chilled water.” I added,
perhaps it would draw his thoughts to that morning and the discretion
we shared. I handed the missive to my sister.

“Give this to
Trian, please, and we'll go riding this afternoon.”

I dismissed myself
then, crossing through the stone halls to my father's chambers. My
mother was sitting silently beside fire, wrapped in a thick fur that
smelled like my father. I crossed and knelt in front of her.

“Mother,”
I murmured, looking at her, my eyes tearing.

“Jesmaine, my
daughter,” she smiled at me softly, setting the needlepoint
down on the table beside her.

“I come to
you with a troubled heart, Mother, seeking your wisdom.” Her
hair was bound up respectfully and far grayer than it had been only a
few short months ago. Her gown was dark and somber, she wore no
jewels, but still she was beautiful. She waited expectantly.
“Father had received many messages begging him to rescind his
declaration that Conchobor be king.”

“Yes, he did.
They troubled him greatly. Artan was your father's best friend, he
was a kind and good man. But Muirenn, well as wonderful as she was
before Conchobor's birth is as awful as she's become since, heaven
help us.”

I sighed, “A
powerful witch is not one to anger.”

“Aye, and
your father felt he would be betraying a friendship wound deep in his
heart should he not include Artan's line in the royal lineage. We
were discussing perhaps cousins, or what not, and he had debated on
naming you heir, despite the blessing, but feared war for our people.
This was not what he longed for when he named him. Had Artan been
healthier he would have ensured Conchobor's heart was good. I know
not what to advise, my dear heart. Perhaps your good heart could
soften Conchobor? Or perhaps 'twould be best to denounce him, but
that would surely cause much strife on our people. But until you
have decided...best to keep things quiet.”

I nodded, smiling
up at her. Our conversations drifted then to the upcoming holidays,
to the chill of winter and the good hunting and full stores from the
large harvest.

We rode through the
village as the snow fell silently around us. The people were happy,
bustling about, making winter bearable with feasts and work.
Children ran through the streets, stopping and waving and bowing.

I rode silently,
listening to my sister's happy chatter as she waved and smiled at the
children, throwing coins or little presents she'd made for them.

When we were
outside the city walls and were weaving through the outer fields she
pulled back and started chatting with some of the soldiers, bored
with my lack of conversation.

“Captain?”
I called behind and he spurred forward, lining up beside me.

“You seem
distracted, Highness.”

I looked behind me
and nudged the horse forward a bit, faster than my sister, leaving
them behind a bit.

“Yes,
Captain, I... well, allow me to get directly to the point. I am
concerned about the crown prince.”

Trian sucked in a
breath, looking at me, “And you are talking to me about this?”

I looked behind me
at my sister and Trian's men. “I know I can trust you. I have
always been able to read people and know their heart.”

The faintest blush
came to Trian's chiseled cheeks.

“Trian, you
brought me a letter from the Baron, did you know what was inside it?”

Trian's mouth set
in a hard line. “I do. The baron and I discussed things at
length.”

“So you know
his concerns about Conchobor.”

He nodded, looking
behind him, “Anyone from the borderlands on the west know about
Conchobor. He... well my lady he is not the nicest of Lords. I fear
for the kingdom should he take over.”

“As do I.
Oh, Trian what do I do? If I denounce my father's wishes no doubt
there will be war. Artan had a large following and Muirenn.”
I sighed.

“Princess, I
know that the Baron will support you with his army, and the men here
love you. I will start quietly asking around. As much as we don't
want war, we must decide which would cause the country greater
suffering.”

Behind me I heard
my sister squeal out a challenge, and her horse race forth, hooves
beating against the snow.

I smiled, knowing
she would realize that I was distracted if she issued her challenge
and I ignored it. Smiling at Trian, I spurred my horse forward,
nudging quickly along the path as my sister bolted past me. Trian
was behind us in seconds, and I could hear the hooves of the other
men behind us too, and my sister's laughter as she made it to a tree
often raced to.

“I win!”
She squealed, spinning her horse in a circle.

“That you did
young princess, that you did,” Trian smiled as we stopped
beside her.

“Do you think
Conchobor will let us ride still? Father said that a lot of things
will change when he's king, and that I should be careful to always
act lady-like.”

Trian looked at me,
his blue eyes cloudy. I swallowed, attempting to not let her know he
had been our topic as well. “Well I can't really guess what
Conchobor is like, Ita, most of what I know comes from other
sources.”

“He's no
where near as pretty as you!” Ita laughed, as she tipped her
head into Trian's shoulder. I rolled my eyes at her, such a flirt
for a young woman, just entering her womanhood. Perhaps we had let
her have too much leniency. I thought about the morning I had seen
him naked, visualizing his beautiful body, pretty was not the right
word.

Trian laughed and
touched her nose, “Not many men are, young princess.”

“Do you think
I'll ever be as pretty as Jesmaine? Mother says I'll grow into my
body and fill out.”

Trian smiled,
looking at me.

“Princess!”
Lassi called out in shock, finally catching her fat mule up to us.
“Some decorum please!”

“Oh Lass,
we're just having fun,” she laughed.

But Lassi had
straightened her up, and the rest of the afternoon was spent enjoying
ourselves without the worry of breaking propriety.

Two Weeks Later,
Ireland, 1139

The messenger
arrived mere hours before the army, racing into the great hall
breathing heavy, with sweat beading on his brow. “My fair
Princess!” He cried, dropping to his knees.

I had been spoken
with my council, concerned by the missives my father had received.
Trian had sent messengers to the Baron asking for his aid and his
army to be put on guard. My council had letters in the king's own
hand, speaking of his concerns. They had also been alerted that the
King had planned on spending two weeks with the prince and
discovering where his heart lay and if the rumors were true. His
illness, well it had come at an inopportune time.

Bran, my father's
right hand stood beside me. We had decided that I would be offering
the Crown Prince an opportunity to court me, and possibly become
King, but frankly, none within the castle liked him. We couldn't
find a single council member, citizen or servant willing to say a
good word about him. I had sent messages throughout the city looking
for anyone from the borderlands. Unfortunately all the statements
they issued came with fear, of Conchobor and his mother, though none
said anything directly against him.