Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

30

Uachi did not sleep that night, despite a weariness that had leached into his bones. When morning came, he lay with one arm behind his head, gazing across the ashes of the fire to where Ealin slept, her pale face barely touched by the pink fingers of dawn.

He searched his heart, seeking forgiveness for her, and he could not find it.

She's disturbed. She's unstable. Didn't I know that from the very first time we spoke? There's something in her that's unsettled. It isn't her fault...the archmage...

Uarria had lain down not far from him, but she had moved in the night, dragging her bed roll close to his side. He'd watched her through his lashes, wanting to see what she'd do, and when she had approached him, he had opened an arm to her. Now she lay where she'd nestled warm against his side, sleeping soundly, her lashes soft against her hollow cheeks, her tangled hair tickling his arm.

Once upon a time, Ealin had lain thus, and she had seemed just as sweet. Just as innocent.

Such were the perils of trust.

"Uachi." Diarmán's voice was little more than a breath.

Glancing to where he lay, Uachi caught the Faelán man looking at him, laying on his side with his head propped on his folded arm.

"What is it?" he asked, just as softly.

Diarmán was looking at Uarria, perplexed. "Tell me 'princess' was a term of endearment."

A hand of ice took hold of Uachi's vitals. How had Diarmán known...? Uachi must have slipped up; the word must have come out in a moment of unthinking honesty the night before.

"There. I see the truth in your face. And you told her you'd return her to Father and Mother. You told me you were her father, Uachi."

Protectively, Uachi folded his fingers around Uarria's tiny shoulder. He gazed at Diarmán from where he lay, his mind racing. He did not like the fear that was creeping into his stomach; if Diarmán discovered who he was, who Uarria was...

"All I'm asking for is the truth," Diarmán said. "I've told you my dirty secret. Tell me yours. How can I protect you if you dissemble?"

"I assure you that if the dangers that threaten me and mine come for me, there's precious little you could do to protect us." Uachi kept his voice soft, glancing at Ealin, who still lay unmoving, apparently asleep. "And you've told me nothing of your secrets, except that you favor men."

Diarmán smirked bitterly. "And that I'm the bastard son of a Faelán king."

Uachi snorted at the absurd notion, although Padréc's transformation had been evidence of some eldritch influence in their family line. "Then why does your home fall into ruin? Where is this royal father of yours?"

"Dead." He sat up, raking a hand back through his flaming curls. "I'll tell you if you want to know. We can make a trade: a secret for a secret."

Uachi looked down at Uarria's face. He could not risk putting her in danger. If they were going to strike out for the high court here in Narr, danger would be rampant. Another person who knew Uarria's true identity would be another possible breaking point for the secret; it would make three of them—four to include the child herself—who knew just who she was and how much danger she could be in here, in a hostile land.

If he were a wise man, he would turn back straightaway and take her home, bringing Ealin with him and turning her over to the hand of justice.

But he had agreed to accompany Diarmán to the court in exchange for his help and that of his brother. Moreover, Uachi could not bear to give up his chance to get close to the murderous archmage. He had never had such an opportunity. The last time he'd seen the archmage had been in a crowd of people, all of them focused on the execution of the Rebel King. Before that, he'd been nothing but a boy.