Chapter 13

Easthallow was not nearly as sultry as Thornacre. The land was never as luscious as Darkwell but not decaying and dark like Thornacre either. The air was absent of the cloak of mist which covered Thornacre and the air was easier to breathe.

Lord Finn could not stop and relish the more satisfactory atmosphere. He did not stop and gaze at the flowers before guiding his men on their horses to trample them flat. He was close to Sir Diarmuid and Grainne, he could feel it. Already they had come across dozens of their nests and Lord Finn vowed to find them too next time.

At every nest was a piece of raw meat or fish left for Lord Finn. He knew Sir Diarmuid enough to know that these were messages left by his ex-favourite soldier to signify that he had not touched the princess. To say Lord Finn was pleased by this would be an overstatement, but he was glad that at least he would be the one to take Grainne’s purity once he had found and wedded her.

“Lord Finn,” said Oisin, the youngest of his men, causing the party to slow to a halt. Lord Finn inclined his head as a gesture for the boy to go on talking “I see smoke coming from the west, there” The Lord and his men looked in the direction that Oisin pointed and saw that he was right, smoke like thunder clouds curled and twisted from the tops of the trees.

“Very good, Oisin,” Lord Finn beamed “Onward men, follow the smoke trail!”

The search party galloped west just as Lord Finn had commanded. Soon they were out of the clearing and in amongst the woodland and submerged in the shade of the trees. There were hoof-marks on the ground and Lord Finn grinned in triumph as they neared the source of the smoke.

The fire had gone out but only recently, for there were lingering sparks shining like stars through the ashes and remnants of firewood. Lord Finn looked upwards into the branches of the nearest tree and saw what he had expected to find and had found in other trees which lead to his fiancée.

The second to lowest branch was a split one and in between the two forked branches was a nest, a bed of sorts, made from whatever Sir Diarmuid had found from the forest floor. It was small enough for a petite woman like Grainne to lie in but not big enough for Sir Diarmuid to join her.

It was also empty, the pair had clearly abandoned the site not long ago judging by the not-quite burnt out fire. Lord Finn cursed loudly, scanning the woods for more tracks while Oisin dismounted his horse and clambered up the tree with the speed and agility of a monkey.

“What is it this time?” Lord Finn asked, though he knew it would be another raw meat of some kind

“It looks like rabbit, my Lord. Shall we keep it for supper?” The boy asked

“No, I will not eat any offering from that man and neither should you. Now get back down here unless you would rather be left behind” The boy took Lord Finn’s warning as gospel and swiftly manoeuvred himself back down the tree trunk and swung himself up onto his horse.

“My Lord,” said Lughaid, Lord Finn’s front man and the strongest of them all apart from Sir Diarmuid. “Look, more tracks” Lord Finn peered down at the ground to see that his prized warrior was correct 

“Excellent, you have a keen eye, Lughaid” Lord Finn replied before steering his horse towards the tracks and breaking into a gallop.

Oisin shot a jealous glare in Lughaid’s direction before pushing his horse ahead of him to follow behind his Lord Finn.

 

****

 

The traveller poked uncomfortably at Aynia’s abdomen and scrawled notes on a sheet of parchment before turning to look at Gerald with his wild eyes. Aynia had never feared travellers until the Earl had hired one to look after her unborn baby. It was not that she did not trust them, unlike her father, but she did not trust the Earl’s judgement. The traveller knew nothing; he did not even know Aynia’s name or who she really was. The Earl refused to tell him anything apart from the details of Aynia’s health; even so the traveller treated her with the greatest respect, as if he knew anyway. But maybe she was hoping that to be truth, it did not matter either way; the Earl had forbidden him to tell anybody about their arrangements.

“Well?” Gerald enquired, raising a bushy eyebrow and planting a heavy hand on Aynia’s shoulder

“Everything seems to be in order, my Lord, as for the sickness I have something you can try”

“No potions, no enchanted dolls and none of your unsafe spells” The Earl of Darkwell barked, reminding Aynia of the Thorn King and his temper towards magic and travellers. The thought of him and her sisters made her heart ache and her eyes burn with tears. Since falling pregnant, she had been more sensitive to her emotions and more prone to crying. A tear escaped before she could stop it, rolling down her cheek. “Now look what you did, you made her cry with threats of magic”

“Not magic, sir. Mint” The Traveller responded, reaching into his sack and pulling out a sprig of green leaves with serrated edges. They looked freshly picked and Aynia could smell the aroma from where she was sitting two feet away.

“Mint?” The Earl questioned, eyeing the herb sceptically

“Yes, sir, the lady can smell it when she feels nauseous and my wife found it very nice in tea” the traveller responded.

The Earl grasped the bunch of mint from the traveller’s hand and shoved them in his pocket with a grunt before turning to Aynia; she knew what was coming before he spoke

“Go back to your room. I will bring you tea after I have dealt with this gentleman” He ordered. Aynia looked firstly towards her husband before deciding against arguing and rose from her seat, uttering a quiet ‘thank you’ to the traveller before hurrying to her bedroom, or, as she called it; her prison cell.

Her room had been thoroughly tidied since the discovery of the baby; the Earl had shown every sign of being an overbearing father already. He had stripped the bed, mopped the floor, opened the window a crack to let the fresh air in and kept Aynia fed and watered. It was almost as though he cared about the child’s well-being, which Aynia found suspicious. Was this his plan all along?

Exhausted, Aynia pulled back the crisp sheets of her bed back and curled up amongst them, resting her head on the soft pillow that smelt faintly of jasmine.

 

 

****

The sun was high in the sky looking to Sir Diarmuid like a coin shining against a cloak of light blue velvet. They had left their horses to graze and rest and gone in search of firewood. He had caught some fish in a nearby river and planned on cooking them before they moved again in search of shelter. You must never sleep in a cave with one opening, or a house with one door, nor a tree with one branch. You can never eat where you cooked or sleep where you eat. If you are to win this battle, you have to keep moving. Aengus’ rules etched themselves into Sir Diarmuid’s brain as he pushed himself forwards, but there were other words too �" words whispered to him so that Grainne would not hear. Words he could not bring himself to come to terms with yet.

He glanced over his shoulder, instantly wishing he hadn’t when Grainne slipped on a stepping stone, falling into the water with an unladylike shriek. Sir Diarmuid breathed a sigh through his nose and grabbed the princess, not all that gently, and hauled her from the river onto the grass next to him. She rubbed her arm when he released his hand and glared up at him

“I was enjoying myself” She told him

“Your centre of gravity warrants improvement” Sir Diarmuid retaliated, anger bubbling up inside him as her frown deepened but something else too, a fondness for her childlike glee which he had not experienced with her before. She was a nuisance, a waste of time, so why was he doing all of this for her? It was not just the threat of a  geas, it was something more.

He pushed back his uncle’s whispered words again and continued walking, Grianne trotted after him as he took long strides. She was used to having to jog to catch up with people, her father seemed to speed-walk everywhere but Diarmuid was taller than the Thorn King and had longer legs.

“You need to stop fooling around,” Sir Diarmuid chided the princess “Lord Finn and the Fianna are close”

“The Fianna?” Grainne questioned, tilting her head to look at him quizzically, a flash of annoyance tinted his handsome features

“Lord Finn’s men, do you listen to no one?”

“I listen to you” Grainne responded. Something else flickered in his eyes, Grainne thought it could be amusement but it was gone before she had time to find out

“Interesting, then you should recall that I have mentioned them about five times” he told her. Grainne shrugged waiting for Sir Diarmuid to continue. With a sigh, he slowed his pace a fraction so she could walk at his side more comfortably “The Fianna is a group of warriors. Noblemen and aristocrats whom have yet to come into their inheritance, they are led by Lord Finn. Their duty is to protect the Kings and Queens of the surrounding kingdoms”

“That is a lot of Kings and Queens” Grainne commented

“Which is why they are many,” Sir Diarmuid’s gaze was distant, as if recalling his days of running with the Fianna, the sound of hooves against the soft forest floor, battle cries and late-night stories around campfires. Grainne could only imagine how free he must have felt, whereas she never left the Thorn Court. “The clan that resides here are Finn and his men. Lord Finn is King of them all”

“So they are like travellers,” A muscle twitched in Sir Diarmuid’s jaw, a butterfly dancing in his cheek “Because they don’t belong to one Kingdom. Do they live in the woods?”

“In the cold seasons, the Fianna are housed and provided for by the nobility in return for the providing of weapons. In the summer months they reside in the wilderness and hunt for food” Sir Diarmuid was still not looking at her, his eyes were cast out into the horizon, Grainne felt a pang of annoyance but something else; guilt, she thought.

“You seem like you miss them” She commented. Sir Diarmuid dropped down to pick up a log of wood that Grainne was almost certain he was going to trip over as he hadn’t seemed to be looking where he was going. He added it to the top of the pile of other logs that he cradled in his strong arms and made a nonchalant noise in the back of his throat

“My family was broken before my very eyes. In a way, the Fianna replaced them” He said

“What happened?” Grainne asked but Sir Diarmuid only squared his shoulders and continued to walk, Grainne picked another question “Do families join the Fianna?”

“Yes,” Sir Diarmuid responded “The Fianna was once led by Lord Finn’s own father, Cumhill. Lughaid Stronghand is Lord Finn’s nephew but Finn has always wanted him for his son, although his real son Oisin is part of the Fianna, he is less-favoured. Lord Finn’s grandson Oscar is a little young to start but I am certain that he will ride with them someday” Sir Diarmuid explained. The longing look irritated Grainne, they were free and roaming in the forest, weren’t they? What was so different about riding with the Fianna and riding with her?

“What about you?” She asked instead, pushing her annoyance away “What about your brothers and sisters, can they join? Why not Aengus?”

Now Sir Diarmuid looked at her, not with annoyance or irritation, there was no malice in his expression. His face was left open to interpretation; Grainne could not even guess what he was thinking. His gaze flickered to look over her shoulder

“Go and get that log of wood over there, I am starving and I do not want the horses to run off” Grainne was about to ask him what was wrong but his guard was back up, the spark had gone from his eyes. Closed, that was his expression, closed off and unwilling to answer any more questions. With a sigh, Grainne crossed the grass to retrieve the log, heaving it up into her arms before following Sir Diarmuid as he doubled back on himself towards the safe space that they had left the horses to graze.

 

****

 

The walk back to the Thorn Court was in silence. The King had released Fenne’s hand and stalked off without a bid of farewell to Gwyn the Hunter. Fenne had begun to follow him but paused to thank the leader of the Wild Hunt for his limited help and to make him proto keep them updated on Aynia’s welfare.

Sorrow weighed her heart down as she began her walk home; the King was but a spot in the distance, his cloak of green flowing after him, his blonde hair like the sun in the muggy sky. He would lock himself in his room when he returned, leaving her alone so she was in no hurry to get back.

She missed her sisters. Grainne could always make her laugh, either with jokes or when she unintentionally tripped over things.  Aynia would hold her; sing to her, in the way their mother had sung to them when they were small.

But her mother was dead, consumed by a grief so great that she had abandoned her own daughters to escape the pain. Sometimes, Fenne found herself feeling angry at Danu for doing what she did, though they were all adults and could fend for themselves, they still needed her. The Thorn King had been a caring father once, but now he had turned his back on them.

She found herself hating Aynia. Aynia, who was the oldest, the mother who had taken over after theirs had died. Who loved them as fiercely as two parents at once and comforted them when their father had shouted or shut them out. Aynia, who was so upset about her arranged marriage that she followed �" that’s right, Gwyn had said she left willingly �" a man whom she did not know, allowed him to take her home. Home, then lumbered herself with his baby. She may not ever see her sister again. She, like her mother, could just as well be dead.

A fiercer anger bubbled up inside her when she thought of the way Grainne had left her, left her, all because she could not reject Lord Finn to his face. She had knocked out the guards and left without a second thought and now she was being pursued by her jealous fiancée and the Fianna.

Both had left her, their youngest sister, without thinking twice. Without thinking of her and how she’d be without them. They had left her alone with a father who hid from her, kept secrets and looked more and more faerie with each passing day. They left her and she hated them and yet she still wished they were with her to hold her. She sat down on the dusty ground, her anger fizzling away and grief washed over her. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed though it was too hot and she was too dehydrated for tears to come.