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i_read_whatSo last time, we learned that Bronwyn's life is even sadder than it sounded in Legacy of the Sword, and Gisella did something to Niall that didn't sound remotely good.
So we're skipping ahead from the implied marital rape scene. Well, kind of. Is it marital rape if neither party is really able to consent? I feel like it is...in a sense at least. Niall is clearly the victim here. But I'm not sure if it's fair to call Gisella a rapist when it doesn't really seem like she comprehends any of the ramifications of what she's doing.
Anyway, instead we start off with something cryptic and ominous:
A torch was put into my hand. “Light the beacon-fire, Niall. We must warn ships of the dragon’s presence.”
The dragon. Aye, the dragon, with his cold breath and endless appetite, swallowing helpless ships.
“Light the fire, Niall.”
The wind gusted. The torch flared, roared; streamers of flame were snatched from the pitch-soaked rag and shredded in the air, the cold air; the breath of Alaric’s dragon.
Or was it Lillith’s dragon?
“Light the fire, Niall.”
I stretched out my arm toward the cone-shaped stand of faggots. Flame snapped, whipped; yellow flame, pure, clean yellow, with not the faintest trace of purple.
The flames drew my eyes. Transfixed, I stared. I could not look away.
Credit where it's due, this is a pretty compelling depiction of the mind control that Niall is under. He's aware, sort of, but his mind is not making the connection as to what he's doing. He knows there are five people standing "on the dragon's skull" (Ian, Gisella, Lillith, Alaric, and Niall himself). Erinn is visible in the distance.
And Niall lights the fire:
I watched it fall, spinning, spinning, shedding light and smoke and flame.
“That for Shea of Erinn.” His words were thick with a joyous satisfaction.
“And Deirdre,” Gisella said sharply. “Deirdre, too.”
Alaric turned. For a frozen moment he looked only at his daughter, seeing the fixed, feral stare of her yellow eyes, and then he stepped away from the edge to wrap her in his arms. He embraced her tightly, cradling her head against his shoulder. In the light of the blazing beacon-fire I saw the glint of tears in his eyes. “No more,” he told her softly, rocking her in his arms. “No more Deirdre, my lovely girl; my beautiful, fragile sparrow. No more threat to your happiness. That I promise you.”
“When will the baby come?” she asked. “When will my baby come?”
“Six months,” he told her gently. “In six months you will hold your baby.”
The sheer depths of cruelty here. It's not enough to defeat their enemies, they made NIALL be the one to do it. And poor Gisella is pregnant. Niall has been under mind control for three months. Why isn't Donal doing anything?!
Niall isn't completely alone among enemies of course:
In the bright light of the roaring flames, I saw Lillith with my brother. She did not touch him; she did not have to. She had only to be near him, and he was lost.
Lost.
But in his grieving eyes I saw a reflection of myself.
But his brother is a prisoner too, and has been for much longer. Unlike Niall, he doesn't seem to be under mind control, except for what is necessary to keep him from succumbing to lir-madness. I wonder if that's worse.
And I still say that all this can be laid at Donal's feet. If he hadn't forced his sister into marriage. If he'd bothered to send servants or guards, people of her own race to support her, MAYBE, she could have survived. Or at least warning could have been sent. But like Aislinn before her, Bronwynn was sent alone into the mouth of the dragon. And it's Donal's sons, both innocent, who are suffering now. And Bronwynn's daughter, if she's aware of it.
We jump ahead to an italicized scene. It's a reunion, of sorts, between Niall and Varien, the Atvian envoy. He's polite, sincere and in control of his emotions. Niall, in his entranced state, envies him. Lillith is why he survived the shipwreck.
I really should stop with the long excerpts, but I can't resist this one either.
“She is generous,” I said simply. “She kept my brother from drowning, as well.”
“And you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. I washed ashore… I think it was near Rondule. That is where they found me.”
“Of course, my lord. I recall.” He gestured gracefully toward the ramp. “Shall you board? Everything is prepared. Even your brother waits.”
“Ian?” I looked at Varien sharply. “I thought Lillith was keeping him.”
“No, my lord. She has what she wants from your brother. Ian goes home with you.”
One of the things that has always been frustrating about Roberson as a writer is that there are times, moments where she is very good. Even brilliant. It's not so bad in this book. This book has been largely enjoyable. But even so, I'm struck by the effectiveness of this scene.
Niall's sparse dialogue, his dispassion as he talks about his brother's slavery. (Yet, notice, he doesn't use the word "saved" to describe what Lillith did to Ian.) His casual thought that Lillith would be keeping his brother. The fact that, until Varien urges him to board, there was no mention of a ship at all. Niall is so detached from his surroundings that he never told us.
It's chilling.
We witness, in italics again, Alaric saying goodbye to Gisella. And really, we get to see how tragic she is as a character.
Alaric stood on the dock and hugged his grieving daughter. “Do not cry,” he told her. “Do not fret, Gisella. You go to become a queen.”
“But I want to stay here with you!”
“I know. But now your place is with your husband, not your father.”
“But I will miss you so!”
“No more than I will miss you.”
She clung to him a moment longer as if she would never let him go, then abruptly pulled back to look up at him expectantly. “Will he give me other babies?”
What Gisella's done is monstrous, but it's really impossible to hate her. She's a child, brain damaged in a world without any hope of decent medical treatment, with parents who have no real interest in her health and happiness, who have taught her terrible things that she has no way to comprehend or process.
There's one more italicized scene: Lillith giving him a gift to see him safely home. A wolf's tooth, to wear on his neck. Oh, THAT's where that plot thread enters the picture. Duly noted.
So now, on sea, Niall seems a bit more coherent and aware. He's starting to pull himself together. Ian's doing worse though. Niall notes that over two months, he'd watched his brother dwindle into a shadow of a man. He realizes that while Homana is home to him, it's going to mean death for Ian. The travel home will take another month.
Ian, we're told, has grown his hair to cover his ears: the mark of his shame (the naked ear, bereft of lir gold). He's still wearing Atvian garb. So is Niall. But Ian's got another burden too, which Niall doesn't understand. As mentioned before, Ian is AWARE:
“At least do me the courtesy of allowing me to share your company while you yet live,” I snapped. “Gods, rujho, you will be gone from me soon enough. Why do you already leave?”
He turned so sharply I fell back a step. “I did not leave—it was you!” He clamped a hand around my arm. His eyes were filled with despair. “Gods, Niall—do you even know what you have done? What they have done to you? Or should I say: what she has done to you, since it takes a Cheysuli to do what the girl has done.”
“It was to you.” I was precise in my amazement. “It was Lillith—”
“Aye,” he said harshly. “Lillith. And who was it for you?”
“I,” she said. “It was I.”
They're both victims, of course. Both of them paying for Donal's misdeeds. All three of them are. Of course, that "she" is Gisella. She tells them that Lillith had told her she could "do it". That she should, because otherwise Niall would never have slept with her.
We're told she's very slender, so slender in fact that, five months along now, she's huge. I had a co-worker like that. She was so slender that during her pregnancy, she kind of looked like a snake who swallowed a bowling ball.
But Gisella is here for a reason:
She looked at Ian. “I am Cheysuli. I know a few Cheysuli customs—those they have let me learn.” Much of her intensity had vanished, replaced with a weary vacancy. She seemed to have tired of what they had told her she must say and do. “Without a lir, you die.”
Ian points out that there's a ritual involved, but basically yes. Their dynamic is really interesting to me. Ian's known her much longer than Niall has, and without the cloud of mind-control.
“But you die.” Yellow eyes met yellow eyes. “I think Niall would not like that. I think I will give you your lir.” Ian laughed. I could not.
Gisella wants to know if he thinks she'd lie to her. Niall can tell that his brother wants to say, yes. But he doesn't, and Niall knows it's because they both know that Gisella can't help it. She's not capable of knowing the difference.
I do like that the brothers are both capable of sympathizing with Gisella here. It's not really her fault. It doesn't fix the damage though. Anyway, she storms off.
They discuss Gisella. Niall is surprised that Ian is so cold to Gisella, when once he would have been the one to offer some comfort. But Ian thinks that Gisella has a taint, a smell of Ihlini about her. Niall protests that she only knows tricks. Ian makes the comparison to Electra. But then...oh, actually, I'm going to show this bit.
“Tricks,” Ian mocked. “Aye. The sort of tricks Tynstar taught Electra.” He looked at me intently and shook his head. “But what does it matter if she knows a few Ihlini tricks? She has done enough damage to you with the gifts the gods gave us.”
...and suddenly I'm reminded that mind control isn't Ihlini magic. It's CHEYSULI. We've seen Duncan and Finn use it all of once or twice. Lillith hasn't bespelled Ian. I'd assumed it was sadism, but it's possibly simpler than that. Electra didn't bespell Carillon either. It's not an Ihlini gift.
But then, Gisella comes back, her arms full of lir gold. This reminds Niall of his own angst as he thinks what he would give for gold of his own. And no, dude, now is NOT the time.
Ian is still skeptical, but Gisella protests tearfully that she couldn't carry "her". THAT gets their attention. She leads them below decks, where she stops them and removes a charm from the wall.
She resisted. Gave in. Opened her hand as I told her to. In the palm was the withered foot of a predator bird, curved talons spread as if to strike.
Gisella shrugged, twisting shoulders defensively. “She told me it was from a lir. A hawk, she said. She said she needed it for the spell.” She glanced sidelong at Ian. “So you would not know the cat was in Rondule.”
“Rondule!” I cried. “All this time Tasha has been in Rondule?”
Well, if there was any doubt that Lillith and Strahan were allied, that pretty much proves it. The feather of a hawk. Duncan's lir. The same kind of charm that allowed Strahan to masquerade as Sef.
Even now, Duncan is still a tool used to hurt his family. I actually, maybe sort of, feel sorry for him a little. Just a little.
“Lillith wanted to keep her. So she could keep him.” Again, she looked at Ian. “But then—she said she did not care to keep him anymore; that he had given her what she wanted. She said now it would be sweeter to know he gave himself over to death while his lir was so so close at hand.”
...Lillith is a piece of work. Egads. Meanwhile, the talisman dissolves into dust, and Gisella sings at the ashes.
But it wouldn't be right to not share the reunion, right?
“Gods, it is Tasha. It is!” Ian was almost incoherent. “Rujho, help me—”
He had not asked it for so long. I turned from Gisella to Ian and helped him lift the slack body from the bottom of the crate. We dragged Tasha free of the crate entirely and settled her on the flooring. She was alive, but only just. Still, her eyes knew us both. One paw reached out weakly and patted Ian’s foot.
He sat down awkwardly, as if he could no longer stand, and pulled what he could of the cat into his lap. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he spoke with her in the link. Once more, I was shut out. But this time I did not care.
“Whole,” he whispered. “No more a lirless man—”
This time—this time only—it did not seem to matter to me that I still was.
When he had assured himself, or been assured by Tasha, that the mountain cat would survive, Ian looked up at Gisella. In his eyes I saw the tears. “Leijhana tu’sai,” he said unevenly. “Leijhana tu’sai, Gisella.”
Aw.
Niall explains that this is Cheysuli thanks. She's made him whole. "But not you", Gisella says "obscurely", before she draws pictures "in the dust of a murdered lir."
The chapter ends here.
So we're skipping ahead from the implied marital rape scene. Well, kind of. Is it marital rape if neither party is really able to consent? I feel like it is...in a sense at least. Niall is clearly the victim here. But I'm not sure if it's fair to call Gisella a rapist when it doesn't really seem like she comprehends any of the ramifications of what she's doing.
Anyway, instead we start off with something cryptic and ominous:
A torch was put into my hand. “Light the beacon-fire, Niall. We must warn ships of the dragon’s presence.”
The dragon. Aye, the dragon, with his cold breath and endless appetite, swallowing helpless ships.
“Light the fire, Niall.”
The wind gusted. The torch flared, roared; streamers of flame were snatched from the pitch-soaked rag and shredded in the air, the cold air; the breath of Alaric’s dragon.
Or was it Lillith’s dragon?
“Light the fire, Niall.”
I stretched out my arm toward the cone-shaped stand of faggots. Flame snapped, whipped; yellow flame, pure, clean yellow, with not the faintest trace of purple.
The flames drew my eyes. Transfixed, I stared. I could not look away.
Credit where it's due, this is a pretty compelling depiction of the mind control that Niall is under. He's aware, sort of, but his mind is not making the connection as to what he's doing. He knows there are five people standing "on the dragon's skull" (Ian, Gisella, Lillith, Alaric, and Niall himself). Erinn is visible in the distance.
And Niall lights the fire:
I watched it fall, spinning, spinning, shedding light and smoke and flame.
“That for Shea of Erinn.” His words were thick with a joyous satisfaction.
“And Deirdre,” Gisella said sharply. “Deirdre, too.”
Alaric turned. For a frozen moment he looked only at his daughter, seeing the fixed, feral stare of her yellow eyes, and then he stepped away from the edge to wrap her in his arms. He embraced her tightly, cradling her head against his shoulder. In the light of the blazing beacon-fire I saw the glint of tears in his eyes. “No more,” he told her softly, rocking her in his arms. “No more Deirdre, my lovely girl; my beautiful, fragile sparrow. No more threat to your happiness. That I promise you.”
“When will the baby come?” she asked. “When will my baby come?”
“Six months,” he told her gently. “In six months you will hold your baby.”
The sheer depths of cruelty here. It's not enough to defeat their enemies, they made NIALL be the one to do it. And poor Gisella is pregnant. Niall has been under mind control for three months. Why isn't Donal doing anything?!
Niall isn't completely alone among enemies of course:
In the bright light of the roaring flames, I saw Lillith with my brother. She did not touch him; she did not have to. She had only to be near him, and he was lost.
Lost.
But in his grieving eyes I saw a reflection of myself.
But his brother is a prisoner too, and has been for much longer. Unlike Niall, he doesn't seem to be under mind control, except for what is necessary to keep him from succumbing to lir-madness. I wonder if that's worse.
And I still say that all this can be laid at Donal's feet. If he hadn't forced his sister into marriage. If he'd bothered to send servants or guards, people of her own race to support her, MAYBE, she could have survived. Or at least warning could have been sent. But like Aislinn before her, Bronwynn was sent alone into the mouth of the dragon. And it's Donal's sons, both innocent, who are suffering now. And Bronwynn's daughter, if she's aware of it.
We jump ahead to an italicized scene. It's a reunion, of sorts, between Niall and Varien, the Atvian envoy. He's polite, sincere and in control of his emotions. Niall, in his entranced state, envies him. Lillith is why he survived the shipwreck.
I really should stop with the long excerpts, but I can't resist this one either.
“She is generous,” I said simply. “She kept my brother from drowning, as well.”
“And you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. I washed ashore… I think it was near Rondule. That is where they found me.”
“Of course, my lord. I recall.” He gestured gracefully toward the ramp. “Shall you board? Everything is prepared. Even your brother waits.”
“Ian?” I looked at Varien sharply. “I thought Lillith was keeping him.”
“No, my lord. She has what she wants from your brother. Ian goes home with you.”
One of the things that has always been frustrating about Roberson as a writer is that there are times, moments where she is very good. Even brilliant. It's not so bad in this book. This book has been largely enjoyable. But even so, I'm struck by the effectiveness of this scene.
Niall's sparse dialogue, his dispassion as he talks about his brother's slavery. (Yet, notice, he doesn't use the word "saved" to describe what Lillith did to Ian.) His casual thought that Lillith would be keeping his brother. The fact that, until Varien urges him to board, there was no mention of a ship at all. Niall is so detached from his surroundings that he never told us.
It's chilling.
We witness, in italics again, Alaric saying goodbye to Gisella. And really, we get to see how tragic she is as a character.
Alaric stood on the dock and hugged his grieving daughter. “Do not cry,” he told her. “Do not fret, Gisella. You go to become a queen.”
“But I want to stay here with you!”
“I know. But now your place is with your husband, not your father.”
“But I will miss you so!”
“No more than I will miss you.”
She clung to him a moment longer as if she would never let him go, then abruptly pulled back to look up at him expectantly. “Will he give me other babies?”
What Gisella's done is monstrous, but it's really impossible to hate her. She's a child, brain damaged in a world without any hope of decent medical treatment, with parents who have no real interest in her health and happiness, who have taught her terrible things that she has no way to comprehend or process.
There's one more italicized scene: Lillith giving him a gift to see him safely home. A wolf's tooth, to wear on his neck. Oh, THAT's where that plot thread enters the picture. Duly noted.
So now, on sea, Niall seems a bit more coherent and aware. He's starting to pull himself together. Ian's doing worse though. Niall notes that over two months, he'd watched his brother dwindle into a shadow of a man. He realizes that while Homana is home to him, it's going to mean death for Ian. The travel home will take another month.
Ian, we're told, has grown his hair to cover his ears: the mark of his shame (the naked ear, bereft of lir gold). He's still wearing Atvian garb. So is Niall. But Ian's got another burden too, which Niall doesn't understand. As mentioned before, Ian is AWARE:
“At least do me the courtesy of allowing me to share your company while you yet live,” I snapped. “Gods, rujho, you will be gone from me soon enough. Why do you already leave?”
He turned so sharply I fell back a step. “I did not leave—it was you!” He clamped a hand around my arm. His eyes were filled with despair. “Gods, Niall—do you even know what you have done? What they have done to you? Or should I say: what she has done to you, since it takes a Cheysuli to do what the girl has done.”
“It was to you.” I was precise in my amazement. “It was Lillith—”
“Aye,” he said harshly. “Lillith. And who was it for you?”
“I,” she said. “It was I.”
They're both victims, of course. Both of them paying for Donal's misdeeds. All three of them are. Of course, that "she" is Gisella. She tells them that Lillith had told her she could "do it". That she should, because otherwise Niall would never have slept with her.
We're told she's very slender, so slender in fact that, five months along now, she's huge. I had a co-worker like that. She was so slender that during her pregnancy, she kind of looked like a snake who swallowed a bowling ball.
But Gisella is here for a reason:
She looked at Ian. “I am Cheysuli. I know a few Cheysuli customs—those they have let me learn.” Much of her intensity had vanished, replaced with a weary vacancy. She seemed to have tired of what they had told her she must say and do. “Without a lir, you die.”
Ian points out that there's a ritual involved, but basically yes. Their dynamic is really interesting to me. Ian's known her much longer than Niall has, and without the cloud of mind-control.
“But you die.” Yellow eyes met yellow eyes. “I think Niall would not like that. I think I will give you your lir.” Ian laughed. I could not.
Gisella wants to know if he thinks she'd lie to her. Niall can tell that his brother wants to say, yes. But he doesn't, and Niall knows it's because they both know that Gisella can't help it. She's not capable of knowing the difference.
I do like that the brothers are both capable of sympathizing with Gisella here. It's not really her fault. It doesn't fix the damage though. Anyway, she storms off.
They discuss Gisella. Niall is surprised that Ian is so cold to Gisella, when once he would have been the one to offer some comfort. But Ian thinks that Gisella has a taint, a smell of Ihlini about her. Niall protests that she only knows tricks. Ian makes the comparison to Electra. But then...oh, actually, I'm going to show this bit.
“Tricks,” Ian mocked. “Aye. The sort of tricks Tynstar taught Electra.” He looked at me intently and shook his head. “But what does it matter if she knows a few Ihlini tricks? She has done enough damage to you with the gifts the gods gave us.”
...and suddenly I'm reminded that mind control isn't Ihlini magic. It's CHEYSULI. We've seen Duncan and Finn use it all of once or twice. Lillith hasn't bespelled Ian. I'd assumed it was sadism, but it's possibly simpler than that. Electra didn't bespell Carillon either. It's not an Ihlini gift.
But then, Gisella comes back, her arms full of lir gold. This reminds Niall of his own angst as he thinks what he would give for gold of his own. And no, dude, now is NOT the time.
Ian is still skeptical, but Gisella protests tearfully that she couldn't carry "her". THAT gets their attention. She leads them below decks, where she stops them and removes a charm from the wall.
She resisted. Gave in. Opened her hand as I told her to. In the palm was the withered foot of a predator bird, curved talons spread as if to strike.
Gisella shrugged, twisting shoulders defensively. “She told me it was from a lir. A hawk, she said. She said she needed it for the spell.” She glanced sidelong at Ian. “So you would not know the cat was in Rondule.”
“Rondule!” I cried. “All this time Tasha has been in Rondule?”
Well, if there was any doubt that Lillith and Strahan were allied, that pretty much proves it. The feather of a hawk. Duncan's lir. The same kind of charm that allowed Strahan to masquerade as Sef.
Even now, Duncan is still a tool used to hurt his family. I actually, maybe sort of, feel sorry for him a little. Just a little.
“Lillith wanted to keep her. So she could keep him.” Again, she looked at Ian. “But then—she said she did not care to keep him anymore; that he had given her what she wanted. She said now it would be sweeter to know he gave himself over to death while his lir was so so close at hand.”
...Lillith is a piece of work. Egads. Meanwhile, the talisman dissolves into dust, and Gisella sings at the ashes.
But it wouldn't be right to not share the reunion, right?
“Gods, it is Tasha. It is!” Ian was almost incoherent. “Rujho, help me—”
He had not asked it for so long. I turned from Gisella to Ian and helped him lift the slack body from the bottom of the crate. We dragged Tasha free of the crate entirely and settled her on the flooring. She was alive, but only just. Still, her eyes knew us both. One paw reached out weakly and patted Ian’s foot.
He sat down awkwardly, as if he could no longer stand, and pulled what he could of the cat into his lap. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he spoke with her in the link. Once more, I was shut out. But this time I did not care.
“Whole,” he whispered. “No more a lirless man—”
This time—this time only—it did not seem to matter to me that I still was.
When he had assured himself, or been assured by Tasha, that the mountain cat would survive, Ian looked up at Gisella. In his eyes I saw the tears. “Leijhana tu’sai,” he said unevenly. “Leijhana tu’sai, Gisella.”
Aw.
Niall explains that this is Cheysuli thanks. She's made him whole. "But not you", Gisella says "obscurely", before she draws pictures "in the dust of a murdered lir."
The chapter ends here.
no subject
Date: 2022-06-14 04:52 pm (UTC)There's gonna be long-reaching repercussions from this. My prediction is Lillith is pregnant with Ian's child and will do to them what she did to Gisella (or worse), and that'll somehow screw up everything for Niall and company before Roberson pulls out some bullshite to make sure her precious prophecy goes through.
This level of manipulation from a villain is terrifying. Maybe I should be taking notes for my own antagonists.
= Multi-Facets.
no subject
Date: 2022-06-14 06:29 pm (UTC)And I think Gisella is great too. Potential ableism issues aside (I'm not qualified to weigh in on that), she's incredibly sympathetic. But whether or not she's salvageable is an interesting question.
Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-14 04:58 pm (UTC)++++++
“How can you do this to me?!”
He looked into her angry face. “For the prophecy, I will do anything.”
"Then I will make my own!" Bronwyn unexpectedly shouted. At her words, power rose and surged in the hall, a nearly physical presence. Something sheared and snipped about Donal's head, strands unfurling, freed from a pattern- Confusion swept through everyone in attendance as Bronwyn raged, her words echoing off the walls. "I renounce you, oathbreaker! You who would violate our laws when there is no one path to the end of a prophecy!" Veins corded on her clenched fists; her eyes blazed with fury and magic that snapped and coiled, seeking release.
"Brownyn, cease now! You know not what you say!" Donal yelled over the growing noise, lifting a hand commandingly. "You cheapen our jehana's name and lend credence to the belief we are little more than beasts with such behavior-"
"I know you will know despair, Donal, lone and outcast from the Cheysuli! I will take them on a path away from you as we forge our own tahlmorra!"
Something burst like thunder, and Donal shouted for his guards to act, only for Bronwyn to crouch, then spring into the air-
And a great golden eagle with a wingspan massive enough to enshroud a man soared to the ceiling before falling in a sharp dive at Alaric, hooked talons as long as a woman’s fingers tearing through his scalp once, twice, and again, sending him to the floor bleeding profusely and with shrieks of agony. Then, the eagle flew at Donal’s face even as the guards swept in, attempting to catch her. He cried out and reached for his sword far too late to strike: Bronwyn's rear talon punched through his cheek as the rest carved deep lines through the right side of his forehead and gouged out his eye.
Donal screamed, blinding by blood, by pain, by the sudden loss, and Bronwyn shoved away from him, taking flight as he too collapsed, clutching his face and unable to think, to speak, as chaos reigned around him. His guests were hollering, milling, and only one was kneeling beside him, pressing a cloth to his face as warmth and strength drained from him, shock sapping all his senses....
*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*
It was late when Deirdre entered her chambers and saw the eagle at her windowsill. Only the dredges of her remaining energy kept her from gasping and alerting her maids and the guards that something was amiss. She covered her mouth, drew a deep breath through her nose, and hurried to the window, opening it. "Bronwyn?" she whispered, lowering her hand.
The eagle nodded, and gestured with a wing into the room. At first the motion confused the queen; exhaustion was clouding her reason. But when Bronwyn did it again, Deirdre realized her sister in-law was asking if she could come in. "Oh- Oh, yes, but please, don't make too much noise. I don't think you want to be found," she murmured, stepping back to allow Bronwyn space.
The bird dropped to the floor, and between one blink and the next, was a woman. "I'm sorry to come to you like this," Bronwyn said in a low tone, clasping Dierdre's shoulders, "but there is much to say and not enough time."
Deirdre gathered herself, clasping the other woman's hands. "You would not have come at all if it wasn't important," she hazarded. "Not after what happened."
Bronwyn shook her head. "Indeed. We're leaving to establish another keep. Most of us, anyway," she said without preamble, keeping her voice down. "When I told my people what had happened, they were thrown into disarray. What I did has never been done, and there is much that could happen; we don’t know for sure. Some think the oathbreaker was right to seek completion of the prophecy, but not at the cost of my freedom. Others think I was wrong to defy it and make a new way. Those who wish to go elsewhere and find a new tahlmorra will follow me, as they respected my jehan and jehana, and see some of them in me. The rest will stay and decide if they still wish to follow him."
The queen of Homana accepted the news, and nodded. "Will Meghan go as well?"
Bronwyn smiled. "She will, but not with us. She received a marriage proposal and rejected it, but then realized she was too rash. She’ll meet her intended on the route to Ellas. I believe she thinks him a good man."
Deirdre smiled a little. "I wish her happiness."
"As do I." Bronwyn paused, her expression shifting to something harder, more distant. "Those who stay will want to know how he fares."
Deirdre lowered her eyes to the floor with a sigh. "It took great skill to stitch the wounds, and much care must be given to avoid infection. His eye- there was no way to save it. It had to be removed and his eyelid sewn shut. I don't think there is any way to help the scarring. But he will live, as will Alaric. He’s been issuing dire threats and insults. We’ll manage somehow."
Bronwyn's face softened, and she gently touched Deirdre's cheek. "For your pain alone, I am sorry," she said quietly. "When I struck at him, I did not mean to hurt you. Know that I wish for your healing, and your happiness, however you find it."
The queen surprised herself by sniffling, and had to collect her strength as she lifted her head. "Live well, however you live," she entreated. "At least one of us should be free." (And how wonderful it must have been to be free, and free to choose, even if it still came with its own responsibilities.)
Bronwyn's eyes looked suspiciously moist in the moonlight, and she pressed her forehead to Deirdre's for a moment. The gesture surprised the queen, but she unexpectedly found she deeply appreciated it. "I will," the shapechanger promised before she drew away. "I should-"
"Wait, please." The queen strode to her vanity, opening a box, and came back with a handful of necklaces. "Take these. Should any of you need supplies on the way, wherever you go, these will help. And- And if you desire it, keep a piece, with my blessing."
Bronwyn was clearly taken aback even as she clasped Deirdre's soft hand in both of hers. Her fingers were calloused from hard work and play, but so gentle. "Thank you for your kindness, ruhjolla," she said, voice rife with emotion, and lifted a necklace of sapphires from the selection, clasping it about her neck before carefully looping the rest around her own hand. "Be well, you and your son," she managed, and jumped onto the windowsill, throwing herself into the air.
Deirdre rushed to the sill, clutching it as she watched the golden eagle fly, carrying the jewelry in one foot back the way she had come; watched until the night's embrace meant there was nothing more to see. When she stepped back to close the window, she realized there was a feather on the floor. After some thought, Homana's queen carefully placed it among her accessories in their box, and locked the lid over the new, simple treasure.
There would be much to do tomorrow, and more besides as Donal recovered. She would rest now, and take everything else as it came. What else could she do? Perhaps that was her own tahlmorra.
Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-14 06:34 pm (UTC)Though, minor correction: Donal's wife is Aislinn. Deirdre is Niall's Erinnish mistress. There are like hundreds of characters at this point though, so it's understandable to mix them up.
But actually what delights me the most is the eye thing, and not for the obvious reason. But you'll see what I mean by the end of this book. :-D
Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-15 01:38 am (UTC)As for the eye, did I accidentally draw something from the aether again? It's a weird-ass feeling when that happens.
= Multi-Facets.
Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-15 02:24 am (UTC)You might have. I've noticed a bit of foreshadowing as I read through that you may have subconsciously picked up on. Or you're psychic. Anyway, in about ten chapters, I'll remind you of your spite fic and you'll be amused. :-)
(Sadly it doesn't happen to Donal.)
Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-15 03:43 pm (UTC)= Multi-Facets.
Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-14 07:14 pm (UTC)Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-15 01:38 am (UTC)Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-14 10:32 pm (UTC)Re: Anyway, the promised spitefic!
Date: 2022-06-15 01:44 am (UTC)= Multi-Facets.
no subject
Date: 2022-06-14 10:36 pm (UTC)Except this time it's intentional, and very very effective.
Now, it could be argued that both Gisella and Niall are rape victims because the former is mind controlled. Lilith on the other hand is scum for what she did to all the good characters and Gisella. And Alaric is an asshole. And a bonus middle finger for Donal the Enabler. He knows why.
For the very first time in the series I want the male lead to have a happy ending. Well done, Roberson.
no subject
Date: 2022-06-14 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-08 02:34 am (UTC)