Read Online Muse (Tales of Silver Downs Book 1) by Kylie Quillinan - Free Book Online
Authors: Kylie Quillinan
Tags: historical fantasy
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particular trade so they assisted Papa and Eremon with the management of Silver Downs and thus Papa had three sons capable of running the estate when he died. As always, Marrec and Con stood together. Beside them stood their betrotheds, small dark-haired women, sisters who seemed to share almost as close a relationship as their intended husbands.
I was born after Marrec and Conn, seventh son of a seventh son, and although I knew it not in my youngest years, destined to be a bard. With my inability to so much as look a woman in the eyes, it seemed I would watch each of my brothers marry until in the end only Eithne and I remained alone.
I sought out my sister in the crowd. She was three years younger than I and my only memory of her birth was an image of Papa, his face white with dread and slick with fear. As a babe, Eithne was ever small and sickly. She was sixteen now and thus of marriageable age. But she had not the strength to survive pregnancy and no man would want a wife who could not provide the three sons he needed. I should have stood next to her, for surely she would be feeling as alone as I. But when I finally found Eithne, she wasn't watching the ceremony. I followed her line of sight.
He wasn't there amidst our family and friends but stood within a grove of young ash trees, about a hundred paces away. I would have recognised the pale face and too red lips had I ever seen them before. He leaned against a grey trunk, gaze fixed on Eithne. A small smile passed between them.
Who was he? How did Eithne know him? And what was the meaning of the secretive smile they shared? Surely he was not allowing Eithne to fancy herself in love with him.
The ceremony finally concluded and folks moved in to congratulate Caedmon and Grainne. I pushed my way through the crowd. But Fiachra blocked my way.
"No, Diarmuid." He placed a hand firmly on my shoulder. "You must not interfere."
"I don't want to see Eithne hurt." I tried to slip out from under his hand but I could no more escape Fiachra's grasp than I could Caedmon's.
"You must leave Eithne to her own fate."
"He is misleading her. Or he is misleading them both. If I can talk to him, tell him how unwell she is-"
"This is not your concern."
"You would leave her to be hurt, to have her heart broken?" Bitterness clouded both voice and mind. "She is your sister."
"She is my sister and I will look out for her as I can. Eithne has her own destiny and we must leave her to pursue it unhindered."
"Can it lead to anything other than unhappiness?"
Fiachra shrugged. "It may. Or it may not. Regardless, we shall not interfere. You, Diarmuid, have your own destiny to be concerned with."
"And what is my destiny? Do you know?"
"I can't interfere in yours either, but I can help you go into it with your eyes open."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me tonight, after everyone is in bed. I'll be waiting at the back door."
He slipped away then and melted into the crowd. I glanced towards the trees but the stranger was gone.
Despite my irritation with Fiachra, his words intrigued me. For now though, I needed to participate in the festivities. I must try to shake off the melancholy and at least act joyous. So I smiled and ate and drank. I didn't mingle, didn't seek out others, and few came to speak to me. Ida kept up her usual commentary in my mind and I passed the time in a conversation, of sorts, with her.
Long tables dragged outside into the meagre sunshine were draped with festive red cloths and piled high with food. The cook and her helpers served an outstanding feast of soup, roast meat, baked vegetables, and grainy bread, followed by pies filled with chunky apples and served with fresh cream. My appetite was unusually fierce, despite the melancholy, and I ate until I thought my stomach would burst. I drank only sparingly, wanting a clear head for my discussion with Fiachra. It might not be possible to persuade a druid to change his mind but I would try. Eithne's wellbeing
I was born after Marrec and Conn, seventh son of a seventh son, and although I knew it not in my youngest years, destined to be a bard. With my inability to so much as look a woman in the eyes, it seemed I would watch each of my brothers marry until in the end only Eithne and I remained alone.
I sought out my sister in the crowd. She was three years younger than I and my only memory of her birth was an image of Papa, his face white with dread and slick with fear. As a babe, Eithne was ever small and sickly. She was sixteen now and thus of marriageable age. But she had not the strength to survive pregnancy and no man would want a wife who could not provide the three sons he needed. I should have stood next to her, for surely she would be feeling as alone as I. But when I finally found Eithne, she wasn't watching the ceremony. I followed her line of sight.
He wasn't there amidst our family and friends but stood within a grove of young ash trees, about a hundred paces away. I would have recognised the pale face and too red lips had I ever seen them before. He leaned against a grey trunk, gaze fixed on Eithne. A small smile passed between them.
Who was he? How did Eithne know him? And what was the meaning of the secretive smile they shared? Surely he was not allowing Eithne to fancy herself in love with him.
The ceremony finally concluded and folks moved in to congratulate Caedmon and Grainne. I pushed my way through the crowd. But Fiachra blocked my way.
"No, Diarmuid." He placed a hand firmly on my shoulder. "You must not interfere."
"I don't want to see Eithne hurt." I tried to slip out from under his hand but I could no more escape Fiachra's grasp than I could Caedmon's.
"You must leave Eithne to her own fate."
"He is misleading her. Or he is misleading them both. If I can talk to him, tell him how unwell she is-"
"This is not your concern."
"You would leave her to be hurt, to have her heart broken?" Bitterness clouded both voice and mind. "She is your sister."
"She is my sister and I will look out for her as I can. Eithne has her own destiny and we must leave her to pursue it unhindered."
"Can it lead to anything other than unhappiness?"
Fiachra shrugged. "It may. Or it may not. Regardless, we shall not interfere. You, Diarmuid, have your own destiny to be concerned with."
"And what is my destiny? Do you know?"
"I can't interfere in yours either, but I can help you go into it with your eyes open."
"What do you mean?"
"Meet me tonight, after everyone is in bed. I'll be waiting at the back door."
He slipped away then and melted into the crowd. I glanced towards the trees but the stranger was gone.
Despite my irritation with Fiachra, his words intrigued me. For now though, I needed to participate in the festivities. I must try to shake off the melancholy and at least act joyous. So I smiled and ate and drank. I didn't mingle, didn't seek out others, and few came to speak to me. Ida kept up her usual commentary in my mind and I passed the time in a conversation, of sorts, with her.
Long tables dragged outside into the meagre sunshine were draped with festive red cloths and piled high with food. The cook and her helpers served an outstanding feast of soup, roast meat, baked vegetables, and grainy bread, followed by pies filled with chunky apples and served with fresh cream. My appetite was unusually fierce, despite the melancholy, and I ate until I thought my stomach would burst. I drank only sparingly, wanting a clear head for my discussion with Fiachra. It might not be possible to persuade a druid to change his mind but I would try. Eithne's wellbeing
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