Read Online The Sword and the Song by C. E. Laureano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C. E. Laureano
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happened here. We are friends. Brothers. We shouldn’t be at each other’s throats.”
“It’s not your fault,” Conor muttered, but he didn’t elaborate. “Shall we go up and see if Aine has any news for us?”
Eoghan nodded and gathered the practice weapons, puzzled by Conor’s sudden change of attitude. “We need to bring Lady Morrigan and this matter before the Conclave as soon as Aine can give us some more insight into the situation. I think you should be the one to call the meeting.”
“Oh? You’ve clearly taken command here.”
“You are still the Ceannaire, and the Conclave are technically your advisors. I have yet to make a formal announcement.”
“But you will.”
“Aye, I will.”
Conor still didn’t look convinced, but it wasn’t as if Eoghan had any choice in the matter. No doubt word had already spread through the brotherhood that he was taking leadership as the High King, and that’s what he must do no matter how ill the title fit.
When they reached the Ceannaire’s office, Aine already waited for them, perched on a chair while she perused a book spread open on the Ceannaire’s desk. She rose when they entered.
“Did you speak with her?” Conor asked immediately. “Did you learn anything?”
Aine gestured for them to take seats, giving Eoghan the impression they were about to get lectured for their impatience. He barely repressed a laugh at the thought, but his mirth faded with the first words.
“Morrigan is spelled.”
Conor spoke first, his voice heavy. “So she’s a spy.”
Aine hesitated. “I don’t know what to think. Between the spell and the fact she mentioned Lisdara as though she’d been there, it’s very suspicious. Yet the spell feels odd. Like it’s . . . inert, for lack of a better word.”
“How is that possible?” Conor asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe the city’s wards are interfering with it? Either way, her story about Meallachán rings true. I still can’t read her, but after I left, I was able to locate him where she said he would be.”
“Is he alive?” Eoghan asked immediately. “Were you able to contact him?”
“Aye, alive. But I wasn’t able to speak to him. I think he was unconscious.”
Eoghan’s mind flew through the possibilities. If Meallachán were unconscious, that didn’t give them many options. Ard Bealach was weeks away. “We’ll need to bring her before the Conclave immediately to choose a course of action.”
Conor seemed surprised there was any question. “If Meallachán’s alive, we have to rescue him. He has the information we need about the runes.”
“And if he’s bait?” They had far too much to lose to trust Morrigan so easily. Niall knew the Fíréin well enough to realize that nothing short of a solution to their problems would temptthem from Ard Dhaimhin’s security. Who better to deliver the message than someone Conor had once trusted?
“Of course he’s bait,” Aine said. “Knowing that gives us the advantage, doesn’t it?”
Eoghan’s attention shifted to Aine at the same time Conor’s did. Once again, they had underestimated her. “We’ll get the Conclave’s opinion,” Eoghan said finally, rising. “You’ll call the meeting, Conor?”
“Wait.” Aine shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Truth be told, she looked downright ill. His heart sank. From the way her eyes refused to meet his, he knew he wouldn’t like this.
“Eoghan, while I was in Aron, I discovered a gift that I had been unaware of.”
“What kind of gift? Something that could help us?”
Aine chewed her bottom lip. “I can influence people around me.”
“So, this is helpful to us. Right?”
“Eoghan,” she said gently, finally looking at him directly. “What you feel toward me? That’s simply a result of my gift. I’m so sorry. I know how you’ve wrestled with this.”
Eoghan felt as if someone had struck him in the chest with a sling stone, hard enough to pierce him through. It felt
“It’s not your fault,” Conor muttered, but he didn’t elaborate. “Shall we go up and see if Aine has any news for us?”
Eoghan nodded and gathered the practice weapons, puzzled by Conor’s sudden change of attitude. “We need to bring Lady Morrigan and this matter before the Conclave as soon as Aine can give us some more insight into the situation. I think you should be the one to call the meeting.”
“Oh? You’ve clearly taken command here.”
“You are still the Ceannaire, and the Conclave are technically your advisors. I have yet to make a formal announcement.”
“But you will.”
“Aye, I will.”
Conor still didn’t look convinced, but it wasn’t as if Eoghan had any choice in the matter. No doubt word had already spread through the brotherhood that he was taking leadership as the High King, and that’s what he must do no matter how ill the title fit.
When they reached the Ceannaire’s office, Aine already waited for them, perched on a chair while she perused a book spread open on the Ceannaire’s desk. She rose when they entered.
“Did you speak with her?” Conor asked immediately. “Did you learn anything?”
Aine gestured for them to take seats, giving Eoghan the impression they were about to get lectured for their impatience. He barely repressed a laugh at the thought, but his mirth faded with the first words.
“Morrigan is spelled.”
Conor spoke first, his voice heavy. “So she’s a spy.”
Aine hesitated. “I don’t know what to think. Between the spell and the fact she mentioned Lisdara as though she’d been there, it’s very suspicious. Yet the spell feels odd. Like it’s . . . inert, for lack of a better word.”
“How is that possible?” Conor asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe the city’s wards are interfering with it? Either way, her story about Meallachán rings true. I still can’t read her, but after I left, I was able to locate him where she said he would be.”
“Is he alive?” Eoghan asked immediately. “Were you able to contact him?”
“Aye, alive. But I wasn’t able to speak to him. I think he was unconscious.”
Eoghan’s mind flew through the possibilities. If Meallachán were unconscious, that didn’t give them many options. Ard Bealach was weeks away. “We’ll need to bring her before the Conclave immediately to choose a course of action.”
Conor seemed surprised there was any question. “If Meallachán’s alive, we have to rescue him. He has the information we need about the runes.”
“And if he’s bait?” They had far too much to lose to trust Morrigan so easily. Niall knew the Fíréin well enough to realize that nothing short of a solution to their problems would temptthem from Ard Dhaimhin’s security. Who better to deliver the message than someone Conor had once trusted?
“Of course he’s bait,” Aine said. “Knowing that gives us the advantage, doesn’t it?”
Eoghan’s attention shifted to Aine at the same time Conor’s did. Once again, they had underestimated her. “We’ll get the Conclave’s opinion,” Eoghan said finally, rising. “You’ll call the meeting, Conor?”
“Wait.” Aine shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Truth be told, she looked downright ill. His heart sank. From the way her eyes refused to meet his, he knew he wouldn’t like this.
“Eoghan, while I was in Aron, I discovered a gift that I had been unaware of.”
“What kind of gift? Something that could help us?”
Aine chewed her bottom lip. “I can influence people around me.”
“So, this is helpful to us. Right?”
“Eoghan,” she said gently, finally looking at him directly. “What you feel toward me? That’s simply a result of my gift. I’m so sorry. I know how you’ve wrestled with this.”
Eoghan felt as if someone had struck him in the chest with a sling stone, hard enough to pierce him through. It felt
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