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that room, a distance from the others, as it faced north.
    Less sunlight, he mused. A considerate hostess.
    He undressed in the dark, thought fleetingly of the music he liked to play before sleep, or on wakening. Music, he thought, that filled the silence.
    But this time and place didn’t run to CD players, or cable radio or any damn thing of the sort.
    Naked, he stretched out in bed. And in the absolute dark, the absolute silence, willed himself to sleep.

Chapter 4
    M oira stole the time. She escaped from her women, from her uncle, from her duties. She was already guilty, already worried she’d be a failure as a queen because she so craved her solitude.
    She would have bartered two days’ food, or two nights’ sleep, for a single hour alone with her books. Selfish, she told herself as she hurried away from the noise, the people, the questions. Selfish to wish for her own comfort when so much was at stake.
    But while she wouldn’t indulge herself with books in some sunny corner, she would take the time to make this visit.
    On this day she was made queen, she wanted, and she needed, her mother. So hiking up her skirts, she went as fast as she was able down the hill, then through the little gap in the stone wall that bordered the graveyard.
    Almost instantly she felt quieter of heart.
    She went first to the stone she’d ordered carved and set when she’d returned to Geall. She’d set one herself for King in Ireland, in the graveyard of Cian and Hoyt’s ancestors. But she’d vowed to have one done here, in honor of a friend.
    After laying a handful of flowers on the ground, she stood and read the words she’d ordered carved in the polished stone.

    King
This brave warrior lies not here
but in a faraway land.
He gave his life for Geall,
and all humankind.

    â€œI hope you would like it, the stone and the words. It seems so long ago since I saw you. It all seems so long, and still hardly more than a hand clap. I’m sorry to tell you Cian was hurt today, for my sake. But he’s doing well enough. Last night we spoke almost as friends, Cian and I. And today, well, not altogether friendly. It’s hard to know.”
    She laid a hand on the stone. “I’m queen now. That’s hard to know as well. I hope you don’t mind I put this monument here, where my family lies. For to me, that’s what you were for the short time we had. You were family. I hope you’re resting now.”
    She stepped away, then hurriedly back again. “Oh, I meant to say, I’m keeping my left up, as you taught me.” By his grave she lifted her arms in a boxing stance. “So, for all the times I don’t get a fist in my face, thank you.”
    With the rest of the flowers in the crook of her arm, she picked her way through the long grass, the stones, to the graves of her parents.
    She laid flowers at the base of her father’s stone. “Sir. I hardly remember you, and I think the memories—most of them—that I have are ones mother passed to me. She loved you so, and would speak of you often. I know you were a good man, for she wouldn’t have loved you otherwise. And all who speak of you say you were strong and kind, and quick to laugh. I wish I could remember the sound of that, of your laugh.”
    She looked over the stones now, to the hills, the distant mountains. “I’ve learned you didn’t die as we always thought, but were murdered. You and your young brother. Murdered by the demons who are even now in Geall, preparing for war. I’m all that’s left of you, and I hope it’s enough.”
    She knelt now, between the graves, to lay the rest of the flowers over her mother. “I miss you, every day. I had to go far away, as you know, to come back stronger. Mathair. ”
    She closed her eyes on the word, and on the image it brought to her, clear as life.
    â€œI didn’t stop what was done to you, and still I see that