'Mistress, let me help you. .'
Jenna waved her away. She’ll be someone’s spy.
'I don’t want help.'
’But, Mistress, I’m-'
'Go now,' Jenna answered sharply. 'Leave me.' The girl’s eyes wid-ened, then she made a hurried curtsy and fled the room. Jenna heard her voice whispering to the other servants as she closed the door behind her. Jenna went through the outer parlor to her bedroom. There, she removed the cloca the Banrion had lent her. She went to the chest at the foot of her bed and rummaged beneath the clothing there until she felt the packet of anduilleaf. She set a pot of water to boil over the fire and prepared some of the powdered leaf in a mug. She was sipping the pungent liquid when she heard the scrape of a footstep at the door. She whirled around, nearly spilling the potion, her right hand going instinctively to the cloch.
'Coelin. .'
He smiled at her. 'I thought you were about to strike me dead with that damned stone.'
'How did you get in here?'
He grinned. 'I have my ways. Do you want me to leave?'
'By the Mother, no,' she answered. She set the mug down and went to him, her arms going around him and her face lifting for his kiss. The embrace was long and urgent, and she pulled him to the bed, enjoying the feel of his hands on her body and the heat of his response. He pulled away from her once, looking down at her with a question in his eyes, and she nodded to him. 'Aye,' she whispered.
Then they said nothing at all for a time.
Afterward, Jenna drew her leine over herself. There was blood between her thighs and on the bedsheets. She rolled away from him and took the cup of cold anduilleaf, sipping it as she sat on the side of the bed.
It was supposed to be different. While they were together in the few minutes of passion, she had lost herself and forgot everything to simply be with him, but when it was over. . The insistent throbbing of her arm, the dead coldness of the scarred flesh called her back, and suddenly the anduilleaf was more important than being with Coelin. She sought solace in the sour milkiness of the brew, not with the man to whom she'd just given herself. She felt dead inside when she should have been feeling joy and release.
Did you do this because you wanted Coelin that much, or just so o Liathain couldn't be the first? She wanted to cry, but there were no tears inside her.
She felt Coelin move behind her, and his hand trailed from her head down her spine. She shivered and his arms went around her, cupping her breasts. She let herself lean back against him. 'Are those the herbs you bought from du Val?' he asked. He kissed the side of her neck. 'That potion smells awful.'
'And tastes worse. But it helps.'
'Mmm.' He nuzzled the other side of her neck.
His fingers started to drift lower, and she stopped them. 'Jenna. .'
'Hush,' she told him. 'It was wonderful. It was what I wanted.'
She could feel his smile. 'I thought, when I saw you with the Tanaise Rig tonight… '
'I was doing what I had to do, Coelin. Nothing else. There’s no love there. There never will be.' That, at least, was only the truth. She turned her head, kissing him softly; Coelin grinned at her, then returned the kiss more passionately. When he tried to lay her down again, she shook her head. 'No, not now, Coelin. My mam and Mac Ard will be returning soon, and I’m… sore. Later. There will be time. But for now, you’d better go.' She stopped, looked into his green, soft eyes, and for a moment felt a surge of the old affection. 'My love.'
'My love,' he answered, and kissed her again. With a sigh, he left the bed. 'I nearly forgot,' he said as he drew his tunic back over his head. 'That man-Ennis O’Deoradhain. I found him. I know where he’s living.'
Jenna sat up, her eyes narrowing as remembered anger made her jaw clench. If he sent the assassin, then he is also ultimately responsible for Aoife’s death. . 'Where?' she asked.
'On Cooper Street. He has a room in a widow’s house. Her name is Murrin. I’ve seen him a couple times now. Do you want me to do some-thing with him? There are people I know in Low Town…'
'No,' Jenna answered. 'I will take care of O’Deoradhain myself.'
Coelin’s head went back at the ferocity of her words. 'You’re certain? He could be dangerous, and I-'
'I will take care of the man,' Jenna said decisively. 'Don’t worry about him.'
Coelin nodded reluctantly. 'I should go, then,' he said. He looked uncertain, an odd, strained smile on his lips, and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, as if he wanted to say more. 'I’ve been asked to play for the Ri again, next week. And the Tanaise Rig said he would talk to his father about me.'
The mention of O Liathain’s title brought the coldness back, and Jenna reached for the mug of brew, taking a long swallow and grimacing. 'That’s… good,' she told Coelin. 'When you come here again, we’ll make plans.'
He nodded. Turned.
Coelin,' she said. She could not keep the desperation from her voice. Tell me that you love
He smiled, looking back over his shoulder. 'I love you, Jenna. I always have.'
And he left.
Chapter 24: The Traitor
THE Banrion seemed concerned when Jenna came to her requesting half a dozen trusted gardai, but to her credit, Cianna did not ask Jenna why but only nodded in agreement. 'Certainly, Holder. Let me call for Labras; he's a good man, and he can choose five others… '
Jenna lifted her hand. 'No, Banrion. Not today. After the Tanaise Rig leaves. Tomorrow morning. I need to go into Low Town then.'
'Ah,' Cianna had said. Just the one sound, then silence. 'I'll make arrangements for them to be at Keep Gate at first bell tomorrow, then.'
The Banrion started to move away, as if in dismissal, but Jenna cleared her throat. 'Banrion, I would like to tell you why. It needs to be a secret between the two of us, though. You're the only person who has given me help, unasked for. Now I would ask it.'
Cianna smiled softly. 'Jenna, I will know anyway, whether you tell me now or not. The gardai will inform me where you take them, and why. The ones I would send with you aren't as blindly stupid as those you've borrowed before from my husband or Mac Ard. They won't let the Holder roam unaccompanied through Low Town, no matter what she says.'
Jenna laughed with the Banrion. 'I know. And that's why I came to you.'
She told the Banrion about O'Deoradhain, how he had lied to them about himself on their way to Ath Iseal, how he had reacted during the attack by the Connachtans, that she'd glimpsed him in Low Town (though she said nothing about du Val), and how she now suspected the man had been responsible for the assassin.
Gianna’s face was grim when Jenna finished. 'Tell me where this man and I will have him fetched here for you,' she said. 'There’s no need for you to expose yourself to danger, Jenna-and the Tanaise Rig will be upset if you are injured while you remain with us.'
Jenna shook her head. 'Banrion, I will have Lamh Shabhala to protect me Your gardai will be there only as a precaution. I want to do this myself- I want to see his face and hear his voice.'
'Jenna-'
'Please, Banrion. I don’t know any longer who I can trust. I can only trust myself.'
Jenna saw Cianna gather herself for another argument, but the Banrion finally dropped her shoulders. She coughed softly a few times, rising from her chair. Servants appeared as if summoned by the rustling of fabric, and the Banrion waved them away. 'Come, then,' she said. 'We should give our farewell to your future husband, and pretend that none of us is plot-ting anything.'
'I need four to stay out here and make certain that no one leaves until I’m finished.' Jenna gestured to Labras, a tall, burly man with hair so red it almost seemed to burn and eyes as gray as storm clouds. She wasn’t sure she liked the man at all; he seemed to radiate violence, and the abundant scars on his face spoke to his familiarity with it. Yet if the Banrion trusted him… or maybe her reaction to him was only the haze of the anduilleaf. She’d taken two mugs of the brew before they’d left the Keep, knowing she might well be using the cloch, and the herb was like a fog over her mind that wouldn’t quite clear. 'Labras, bring someone with you and follow me.'
She touched Lamh Shabhala once as the three of them strode toward the door of the small, two-story house. She could feel O’Deoradhain, could feel the pattern of his energy motionless on the second floor. She could sense no fear or apprehension in him.
