Clíodhna tried to speak to Rumann, but he didn’t make it easy. “I didn’t want to leave you, Rumann. But where I went… it might have been dangerous, especially for an infant. I wanted to make sure you remained safe.”
He cast her a withering glance, his jaw clenched tight. He took a swig of his ale and slammed it on the wooden table. “I don’t care why you abandoned me. Stop trying to explain it.”
“At least let me explain—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Since that hand still held the mug, a splash of ale swirled out and spilled on the floor. “I grew up without your help, and I’ll manage my family the same way.”
“The way you’re managing young Fingin? You barely look at the poor lad. He needs some affection, Rumann.”
He growled and stood, looming over her with menace. “Look, woman. You’re my mother, so I won’t turn you out, but you aren’t to meddle, understand? You leave my family to me and go about your business.”
Clíodhna seethed with the urge to answer with sarcasm and rage, wanting to slap the insolent fool into some sense. However, he outweighed her by a lot and stood several heads taller. If she angered him too much, he’d apply the same force on her as he did on his own sons.
Someday, though, when she left again, she’d give him a piece of her mind. Maybe even sooner.
Now, however, she waited for Odhrán to meet her. She fiddled with the end of her braid, which she’d arranged to hide the streak of white hair and chuckled at her own silly vanities.
A shuffle behind her made her turn, but another monk strolled by. She didn’t know his name but had seen him in the village several times. They exchanged cordial nods and he disappeared amongst the ornamental flowers.
How much would Odhrán have changed in all this time? Would he still be interested in her conversation? She’d asked this question a thousand times since he’d left. When she’d gotten word of his return, her heart beat so fast she needed to sit. She became a giddy girl, ready to walk out with her suitor for the first time. While she loved Adhna with all her heart, and Odhrán had been living his life in the mortal world for a score of winters without her, her heart knew what it wanted. Clíodhna wiped at her face, mopping the sweat away and waited.
This time, her old friend walked toward her. Odhrán’s bald head shone in the afternoon sun. Her heart warmed as he came near and she stood, holding her hands out for him. He placed his in hers, squeezing tight, but didn’t embrace her.
Somewhat discomfited by this, she sat back on the bench. He sat beside her and turned to face her. “I am gratified you waited. The Abbot held me up, and I apologize for being late.”
The giddiness calmed with his formal words. Clíodhna took a deep breath. “I’ve looked forward to speaking with you, Odhrán. It’s been much too long.”
He gave her a half-smile. “It’s been at least four winters since I saw you in that magical battle, and over fifteen before that when you left us.”
“Four winters? It seemed but a short time for us in Faerie.”
His eyes grew wide, twinkling with eager anticipation. “Faerie, yes, you must tell me all about that! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed such a thing. Abbot Pátraic became quite incensed with everyone involved.”
“Oh? Did he blame them? He shouldn’t have.”
Odhrán frowned, looking toward the church building. “He did. In fact, those that took up arms to help in the battle, he cursed.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What sort of curse?”
“Something vile about turning into a vicious hound when they lose their temper. I tried to persuade him to remove it, that such a curse would bring evil to himself, but he refused to listen. He did relent enough to make them protectors of others. At least they have a noble purpose now. He calls them the faoladh.” Odhrán cast his eyes to his feet. “He often refuses to listen. I consider it a failing on my part that I couldn’t get him to budge on the matter. He responded by sending me away, his favorite answer to insolence, as he sees it.”
Clíodhna chuckled at his observation. “Is that why he sends you away so often, then?”
While shrugging one shoulder, he said, “That must be why. Either that, or he can’t stand my face.” He turned to her and traced his finger along her braid, just at the bit of white peeking through. “Why do you hide this? Such a lovely, distinctive feature. You should display this badge of wisdom with pride.”
On an impulse, Clíodhna cupped her hands on his cheeks. “I’ve dreamed of your face, Odhrán. Over all that time, I still treasure you.”
Their eyes locked for just one heart-breaking moment before he pulled back, blinking several times. “I dreamt of you, Clíodhna. And I cherish the time we spent together. But we can only ever be friends now. We should not have had that night and can never have it again.”
After dropping her hands, she clasped them in her lap, staring at them to keep herself from bursting into tears. This shouldn’t have surprised her. It had been
