Niamh made a face and embraced Séanat again. «How many did you slay?» she asked breathlessly. «I killed ten, and I would have slain four more if only»—

«Don’t believe her,» Ríona said, crossing her arms across her chest. «She always»— She broke off, looking over Séanat’s shoulder. «What’s this?»

Both women stared at Aodhan. He bowed and stood quietly under their inspection.

«I am looking for the Ard Rí,» Séanat said quickly.

But Ríona was not to be distracted. «I do not know you, stranger,» she said to Aodhan. «From which fine do you come?»

«Do you forget the laws of hospitality?» Séanat snapped. «He is my guest.»

There was nothing Ríona could say to that. She frowned and pulled Niamh aside.

«Lugh is in his tent,» Ríona said.

«Very well,» Séanat said.

As she began to walk away, Aodhan at her heels, she heard Niamh’s whisper. «She is not herself. What can be wrong? Who is he?»

They can feel it, Séanat thought. They know he is not of the Tuatha Dé.

And indeed it seemed as if every man and woman they passed — cooks and smiths over their fires, warriors and pages, healers and poets — turned to look as she made her way to the great tent in the centre of the camp. Still, no one stopped her, nor spoke except to welcome her back. Perhaps it was only her imagination that their eyes followed her when she stopped before the warriors who guarded the new High King.

«Cathal,» she said, nodding to the larger man. «Fearghus. Will you ask the Ard Rí if Séanat of the Daughters of the Morrígan may speak with him?»

«Our king rests,» Cathal said. He looked at Aodhan. «Is this an urgent matter?»

Urgent? She might go to one of Lugh’s lieutenants and report what she had done. She might hope that Brighid would soon return from her mourning to speak for her. But it was Lugh to whom she must appeal, Lugh who had slain his own Fomóiri grandfather to save the Tuatha Dé.

«I ask to see him,» she said.

The warrior turned, drew back the tent’s flap and went inside. Séanat heard low voices, and then Cathal came out again.

«The Ard Rí will see you,» he said gruffly, with another long look at Aodhan.

Séanat unslung the spears from over her shoulder and removed her sword and dagger, leaving them with Fearghus as custom dictated. Cathal nodded, and Séanat lifted the flap.

Lugh sat on a stool padded thickly with sheepskin, deep in conversation with his uncle Goibhniu, the powerful smith of the Tuatha Dé. Both men looked up as Séanat and Aodhan entered.

«Séanat,» Lugh said. His golden ha ir was as bright as ever, his eyes as blue, but his forehead was streaked with blood and the cuirass he still wore was slashed and dented. «What do you ask of me?»

His weariness shamed her. «My lord,» she said, hesitating. «I ask a hearing.»

«For what purpose?» Goibhniu said. He looked, narrow-eyed, at Aodhan. «Who is this boy?»

«My lords,» Séanat said, «he is Aodhan. I have brought him under my protection.»

«Your protection?» Goibhniu said. «Why should he need»—

Lugh raised his hand, and the smith fell silent. There was a coldness in the High King’s face that chilled Séanat’s blood. «I see why,» he said. «Come forwards, Aodhan.»

Aodhan obeyed and bowed deeply. «My Lord King.»

«Your king is dead.»

Straightening, Aodhan met Lugh’s eyes without fear. «Many I knew are dead, or driven into the sea.»

«Fomóiri,» Goibhniu growled. He began to rise, but once again Lugh stopped him.

«Why is he here?» Lugh asked. «Why have you brought an enemy among us?»

Séanat would not tell him of Brighid’s challenge. She would not lay any responsibility upon the lady when it had been her choice and no one else’s.

«I came upon him in the forest,» she said. «He fought fairly and with honour. I spared him.»

«And brought him here?» Goibhniu demanded. «Have you so soon forgotten Ruadán?»

«I have not forgotten, my lord. But the Fomóiri are no longer a threat to us. They will not return. And Aodhan.» She took a deep breath. «It may be he is like the Ard Rí, as much of the Tuatha Dé as the Fomóiri.»

Lugh rose. «Is this your claim, Aodhan?» he asked.

«I do not know, my lord,» Aodhan said. «I was fostered to Fomóiri. I was raised as one, and fought for them. For this I make no apology.»

Goibhniu growled again. «You must not permit this serpent in our midst, nephew,» he said.

Séanat held her breath. Lugh was staring at her again, weighing, judging. She had offered her hospitality to Aodhan, which could not be withdrawn. He had three choices: to kill Aodhan, compelling her to defend him unto death, even against the whole of the Tuatha Dé; to exile them both; or to accept her word of honour that Aodhan would do no harm. She would not have blamed him if he had chosen the easiest way: exile.

But he sighed and shook his head. «I do not understand you, Séanat,» he said. «It is not like the Daughters to show mercy in battle. If you have lost your taste for fighting.»

«Never, my lord!»

He searched her face again. «If our enemies still had the means and will to fight, I would not be lenient. But my judgment is this: he is yours, and whatever he does is on your head. You will face his punishment should he flout our hospitality.»

It was the very best Séanat could have expected. She bowed low, avoiding Goibhniu’s piercing stare, and took Aodhan’s arm. He paused, gave a bow of his own, and followed her out of the tent.

«My thanks, Séanat,» he said.

She continued towards the Daughters’ tents without stopping. «You may not share our quarters,» she said. «My sisters will not accept you easily. You may sleep by the fire outside, with the hounds.»

«Am I your hound, Séanat? Am I permitted to go freely about the camp if I wear your collar?»

His quiet mockery stung worse than any wound. «I have no use for collars. Your honour binds you, as mine does myself. I will see that you have blankets and food and ale.»

«But not your company?»

She gritted her teeth and didn’t answer. She pointed out the fire to him, where a pair of Daughters, Brónach and Úna, were warming their hands and talking quietly.

«This is Aodhan,» she said without preamble. «He is my guest. I offer him the hospitality of our fire and a share of our food.»

The Daughters exchanged glances, but neither challenged her words. Séanat nodded to Aodhan, went on to the tent and gathered up her blankets. By the time she brought them back to the fireside, Aodhan was seated and the Daughters were walking away, casting sharp glances over their shoulders.

«It seems they care no more for my company than you,» he said.

Séanat grunted. «They spend little time with men.»

«Are you forbidden to take lovers then?»

Her skin grew hot. «Not forbidden. It is easier when.» Show no weakness. «You are not my lover, but my guest.»

«Will you tell them what you told the Ard Rí?»

Never had Séanat had cause to lie to her sisters. But she had lied to Lugh when she’d said Aodhan had fought with honour. He had not fought at all.

But to tell them that he was Fomóir, in every way that mattered.

«Let them think what they will,» she said harshly. «Stay here. I will bring meat.»

He stayed, and afterwards she spent a little time sitting and eating with him to show that he was, indeed, her guest and not to be troubled. She knew how easily rumours flew around any war camp, and she wanted his position secure before the questions came.

They came soon enough. Séanat had just sought her blankets in the tent she shared with Ríona, Niamh and Brónach when the three warriors burst in.

«It’s true, then?» Ríona demanded. «He’s Fomóir?»

Casting off the blankets, Séanat sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. «He is,» she said wearily.

«Here!» Brónach exclaimed. «In the very camp of the High King!»

Séanat got to her feet. She could tell them he was almost certainly half Tuatha Dé, but she was too angry.

«You speak of the Ard Rí,» she said. «I have seen him. He has granted me the life of this warrior, whatever he may be.»

Ríona glared, her arms tight across her chest. «You’ve gone mad, sister! Send him away! He will bring only sorrow!»

Brónach muttered agreement. Niamh moved her hands as if to soothe the anger that bubbled like a cauldron near overflowing.

«Séanat is no fool,» she said softly. «There must be good reason.»

«Is there?» Ríona asked. Her eyes narrowed. «You have a smell about you, sister. The smell of a lover.»

Niamh gasped. Brónach sneered.

«His lover, are you?» she said. «Can you stoop so low, Séanat? A Fomóir. .»

«Thus did Brighid take Bres the Beautiful, and Cian take Ethlinn,» Niamh said, «to bring peace»—

«Which never came!» Ríona said. «And there is no need for conciliation when the Fomóiri have been driven from Inis Fáil!»

«There is even more need,» Niamh said, «and our king has given his blessing.» She approached Séanat with a gentleness that Séanat could hardly bear. «You have your reasons, Séanat, even if only your heart knows them. I will stand beside you.»

A look of pain crossed Ríona’s face. Brónach continued to sneer. Séanat pushed past them, walked out of the tent and went straight to the fire.

Aodhan was sitting almost where she had left him, knees drawn up and hands dangling between them. He was so intent on the fire that he didn’t hear Séanat until she was almost on top of him.