The Crown and the Dragon (18 page)

“What about my ring?”

“Forget it. It’s gone.”

Elenn set her jaw, but she nodded and sat down beside Clooney, gracefully tucking her legs under her. Even in her stained and ripped attire, even with her smudged face and unruly hair, she looked regal in a way that the brutal Clooney simply did not.

The two of them sat on the ground, laughing and talking, as Clooney’s other four wives bustled around them. One wife brought them each a jug of wine. One brought in kindling wood and lit a fire right there on the stone floor. A third brought bread, cheese, and berries in shallow wooden bowls. And one knelt behind Clooney, massaging his shoulders and cooing at him as if he were her own sweet newborn babe.

Aedin made as if to sit down, but Elenn raised an eyebrow at him and he decided to stand. Clooney laughed, and Aedin felt his face get red.

“Now, Caelan of Adair, your great-grandfather,” Clooney was saying, “may he even now be surrounded by heavenly pleasure, had lands here in these very highlands.” As he spoke, two of his wives sat down by the little fire and began plucking grouse to roast on spits.

“Please, tell me more,” said Elenn, laying a hand on Clooney’s arm.

Aedin rolled his eyes, but Clooney didn’t notice and smiled.

“Well,” he continued, “Caelan, he was a fine laird in many ways. Very clever. Shrewd, even. In fact, he fleeced my uncle Donavan’s entire northern flock one winter’s night.”

“No!” said Elenn, seemingly aghast.

“It’s true,” said Clooney. “Donavan lost nearly a year’s worth of wool, and a third of the flock died within the week from the cold. Donovan never got his revenge.”

“I’m so glad, Cousin, that you have risen above these unfortunate incidents in our families’ past,” said Elenn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Clooney, nodding his head at her. “And the way I see it, this little trinket can settle an old score between our families.”

Clooney pulled out the Falarica again, and turned it over in his hands. Smiling smugly, he glanced around at his wives, who all beamed at him with reasonable imitations of adoration.

“Surely, Cousin,” said Elenn hesitantly, “that score was buried alongside the men involved fifty years ago. I don’t have the wool nor you the burden of the dying sheep.”

“Ho, lass!” said Clooney. “Don’t speak poorly of vengeance. It keeps the spirit alive.”

One of his wives stood and brought Clooney a roast grouse. She bent over to feed it to him, piece by piece, keeping her breasts at his eye level, pulling his gaze away from Elenn momentarily. The woman’s backside was almost in Elenn’s face—a calculated insult—but Elenn appeared to take no notice.

“Do you kill many Vitalion, then?” Elenn asked.

“Vitalion?” said Clooney, regarding her again. “Heavens no, girl. Halsings. It was them who sold me out!”

“But the Halsings are your people,” said Elenn. “All Deirans are. In union, there is strength, and wisdom. In division, weakness and ignorance.”

Aedin winced. Clooney’s four wives turned to stare angrily at her, and two of them stood, designs for violence plain on their faces.

“No, no, let the girl speak,” said Clooney indulgently. “The courage to speak your mind is a dangerous trait, but an enjoyable one, too.” He smiled.

Taking him at his word, Elenn proceeded. “Why are the Vitalion able to occupy our lands with such a small force?” she asked.

Aedin wanted to warn her to tread cautiously, but he was standing behind her and could not catch her eye.

“Think on it,” she said with bright enthusiasm. “If we combined our might, they could never stand against us. So the Vitalion sow seeds of discontent, and we turn our strength against our brothers and sisters. The only way for us to free Deira, to raise ourselves out of squalor, is to make peace between all the clans. The Halsings should be your allies, not your enemies.”

Clooney grunted. “Last time I checked, it was the dragon burning my farms. And that beast can not be killed. The legions will leave, but the beast will endure. No king will change that. And so we fight for what petty scraps we have left.”

“But—” Elenn said.

“Enough!” Clooney roared. “You’ve inherited your father’s arrogance, not to mention his idiotic notions of our people!”

Elenn fell silent. Aedin grimaced. No one in the hall dared to speak

“Am I to wait all day to have my bowl refilled?” Clooney demanded. He waved around his wooden bowl, now empty of fruit and cheese. “Do I not have one wife who will tend to me?”

One of the women rushed to Clooney to refill his bowl, but he rose to his feet and pushed her away as he stomped out of the hall.

***

Chapter Twenty-Four

All that day, Elenn wanted to talk to Aedin, but Clooney and his wives never left them alone. There was another person who seemed to find this frustrating—Lilith, the wife to whom Clooney had given her mother’s gold ring. The short, dark-haired woman circled around Aedin like a buzzard over carrion, as if waiting for an opportunity to talk.

It almost made Elenn jealous, a feeling which frankly puzzled her. Why should she care? Aedin had behaved with such singular and perfect heartlessness that there could be no excuse. Last night, Elenn had sworn that whether or not they escaped captivity, she would never speak to him again.

But then when he was being hauled away, Elenn had looked on his despairing face and her heart had melted. Despite every cruel thing he had done and said, she could not watch him die. And so she had spoken up, with a power which would have made both her Barethon and Adair forebears proud. No one had been more surprised than she, herself.

Thus, Aedin lived, and stood behind her. But they had no chance to speak privately, other than his brief whispered warning not to mention the coronation. She still did not understand, but he had clearly had dealings with Clooney and his people before, so she had followed his counsel on the matter.

And so it was evening, and although she had conversed with Clooney much of the day, they had discussed little of import. She had heard more than she cared to about sheep, feuds, drink, and his … romantic endeavors—far more! The man was truly bestial in his appetites, and entirely lacking in discretion, modesty, and courtesy.

But the lessons she had been given throughout her life had instilled those virtues in Elenn, and so she sat by a roaring bonfire with this pig of a man, listening politely to his awful stories and sipping wine—slowly.

(Now there was another lesson she had been given many times as a young girl! If only she had taken Ethelind’s warnings to heart, she wouldn’t have had to learn what a hangover was from painful personal experience.)

Two of Clooney’s wives danced in front of the fire, to the lively music of bone flutes, wooden hand bells, and goatskin drums. Clooney himself was drunk and laughing, and giving all his attention to a third wife, seated on his lap. One of the Taftoughin men offered Elenn a swig from a jug of wine, but she declined as politely as she could. The more her captors surrendered their wits, the more advantage Elenn had by keeping hers.

She tried to get Aedin’s attention, to signal that now would be a good time for them to talk privately. But Aedin had gone to sit on the other side of the fire from Elenn, where Lilith was serving him hearty helpings of mutton boiled in beer and liberal doses of honey wine. She flirted with him shamelessly, and he with her, but Elenn couldn’t forget the look of detestation she gave him earlier. Couldn’t Aedin see that she was dangerous?

Elenn frowned. There were more important questions to be answered. For one, Elenn wondered where the Falarica was. She hadn’t given Clooney any information about it, as Aedin had counseled, but she was still worried. She couldn’t see it anywhere, or even the case in which her aunt had kept it. Perhaps if she kept her eyes open and her wits about her, Elenn would get a chance to recover it.

Elenn stood and walked to an aspen tree at the edge of the firelight. The drums slowed, and the flutes now played a more mellow strain. A few couples danced, with a grace and formality that, in this rough setting, seemed strangely touching. Under arched arms, the men turned the women, who clapped delicately in time to the rhythm. Elenn leaned back against the tree, shut her eyes, and listened to the music.

“I really thought we were both going to get disemboweled,” said Aedin, startling her out of her reverie, “back when you were telling Clooney what an ignoramus he is.” He laughed and leaned up against the tree next to her. “It’s a good thing you’ve been more agreeable since then.” His breath smelled of wine, which reminded Elenn unpleasantly of the night before last.

Elenn sniffed and stepped away from the tree. “Well,” she said. “I just took my cue from you. You were being quite agreeable with his wife.”

“She’s not—” He frowned. “She’s an old friend.”

“I’m sure. She looks very friendly.”

“Elenn, please.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so determined that your
friend
should keep my ring, which you promised to return. Remember?”

“I know that ring means a lot to you,” he said, “but if Clooney knows how badly you want it back, he’ll just ask for more in return. What are you going to offer him?”

“Maybe I should have let him keep you,” said Elenn.

He caught her hand as she tried to storm off.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for all the nasty things I said while we were captive.”

Elenn spun around, pulling her hand from his grasp. “You mean before I rescued us both?” she asked.

He looked up at the night sky. “Oh, gods, she’ll never let me forget that.” He laughed. “Nor should I forget. You saved my life. Again. Thank you.”

Elenn sniffed. “Sweet words come easily enough to your lips now, I see.”

“Everything I did was to protect you.”

“Ha!” said Elenn, with every bit of scorn she could muster.

Aedin shook his head. “Scoff all you want, but it’s the truth. Been in situations like that many times—”

“As a kidnapper or a hostage?” asked Elenn.

“—many times,” repeated Aedin, talking over her question. “Worst thing for a hostage to do is to show that you care about a fellow hostage. Tells the captors who to squeeze to get what they want.”

Aedin stepped away from the tree. “Soon as I saw those men running up to nab us, I knew I had to play a part. That’s all it was, believe me.”

“And what part have you been playing today?” said Elenn.

Aedin folded his arms. “You don’t like me talking to Lilith,” he said.

“You may talk, or not talk, to whomever you wish,” said Elenn.

“Not talking to her for the pleasure of it,” said Aedin. “We go back a long way, it’s true, but there’s bad blood there. She’s all honey wine and batting eyelashes now, but she’s as changeable as the wind. She was the one who told Clooney to hang me.”

Incredibly, as he said this, a faint smile stole briefly onto Aedin’s lips. Elenn rolled her eyes. Why did men always chase women who were bad for them?

Aedin sighed and shook his head. “And she’s got the Falarica.”

Elenn immediately turned and would have marched straight to Lilith, but Aedin grabbed her hand once again and pulled her back.

“Not yet,” he said. “Lie low until Clooney’s well drunk. Then Lilith gives me the horn, and you and I just slip away.”

“Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” said Elenn, tapping her chin with one finger. “She tried to kill you earlier today. But now you’re sure she’s in your pocket, because she’s promised to betray her husband.” Elenn arched an eyebrow. “What part of you thinks you can trust this woman?”

“Elenn,” Aedin began.

Just then the music stopped, and Clooney called out loudly for more.

“Another dance!” the big man roared. “A Twining! Sing it slow, sing it sad and sing it long. A song of lost love and brave men’s bones.”

Clooney’s oldest wife walked up to him, and he pushed the younger wife off his lap and got up to dance.

“He’s already getting sad and sentimental,” said Aedin. “Another half hour, he’ll be sleepy.” He smiled, and raised his eyebrows in a look that said, “I told you so.”

“I know this dance,” said Elenn, striding away from him into the light of the fire.

Aedin followed her, and took her hands when they neared the fire and joined the other revelers.

“My mother used to hum this tune,” Elenn said.

“Old song,” said Aedin. “About ties. Ties that hold things: people, ideas, strong ties and weak ones. It’s a sad thing now, but before the war it was a song for lovers.”

Elenn looked down, moved. Aedin untied a lace from his jacket and extended it toward Elenn. She smiled but shook her head in refusal. Aedin took her hand and clasped it around the tie.

“Don’t let go,” Aedin said.

He walked in a circle around her, wrapping the lace once around their wrists as he did so. Glancing around at the other couples who had joined the dance, Elenn copied the steps of the women. She took turns with Aedin making circuits around each other, binding their hands and forearms together with the lace.

Elenn felt someone watching her. As she circled around Aedin, she surveyed the other dancers. None of the other couples were paying them much attention—least of all Clooney, whose drink-impaired efforts were the source of much laughter for him and his wife both.

During her next circuit, Elenn turned her attention to the crowd of revelers who watched the dance. And standing alone in the crowd was Lilith, staring at her with hate and jealousy plainly written on her face. Aedin thought he could buy this woman’s help with a little flirtation and the memories of their past time together. But love is a two-edged sword, as Aunt Ethelind had often said.

Aedin tugged at the string, and turned Elenn under his arm, gradually untwining them. Elenn turned again, and the string wound around her waist. Aedin reached out and pulled her in close. Elenn felt herself getting red to the tips of her ears. She told herself that it was the heat of the fire, or the exertion of the dance.

Then Aedin unwrapped Elenn from his arms, pulling loose the lace that had bound them together. The dance was over. Aedin smiled at her, and Elenn smiled back. As they stood there, Lilith walked up to them both, and tried to rip the lace from Elenn’s hand.

“What do you think you are you doing?” said Elenn.

Lilith slapped her. Shocked, Elenn slapped her back.

“Enough!” shouted Clooney, fumbling to disentangle himself from his oldest wife.

Lilith yanked the string from Elenn’s hand and walked off.

“Enough, I said,” Clooney growled, finally loose. He pushed his wife away. “No more music, no more dancing.” He looked all around him at the assembled Taftoughins.

“All right, you fancy lads,” Clooney called, “lace up your kirtles. There’s dark deeds need doing while the night still hides us. Fetch your blades and be quick about it.”

The men among the revelers said goodbye to their sweethearts and went to find their weapons. Elenn’s eyes darted to Aedin, who looked unsure.

Clooney pointed to Aedin. “You, too. I’m not asking.”

Aedin bowed stiffly to both Elenn and Clooney, and went to get his sword.

Elenn walked up to Clooney. “What’s this about, Cousin?”

Clooney snorted a laugh. “Best you not know, missy. You wouldn’t like it anyways.”

***