S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

"I won’t be used that way," she said. "As a weapon. To kill."

O Liathain vented a quick, unamused laugh.

"Since we’re being blunt, then let me say that you have no choice," he told her. "Lamh Shabhala is a weapon. It has always been a weapon. If you don’t wield it in war against the enemies of those who protect you or if you’re unwilling to protect yourself with its power, then someone will take it from you, someone who is willing to use it. I don’t say that as a threat or to attempt to frighten you, Jenna. I say that simply because it’s the bare truth, and if you don’t accept it as such, your life will be a short one."

"I don’t-" Jenna started to protest, then closed her mouth. It is true. You know it. The blood is already on your hands, and there will be more.

She could feel twin tears course down her face. O Liathain made no move to comfort her. He watched, fingers prowling in his dark, gray-spattered beard.

"Here is what we will do," O Liathain said. "We will go back into the hall, together, with you on my arm. You will stay on my arm for a time and

everyone will notice. Let them talk. That's exactly what we want. We will also go to the Ri and the Banrion, and we will tell them of our plans. That way, my-let's deem it an 'investment'-in you is protected by their knowledge, and they will understand that you must be kept safe or the Ri Ard and I will be most upset."

Jenna sniffed, rubbing angrily at her eyes. "And Mac Ard and my mam?"

"Mac Ard will notice the two of us together; he will see us chatting with the Ri and Banrion. He will know what that means; when I speak with him later, I guarantee he won't be surprised." O Liathain reached down and picked up his boots, pulling them over his stockings. He rose his chair and extended his hand to Jenna. "Let us make our en-trance," he said.

Jenna licked dry lips and rubbed again at her eyes. She lifted her left hand to O Liathain and he shook his head. "No, it should be the hand of power I hold," he said. "That, I think, will send the message best."

His own hand felt cool and smooth under the stiff, unyielding flesh of her right hand. He placed her fingers on his forearm, on the soft fabric of his leine.

With her hand on O Liathain's arm, they left the room and went into the hall again.

He kept her with him for a candle's stripe.

O Liathain was correct: they were noticed. Jenna could see the eyes on them, the heads that turned to nearby companions for quick, whispered comments. The Ri and Banrion accepted the news with nods and smiles and Cianna nodded once to Jenna when the Ri and the Tanaise Rig were engaged in conversation. Her mam saw, too. Maeve was shadowing Mac Ard, never on the tiarna's arm since their arrival but always near him. She lifted her hand and seemed to smile, but O Liathain moved then and Jenna had no chance to speak with her.

Coelin sang, and O Liathain moved to stand directly in front of the young man, his hand gently covering Jenna's. Coelin faltered once, seeing them, and for the rest of his performance his gaze always skittered past her, sliding over her face with an uncertain smile. When Coelin finished and left the hall to applause, O Liathain and Jenna moved from group to group for a time, until Jenna pressed O Liathain’s arm.

"Tired, Holder?"

"Aye. Exhausted. And my arm… I need to retire for a bit."

Certainly," O Liathain said. "These events are wearisome, aren’t they? But I need to remain for a while longer. Baird will escort you back to your apartment."

I don’t need. ." Jenna began. "That will be fine," she finished.

Baird left her at the door to her rooms, bowing to her as she left him.

A girl no older than herself came scurrying out from the servants’ quarters as she closed the door: Aoife’s replacement, whose name Jenna didn’t now yet. She was plain, her hair dull and close-cropped, and yet her eyes glittered with intelligence.

"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.