Heir of Stone (The Cloudmages #3) by S. L. Farrell Read Free Book Online Page A

you know that tale also? Not one of my finer moments, I have to say.” By the window ledge, Máister Kirwan coughed, drawing Sevei’s gaze. He was watching Jenna, his eyes soft and gentle, his mouth seeming to smile under the beard.
    “Mam always told me that what happened at Falcarragh wasn’t your fault, Gram,” Sevei said. “She said that the madness came because you’d lost Lámh Shábhála and because of the andúilleaf you were taking. She’s never blamed you, Gram. I’ve never once heard her say anything that would make me think that you did any of it deliberately.”
    “Your mam is too gentle to say such things,” Jenna answered. “But I’ve blamed myself. And so have many others. I daresay that the Riocha are pleased that I’ve stayed in Inish Thuaidh ever since, and just as angry that I’ve finally accepted Meriel’s invitation to go to Dún Laoghaire. But I do miss my old homeland from time to time, and I wonder at the changes that have taken place there.” She took another sip of the tea. “I’m going to Dún Laoghaire,” Jenna said suddenly. “You’ll be going with me, Sevei.”
    Sevei blinked in surprise and dropped her head again, but she could feel Jenna’s gaze probing her. “You don’t seem particularly overjoyed with that news,” Jenna said.
    Sevei hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to go back,” she said finally. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Mam, and Kayne should be heading back there with Da, and I haven’t seen the little ones in forever. Why, Ennis must be two double-hands now. It’s just . . . leaving right now . . .”
    “What’s the young man’s name to whom you’re so attached?” Jenna asked. That brought Sevei’s head back up. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, child. I haven’t completely forgotten what it’s like to be your age.”
    “Dillon Ó’Baoill,” Máister Kirwan interjected, “one of our young bráthairs.” When Sevei, blushing as she remembered her brief hope on the beach, glanced at the Máister, he lifted an eyebrow but said nothing more.
    “So he’s an Ó’Baoill,” Jenna repeated. “From Tuath Airgialla, then?”
    Máister Kirwan shook his head. “His branch of the family is from Tuath Connachta. Dillon’s da is a third cousin to the Rí. Most of our acolytes from the Tuatha are from Connachta or Infochla now; the others go to the Order of Gabair for training.”
    Jenna’s face crumpled into a quick scowl at the mention of Gabair. She shook her head and turned back to Sevei. “So, is it serious?” Jenna asked her. “I hope you’re not considering marriage—that’s for politics, not love.”
    “Gram!”
    Jenna sniffed. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sevei. You’re old enough to know love and smart enough to understand the consequences. I don’t know that I’d trust a Connachtan too far. Your loyalty is to Dún Laoghaire and Inish Thuaidh, equally.”
    “To you and Mam, you mean,” Sevei answered evenly. “You don’t know Dillon, Gram. I do.”
    “Is it love, then, or just infatuation?”
    “More than infatuation,” Sevei answered. “And maybe love.” She felt her cheeks color. “Or, aye, I’d think it’s love, Gram.”
    Jenna shook her head, but there was a faint smile on her lips as she leaned back in the chair. For a moment, her face twisted as if with some inner pain and her lips tightened, then relaxed again. “I should meet this young man while I’m here, then. Bring him to supper tonight in my chambers.” She took a long drink of the kala bark tea and pushed herself up from the chair. She moved like a woman much older than her true age. “Now, I have business to tend to. I think half the court of Dún Kiil traveled with me, and the Comhairle insists that all this session’s proposals have to be settled before I can leave for Dún Laoghaire. So . . .” She glanced at Máister Kirwan, and again Sevei saw a look almost of affection pass between them. “Mundy has something for you,