“And so it was easy to pretend not to know. And it’s not wrong, Mahon, there’s too much to be done to have distractions. As you said, she beds others. Her nights won’t be lonely.”

Keegan chose a side door, hoping to avoid a flood of greetings. He knew the stairs and passages to take to avoid the main hall and public spaces where people might gather.

But he’d barely stepped into the blessed cool when his mother stepped up to greet them.

She wore blue, a soft, summery shade that suited her, and had her honey-toned hair braided up to show off ear dangles. With it she wore a pendant with a single, unframed clear crystal—one he knew his father had given her on the day of his birth.

“Welcome, travelers,” she said, and held out her arms.

“I won’t kiss you. We’ve only come off the road, and brought much of it with us.”

“Nonsense.” She moved right in, hugged Mahon, then her son. “And how is my daughter, how are my grandchildren?”

“More than well,” Mahon told her. “And wondering when next you’ll visit.”

“Soon, I hope, as my heart’s missing them. And your brother?” Tarryn arched her brows at Keegan.

“Also well.”

“Then I’m pleased. Mahon, I’ve had a tankard sent to your chamber, and a tub’s being filled in your bath.”

“I have the most brilliant of mothers-in-law.” He took her hand, kissed it. “And with your leave, I’ll go make use of both. This one will ride the skin off your arse.”

“So it ever was. I’ll see you at the evening meal—a banquet and dance for welcome—and expect to hear stories about my boys.”

“There’s no lack of them.”

He took the winding stone steps Keegan had aimed for, and Tarryn linked her arm with her son’s. “I’ll walk up with you. I’d like to speak to you in person rather than by falcon or through the glass.”

“Is there trouble?”

“None yet. There are signs of trouble to come, but none yet.”

She walked him to what they called the small hall, and he realized she’d sent out word to give him time to settle. People gave greetings, but no one approached as they took the stairs, walked by the tapestries that graced the stone walls, past the leaded glass windows.

And up, floor by floor, until they reached the tower chambers designated for the taoiseach.

“I wish you’d take this for your own.”

“I’m not taoiseach.”

She opened the door, stepped back so he’d go in first.

In the sitting room a fire burned low. A tray of fruit, cheeses, cold meats, bread sat on a table along with a tankard and a glass decanter of wine.

As he knew her preference, he poured her wine. “Will you have food?”

She shook her head, sat while he picked up the tankard and drank while pacing the room.

So restless, she thought.

She’d cleaned the room herself only that morning, brought in fresh flowers and herbs, freshened the linen. She’d made the new candles for the mantel—here and in the bedchamber—with him in mind.

Taoiseach or not, she would always be his mother, and would always try to find a way to ease that restless mind.

She’d yet to find it, but she’d always try.

“We have a full council meeting in the morning. You must attend.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here—or one of the reasons.”

“Will you sit in the Chair of Justice after? People know you’re here, Keegan, and will expect it.”

“Aye.”

“And will you dance tonight to the music that welcomes you?”

“With you, Ma.” He glanced back with a smile. “Always.”

“Only me?”

“I didn’t come for the dancing. There are signs, as you said, and they show themselves all across Talamh.” He sat then, leaning toward her, the tankard between his knees. “The world thrives, Ma, I see it, and yet I feel the storm coming. He would burn us to ash.”

“You’ll stop him. We’ll stop him. I don’t have faith in you only because you’re my love, only because you’re taoiseach. I have faith because I know the man I raised. And what of Eian’s daughter?”

He sat back, shrugged. Oh, Tarryn thought, she knew that broody look. “She went back to her world.”

“This is her world as well.”

“She made her choice. We honor choice.”

“Sure and we honor choice, as no one has the right to force will on another. But I have word, not just from you, but my other children, from Marg. She vowed to come back.”

He looked at the fire, the red heart of the heat. But as he had since Breen left, resisted looking into it.

“Vows aren’t always kept.”

“You don’t believe her then? You don’t trust her?” Watching him, Tarryn sipped wine. “I’m told you shared her bed, more than once.”

“That’s a different matter.”

“Is it now?” She smiled into her wine. Then the smile faded. “There was blood on the moons last night.”

“I saw it.”

“She’s needed here, Keegan.”

“As was made clear to her. What can I do about it?”

“That should be clear as well to you, if you weren’t sulking. I know a sulk when I’m looking at one, boy of mine,” she said before he could protest. “And it’s clear you, Taoiseach, need to go over, remind her of her oath. And—not by force of will, but by persuasion and diplomacy—convince her to come back.”

“And how many times have you told me my diplomacy is sorely lacking?”

“Countless. Do better this time. Maybe you could be adding just a touch of humility. Oh,” she said quickly. “What was I thinking with that! I must be getting old and feebleminded.”

“Ha.” He drank more ale. “I’ve duties to see to here.”

“You do, aye, you do. And when you have, you’ll go speak with her, on the other side, and do your duty there. You’ve never failed to do your duty.”

She set her empty glass aside, rose. And, bending to him, kissed his cheeks. “You never will fail. I’ll leave you to your scrub.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Shana had many reasons for her friendship with Kiara. While true enough Kiara’s cheerful chatter could sometimes wear, no one in the Capital gathered riper gossip. She also possessed a sweet nature and a sympathetic ear—and a genius for styling hair.

At the moment, she chattered away while patiently winding Shana’s long, silvery hair into countless braids.

They’d bonded during their school years, as neither of them had enjoyed the classroom. Kiara used her skill with hair—much admired and sought after—and her love and unmatched patience with children to contribute to Talamh.

Shana gave her time to gardens—flowers and herbs—but paid close attention to council business, as she hoped to one day sit where her father now sat.

Kiara, for all her prattle, often passed along more detailed information than Shana’s father shared.

The fact Shana’s mother stood as Tarryn’s closest friend and confidant sometimes meant little bits and bites from the taoiseach’s mother and hand eked through.

Kiara’s parents met when her father visited the world of Largus as a young man, and met Minga. Shana supposed Kiara got her romantic heart from the story of how the nonmagickal beauty from the desert province of Largus and the elf fell in love, and how Minga left her golden sands behind for Og and the green hills of Talamh.

Og had passed his Elfin blood and talents to his children—all five. Though Kiara couldn’t claim her mother’s great beauty—few could—she had the deep gold skin of her mother’s world, and her mother’s ebony hair and rich brown, long-lidded eyes.

Both friends appreciated the contrast, and how their dramatically different coloring added an extra shine.

They’d made a pact as girls never to compete for or fall in love with the same man. They’d kept it. So their friendship held strong.

“I mean to dance every dance tonight.” With her nimble fingers, Kiara attached a tiny bell to the end of a braid. “Aiden O’Brian returned with the taoiseach, and it’s time, I’m thinking, for him to stop pretending not to notice me.”

“He pretends poorly.”

“I have a new gown. I styled Daryn’s hair, and his sisters’, and tended Maeve’s two children while she worked on her weaving. So Daryn made my gown. Wait until you see!”

“I’m wearing blue. Ice blue. Tell me you aren’t after wearing blue.”

“It’s bronze. Daryn says it will make my skin glow. Blue looks so well on you, but everything does. Poor Loren Mac Niadh will sulk and stew, as the taoiseach has returned and will claim you for every dance.”

“He may ask.” She wasn’t sure about the braids and the bells, but her mind had other things occupying it. “Hours he’s been back, and hasn’t taken one precious moment of his time for me.”

“Ah well now, he’s only just returned, and had meetings and such. And I heard his mother was closeted with him for a time.”

“He finds time to come to my bed, doesn’t he?”

“And beds no one else in the Capital these past two years or more. I would hear if he did, and I would tell you.”

Shana reached back to squeeze Kiara’s hand. “I know you would, even if I threw something at your head for it.”

With a laugh, Kiara completed another braid. “I thought you might when I told you the whispers of him bedding Marg’s granddaughter.”

“People whisper of anything.” With a snap, Shana set down the bottle of scent she’d toyed with. “You said as well he was training her like one of his warriors, and knocking her into the mud more often than not.”

“Ywain—you know him, I think, he’s Birgit’s brother who lives in the west—said he’d seen that with his own eyes. And it’s common knowledge in the west as well, they shared a bed as well as the training ground.”