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Chapter 26 ~ Garrán na Déithe

Dàibhid

We made for the Grove. Not only was it the closest thing to neutral territory in Cunlaran, we had an invitation for the Midharvest Festival. Though the celebration was two weeks away, they hadn’t specified when I should arrive, or with whom. They would have expected a few guards, perhaps my sister, but likely no others. Which was why I felt guilty ordering Commander Lochlin to send a small contingent after us to the Grove. They would follow in a few days.

No matter where I went, I’d bring danger to the doorstep of innocents. Which meant I had to have a contingent with me, not only for my own protection and to determine next steps but to protect those I put in danger. And if I didn’t make for the Grove, I’d find myself somewhere with a higher chance of rebels, increasing the danger even more. Those in the Grove revered me; while someone could have infiltrated, the chances were slim they would have stuck around for long.

None of it was ideal. The Grove made it clear to every monarch that had ever ruled that they wanted no part in warrior culture, despite it not being prevalent in the kingdom anymore. They didn’t particularly trust those who came bearing swords, but they were also known for their hospitality. I had to hope we could trust in that hospitality now, that the letter we’d sent ahead with Thomas would be well received.

We’d procured horses—from the older farmer I’d helped outside Ardanna a few months prior—and made good time on the journey with no signs of Exiles following after us from Ardanna. Now, a faint drizzle falling softly and sunlight filtering through thin clouds, we made our way into Cunlaran’s largest forest, the thick air from the open field becoming a crisp, fragrant breeze. The first signs of autumn clung to the leaves, veined and speckled with orange and gold, promising an eruption of color in the coming weeks. The earthen path leading toward the village followed a babbling, winding stream that would eventually empty into the River Firla. Birds chirped, flitting from tree to tree between the scurrying squirrels, while rabbits froze at our approach. I closed my eyes and felt the sounds around me, my lips quirking despite the fears still seizing me. Already this place felt far removed from the realities of the rest of the country.

By evening, we were approaching the village. Homes and shops made from sandy-colored wood formed a semicircle, facing a gathering place next to the river. The dirt was compact from years of feet treading along it, only the barest patches of grass poking through the ground. Though the lived-in places were orderly, the moment you stepped beyond them the grass, vines, flowers, and trees held domain. Still, children played in it, adults meandered, and dogs bounded. It was a blend of nature and people, people and nature. My shoulders lowered at the sight, a bit more of the tension seeping away.

A woman approached from the houses, a kindly smile on her tawny face, wrinkles around her gray eyes creasing. Her graying hair was bound back loosely, her narrow shoulders set with an air of authority that rivaled my father’s. Her robe—beige, with a stripe of silver along the edges—marked her as Priestess Calla, the head of the Grove.

“Welcome to Garrán na Déithe, King Dàibhid. The people and the gods receive you.” She fell to her knees, those around her doing the same, their hands lifting.

I inclined my head through my discomfort at the abundant show of reverence. “And we are honored to be received.” I dismounted, letting my horse wander over to the Grove’s herd in the nearby field. Thomas stood behind Priestess Calla, at ease. A good sign. I bade everyone to rise.

“Your guard tells us about the trouble the Exiles are causing in Ardanna,” Priestess Calla said. “I admit, we’d heard stories from passers through, but to hear this latest development is concerning.”

“It is. Are you willing to sit with me so we can discuss the matter?”

“I am always ready to receive a descendant of Danna, but as to the matter . . .”

“I know Garrán na Déithe is neutral,” I said, opting for the traditional name the villagers preferred. “But—” I glanced around. A crowd was forming, a crowd that didn’t need to become alarmed. Not if I could help it.

Priestess Calla noted them too. “Shall we move into my home, Your Eminence?”

“A fine idea.” I ignored the title and looked to Liam, indicating for him and Thomas to keep an eye out. There could still be rebels in the Grove despite my theory, though the authority Priestess Calla exuded suggested she’d never let that happen. Cianán fell into step beside me as we made our way across the gathering space.

Priestess Calla opened the door to an average home, the added paintings across the exterior the only sign that it belonged to her. They depicted the gods in their element, Queen Danna among them. I wiped my frown away before the Priestess could see.

Inside, icons littered many of the surfaces while murals adorned the wall around the fireplace.

“Welcome to my home.” Priestess Calla spread her hands, palms face up as though in supplication to a god. I remained stone still, remembering my parent’s lesson.

When they treat you like the descendant of a god, let them. It’s their belief that Queen Danna was one of Laran and Soral’s children. Don’t take that from them, even though you may want to.

“Water, Your Eminence?”

“Please.” I sat at the table, marveling at the icons. “Did you paint these?”

“Some. My family has been adding to the collection for as long as our stories tell us.”

“They’re beautiful.” I took the cold glass she offered and drank deep. The water from River Firla was some of the purest in Cunlaran; downing it was practically involuntary, though I forced myself to take it slow, if only for propriety’s sake.

I placed the glass down. “Priestess, I know what I’m about to say may trouble you, but please hear what I have to say in its entirety before you pass judgment.”

“You’re bringing Garrán na Déithe into the war, aren’t you.”

“There’s no war. And if I can manage, there won’t be a war.”

She searched my face. “A battle, at least. This won’t pass unscathed.”

I wrapped my hands around the glass, the condensation leaking into my pores. “I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that. But you’re right. I won’t give you false hope. There’s a chance Cunlaran will need to push back with violence.” The attack on Bailanín suggested as much. And half the reason I wanted guards here was to plan how to take back the capital and determine how best to retaliate against Balor. Because a coup like this—failed or otherwise—likely couldn’t be handled with words alone.

I pushed my feet into the floor to stop myself from shaking. I hoped that would be our last resort. That violence could still be avoided. I couldn’t stomach the image of my people losing their lives because I’d failed to protect them, failed to find the peaceful avenue.

I ignored the discomfort sitting on my chest like a half-ton bull. I could catastrophize later.

“I’ve heard the stories,” the Priestess said, “about how you wish for peace talks with Balor.”

“A course of action you should agree with,” Cianán said.

“And I do.” Priestess Calla fiddled with her own glass. “But you’ve brought this potential fight to my doorstep. I’m sorry, Your Eminence, but you must realize how uneasy that makes not only me but my people. Your people.”

“I know.” I softened my tone further. “And believe me, I am incredibly sorry for bringing this here. If it could have been somewhere else, we would have gone there. But I needed not only shelter but a temporary base of operations. Somewhere rebels most like— Somewhere rebels haven’t infiltrated. You and your people are the only ones I can trust right now.”

“The only ones.” She frowned. If I wasn’t her king, someone she believed was a descendant of the gods themselves, I was certain she’d be scolding me.

“The commander of my city guard knows we’re here. He’s been instructed to bring two dozen guards with him within three days, their arrivals staggered.” I hesitated before revealing the next bit of information. But she needed all of it if I had any hope of convincing her to let us stay. “My team of sellswords has also been informed and will arrive sometime in the near future. We don’t have to remain in the village proper. The forest is large, we can find space. I’ll allow you to remain neutral in this, but we need the shelter these lands provide.”

I could have ordered it of her. Would, if I had to. There wasn’t much else we could do. But I hoped she’d choose this of her own volition.

She stood, moving to a window. I gave her a moment to take in what I’d said.

“May I be frank?”

I braced myself. “Of course.”

“I don’t appreciate how you’ve put me in this position.” She turned back to me, a hint of anguish turning her gaze stormy. “By asking me to harbor not only you, but your guards and sellswords, you’d be forcing me to take a side. We would no longer be neutral. Exiles could turn to us next.”

“They could have already turned to you,” Cianán said. “But they haven’t.”

“And who’s to say that’s because we’ve remained outside of this dispute?”

“The Exiles don’t care about neutrality. They care about dethroning our king. You’ve never been safe from them, not truly. Only less important.”

“And this will make us important.”

My eyes followed their conversation like a sporting match.

“You would have become important eventually. Nowhere is safe from them.” Cianán’s fingers turned bone white where he gripped the table. I prayed he didn’t make her more anxious with his own worries. “The gods know how hard King Dàibhid is working to keep us all safe, to prevent Balor from starting an all-out war. If you see him as an extension of the gods, you must put your faith in him, too.”

I held in my sigh, relieved by Cianán’s choice of logic, and watched Priestess Calla. Her demeanor didn’t change, but as she stood there, unblinking, I wondered if his plea hit its mark.

When she didn’t say anything, I tried one more argument. I hated pushing her into this, but what other choice did I have?

“I understand your position, Priestess. But please understand mine. We don’t have many options. Most cities, towns, and villages have been infiltrated to one extent or another. The fortresses could be too, but even if they haven’t been, if anyone discovered I was there, it could be seen as a move toward war. I have to be careful who I trust, who I tell what to. You are one of those people.” She looked away at that. “The safest bet is for me to gather intelligence, speak with a small group of my guards, and make plans here, before the Exiles know where I am. If all goes well, we’ll be gone before anything even happens. I’m giving you the chance to have some say in what goes on while we’re here.” I let the alternative dangle unsaid.

She closed her eyes, exhaling heavily. “You may stay the night. We have guest lodging available. I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”

It was the best we were going to get. “Thank you, Priestess. I look forward to your answer.”

She wasted no time summoning a guide for us. A young woman and her child, a girl no more than eight, led me, Cianán, Liam, and Thomas to the guest lodging.

“We hear rumors that people don’t like you because you’re too kind.” The child’s nose scrunched up. “That makes no sense. Nice people are the best people!” She grabbed my hand and swung it between us. “So you’re one of the best people.”

My throat constricted. Part of me wanted to explain there was more involved in being king than being kind, how I wondered just how good of a king I was most days. But despite that constriction, a chuckle still made its way out. “You seem like one of the best ones, too.”

That got me a beaming smile. Her mother buried her face in her hands at her daughter’s actions, though she said nothing.

“Priestess Calla says you’re descended from the gods,” the little girl continued. “Do you feel descended from the gods?”

“Ciara,” her mother warned.

“It’s alright.” I looked down at Ciara. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt like me and not like someone else, so I couldn’t say.”

She nodded sagely. “That makes sense.”

Liam, Thomas, and Cianán covered up laughter with polite coughing. I smiled into the trees.

Once at the front door, Ciara ran off to her mother and called over her shoulder, “Goodnight, King Dàibhid!”

“Utterly adorable,” Thomas said. “The absolute cutest.”

I snorted, but had to agree.

The cabin was small, only a couple of small windows letting in light. Three other buildings like it nestled close, prepared for other lodgers. Inside was sparse, but welcoming enough to spend a night or three in. It smelled distinctly of oak, every piece of furniture built of the stuff. The heavy door shut out the bustle of the village, the quiet settling like a thick blanket.

“Your Majesty,” Cianán said. “What do you plan to do if the Priestess refuses to allow us to stay?”

I fell onto the nearest cot. Every part of me screamed to get some sleep. “Find a remote place in a smaller wood and hope for the best, I suppose. Now, get some sleep, all of you. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

I fell back, my head hitting the pillow. I brought my legs onto the bed, my heels hanging over the edge. Kicking off my boots, I tried to relax, to get that sleep I craved, but I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I was forcing someone’s hand, and I didn’t like it. But we needed to be here, at least for now. It was easier to hide here than somewhere else, and with the way the guards and Shadow Swords would come—in small groups, spaced out—it would draw little attention. And once we had a plan, or the guards in the capital reclaimed it without us, we could leave.

I just hoped Priestess Calla saw that.

The sun shone through the trees around the village center early the next morning, creating filigree shadows on the ground.

The Priestess knelt at my approach. “Your Eminence.”

I motioned for her to stand, waiting for her to say her piece. She glanced around at her people, some of whom were lingering close by. They were gathering around the communal firepit, getting things ready for a group breakfast.

“I don’t know how they’ll react to this,” she said quietly. She looked squarely in my eyes. “I thought long and hard about what you said. About the rumors and the information I know about the Exiles. Your advisor is right—we won’t be safe forever. Garrán na Déithe may be our home, but Cunlaran as a whole is too. The home of this people, the home of our gods. A home you’re striving to keep peaceful. Should Balor win, that peace will be over. The peace that Danna worked so hard for. Your guards and sellswords are welcome here. As you are, always.”

I rode a wave of relief, willing my knees not to shake. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”

She put up a hand. “You’re welcome here on one condition. You do everything in your power to prepare to fight elsewhere. We are your refuge, not your battleground.”

“You have my word, Priestess. Garrán na Déithe will not be our battleground.”