Free Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) by Esther Friesner Page B

best I could do was climb the ringfort wall and pretend my thoughts could reach them.
    My feet took me to those heights more and more often, especially in fine weather. On one such day I reached the topand gasped at the beauty that met all of my senses. A sweet breeze blew from the east, fragrant with summer, and I spread my arms to embrace it. Thin white clouds made a lazy progress across a radiant sky. I turned my face to the sun and let its gentle fire burn away everything but my joy. I felt light enough for the wind to lift me up and send me flying. There was magic in that place, in that moment, an enchantment as powerful as any that the Fair Folk ever cast. My sensible side insisted such things could not happen, and yet I stood ready to believe that if I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart, I’d open them to see the tops of the tallest trees far below me. All I had to do was want it enough, and I did. Oh, how I did!
    “Watch out there, milady. You’re near the edge.”
    I opened my eyes, but not to anything I wanted to see. As always, a sentry patrolled the circular outer ramparts of Cruachan. This one was an older man, his hair streaked with gray, his right cheek lashed with a long white scar. I knew that face too well: Caílte, the one who’d killed my friend. The sight of him turned my mouth to a hard, small line and struck a black spark in my heart. I didn’t react to his warning with thanks, argument, or any word at all. Showing him my back, I began to descend the ringfort’s steep wall.
    “This again?” Caílte flung his resentment at me like a spear. “How long will you carry a child’s grudge against me? It was a fair fight. I did what I had to do. There was no choice!”
    I stopped and looked back at him coldly. I had not spoken to the man since the day I’d learned he was to blame for Kelan’s death. At first he wasn’t aware of how much I hated him. He was a warrior, and not one of those who kept trailing after me; when would the two of us need to speak with one another?But as time passed and I continued to treat him with silent, icy loathing during our few encounters, he finally grasped how things stood between us. From there, it was a small step for him to realize why.
    “No choice?” I echoed, lifting one eyebrow. My skeptical smile was the next best thing to telling Caílte outright that I thought he was a liar.
    He got the message. I saw his fingers tighten on the shaft of his spear and knew he wanted to throw it at me but didn’t dare. I relished his frustration.
    “You weren’t there,” he gritted. “You don’t know everything.”
    “What don’t I know? You claimed you heard Kelan whisper that you didn’t deserve the hero’s portion of the roast boar. Did you ever imagine you might have mis heard? You could have asked him to repeat the insult, if there even was one.”
    He looked away from me, color rising to his cheeks, making the livid scar stand out like lightning against a midnight sky. “I had to avenge my honor.”
    “Honor?” The word tasted sour on my tongue. “Compared to you, he was an infant with a blade. There’s no honor in mowing down green grass!”
    Caílte kept his face averted. “You are the High King’s beloved daughter,” he said dully. “Say whatever you like to me. His power protects you. If that weren’t so—”
    “What, then?” I demanded. “Say what you wish. Do what you will. I won’t go running to my father. I swear it on my life.”
    He remained unmoving and silent.
    “Nothing?” My lip curled. “My father gave the hero’s portion to the wrong man after all.” I spun around to go, so blinded by anger that I failed to mind my steps.
    My foot touched empty air. I flailed my arms, uselessly fighting to regain my balance, and half slid, half rolled down the flank of the ringfort’s outer wall. My head-over-heels tumble ended in the defensive ditch that encircled Cruachan. Before I could pull myself out, Caílte was there to