Elfhaven (the Danu Cycle: Fiann Trilogy Book 2)

Wearing a blain black, probably too-human dress and boots, her hair a mess, Niamh walked into the King's hall the next morning for the debrief. All thirty of his children were lined up on either side of him, his fiann dotted about the room. Niamh's fiann trailed in behind her. Her face was stony as she approached the king's dais. She bowed her head shortly and waited for him to speak.

"Lady Niamh." Aeveen said, inclining his head. There was a look of consternation on his face as he motioned with his hand and Eamon and his fiann took their places beside her. "We received Oran's message. Now, I would have you tell us in your own words what happened after you left Elfhaven."

She started somewhat jerkily, but grew more confidant as she spoke, until she again got to the part where they lost so many. Her heart started racing, her eyes felt hot and the lump in her throat returned.

"It was stupid of us to leave, your highness, and I know I am responsible for their deaths." Niamh finished before her voice broke.

"That is not true, father." Eamon spoke up in her defence. His mask was firmly in place, but Niamh was not so lost in her grief as to think it any less than just that.

Her heart twisted uncomfortably at the sound of his voice, which in turn made her think of Molly and Owen, dying before they had a chance to speak their vows. A tear slid down her face and she felt Lochlan's stoic presence behind her.

Aeveen looked at his youngest son, an eyebrow raised. "And, who do you think is responsible?" he asked.

She heard someone behind her clear their throat and Killian stepped forward into view. "Sire, it was their own." The occupants of the room gasped, and Killian continued. "Sire, we chose, as two fianna to leave. Niamh had the best chance among us to strike at Dwenarken."

"So say you, O'Neill, but what about the Gryffyn fiann?" he turned his eye to Eamon.

"We followed Niamh by a unanimous decision of our own." Oran spoke up. "Our leader wished to back her fiann and we all agreed it was the thing to do."

The king glared openly at his youngest son. "This is not the first time you have defied me for this girl." He said, a question hanging in the air.

"It will be the last." Eamon said, his voice cold and Niamh wondered if it wasn't just a mask after all; perhaps he truly didn't care.

Niamh's emotions almost got the best of her. She was feeling an awful lot like her heart couldn't take any more pain. Lochlan put his hand in hers and squeezed tightly. She felt Killian stir on her other side, but he didn't reach out. Myrna and the Fergs stepped up closer behind, as though protecting her from the world.

She hiccoughed slightly, and held her head up to the king.

Aeveen was still watching his son, as though trying to determine whether he was being entirely truthful. Finally, he turned back to Niamh.

"While I am displeased you defied my orders, as I told you last night, I owe you an apology, Lady Niamh. You killed Dwendardien's totem and scattered what remained of his army. This will, if we are lucky, give him a severe setback. We will have more time to find him and try to deduce his plans."

"He will be trying to take back the realm for the Fomorians again, father." Midir said, his ice green eyes boring into Niamh as though she were dirt.

Something inside her cracked and she started forward. Lochlan and Killian grabbed her, stopping her from launching herself at him. "Really, Midir? D'you think? What are you? The obvious police?"

Midir smirked at her, obviously amused by her lame outburst, but she saw something flicker in his eyes and she knew he realised she was unstable and further goading wasn't a good idea. Lochlan and Killian let her go slowly. She grinned at Midir maniacally, but made no move against him.