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have me thinking you are not jealous of Gisella . . . and
I am knowing better."
Laughing softly, she stroked my naked shoulder, trac-
ing shapes of her own devising in a languid, sensuous fashion, then set lips
and tongue against it. " Tis a jealous woman I am, but I know when I have
lost. What was that word you called me?"
"Meij'ha^ I breathed, "Cheysuli. . . -"
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"That much I was thinking myself." A trembling fore-
finger traced the line of my mouth. "What does it mean?"
I kissed the fingertip, then reached for the hand, the arm, the breast. "Do
not judge too hastily a people you cannot know," I whispered. "In the clans,
warriors may have both wife and light woman cheysula and meijha.
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There is no dishonor, none at all, for the woman who is not a wife. I swear by
all the gods of Erinn and
Homana "
"Don't be swearing by gods you're knowing nothing about." Her breath came
faster still. " Tis disastrous when they take note of it."
"Gisella is Cheysuli. I think she would understand the custom, once I have
explained it."
She drew back a little. "Are you telling me 'tis what /
would be? Your meijha?"
Her accent twisted the word. I did not correct her. "If you wish it, Deirdre."
/ wish it, I wish it.
In the shadows I could not see her expression. "I
might prefer to be a wife."
I set my forehead against her shoulder in defeat.
"Deirdre "
"But if I cannot be taking you that way, I'll be taking you the other. Now
enough of this babble, Niall, and let us be making our own alliance between
Erinn and
Homana.'*
Laughing exultantly into her untamed hair, I covered her body with my own.
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Twelve
It was three days before I could pursue my intention to escape, and even then
it was coincidence that gave me the opportunity. Liam, riding out to hawk with
me along the cliffs, was called back by a servant from the castle.
And because Liam himself had come with me, the six human hounds had been
dismissed.
I did not hesitate. I spurred the gray gelding toward the broken clifftop and
rode off the edge of the world.
The gray plunged down the chalky slope, jarring my spine until I felt at least
a handspan shorter. I cursed raggedly, not daring to shout my discomfort
aloud, and hooked stirrups forward to brace against the jolting down-
ward momentum.
Below me, fishing boats were scattered like pebbles along the shoreline, most
of them untended as the fisher-
men dragged bulging nets onto the sandy beach. I must steal one quickly and,
using the knowledge Shea had divulged, somehow sail it across the Dragon's
Tail to the
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Almost down
The horse stumbled beneath me, lurching forward onto his knees. I could not
wait to see if he had injured himself or had the heart to go on. I threw the
reins free and scrambled out of the saddle
sliding, sliding, scrabbling at the chalky escarpment of the tumbled base of
the cliffs
Gods, get me down from here with both legs and arms left whole
sliding, churning up clouds of white chalk dust to coat my face, my clothing;
to settle on my tongue and
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make me mouth my distaste. I wanted to spit; it would have to wait until I was
down.
On my buttocks I went down, down, down, one hand thrust back to brace myself
against the broken cliff. The chalk crumbled away, spilling me over like a
round rock in a storm-fed stream. I fell; falling, I rolled
came up into a crouch at the bottom of the cliff;
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spitting, I thrust myself upward and ran.
I heard an outcry from the top of the cliff and knew the voice was Liam's.
What he shouted I could not deci-
pher, hearing only anger and epithets. I did not look around, intent only on
reaching the boats before Liam could form a proper pursuit. I did not blame
him for his rage, no more than I blamed myself for causing it, And yet I did
blame myself; a broken oath is no simple thing. I thought of how I had
proclaimed myself incapa-
ble of ending the betrothal to Gisella because I could not break an oath. Now
I broke an oath equally important.
For the sake of Homana And I knew it was. As much as wedding Gisella was for
the sake of the prophecy.
Chalk dust filled my lungs. I coughed, spat, wheezed, still running for the
boats. Almost- Almost.
Netting tripped me up, throwing me sprawling to the wet sand. I scrambled up,
trying to run again, but the net was tangled around my spurs. Cursing aloud I
ripped frenziedly at the strands, then stopped yanking, still curs-
ing, and carefully picked them free. I ran again.
The first boat was too far, bobbing in the waves at the end of its tether. I
went on to the next one, reaching for the line that anchored it to the shore.
Waves slapped at my boots as I bent to jerk it free-
1 heard the pounding of hooves echoing against the cliffs. Qoser, coming
closer.
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Oh gods, it is Liam!
I saw his furious face as he urged his horse on faster, riding directly at me.
At me, as if he would ride me down.
Forgoing the boat, I dropped the line and ran.
The horse's chest caught me high on the left hip. A
hoof ripped the heel off my boot entirely, clipped my heel, drove me headlong
to the ground. I curled, sucking air as another hoof came down on the side of
my thigh.
The horse squealed, flailing thick legs desperately, trying
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to avoid me even as I tried to roll away. I tasted sand and salt and seawater.
And blood from a bitten lip.
The hooves were gone. I tried to me, to run again, but
Liam leaned down from the saddle and buffeted me on the temple with a gloved,
powerful fist. "False prince!"
he cried. "False friend!"
I fell. I spat blood. Saw two of everything. Tried to clear my vision. By the
time I did, Liam was off his horse and hauling me to my feet.
"I should slay you here, even unarmed as you are!"
I am tall, I am heavy, but Liam himself is not small.
And in his rage he was larger than any man ever born.
By my tunic, he lifted me almost completely clear of the sand. "Liam "
"I should slay you! D*ye hear, ye faithless cur of a faithless bitch? By the
goos, I swear I will!"
But he did not. He released me with a shove, as if he could no longer bear to
touch me, and stood stanng at me with chalk and spittle fouling his gilded
beard. His chest heaved; like me, he panted.
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