Uachi did not sleep that night, despite a weariness that had leached into his bones. When morning came, he lay with one arm behind his head, gazing across the ashes of the fire to where Ealin slept, her pale face barely touched by the pink fingers of dawn.

He searched his heart, seeking forgiveness for her, and he could not find it.

She's disturbed. She's unstable. Didn't I know that from the very first time we spoke? There's something in her that's unsettled. It isn't her fault...the archmage...

Uarria had lain down not far from him, but she had moved in the night, dragging her bed roll close to his side. He'd watched her through his lashes, wanting to see what she'd do, and when she had approached him, he had opened an arm to her. Now she lay where she'd nestled warm against his side, sleeping soundly, her lashes soft against her hollow cheeks, her tangled hair tickling his arm.

Once upon a time, Ealin had lain thus, and she had seemed just as sweet. Just as innocent.

Such were the perils of trust.

"Uachi." Diarmán's voice was little more than a breath.

Glancing to where he lay, Uachi caught the Faelán man looking at him, laying on his side with his head propped on his folded arm.

"What is it?" he asked, just as softly.

Diarmán was looking at Uarria, perplexed. "Tell me 'princess' was a term of endearment."

A hand of ice took hold of Uachi's vitals. How had Diarmán known...? Uachi must have slipped up; the word must have come out in a moment of unthinking honesty the night before.

"There. I see the truth in your face. And you told her you'd return her to Father and Mother. You told me you were her father, Uachi."

Protectively, Uachi folded his fingers around Uarria's tiny shoulder. He gazed at Diarmán from where he lay, his mind racing. He did not like the fear that was creeping into his stomach; if Diarmán discovered who he was, who Uarria was...

"All I'm asking for is the truth," Diarmán said. "I've told you my dirty secret. Tell me yours. How can I protect you if you dissemble?"

"I assure you that if the dangers that threaten me and mine come for me, there's precious little you could do to protect us." Uachi kept his voice soft, glancing at Ealin, who still lay unmoving, apparently asleep. "And you've told me nothing of your secrets, except that you favor men."

Diarmán smirked bitterly. "And that I'm the bastard son of a Faelán king."

Uachi snorted at the absurd notion, although Padréc's transformation had been evidence of some eldritch influence in their family line. "Then why does your home fall into ruin? Where is this royal father of yours?"

"Dead." He sat up, raking a hand back through his flaming curls. "I'll tell you if you want to know. We can make a trade: a secret for a secret."

Uachi looked down at Uarria's face. He could not risk putting her in danger. If they were going to strike out for the high court here in Narr, danger would be rampant. Another person who knew Uarria's true identity would be another possible breaking point for the secret; it would make three of them—four to include the child herself—who knew just who she was and how much danger she could be in here, in a hostile land.

If he were a wise man, he would turn back straightaway and take her home, bringing Ealin with him and turning her over to the hand of justice.

But he had agreed to accompany Diarmán to the court in exchange for his help and that of his brother. Moreover, Uachi could not bear to give up his chance to get close to the murderous archmage. He had never had such an opportunity. The last time he'd seen the archmage had been in a crowd of people, all of them focused on the execution of the Rebel King. Before that, he'd been nothing but a boy.

Torn between what was prudent and the vengeance he craved, Uachi did not know what to do. He'd promised Diarmán and his brothers that he would stand at his side, and he was loath to break his word, but Uarria's safety must come before anything else. If he went with Diarmán, the least he could do would be to preserve Uarria's identity.

"I can't trust you," he said. Trust was dangerous.

"You can. I've no love of intrigue, Uachi. I want to help you. I swear it, upon my own mother's life."

"And what will you do to help me keep them both from harm?"

"You've a strong arm and a sharp blade. I've powers of my own." He still spoke in a whisper, so as not to disturb either the sleeping woman or girl. "But I can only use them to protect you if you let me."

Uachi gazed at Diarmán for a while. The other man sat cross-legged on his bed roll, returning his look without guile. He recalled Padréc's power and wondered what skills Diarmán might have. He had certainly done much for Uachi thus far, accompanying him south when he'd had no reason to aside from good will; it was to Diarmán he owed the knowledge of Ealin's whereabouts as well as the speed of their pursuit.

"Fine," Uachi said at last. "If only because I can slit your throat if I sense the smallest danger from you."

Diarmán smirked. "Yes, I've no doubt you could do that."

"But tell me your secret first." Uachi put a demand into his voice, loath to admit that he was curious. "About your bloodline."

"Greedy." Diarmán's smirk sharpened, then faded. He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his words were brisk and unemotional. "My father was a Faelán king. His name was Han Taín. Before I was born, he stole my mother away. She was a young woman then, although, as you see, she is a young woman still."

Uachi recalled Moigré's youthful countenance. He had assumed she was a stepmother—no woman could bear seven sons and still look as if she could be their sister.

"He kept her there in the other world, in the heart of Eldran's Wood. That's where I was born and where I grew up—I and my brothers. All of them but the youngest. My mother bore him six sons and was with child at the end, my youngest brother Emón. She kept his house and she shared his bed, and she was a wife to him there in the realm of the Fae."

Uachi watched Diarmán's face. Something in the other man's expression told him the tale had at least a grain of truth in it.

"She was always unhappy, and as a boy I was devoted to her; all of us were. One day I asked my father why Mother was so sad. She wept often. Never smiled. I didn't understand it. Father told me the story—told me how she had come to live with him. He told me that he guessed she missed her home, that she did not know to be grateful for what she had. She'd been bred a lady, and he'd made her a queen.

"When I learned she'd been a lady in another world, I did not know what to think. But understanding that she'd been stolen away from her world, I saw my father as I had never seen him before. I watched them together for a while. Watched the way he treated her. The way she deferred to him. I realized she was a prisoner.

"And then..." Diarmán fingered the hilt of his sword. "I helped her to escape, with me and all my brothers, the youngest of us yet curled sleeping in her womb. When my grandfather learned what had happened, he burned the forest down, with my father there inside."

Uachi stared at Diarmán. He grasped for something to say in response to the story, but nothing came.

"That's it. There you have it. You may have noticed that Mother still looks like a girl. Fae-cursed. She's addled with it, I think. Seven years under a glamour is not kind on a human mind, for all it was only a night in this world, and I think the only way she gets through her days is by numbing herself with drink and—other things. And now you know why Grandfather does not think we are worthy heirs. Any of us. We're bastards all—all except Mother, who's...well...in his eyes, a wandering, witless whore."

"This isn't a true story. This is the stuff of a tale or a song."

Diarmán shrugged. "Whence come the tales, and whence come the songs, Uachi? It's my story. Make of it what you will. The people here believe it. They believe in our kind, as now you surely must, for you saw my brother Padréc fly away on his own wings. We're cursed."

Uachi was silent for a long time, digesting Diarmán's tale and trying to sense the truth in it, or the lie. In the end, he could not decide, and as the silence spun on, the chance to speak in response to what Diarmán had shared trickled away. But he had promised Diarmán honesty in exchange for honesty and, never one to mince words, Uachi decided to simply move on to his part of their bargain.

"This woman is not my wife," he whispered. "Not by law. But she is—was—my woman."

"What is her name?"

"Ealin. She was a mage in the Holy City of Karelin."

"Ah. And the child?"

"Swear to me again, on your mother's life and each of your brothers', that you can be trusted, Diarmán. There is no higher purpose to me in this world than to keep this child safe."

Diarmán cocked a brow, giving Uachi a handsome smile. Then he raised his right hand solemnly, and he put it over his heart. "I swear to you on my mother's life, and on my brothers', that I mean neither you nor this child harm."

"She is the princess Uarria of Penrua."

The look on Diarmán's face suggested that he had suspected this, but had not entertained it as a very likely possibility at all. He glanced from Uachi's face down to that of the sleeping child, drawing a slow, whistling breath through his teeth.

"Ealin absconded with her in the night many weeks past."

"And you—you're what, her nursemaid?"

With a scowl, Uachi replied, "No. I'm her father's best friend, and the reason for her disappearance. My foolishness could have gotten her killed."

Diarmán's expression softened. Again, he gazed at Uarria for a few moments without speaking. At last, he said, "So you are close to the Penruan emperor."

"As close as anyone."

"And why do you say it's your foolishness?"

"I trusted her." Uachi glanced at Ealin, and there was a pain in his heart when he saw her sleeping—regret. Sorrow. "So, Diarmán, beware. I do not have the patience to face another betrayal."

"You need to turn round, Uachi, and go back home. If this truly is the princess of Penrua, you're a damned fool to keep her here any longer than you have to. You're Arcborn, Uachi. Use that magic blood of yours."

"It's not so simple as all that. One man couldn't travel all the way to the capitol on his power alone—it takes much more. And besides...I don't use magic."

"Why not?" Diarmán seemed bewildered.

"I don't use magic," Uachi repeated. "I wouldn't even know how to work a spell like that."

"You wouldn't even try?"

"And have you ever tried to magic yourself into a little bird like your brother does?" Uachi said at last, shaking his head.

"You bet your arse I have." Diarmán flung his arms out. "Wouldn't you? Haven't had a damned bit of luck, but I keep trying. In any case, you fool, if you can't spirit yourself away, you should take that horse and go."

"I made a promise to come with you and stand at your side." Even as he said this, Uachi was thinking of the archmage—of how tantalizingly close he was. Of how he would give nearly anything in the world for a chance to drive a dagger through the evil bastard's heart.

"I won't hold you to your promise."

"But your brother will."

"And if you never see him again, what good is your honor? He won't know it."

"He will if you draw that pretty blade of yours and slit some queenly throat. When they stick your head on a pike, he'll blame me."

"Pah." Diarmán waved a hand. "You'll be safe in Karelin by then, and my brothers are sluggards; they'll never give chase."

Uachi laughed, a soft huff. Uarria made a sleepy, snuffling sound, and she curled against him a bit more tightly, clutching his tunic in her fist. "No. I've my own reasons to go with you, Diarmán, and those I will keep for myself."

"So you'll put the princess in danger? I've no love for the empire, Uachi, and if she were to come to some grief, I cannot say I would care overmuch from a political perspective. But look at her. She's just a child."

"Aye, and I'll give my life to keep her safe. We've a bit of walking to do yet, haven't we, while I come up with a plan?"

Diarmán sighed. He measured Uachi for a little while longer with his curious gaze, and then he got to his feet, heading over to the saddlebags so he could pull together the makings of a brief breakfast. "Oh, don't worry, my friend. I've a plan, sure enough, and it'll work. I just wouldn't miss an opportunity to call you a fool."

Merry Christmas! 

So now Diarmán knows just who Princess Uarria is. Do you think that Uachi can trust him at this point of their journey together? 

Or is he risking too much...like he did with Ealin over there?

Thank you for reading along, my friends. 

xx Mina