“Let me speak to them. Let me tell them.”
“Ma, I’ll grant you that, and gladly. And please the gods, we find her quickly.”
“It was never about you.” Tarryn went over, sat on the arm of his chair. “Or only a little—the little that’s her vanity and pride sore because a man didn’t want her. But it was always about the staff and sword.”
“I know it, and fortunate for me neither my vanity nor pride is harmed by it.”
“I’d be disappointed in you if they were. I’ll be going now to tell her parents, and after, I’ll check on Kiara. Her heart’s broken by this. You did more than well in this, Breen. Kiara’s all but one of my own. And now I must tell friends what their only child has done.” She rose. “I’ll see you then at the Welcome.”
“I—I thought you’d call that off,” Breen said to Keegan when his mother left them.
“No, best to go forward than to have everyone and their brother besides nattering about why we didn’t.”
“Wow, won’t this be fun?”
He met her sour look with one of his own. “It’s duty, yours as well as mine, though I wish it all to the devil myself. But it matters that people welcome you and meet you.”
He closed his eyes, just for a moment. “It matters we don’t let this, all of this, take from that.”
“Okay. All right. Keegan, all of this? It was more than temper or hurt feelings. She’s not … I don’t think she’s stable.”
“I know it. I saw it. We’ll find her.”
The man she’d seen with Shana came to the open door. This would be Loren, she thought, and set her cup aside. “Then I should go get ready.”
“Taoiseach.” Loren nodded to Keegan, then beamed at Breen. “Breen Siobhan O’Ceallaigh, it’s a great pleasure to meet you at last.”
“Loren Mac Niadh,” Keegan said as Loren took Breen’s hand, lifted it to his lips.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m just leaving.”
“I’ll see you again at your Welcome. I hope I can claim a dance.”
Because she couldn’t think what to say, she just smiled and got out. Since it seemed right, she closed the door behind her.
Loren took a seat. “I’m told you wanted to see me, and urgently. Is there trouble? Odran and his demons?”
“Trouble there is, but not, at the moment, from him.” Rising, Keegan retrieved the sealed cup, and unsealing it, offered it to Loren. “Don’t drink. Do you know what this is?”
Obviously puzzled, Loren frowned into the cup. “Well, it’s wine, isn’t it? A bit of a cloud in it, and…” He lifted it to sniff, then his gaze shot up to Keegan’s.
“Why would you brew this? Why does the taoiseach break one of the First Laws with a love potion?”
“I didn’t. It was meant for me to drink, but like you, I knew it for what it was.”
“You’re not telling me the O’Ceallaigh’s daughter would—”
“Not Breen, no.” Keegan took back the cup, sealed it again before setting it aside. “Shana.”
“That’s wild talk, and I don’t know who would have told you such a lie, but—”
“It’s not a lie.” Now he picked up the vial. “She brought it with her in this, slipped it into wine she poured. And before she came to me, Kiara went to her room, saw what Shana was about. When Kiara tried to stop her, to save her friend from harsh judgment, Shana struck her down. She left Kiara stunned and bleeding on the floor, locked her in, and came here.”
“There’s a mistake, surely.” He pushed up. “Some misunderstanding, confusion. Kiara, is she badly hurt?”
“Breen found her, and we’ll thank the gods for it. She healed her wound enough that Kiara could come to me, afraid I’d drink. And I’ll tell you, she had blood on her face, in her hair, on her clothes. Blood spilled by a friend. I’m asking you, did you give her what she needed for the spell?”
“Gods, no, and I’m not convinced of any of this. I’ll say I know we’re not fast friends, you and I, but never would I use my magicks for such a purpose, or help another to do so. A rape of the heart and mind? And the danger that may…”
Loren fell silent; his eyes went dull.
“You’ve remembered.”
“No, nothing, no. A game, a lover’s lark. Where is she? Where is Shana?”