against the white field, with a sword in one claw, a staff in the other.
They didn’t loom, Keegan thought, but watched, castle and dragon, over all who lived and worked below, over the whole of Talamh.
And so must he.
They rode through the next gate—a defense he hoped never to use—and over the stone bridge where the river wound below.
And here, a fountain for beauty and the flowers that ringed it. To the north, the deep woods for game, for ritual, for lovers’ trysts and childhood games.
They circled around toward the stables, the falconry, and the wall that faced the cliffs down to the great sea.
A man he knew stood outside the stables, his cap in hand to show respect. “Word spread of your arrival. I’ll see to your horses.”
“With my thanks, Devlin, as this one’s had us riding since dawn.” Mahon dismounted. “And my arse feels it.”
“And now you’ll have ale,” Keegan reminded him, and handed the reins to Devlin. “And how does your wife fare?” he asked. “She must be near her time.”
“Her time came a week ago this day, and we have a daughter. Both are well, thank the gods.”
“Bright blessings on your daughter, her mother, and you, Devlin. What have you named her?”
“She is Cara, Taoiseach, as she is dear to us.”
“A fine name. Wait.” Keegan dug into his saddlebag, took out the beryl he’d picked up when visiting the troll mines only the day before. “A gift for the new life you brought to Talamh.”
“Thank you. She will come to treasure it.”
Keegan hefted his saddlebag onto his shoulder. “Who would think when we ran the fields and the woods that one day you’d have a daughter, and this one two sons and another child coming.”
“Who would think,” Mahon said with the ease of friendship, “that when we three and more went into the lake, this one would rise as taoiseach?”
“I’d rather the lady and the child,” Devlin said with a grin.
“As would I,” Mahon agreed.
Mahon took his own bag, then clapped Keegan’s shoulder as they took the path to the castle. “I’m for that ale and a scrub. I expect you’ll want the same. And while my woman’s far to the west, you’ll be wrapped in Shana’s welcoming arms.”
“I think no, I won’t be. I’ve much else to do.”
Mahon shot him a look. “Because you think of the redheaded witch?”
“Because I can’t take time for distractions.”
“We’re too much friends for that.”
Keegan paused while they were still far enough away from listening ears. “It strikes me I’ve ignored, more pretended not to know, Shana wants more from me than I’d ever give. Her father is a good man, and on the council. Perhaps he wishes for the same. It’s time she looks to another for what she wants.”
“She beds others, as do you,” Mahon pointed out. “I took you as bedmates and no more.”
“And so it was easy to pretend not to know. And it’s not wrong, Mahon, there’s too much to be done to have distractions. As you said, she beds others. Her nights won’t be lonely.”
Keegan chose a side door, hoping to avoid a flood of greetings. He knew the stairs and passages to take to avoid the main hall and public spaces where people might gather.
But he’d barely stepped into the blessed cool when his mother stepped up to greet them.
She wore blue, a soft, summery shade that suited her, and had her honey-toned hair braided up to show off ear dangles. With it she wore a pendant with a single, unframed clear crystal—one he knew his father had given her on the day of his birth.
“Welcome, travelers,” she said, and held out her arms.
“I won’t kiss you. We’ve only come off the road, and brought much of it with us.”
“Nonsense.” She moved right in, hugged Mahon, then her son. “And how is my daughter, how are my grandchildren?”
“More than well,” Mahon told her. “And wondering when next you’ll visit.”
“Soon, I hope, as my heart’s missing them. And your brother?” Tarryn arched her brows at Keegan.
“Also well.”
“Then I’m pleased. Mahon, I’ve had a tankard sent to your chamber, and a tub’s being filled in your bath.”
“I have the most brilliant of mothers-in-law.” He took her hand, kissed it. “And with your leave, I’ll go make use of both. This one will ride the skin off your arse.”
“So it ever was. I’ll see you at the evening meal—a banquet and dance for welcome—and expect to hear stories about my boys.”
“There’s no lack of them.”
He took