So he closed himself in to more meetings, made decisions on the day-to-day, the routine tasks he so often left in Tarryn’s more than capable—and entirely more patient—hands. Though he refused to send for Mahon, as a new father needed time as well, he huddled with warriors and with scholars in the Map Room.
He made use of his own workshop, conjuring spells, mixing potions,searching for visions to help him keep Talamh, all who lived there, and all the worlds safe.
On the final day of the year, he called for the Judgment.
“They fill the room,” Flynn told him, “as we expected. Many of them hope to see Breen, and no doubt witness her rising as she did on the Day of Judgment with Toric of the Pious.”
“They’ll be disappointed there. No need for her to come,” he said, as he’d said before. “You yourself were witness, and no one would doubt your word. I’ve brought others who saw the same. More, Flynn, she won’t deny it. She has pride in the attempt.”
“I’ve spoken to her, as you asked, so I know you’ve the right of it. Still, they’ll be sorry not to see Breen take this one on. I’m not shamed to admit I’m a bit sorry for it myself. She’s a wonder, is Breen.”
“She is.” And he’d tried hard not to think of her the last days, with little success. Now he reached for the staff. “Have her brought up so all can hear the words.”
The room, as full as Flynn reported, fell into a hush when Keegan walked in. Young and old and all between filled the seats.
When he sat in the Chair of Justice, he felt its weight fall on him. Here, whatever his feelings, whatever anger brewed in their depths, his blood must stay cool, his mind must stay clear.
Here, duty left no room.
The murmurs spread when Flynn brought her in.
So young, Keegan thought. A pretty young girl of good family who, gods help him, looked pleased with the attention.
What twist had knotted inside her for such careless evil?
They’d bound her Elfin gifts, but he wondered, looking at her eager face, if she’d have used them to try to escape the Judgment.
And he thought not.
“Caitlyn O’Conghaile, you are accused of treachery against Talamh, against all who dwell here. You are accused of betraying your birthright and our laws to do Odran’s bidding. You are accused of attempting to poison Breen O’Ceallaigh with a potion brewed with dark magicks that would have taken her to the edge of death. And so you plotted to deliver her to Odran to destroy. What say you?”
“I am a handmaiden of Odran the Magnificent.” Her face glowed,fervent, as she spoke. “What he wills is the law. There is no law but Odran’s law, no way but Odran’s way.”
In the seats, her mother buried her face against her husband’s shoulder, her own shoulders shaking with tears.
“You don’t deny these accusations?”
“Why should I? You’re nothing to me with your foolish staff and your weak sword. Odran could burn you to ash with a thought.”
“He hasn’t as yet.”
“In his time,” Cait said slyly.
“Though you admit all, deny nothing, we will hear the account from a witness. Flynn Mac an Ghaill, will you speak?”
“I will. On the night before the Yule, when in the valley many came to congregate, to share community and song and celebration, I witnessed this woman offer Breen O’Ceallaigh a cup, as if in friendship. I saw you, Taoiseach, begin to move quickly toward them as if alarmed when Breen hesitated, when she drank. I saw, as all did, and heard, as all did, the accused’s shock, her demands for Breen to fall, her anger that Breen’s light was stronger than the dark magicks in the cup.”
“It was the witch’s fault, not mine! The witch’s magicks were weak!”
“Whom do you speak of?” Keegan asked Cait.
“Yseult! She failed, and she’ll pay for it. I did what I was bid, but she failed, not I! So I’ll tell Odran.”
“How do you know the potion came from Yseult’s hand?”
“Well, she sent it to me, didn’t she?” Cait shook her head in disgust. “Through the portal, by raven, and in my dreams Odran spoke and promised me all I wished if I did this task.”
“How do you know it was Odran and not simply a dream? How do you know his face, his voice?”