Holder of Lightning

He kissed her throat before replying, and Jenna lifted her chin with a trembling gasp at the touch. His mouth traveled from throat to chin to mouth, and then he pulled slightly away from her, smiling down as he rested on one elbow on the bed, his other hand at the loose collar of her night robe, undoing the satin ribbon tied there. "The Feast of First Fruits. . Have you seen the blackberry vines on the columns of the Temple of the Mother-Creator?" When Jenna shrugged, he continued, his fingers slipping under the cloth of her gown. "Traditionally, the Feast takes place close to the Great Festival of Meitha, when the Dralodoiri who keep the temple first see that the vines show ripened berries. In truth, though, the Dralodoiri are sometimes told by the Comhairle that now would be a good time to proclaim the feast, regardless of the state of the vines-a few green berries can easily be dyed to provide justification."

The memory of Aron's declaration in Moister Cleurach’s chambers was a distraction to the pleasure of Ennis' roving hand. "And because of what happened today with the Banrion, her brother, and me, this is one of those times."

Ennis nodded. "I would think so, given the timing. I'd wager that this was the Banrion's doing to try to dissolve some of the tension." His thumb grazed her nipple; his hands cupped her breast. She closed her eyes, tak-ing a breath, and he laughed softly. His mouth came down again, brushing her lips. "Do you want to talk about this now?"

"No," she answered. "Not now."

"Then what do you want?" His lips touched hers once more, moist and warm, more insistent this time. She opened her eyes as he drew away loving the way he watched her.

"I just want to be with you."

"That's all I want, too," he told her. His hand had moved lower. "I would like that forever."

"Is that a proposal of marriage, Ennis O'Deoradhain?"

"It’s quite possible," he answered, almost teasingly. "But I also know it’s not what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach or probably even your mam would advise. They would tell you that the Holder of Lamh Shabhala should use marriage as a tool and use it when it’s most advantageous."

His voice had gone serious. His hand was still. "Do you think*I care what the Banrion or Moister Cleurach would advise?" Jenna asked him. "Do you think I need their approval? And my mam. . She would tell me that I should do what my heart says. And my heart says that I love you, Ennis."

She sat up abruptly, on her knees on the bed as she pulled the night robe over her head.

Underneath, she was naked except for the chain hold-ing Lamh Shabhala. "All I want is what is best for the two of us," she told him. "Is that what you want?"

He gazed at her. "Aye," he said huskily.

"Then you are overclothed," she said.

The Feast of First Fruits:

Street vendors appeared as if by summoned by magic. Booths were hastily erected around the main square of Dun Kiil, selling everything from hand crafts to potions. Street musicians, jugglers, and sleight-of-hand magicians stood on every corner. Bright banners were hung around the square and from the tessellated walls of the Keep high above. Carts groaning under the weight of apples, early corn, freshly slaughtered pigs-and new-brewed ale rumbled into town from the outlying farmlands. A sense of desperate gaiety infected the population; there was talk of little else. The Comhairle suspended their meetings (though Jenna suspected that the Banrion, Tiarna MacEagan and Bantiarna Ciomhsog still gathered to talk), and the lesser Riocha and ceil giallnai came in from the nearby townships, filling the inns and the taverns and swelling the population o Dun Kiil.

Jenna and Ennis moved through the laughing, shouting throngs in the street. As they walked from between the pair of standing stones that marked the entrance to the square, Ennis stopped Jenna and pointed. To their right, a juggler with a hatchet, flaming torch, and dagger wove bright, dangerous

patterns in the air. As they moved closer to watch, despite her determination to keep this a day strictly for merrymaking, the sight of the juggler made Jenna think of the choices she was juggling herself: to side with the Banrion and attack the Tuatha now; to go back to the Order and learn more from Moister Cleurach, knowing that the Tuatha would almost certainly invade the island; to seek the path of Thall Coill and the Scrudu, wherever that might lead. Perilous choices all, with their own keen edges ready to cut, and she wondered how long she could keep them all in the air before she had to choose one.

"He's good, isn't he?" Ennis said. Jenna started, then smiled at him.