The Realm of the Sun

The Royal Arrow

          "What a beautiful day it is," Sir Niall declared, his arm in Eirainna's as they strolled through the garden.

          "It is indeed," she replied, smiling tiredly at him. The sun reflected in Niall's eyes making their usual dull grey hue shimmer, tricking her into seeing a light blue. Eirainna blinked and turned her attention to the blooming flowers that sprouted with some difficulty from the dusty soil. The war had not been kind to Tara: the earth dried out, the trees cut down with the stumps left to rot, the starving animals that Eirainna would watch struggling just to go on. Days before, she had seen a deer, its ribs protruding from its frame, the drawn, rabid face and the eyes so fiercely desperate. It seemed an act of sick irony that some days the sun still shone so beautifully on Tara, shedding light just to remind her of the wasteland it had become.

          "We have not had weather this fine in a fortnight," Niall observed, still taking in the glorious sun. Eirainna's distant eyes snapped back to his. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment that even though they walked arm in arm, she had forgotten he was there until he spoke again.

          "Yes, I can hardly remember the last..." she began wearily, but her ear halted her reply. A young man's voice called her name from the edge of the garden, breaking the silence in between their superfluous conversation. He walked swiftly with purpose toward them, his wavy golden-brown hair blowing off of his forehead, his chest plate and armor rattling in a panic as he moved.

          "Raina," he called to her as he warily stepped around overgrown vines.

          "Furbaide, darling," she said, smiling at the sound of his voice, deep and strong. She often tried to recall the small little voice he once had, the way it sounded when he laughed at the stories she would tell him, but the sound always seemed to escape her memory, no matter how hard she tried to revive it. She could not remember its precise lightness and innocence. He ran to her now and shamelessly put his broad arms around her. That was one thing time and age would not change and Eirainna was glad of it.

          "How are you, are you well?" he asked, with a hint of concern, his hand gently gripping her shawl-covered shoulder as if he were now her guardian.

          "Of course I am, perfectly well—" her eyes read his urgent gaze, trying to decode their cryptic message.

          "Good afternoon, Sir Niall," Furbaide acknowledged him obligingly, having been so driven to speak to Eirainna, he hadn't expected anyone to be with her, and that he might have to alter his planned conversation for this reason.

          "Sir Furbaide," Niall replied, bowing his head.

          "What is it, dear?" Eirainna asked Furbaide, growing anxious upon realizing he had a pressing motivation to seek an audience with her.

          "I have not seen you since...Maeve's..." he trailed off, his eyes briefly darting to Niall, "Since Maeve held her meeting. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." Furbaide, who had come straight from training, wiped the little beads of sweat off his furrowed brow.

          "I am quite all right. I've not been feeling well these past few days and the weather of late has not given me much cause to go walking about as I am today," Eirainna explained, seeing the next question in his round blue eyes before it reached his lips.

          "Can you believe it, about Connor mac Nessa, I mean? I could scarce believe it myself..." Furbaide looked as though he regretted his words the moment he gave them breath.

           "No," Eirainna looked down at her joined hands, which hung just below her waist, "It must've been a bit of a shock, for all of us. Of course Maeve is no exception."