The Realm of the Sun

Fidelity and Famine

            Three suns had set since the incident on the battlefield that had stirred the innards of the castle. Eirainna and Caoimhe had just returned from collecting herbs in the glen when a young maid came out of a door off the main hall, giggling ferociously. Eirainna noted the mischievous glow in her big green eyes before the round-faced girl noticed them approaching and curtseyed tensely. Her face stiffened suddenly, transitioning from red to white in seconds. 

          "Good afternoon, Fiona," Caoimhe said, interrogatively, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

          "I was just—I was just dustin' the floor, Milady," she said quickly, her eyes darting to the left on nearly every word.

          "And where, may I enquire, is your broom?" Caoimhe relished every word of the inquiry. Eirainna's eyes followed a path of faint blotches down the side of her neck, leading to the exposed top of her flushed breasts, which practically erupted from her bodice. The bodice itself was tightly cinched at the waist but the ribbons had been messily miss-matched—an uneven, careless threading all the way to her middle chest.

          "Oh, well the broom, see, I put it down. I was dustin' the floor, but then I had to clean the linens," she clarified, the lines in her slender neck becoming slowly more pronounced, like taut ropes being stretched just below the surface of her pink skin.

          "Clean the linens? In Sir Diarmiad's bedchamber?" Caoimhe lifted an eyebrow, knowing her invincible calm never failed to make the young maids writhe in their own guilt. Eirainna could sense Caoimhe's pressing accusations before she made them.

         "Yes—well, yes, Milady. As a matter of fact, yes," Fiona replied, gaining some strength in her paralyzed state. Knowing she had nothing to lose at this point, she figured she might as well stand bravely.

          "Were you alone?" she continued as the girl wiped her clammy hands on her loosely tied apron.

          "She was, Caoimhe, Diarmiad is supposed to be out training at this hour. I saw them all in the archery fields," Eirainna finally spoke. Fiona nodded rapidly, unsure of why Eirainna said this and whether she really believed it was true. She watched Eirainna's expression carefully for a moment, with some surprise. Fiona decided not to ruin her own fate by uttering another word if the queen's sister, who had long had a reputation of being cold-hearted, might defend her.

          "She can answer for herself, Princess Eirainna. Were you alone, Fiona?" Caoimhe repeated, with an unrelenting gaze. Fiona nodded. Eirainna looked down the hall as if some form of rescue would emerge from the bleak stone walls and save her from this discomfiture.

          "Yes," Fiona replied quickly, in a voice that could just as easily have come from a mouse poking its nose through the hole in the bottom of the wall. Taking initiative, Eirainna transferred her basket of herbs to the other arm and knocked on the door of her brother's bedchamber.

          "Diarmiad?" she called through the thick, mahogany door, and as she pushed through the door, turned to Caoimhe and said, "See? Empty." 

          "What? Couldn't stay away?" an arrogant murmur from inside the room startled her. The three women turned their heads to the sound, Eirainna the only shocked one. Diarmiad faced the window, his bare back to the doorway, his trousers undone and his shirt hanging over his bare shoulder. He began to laugh and then turned around to find his older sister standing in the doorway. His laughter never ceased so suddenly.

          "Eirainna, what—what are you doing here?!" he exclaimed, indignantly, the look of horror on his face only worsening once he realized he was barely dressed. She turned away from the room, her face burning as she connected the constellation of evidence painted before her. Fiona stood there, suspended vertically like a tree stricken in a lightning storm. Her eyes remained wide and guilt-ridden as an uncomfortable silence filled the space.