Gryffynhall (the Danu Cycle: Fiann Trilogy Book 1)

Chapter Thirty-One

The knock that woke Niamh drilled into her head, making it pound. Her head felt heavy and her tongue fuzzy. The knock came again.

"Dear God, what?" she yelled, shoving her head under the pillow.

"No pants again?"

"Shut up, Loch," she mumbled.

"I have good news. Do you want to hear it?"

"Is it that you're going to go away and let me sleep?"

"No," he sounded confused. "It's that there are pancakes downstairs and we get today off."

"Off?" Niamh slid her head out from the pillow and glared at him through one eye. He gave her a look that suggested she hadn't taken her eyeliner off before going to bed. "Doesn't that word not exist in your fae vocabulary?"

She felt him sit next to her, and a hand on her back. "It seems the Prince, Pearse and Conor are about the only ones not suffering after last night, so we're staying here another night and get the day off. Which means!" he paused dramatically and Niamh assumed she was supposed to know what that meant.

"Which means what, Loch?"

"Which means we can get in some archery practice!"

"Dear Lord, man. Why are you so jovial?" she groaned. "And, that doesn't count as a day off!"

Lochlan laughed. "I'll see you downstairs when you're ready." He stood and walked to the door. He seemed to find someone standing there. "She's hardly decent. Wait until she's awake and dressed at least," she heard him say, hostility in his voice barely hidden. There was another pause. "Because I'm her best friend, that's why. You're lucky you're a prince..." he muttered as the door closed.

Niamh flopped onto her back. The mention of princes reminded her of the night before and she groaned again.

What the hell happened? What was I thinking? She scoffed. I wasn't, that was the problem. How did I forget it was Eamon?

She started to wonder what exactly was holding her back from him. Was it just the something brewing between her and Killian? Because, by all apparent fae standards, she was fully entitled to do whatever she liked with Eamon and it wouldn't - shouldn't - matter to Killian. She briefly entertained the notion of being with Eamon and, though a part of her was excited by the idea, another part baulked. She still wasn't sure why, but it was enough that she knew she'd made the right choice the night before.

She grumbled at herself then got up and got dressed. She decided to forgo showering until later. She pulled on her least fae track pants and dressing gown, with only her singlet underneath. Then conjured her favourite slippers and shuffled her way downstairs.

"That makes me glad I do not stay for the morning after," she heard Eamon say as he came towards her on the stairs.

Without thinking, she lashed out, slapping him in the face. When he turned back to face her, his dark violet eyes glinted. Though whether it was anger or excitement, she didn't care to know. He opened his mouth but she held up her hand. She was a few steps higher than him and her head was higher than his.

"Be vulgar, flirtatious, or suggestive again... I dare you," she said slowly, staring him in the eyes.

He held his face mock serious, but humour shone in his eyes. He held up his hands as though in defeat.

"How can someone so old be so childish?" she muttered as she stalked down the stairs. She had the sneaking suspicion he was about to say something. "Go on. I dare you, Eamon. Just see what you get for your troubles," she called without turning.