Gryffynhall (the Danu Cycle: Fiann Trilogy Book 1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Niamh woke feeling groggy, a hand in hers. She groaned and opened her eyes slowly, to see Myrna sitting by her on the bed. Niamh tried smiling and saw Myrna's face wash with relief.

"How long have I been out?" Niamh asked, her throat raw.

"About four days," Myrna replied. "Whatever you did back there took a lot out of you. The boys have been worrying themselves to death."

Niamh swallowed and found her mouth was dry. "Loch and Killian should have better things to do than worry about me, right now," she grumbled, looking around in the hopes a glass of water might be within reach.

Myrna's laugh tinkled and Niamh looked at her. "Those are not the only boys who have been worried."

Niamh frowned, guessing who she meant and resuming her search for a glass of water. "The Prince shouldn't feel to blame. Besides, we're fae, we bounce back...eventually."

Myrna smiled. "That we do. Do you want this?" she held up a mug.

Niamh nodded, pushing herself to a half-sitting position. It wasn't water, but it was equally as refreshing and a thousand times more restorative. Niamh drained the cup and stretched.

"I suppose we had better get to training?" she asked, making to get out of bed.

"Whoa, slow down, O'Callaghan." Niamh looked up and saw Pearse standing by the door.

"I'm fine, Pearse, just let me get back to training."

Pearse cocked an eyebrow. He studied her for a long while, but only nodded and left. Lochlan strode in.

"What happened to the human who hated training?" he laughed.

She smiled at him, instantly feeling better. "She found out she was three quarter fae and had some talent." She threw a pillow at him.

"Come on then, fae girl. Get dressed and we'll see you downstairs, bring your blades."

"Both?" she asked, he nodded and led Myrna out of the room.

Niamh pulled on a crop top and leggings cropped to her knee, which left a small gap between them and the top of her boots. As she pulled her hair up, she saw her body was still covered in faint red marks where the creatures' claws had scratched her.

She slid both dagger and sword sheaths onto her belt and buckled it around her waist. She smiled at her reflection, looking every bit the faery warrior princess. She felt a bit like a modern, fae Xena. She laughed at herself and headed downstairs.

The whole of the lower floor was empty and had four mats laid out. The others had obviously been doing a lot of training while she was asleep. Lochlan and Killian were sparring, as were Conor and Myrna, and Prince Donagh and Pearse. Eamon waited for her, twirling two short blades, a smirk spread across his face. He pushed himself off the wall and met her in the middle of the training mat.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She briefly wondered why she was stuck with him but nodded, unsheathing her blades. She'd never trained with two blades at once before, so she was a bit worried about how this would play out. They each took their stances. He seemed to be waiting for her, so she nodded again and they came together in a clashing of blades, barely visible for the speed with which they moved.

Not once did Niamh feel a blade against her skin and she started smiling. She saw Eamon watching her, obvious exertion on his face. She looked right into his eyes and saw him falter slightly. She spun around, kicking his feet out from under him. He went down and Niamh crouched over him, her dagger at his throat and her sword pointing towards it.