The Dryad's confession/Ilyriatri's Idea
Chapter 7 - Part 2 (Voyage of the Dawn Breaker)
Ilyriatri quirked a brow as she followed the sobs to a cabin that she guessed belonged to one of the draoidh's companions. She stopped before the door and mentally debated as to whether to knock. Is this any of my/our business?
A glance at Flur helped her make up her mind. The golden-haired bhanna looked as if she wanted to help the person in the cabin. Sighing, she raised her hand and softly knocked on the door. Her keen hearing caught the quick intake of breath. “Come in,” she heard a voice call out.
Why am I doing this when I'm not a member of his household? Ilyriatri wondered as she pushed the door open and stepped into the cabin. Keisha was wiping tears from her face.
“Your majesty?” She looked as if she was going to cry again. “I didn't mean to disturb you.” She mumbled, “This just isn't my day.”
“We all have days like that,” Flur commented as she peeked around her aunt's shoulder. “I never once thought I would kneel like caileag trailleal[1], yet I did it just this morning.” By Mathair, was it just this morning?
Keisha hiccuped as she tried not to laugh. “I did something even worse,” she admitted. “I asked Rhyslin if he had gne[2] with the current grove mistress.”
“Ah,” Ilyriatri expressed as if that explained it all. “What did Maighstir Darkblade say?” She watched the dryad fidget.
Keisha flushed around her throat, then whispered so softly that Ciad-Ghin strained to hear her. “That Matron Foghar was beyond fruit-bearing age when they met.”
Flur tilted her head to the left. “Why would Maighstir Rhyslin have had gne with her?”
The dryad couldn't believe that Flur had asked that question. “Because he's the grove maighstir,” she bluntly replied.
Ilyriatri raised her hand as she worked through the suspicions in her head. “How did he become the grove maighstir?” When the dryad explained, Ilyriatri nodded, “So by enclosing the grove, he became both protector and maighstir of the grove.” When Keisha nodded, Ilyriatri continued, “Grove maighstirean and mistresses join together to create more dryads, correct?”
“Yes,” Keisha admitted, feeling a bit more comfortable. “The grove mistress produces a seed or several seeds, which the grove master fertilizes. After two seasons, the seed vanishes, and a baby dryad comes into being.”
“If Matron Foghar was beyond fruit-bearing years, does that mean she doesn't have daughters of her own?”
“That's right. If she did, they'd be wolf-kin dryads.”
Flur blinked, “I don't understand.”
Keisha giggled, “Dryads take on the grove maighstir's appearance but are all female.” She took a deep breath, mirth still evident in her eyes. “Matron Foghar's father was fear-madadh-allaidh[3].”
“Was your father Ciad-Ghin?” Ilyriatri inquired as she examined the dryad. “You look to be at least partially one of us.”
“My mother was half Ciad-Ghin, and my father was Leanabh Teine,” Keisha admitted and then grew thoughtful. “If I ever become Grove mistress and have gne with Mac Draoidheachd, what would my daughter look like?”
“She would be beautiful and near immortal,” Flur whispered dreamily.
“How did you come to that conclusion?” Ilyriatri inquired, turning to her niece.
Flur, lost in her reverie, didn't hear the question and blinked when Ilyriatri asked it again.
“Dryads live as long as we do, and if Maighstir Rhyslin is Mathair Na Coille's son, then he could outlive us all.”
Ilyriatri listened in stunned silence. Could he be Ciad-fhir[4]? She absently tapped her fingers against her leg as she considered the ramifications of him being a child of the first men. He could be older than I thought. When she turned back to Keisha, it was with no small amount of trepidation. “Do you know how long ago Rhyslin met Matron Foghar?”
The dryad shook her head, “I've never asked, but I do know that the oldest structure on the estate is Tur nan Rosan. The matron mentioned that it's two hundred and fifty years old.”
Flur looked at Ilyriatri and said, “That makes him at least ninety years older than you, doesn't it?”
Ilyriatri nodded. That would explain why his prana is so powerful. She thought, Tapadh leat Mathair[5]. She reached out and drew the dryad to her. “It'll be alright, Keisha.” She softly caressed the young woman's back until she relaxed.
“What should I do?” The dryad whispered.
Ilyriatri softly sighed. If I must become the matron of this unlikely family, then so be it, she mused. I hope you are ready, Maighstir Darkblade because you will become the center of a cearcall leannan[6]. She tenderly ran her fingers through Keisha's hair. “You should accept his offer, become the next grove mistress, and offer him your bond.”
When Flur heaved a heartfelt sigh, Ilyriatri wagged a finger at her. “Don't even think about crying. You've already given your bond and will be his keeper of hearts.” She pointed at Keisha, “She will be his grove mistress,” placing her hand on her chest. “In a few weeks, when you've fully given yourself to him, I'll offer him bond as keeper of the purse.”
“I see,” Flur stated as she sighed again, “and what about Vuuroena?”
Ilyriatri snorted, “Rana is too young, and she's got more important things to think about. Despoina's prophecy, for one,” she commented. I will ask him to teach her how to survive, even if I must beg him.
Flur brushed her fingers through her soft golden hair as she stared at the door. “How should I approach him?”
Ilyriatri arched a brow, pausing her caressing motions. “Acting like a nervous maighdean is unworthy of you.” When Flur blushed, Ilyriatri shook her head. “I know that you've had lovers. The question is, how many?”
“A few,” Flur mumbled. When Ilyriatri gave her a flat look, Flur closed her eyes. “Four, I've had four lovers,” she admitted, “but he is not just another lover.”
“No, he is not,” Ilyriatri agreed. “He is your maighstir and not interested in an innocent maighdean.” The older woman reached out and patted Flur on the knee. “Come, let's find the maighstir and stir his interest.” That's right, little one, sleep well. She brushed her fingers across Keisha's shoulder before carefully pushing the dryad off her lap and onto the mattress. A tender smile crossed her lips as the dryad mumbled something and burrowed under the covers. With the dryad safely tucked into bed, Ilyriatri gestured for Flur to follow her.
[1] Slave girl
[2] sex
[3] Wolf-kin or werewolf
[4] A first-man. The First-men were rumored to be godlings that came to Crann na Beatha to guard A’ Mathair.
[5] Thank you mother
[6] Lover’s circle
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