Son of the Shadows

Son of the Shadows by Juliet Marillier Page B

Book: Son of the Shadows by Juliet Marillier Read Free Book Online
Authors: Juliet Marillier
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy
some notion of what it is I wish to discuss with you."
    "Well, yes," I said, realizing there was no choice but to stop pretending to work and hear him out. It would have been helpful if I had any idea of how I was going to reply. "Would you like to sit here awhile?" We moved to the stone bench, and I sat down, basket on my knees and pruning knife still in my hand; but Eamonn would not sit. Instead, he paced, with hands clenched. How can he be nervous about this, I thought, after all he has endured? But nervous he was; there was not a doubt about it.
    "You heard my tale last night," he said. "These losses have made me think long and hard about many things: death, revenge, blood, dark matters. I did not believe I had it in me to hate so; it's not a comfortable feeling."
    "This man has done you a wrong, that is certain," I said slowly. "But perhaps you should set it behind you and move on. Hatred can eat you up if you let it. It can become your whole life."
    "I would not see that happen," he said, turning to face me. "My father made bitter enemies of those who should have been his allies; thus he brought about his own destruction. I would not wish to be consumed by this. But I cannot put it by. I was hoping that. . . perhaps I should start this again."
    I looked up at him.
    "I need to wed," he said bluntly. "After this, it seems even more important. It is—it is a balance to those dark things. I am weary of coming home to a cold hearth and echoing halls. I want a child to secure the future of my name. My estate is significant, as you know, my holdings secure, save for this upstart and his band of cutthroats, and I will deal with them soon enough. I have a great deal to offer. I have—I have admired you for a long time, since you were too young even to contemplate such an alliance. Your industry, your application to a task, your kindness, your loyalty to your family. We would be well suited.
    And it is not so very far to travel; you could see them often." He shocked me by moving closer and dropping to his knees beside me. "Will you be my wife, Liadan?"
    As proposals go, it had been—businesslike. I supposed he had said all the correct things. But I found it somehow lacking. Perhaps I had listened too much to the old tales.
    "I'm going to ask you a question," I said calmly. "When you answer, remember that I am not the sort of woman who seeks flattery or false compliments. I expect the truth from you always."
    "You will get the truth."
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    "Tell me," I said, "why have you not offered for my sister, Niamh, instead of me? That was what everyone expected."
    Eamonn took my hand in his and touched it to his lips. "Your sister is indeed very beautiful," he said, with a trace of a smile. "A man might well dream of such a woman. But it would be your face he wanted to see on his pillow when he woke."
    I felt myself blushing crimson and was quite lost for words.
    "I'm sorry. I have offended you," he said hastily, but he held onto my hand.
    "Oh no ... not at all," I managed. "I'm just—surprised."
    "I have spoken to your father," he said. "He has no objection to our marriage. But he told me the decision is yours. He allows you a great deal of freedom."
    "You disapprove of that?"
    "That depends on your answer."
    I took a deep breath, hoping for some inspiration. "If this were one of the old tales," I said slowly, "I
    would ask you to complete three tasks or kill three monsters for me. But there is no need to test you in such a way. I recognize that this would be a highly—suitable match."
    Eamonn had put my hand down and was studying the ground at my feet where he still knelt.
    "I hear unspoken words here," he said, frowning, "a reservation. You had better tell me."
    "It's too soon," I said bluntly. "I am not able to answer, not now."
    "Why not? You are sixteen years old, a woman. I am sure of my own mind. You know what I can offer you. Why cannot you answer?"
    I took a deep breath. "You know my mother is very ill, so ill that she

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