Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) Read Online Free

Maeve,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind my calling you by your name alone? I think of all my fosterlings as the daughters I was never fortunate enough to have. Don’t worry: Everyone else at Dún Beithe knows that you’re to be called Lady Maeve.”
    “It’s not that important,” I murmured. “I like being just Maeve.”
    Her pale-blue eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh, but it is important, dearest! It’s a mark of respect. You’re too young to understand how vital it is to maintain such things, but trust me, it’s something we must all defend.”
    I understood more than Lady Lassaire suspected, though I doubted my view of the matter was the same as hers. “It’s like the hero’s portion,” I said.
    “Yes, exactly!” She was delighted. “When Lord Artegal gives the best serving of meat to his bravest warrior, it’s not just a great honor, it inspires the other men.”
    Inspires them to do what? I thought. To pick fights? To avenge insults that were never given? To shed each other’s blood?
    Dark memories came back to me: My dear friend Kelan who’d agreed to my request and taught me to use men’s weapons; the feast at which the warrior Caílte was awarded the hero’s portion but claimed he heard Kelan say it was undeserved; the challenge to a duel between men so unfairly matched that it was just another name for Kelan’s execution. And behind it all, Father’s grudge against my friend for giving me those lessons, for helping me grow bold enough to face danger, to standand protect another person’s life instead of running away and saving my own. He knew I’d hate him if he killed my friend himself, so he forced Caílte to put his hand into the fire.
    He didn’t know that I would learn the truth.
    I swallowed the bitterness of the past and smiled at Lady Lassaire. “I understand. Thank you.”
    The little slave girl gave us handfuls of wool and carding combs. We set our hands to the task of turning the tangled fleece into long, soft fibers, ready to be spun into yarn. I thought that doing such a basic chore would be the same here as at home, but the longer I sat in the company of my three fellow fosterlings, the more I realized the great but subtle difference between Cruachan and Dún Beithe: The girls in Mother’s care were older than I and were always gossiping about things I thought were trivial. Those who didn’t shut me out only befriended me because they saw the chance to profit from being friends with the High King’s daughter.
    Now here I was after less than a day at Dún Beithe, but already I felt included. The other girls knew my rank, knew Lady Lassaire’s attitude toward how important such things were, yet how had they treated me? As Maeve, only Maeve. If they saw me as the High King’s daughter, they never would have dared to play hide-and-keep-away with my dresses. I was still smarting from that morning’s deathly embarrassment, but the sting was soothed away when I recalled how all of them had rallied around to take care of me after their prank got out of hand.
    Was this what it was like to have friends at last?
    When we were done carding wool, it was time for the midday meal. It was entirely informal, just how Cruachan did suchthings. At that time of day, Dún Beithe’s cook and her helpers had food ready for anyone who wanted it. People drifted in and out of the great house, either sitting down by the hearth to fill their bellies or carrying off bread and meat and cheese to eat elsewhere.
    My friends and I took our food outside. Ula led the way, declaring we’d climb the ringfort walls so that I could have my first view of the country around Dún Beithe. Poor Gormlaith had a clumsy time of scaling the sloping earthwork walls and trailed the rest of us. She seemed to have difficulty keeping her balance while holding on to her meal.
    “Give me your bowl,” I offered, hoping to help her. “It’ll be easier if you’ve got your hands free.”
    Dairine cut in before