“Later.”
“Well enough. How does Angharad fare?”
“She’s settled in her chamber, as can be expected.” I paused. “I found her a companion.”
“Aye. I’ve heard as much. Hedwenn is not pleased.” He looked at me. “A servant from the kitchens?”
“Aye, but she suits Angharad well; isn’t that what matters? And besides, there was something about her.”
“Something about her, eh?” His eyes fixed on me as if he would say more, but then our littlest charge appeared in the doorway, Eira by her side.
The men stirred to life as Angharad entered, smiling and hoisting their ale aloft. They might have shared only three days with her on the road, but from the warmth in their eyes I could tell my niece had already won their affection. She stopped and looked about the room, cheeks flushed, hesitant to be the focus of so much attention.
Gwenddolau stood, and the room fell quiet as he gestured for Angharad to come close. Eira ushered her forward.
“To any who have not yet met my young niece,” he began, “this is Angharad of Strathclyde, daughter of Rhydderch. She has come among us to train with Lailoken—she is to be a Wisdom Keeper! But she does not brighten our fortress with her countenance alone. Her presence is a reminder that the bond between the Dragon Warriors and Strathclyde endures. She has been entrusted to our care. We, now, are her family.” He lifted his own cup and turned to gaze down at her. “Welcome to Caer Gwenddolau, Angharad. Welcome home.”
CHAPTER 4
Lailoken
When the last of the platters had been cleared, Yarin called up his bards with the bodhran and flute, and the music began in earnest. The women took to dancing, tugging the warriors to stand, and even as the sturdy planks of the floor began to shake, Angharad yawned, nestling herself into the crook of my shoulder. Soon she was dreaming.
Why had I worried? This child could sleep through a siege. As soon as I thought it, I prayed she would not have to. Eira sat across from me, eyes bright from merriment and possibly from drink, for I would admit some guilt in refilling her cup. I harbored no dishonorable intentions—rather, I’d been curious. As she ate and drank, I’d seen the tightness in which she enveloped herself begin to unfurl. Now I watched as she reached across the narrow table to smooth a strand of hair behind Angharad’s ear.
“My littlest brother had red hair. So very much like hers,” Eira said.
I had not looked overlong at her features while we ate. When I heard the delicate and surprising sound of her laugh, I’d acknowledged it was a fine laugh, but no finer than any other. And I certainly had not glanced down her bodice as she leaned to brush the crumbs from Angharad’s dress. A breath of wind drifted in through the open door and carried her scent to me. She smelled fresh, like meadowsweet. I grimaced at the baseness of my own desire.
My blood was hot, my need stirring. But I’d given my word to Hedwenn, and that was no light thing. Across the room, young women lounged on the couches with lily-white breasts beneath their dresses and invitations in their eyes. I’d lain with a few of them, and the memories were pleasant. Surely there was a far more suitable companion to ease what urged me. I would not make advances upon Angharad’s new companion. Eira would sleep on a pallet beside Angharad this night and, if Angharad so chose, for countless nights after.
I looked down at my niece, fast asleep upon my shoulder. “Angharad has her red hair from her mother,” I said.
“Languoreth,” Eira said. “I’ve heard much of her.”
“Have you, then? I should not be surprised. My sister’s fame far exceeds my own.”
“I’ll not flatter you, if that’s what you seek. You know the Song Keepers tell stories of you.”
“And what tales have you heard? I am curious to know.”
“Well, I myself recall only one story. I heard it when I was but a girl. It was long ago now.”
“I think I know the story of which you speak.”
Her eyes met mine. “It was a sad tale.”
“What makes you say so?”
“It was the story of a young lord who rode out to protect his father’s grain. There had been too much rain. Winter had come early and tarried too long. Many in Strathclyde were hungry. That was when they came to raid. The boy thought to make himself a hero. But he arrived to find his father’s men overwhelmed by a mob. Starving and desperate. Fueled by rage. They captured the boy and held him down. They marked him with the same mark his father bore.”
Her gaze shifted to my scar, and I felt heat creep up my neck at her scrutiny. But her story was not quite right. I set down my cup. “I hear nothing sad about that tale. The acts that mark us lead us to our fate.”
“And what is your fate, my lord?”
I did not like the course of this—it ran too close to my core. And so I said, “Hedwenn tells me that Fendwin purchased you at the quay.”
“Yes.” She shifted in her seat.
“How was it you came there?”
“I came there as any servant does. In bonds.”
“Aye.” I nodded. “But what I do not know is how you came to be there. Who was your master? Where do you hail from?”
“I cannot see why it should matter.”
“Is it so unusual a question?”
“Well, I do not wish to say.”
“Yet I wish to know.”
The look she gave me was cutting. “Are you ordering me, then, to tell you?”
“Nay, I will not order you. I am curious about you, that is all.”
“I come from nowhere of consequence. Keep your curiosity. Or if you cannot, send me back to the kitchens.”
I looked at her, taken aback. “You’ve been drawn from the kitchen with a chance now to serve. Any kitchen girl would be thankful. And yet you are not.”
“I had no desire to be pulled from the kitchens.”
“Do you desire, then, to return?”
Uncertainty flickered behind her eyes, but then she lifted her chin. “Perhaps I do.” Silence fell a moment, then she spoke again. “Angharad tells me on the morrow you will ride out to punish Gwrgi of Ebrauc.”
“Aye.”
“I pray you will find success.”
“Thank you for your wishes, but success will be nearer if I am not preoccupied with the well-being of my niece,” I answered.
“Then you must not be preoccupied, for I hear Gwrgi of Ebrauc is a dangerous man.”
“Aye. But we are dangerous as well.” I looked at her. “Will you stay with Angharad until I return? If by then you are still eager to return to the kitchens, I will tell Angharad myself, and we shall find another nursemaid. But I must know in my absence she will be kept safe and in good comfort. I cannot fight shouldering that worry, and I should most like to return home alive.”
Eira considered it, then inclined her head. “Very well. I will stay,” she said.
“Good. And perhaps when I return, you will reward me with your story.”
“My story. Is that your price for my service, then, or will you demand more?”
“You mean to address me as ‘my lord.’ ”
“My lord,” she said, but her face flushed in anger.