Page 22 of Bound By Deception

He grunted.

“How long did you study?” He didn’t bother to answer, and heat washed over Bree. Iron choke her, she didn’t have the patience for this. Right now, she wanted to grab an eating knife and drive it into his throat. Nonetheless, she plowed on. “Did you always know you’d be an enforcer … or did you choose your path later?”

His mouth twisted at this question, and Bree lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t see her temper flare once more. Moments passed, and then she flicked him another glance under her eyelashes.

Mac Brochan’s sharp-featured face was even stonier than usual. “It doesn’t work that way,” he replied coldly. “When your gift manifests …itdecides your path.”

“Where did you live before Arryn?”

“Nowhere of importance.” His eyes glinted. “Do you have any other vapid questions?”

A meeker female would have quailed under the harshness of his tone, but Bree didn’t.

She should have looked away, should have lowered her gaze and murmured another apology. But something within wouldn’t let her.

He didn’t intimidate her.

“It’s our wedding eve … don’t I deserve to know something of the man who is now my husband,” she answered evenly, “before weretiretogether?”

Silence swelled between them as their gazes remained locked. Mac Brochan’s eyes narrowed, and she swore she heard his teeth grind. “I hail from the north,” he muttered. “From a village called Harra.” He paused, taking another gulp of wine. “My father was a fisherman.”

“He’s gone then?”

“Aye … all my family are.” The chief-enforcer wore a sour expression now, as if he were sipping horse piss rather than wine.

Sensing that he was moments away from losing his patience with her, Bree looked away and helped herself to some braised kale. Getting the chief-enforcer to talk about himself was like wringing blood from a turnip. Killing for a living was so much easier than this new role Mor had thrust upon her.

Fire kindled in Bree’s stomach then, stubbornness rising within her.

Mac Brochan was a rude, aggressive whoreson, but she wouldn’t let her dislike for him stop her from achieving her goal. No, she’d unpeel his layers, one by one. Eventually, no matter what it took, he’d tell herallhis secrets.

11: MUMMERY

CAILEAN PULLED ASIDE the curtain to his chamber, allowing his wife to enter before him.

Fia brushed by, leaving the scent of lavender in her wake.

Gritting his teeth, he followed, letting the curtain swing shut behind them. It was late. The feasting had concluded with the newlyweds sharing a cup of mead and feeding each other honey cakes. Cailean had nursed his drink for as long as he could—but, eventually, he hadn’t been able to put this off any longer.

Skaal was gnawing a mutton bone by the hearth. The dog glanced up when Fia entered, her tawny eyes spearing Cailean’s bride.

Fia’s step faltered, and Cailean nearly ran into her back. “Skaal makes you nervous, does she?” he taunted, vindicated that the woman was intimidated by his fae hound, after all.

His wife cast him a sharp look before hurriedly softening her expression. “Aren’t these beasts dangerous?” she asked huskily. “I’ve heard that hearing three of its howls will still your heart.”

“It will.”

“So, why do you own one?”

Cailean snorted. “I don’townSkaal … she chooses to remain at my side.”

Fia’s hazel eyes widened. “How is that possible?”

He shrugged, even as irritation simmered.

Heedless, his wife continued. “Doesn’t it make you nervous … living with a beast that usually serves the Shee?”

“No.”

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