Page 52 of Bound By Deception

“I escorted Mirren to the bakehouse,” she replied coolly, holding his eye. “After what happened, she’s … understandably … nervous.”

Her husband’s mouth thinned, although he didn’t reprimand her. Instead, he halted and hunkered down next to the prone man. “I’m Cailean mac Brochan, the chief-enforcer,” he told the man brusquely. “Name yourself.”

Relief flickered across the stranger’s face. The High King wasn’t before him, but he’d speak to his emissary. “Garth mac Donal,” he breathed, his voice weak now. “I’m a tax collector.”His eyes glittered with fever as he met the chief-enforcer’s gaze. “We were attacked in the north.”

Mac Brochan’s brow furrowed, and Bree stilled, excitement fluttering under her ribs. Perhaps she was about to discover something that could help her people, something she could send back to Mor.Finally.

She held her breath, waiting for the man to say more, for mac Brochan to question him. However, after a brief pause, her husband glanced her way, his expression stony. “Fetch the healer.”

“I’m going away tomorrow.” Halfway through the noon meal, mac Brochan broke the silence between them.

Bree glanced up from where she was wrestling with an overcooked piece of roast venison. It was as tough as boiled leather. “Aye?” Of course, after witnessing the arrival of the tax collector that morning, she wasn’t surprised by this news.

He gave her a curt nod and reached into the basket between them, helping himself to a slice of oaten bread.

“Are you going north then?” she asked lightly, bracing herself for his stony silence.

To her surprise, he nodded. “To the Uplands … the High King’s tax collectors were attacked north of the Goatfell Mountains.”

“So, the man this morning was the only survivor?”

Her husband gave a curt nod.

“Did he reveal anything useful?”

“Not much … he died around noon.”

Bree took this news in, disappointment rising. Curse it, she’d hoped for something juicier. Nonetheless, now that mac Brochan was talking to her, she’d keep the conversation going.

“Did the Shee attack them?”

He shook his head. “More likely tribespeople.” Mac Brochan took a mouthful of bread and chewed slowly before swallowing. “The Overking of Cannich has little control over his people these days … especially the Circines tribe.”

It pleased Bree to learn just how unpopular Talorc mac Brude was with his people. The three hill tribes of the Uplands had always been difficult to control, and these days, the chieftains who’d bent the knee to the local overking were unruly.

Nonetheless, there was a vagueness to her husband’s response that frustrated her. He knew more than he was letting on. Taxes weren’t the only issue with the Uplanders. If the overkings were busy building armies, they’d be drafting local men. She wondered if the Circines had rebelled.

She wanted to ask mac Brochan about this, but—remembering his response last time she’d inquired about the High King’s armies—she held her tongue.

“You are to behave yourself in my absence,” mac Brochan said then.

Bree couldn’t help it, her mouth curved. “Was that a jest, husband?”

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “No.”

Bree pulled a face. “I don’t know what trouble you think I’ll get up to.”

He snorted, and her pulse quickened in response. Of course, after the events of the past days, he’d be keeping an even closer eye on her.

“How long will you be away?” she asked after an awkward pause.

“I’m not sure … although it’s likely to be the full turn of a moon.”

Bree wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved that she’d be spared his company—or frustrated that she’d have to wait longer still to work on building trust between them.

Mac Brochan was even more suspicious of her now.

As such, despite that she wanted to ask him for more details, like the size of his patrol, and the route they’d take north, Bree swallowed the urge.

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