Page 58 of Bound By Deception

There was nothing helpful here.

Bree left the wine for mac Brochan’s return, turned, and made her way back out onto the landing. The guard nodded to her as she departed, and she flashed him another smile. Yet, all she could think about was returning to the privacy of her quarters. Heart pounding, she forced herself to walk across the landing at a sedate pace. However, once she was alone, Bree deftly unsealed the missive and read it.

And as she did so, her stomach swooped.

Unfortunately, it was as she’d suspected. Mother Gelda confirmed, in just three blunt sentences, that no Maid of Albia had ever been trained to fight.

Bree gnawed at her lower lip. Mac Brochan would discover the truth soon enough—even if he had to ride to Baldeen himself for answers. But in the meantime, she’d stall him.

Crossing to the fire, she threw the letter in, watching as the golden tongues of flame devoured it.

A thought occurred to her then, and ice slithered down her spine. Of course, when mac Brochan returned, Torran would ask the chief-enforcer if he’d gotten his missive. But what if Mother Gelda had spoken to Torran?What if he knows what the letter contains?

Bree watched the last of the parchment blacken and shrivel.

Keep your nerve.Mother Gelda had written to the chief-enforcer. Her words were for his eyes only. Instinct told her that Torran didn’t know. And with any luck, Mor would play her part. The Shee would attack the chief-enforcer’s band, and he’d never return to Duncrag to discover his letter missing.

She had to brazen this out—it was either that or fail Mor as Bryce had.

“Fia,” Mirren’s voice intruded then, carrying through the curtain shielding the chief-enforcer’s quarters from the landing. “Princess Lara requests you join her in the hall, for an evening wine.”

Bree clenched her hands by her sides.

Curse it. Over the past moons, she’d developed a reluctant liking and respect for the princess. But now wasn’t the time to have a chat over a goblet of wine. Her nerves were as tight as a drum—company was the last thing she was in the mood for. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t decline. She couldn’t.

“Aye,” she called back. “I shall be down shortly.”

Princess Lara wasn’t alone in the smoky hall. As Bree entered, the High King and the prince glanced up from their game of ‘Liar’. The dice game was popular amongst the Marav—indeed,Mirren had been surprised to discover that her mistress didn’t know it.

Bree’s skin prickled under the men’s inspection.

The High King possessed a quiet menace, while his son brooded. They made an incongruous pair seated there—Talorc’s big frame folded into a chair, restless energy bristling off him. The High King was dressed in plain leather, the golden torque about his neck his only concession to his status, while Kennan was clad in a beautifully fitting tunic and breeches with delicately embroidered flourishes. As always, the prince’s long jet-black hair was oiled and combed back. Amber-studded rings sparkled upon his long fingers as he picked up the dice pot and shook it.

A few yards away from the High Seat, Queen Teva and her gaggle of ladies had gathered around the largest of the two hearths. They’d been gossiping together when Bree entered, but broke off at her entrance, studying her with interest.

Bree stiffened. Unfortunately, she was still the talk of the broch.

“Fia!” Lara drew her attention then. The princess sat alone upon a stool by the second hearth. She held a distaff in one hand and had a basket of wool upon her lap. Winding wool onto a spindle, readying it for spinning, was a task that Bree still struggled with. However, Lara had likely learned this skill at her mother’s knee as a child.

“Good evening, Your Highness.”

Lara gestured to the ewer of wine and two cups upon the table next to her. “Pour us some wine and take a seat.”

Bree obeyed. Then, cradling her cup of wine, she perched upon the stool opposite the princess.

Taking a sip of wine, Lara met her eye. “I hear Cailean has gone away again.”

Bree stiffened. She couldn’t get used to the princess calling mac Brochan by his first name. Masking her reaction, she nodded. “I suppose I shall have to get used to it.”

“But it feels as if you’ve barely spent any time together since your handfasting.”

Long enough.

“Aye, well, there are many demands on a chief-enforcer’s time,” she replied, her tone veiled. “It sounds as if things are getting lawless in the north.”

The princess glanced over at where the queen consort and her women had returned to their conversation. Meanwhile, the High King and the prince were both focusing on their dicing. “Father has been in a foul mood ever since word arrived about his tax inspectors,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “They took all their coin and then strung the men by their necks from trees.”

“Won’t it be hard to catch those responsible though?” Bree asked, taking a sip from her own cup. The tart plum wine bit at the back of her throat, but her interest was piqued. Until now, she’d been disappointed about just how little Princess Lara seemed to overhear—but maybe she’d learned something of use now. “I hear the Circines are adept at hiding.”

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