Page 37 of Ashes of Betrayal

As they traveled west, the road became increasingly busy; it had been wise for her to send Tiv into hiding. From the moment the first traveler approached, a bent-backed farmer with a cart full of noisy caged fowl, Bree glamored herself.

However, she didn’t choose the guise she’d used when she’d traveled alone through Albia—that of the stern-faced farmer’s wife with straw-colored hair—instead, she glamored herself as the Marav woman she’d once been: Fia mac Callum.

The thick woodland drew back, and villages—scatterings of turf-roofed cottages—popped up like mushrooms on either sideof the highway. Men, women, and children worked the fields, hoeing the dark earth, and harvesting the last of the cabbages and neeps before winter.

Many of them glanced up as Feannag thundered by, their gazes tracking the large crow-black stallion with its two riders—and the huge fae hound that ran at the horse’s side, tongue lolling.

They reached Morae at noon. Skaal left them shortly before they did, disappearing into the hazelwood that hugged the shore of the loch. Bree wasn’t surprised; she’d marked how Cailean left Skaal behind when he ventured into Rothie. Tales of the High King’s chief-enforcer and his fae hound were no doubt far-spread throughout Albia. It made sense not to draw more attention than was necessary to himself.

After all, he was supposed to be dead.

A scattering of squat round huts with conical roofs encircled the lake edge, where women were bringing in washing and children played knucklebones in the dirt.

“No sign of the company of fighters out here,” Cailean muttered, breaking the long silence between them. “Yet.” His tone was all business, making his focus clear.

“They’ll be residing inside the crannog then,” she replied. “What should we be looking out for?”

“An enclosure with a banner … cheering.”

“They should be easy to find.”

He grunted in reply. “You’d think so.”

They rode onto a wooden causeway. Peering over Cailean’s shoulder, Bree’s gaze settled upon the turf roofs within the crannog—a large island encircled by a high wooden palisade—in the midst of the wide loch. The blunt-edged Ben Morae rose to the north, a majestic peak with deep-green and purple slopes, reflected in the still waters beneath.

He raised a hand then to acknowledge the pike-wielding guards who flanked the gates on the way in. Bree noted the respectful nods they answered him with. Despite that he’d walked away from his old life, Cailean carried a commanding air about him that others couldn’t ignore.

He angled Feannag toward a long, low-slung building to the right of the guard house, threw his leg over the pommel, and slid off his horse. He then strapped on his weapons. Bree was also about to dismount when he turned. His gaze sharpened as it traveled over her then, taking in her glamored form.

“I chose this face because we’re both familiar with it,” she murmured, even as her pulse took off. Iron bite her, this man’s glare could flay the skin off a boar’s hide. “Do you have a problem with it?”

“No,” he replied brusquely. “One face is the same as another.”

Anger pulsed to life in Bree’s belly. His mood had been tolerable at dawn, but it seemed the ride to Morae had soured it. Aye, he was impatient to go in search of Eilig, but that didn’t mean he had to be a prick about it.

Bree slid off Feannag’s back to find herself standing too close to Cailean. The iron strapped across his front made her ears buzz in warning. Edging away from him, she waited while he unstrapped the saddle bags and handed over a bronze coin to the lad who emerged from the stables.

After making sure the lad would rub Feannag down well and feed him a generous nosebag of oats and plenty of hay, Cailean turned on his heel and strode out onto the wide street. Bree followed him.

Her husband walked with long, purposeful strides. He bristled with impatience, his shoulders tense. Of course, even without his hound, Cailean drew stares—many of them from women. His tattoos, size, and bearing made it impossible for him to pass unseen.

A company of warriors marched by then. Armed with iron-tipped pikes and axes, they were a sign of the unrest that had plagued The Uplands of late. Their rough voices mingled with the clucking of fowl that pecked at grain outside the dwellings, and the squeals of children chasing each other through the wynds that led off the main thoroughfare. At the far end of the isle, Bree spied the conical roof of the chieftain’s roundhouse, where smoke drifted lazily into the pale sky.

They walked down the main street, gazes sweeping left and right as they looked for a fighting enclosure or a banner announcing the next duel. However, when they reached the large dirt square before the broch, there had been no sign of either.

After that, Cailean scoured the crannog, lane by lane, with Bree walking silently at his heel. And as the afternoon inched by, she watched her husband’s face gradually darken. By the time they found themselves back at the gates leading out of Morae, a deep scowl creased his face.

“The Mother’s tits,” Cailean growled, stopping before the stables where they’d left Feannag. “He isn’t here.”

Bree winced, sympathetic to his frustration. He’d been building up to facing Eilig all day, and the man had eluded him. “What now?”

Cailean huffed an irritated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I need to ask around … and find out if he was here, and if so, where the bastard went.” He glanced about him then as if he’d only just noticed that dusk was settling. “But first, I’d better get us lodgings for the night.”

An elderly couple rented them a lean-to behind one of the tightly packed cottages within the fort and promised to provide clean furs to sleep on, hot water, soap, and drying sheets.

However, embarrassment swept over Bree when Cailean made sure that there weretwosleeping nooks inside—a request that earned a surprised look from the old woman. Of course, she’d assumed they were a couple, and Cailean had just made it clear they weren’t.

Cheeks burning, she ducked inside the lean-to, glancing around the dim interior. Cailean entered a moment later, and she avoided looking at him.

---