Page 60 of Ashes of Betrayal

Maybe mac Nairnhadarrested Cailean for beheading the fight master.

Perhaps word had reached them that the High King’s chief-enforcer was supposed to be dead.

Bree swiveled on her heel and stalked another circuit of the yard.

A strong wind had whipped up from the northwest. The Sweeper, which scattered the straw that littered the yard and tugged at the lumps of turf on the surrounding roofs, just added to her disquiet this afternoon. Gateway was over now, yet there was a different kind of tension in the air.

If Cailean didn’t appear soon, she’d go looking for him.

“Bree.”

Whipping around, she found her husband striding into the yard. His face, which had softened after their night together in Morae, had regained its former hardness. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed, and his blue eyes steely.

Bree’s stomach tensed. She’d hoped the afternoon might have allowed him to cool down. But remembering the scene with his sister and nephews that morning, she wasn’t surprised he looked so forbidding.

Even so, she ached to reach for him. She hadn’t ever been overly tactile; she’d been brought up in an emotionally distant household and wasn’t comfortable with displays of affection. But despite that, the urge to step into him, to wrap her arms around his torso and bury her face against his neck, was almost overwhelming.

She prevented herself though. Now wasn’t the time.

Cailean halted before her. “King Ailean is a burr up my arse,” he growled, raking a hand through his short dark hair. “The bastard kept pelting me with questions I couldn’t answer.”

Bree cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t learn anything useful from him then?”

He shook his head and pulled a face.

“You held your tongue, I hope?”

“I wouldn’t have returned to you if I hadn’t.” He glanced around then before muttering a curse. “I wanted to get out of this fort … but the king insisted I remain for the noon meal … followed by an afternoon meeting with his warriors.”

“What’s another night?” Stepping close, she reached out then and caught his hand in hers. Actually, she’d have preferred to move on from Cannich—for them to get away from this brewing conflict—but it was too late in the day to move on; dusk was almost upon them. “Right now, neither of us has anywhere we need to be.”

27: LOOKING FOR REDEMPTION

PUTTING DOWN HER wooden spoon, Bree regarded her husband. Seated opposite her—they’d taken their supper in their room rather than join the noisy crowd in the ale-hall itself—Cailean had barely touched his stew.

Instead, his gaze had turned inward as he silently ruminated.

Watching him stare down at the cup of ale he gripped, discomfort shifted in the pit of Bree’s belly.

He was retreating to a place where he felt safe, where self-loathing could bloom—a place she wouldn’t be able to reach him. She couldn’t let him go there.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bree asked finally.

Cailean glanced up, a groove appearing between his eyebrows. “No.”

“It might help.”

“Would it?”

Their gazes held, yet she didn’t flinch away from the hardness on his face. “It’s not your fault.”

He shook his head, a muscle bunching in his jaw. “Aye, it is. Eilig was right. I’m selfish.”

“You’re no different from most of us then.” She flashed him a thin smile. “It’s how we survive.”

His eyes guttered. “Aye, and my sister pays the price.”

“You weren’t to know she was in love with Eilig,” she shot back.

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