Page 126 of Bride of Mist
Whether Dougal mac Darragh was deserving of Gellir’s respect remained to be seen. He supposed he’d find out once they made it into the keep.
The sun was lowering, casting a golden glow over the green field in front of the castle. A few stragglers were making their way inside the gates before sunset. An old woman with a flock of geese. A lad lugging a cart of sod. A pair of maids bearing full milk pails. Gellir and Adam walked in their midst, trying to blend in.
As they approached, Gellir squinted up at the guards posted at the gates. They looked rough. He was glad Adam and he hadn’t arrived after dark. It wasn’t that Gellir couldn’t have singlehandedly fought his way through them. But that would have given away their rat-catcher ploy.
“Adam?” some lass hissed. “Are ye Adam?”
Gellir kept walking. Nobody knew them here. She must be addressing another Adam. There was no reason to…
“Aye,” Adam said, stopping. “I’m Adam.”
Gellir frowned, pulling his hood farther over his face. “Come on,” he growled. “We’re going to be late.”
“And ye must be Gellir?” she asked.
Gellir froze. Shite. They’d almost made it to the front gates.
“Aye, that’s Gellir,” Adam said.
Gellir fired a frosty glare, first at his cousin, then at the meddling lass—a freckle-faced, orange-haired runt of a thing with a basket of flowers and eyes as round and blue as a robin’s egg.
She studied Adam’s clothing. “So what are ye supposed to be? Turnbrochies?”
“Rat-catchers,” Adam said.
She nodded. “I have an urgent message for ye,” she whispered to Adam. “’Tis from Dougal mac…”
She stopped abruptly when she looked up at Gellir.
He wasn’t surprised by her silence. His grim scowl often had a chilling effect. He found it quite useful. Sometimes he could stare down an opponent without even drawing his sword.
In this case, however, the maid wasn’t cowering in fear. She seemed stunned with wonder, as if he were a curious creature she’d never seen before.
And then, as he continued to glower from the shadow of his hood, her face transformed. Her lips parted. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyelids dipped, and her eyes took on a dreamy cast, as if she’d grown suddenly sleepy.
His frown deepened. He sighed.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew that look. He’d seen it on the faces of his little sister’s friends. It was the look he’d been getting recently from every muddleheaded female at Rivenloch who wore her heart on her sleeve.
His father said it was because of his handsome Cameliard looks.
His mother said it was because he had the heart of a champion.
All Gellir knew was it made him uneasy.
He supposed it wasn’t the maid’s fault. Her condition seemed to afflict every lass he’d met of late.
“An urgent message?” Adam prompted, irritated by the delay.
“Wait,” Gellir realized. “How did Dougal know we were coming?”
The lass gave him a shy smile. “He said he told ye not to…and that ye weren’t much for followin’ orders.” Somehow she made it sound like a compliment.
“So what’s the message?” Adam repeated, snapping his fingers in front of the dazed maid’s face to get her attention.
She blinked, turning her focus to Adam. “Oh. He wants ye to know your sister is safe.”
“My sister. Where is she?”
