Both women turned, and Alannah’s stomach fluttered when Conan flashed her a mischievous grin. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he purred, striding over to where she stood near the hearth and pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek.
His hold on her stiffened the moment he spotted Teague, and she realized that they hadn’t been introduced.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she greeted them, deliberately including the other men. “I don’t think you’ve had the chance to meet our newest guest, Teague O’Conor mac Cahill, Princeof Connachta.” She turned to the prince, gesturing toward each bard and introducing them in turn.
An odd smile tugged at the edge of Teague’s lips. It reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse. “Pleasure to meet you,gentlemen.”
“I assure you, the pleasure is all ours,” Illadan answered, though Alannah thought his tone a tad acerbic for addressing a prince.
“Please,” Teague smacked the wooden tabletop, “join me.”
“We wouldn’t want to impose.” Conan’s piercing stare never wavered from Teague.
The prince broke into a full, toothy grin, meeting Conan’s bold stare. “No, Iinsist. Alannah, why don’t you join us as well.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “I’d invite Emer, but something tells me she’d politely decline.”
“Something tells me you’re correct,” Emer called from across the room, not missing a step as she carried breakfast to the newly-seated arrivals. “It will only grow busier as the sun rises higher.”
“So,” Teague leaned forward onto his elbows expectantly, “what brings such an impressive group of men to Ath Luain?”
“We perform as bards,” Illadan answered. “Though we don’t carry that rank.”
“No less a noble endeavor for it,” Teague grinned at him. “You shall play for me tonight.”
The muscles in Conan’s jaw strained at the prince’s comment. It seemed odd that he felt the need to argue over such a compliment as a request to play for one of the royal family. Alannah placed a hand on his arm, hoping to diffuse whatever about the conversion had him getting riled.
“Of course.” Illadan sounded about as happy as Conan looked, but that wasn’t unusual for their stern leader.
“Where are you from?” Teague pressed, looking from one man to the next.
“We came from Mumhain,” Finn answered. “But we’ve traveled all over Éire.”
“They’ve even been to Dyflin,” Alannah added. “To my knowledge, we’ve not had anyone here who’s been that far east.”
A polite chuckle danced around them. “I was there just recently myself,” the prince told her before turning to Conan. “How did you find it?”
Conan met Teague’s stare as though it were a contest of who could go longest without blinking. “We were welcomed warmly by Sitric’s household. Some of his other guests proved more antagonistic, but they were dealt with accordingly.”
The air thrummed with unspent tension. Alannah knew the feeling well—it was just how she’d felt right before she fought off Oran. She leaned closer to Conan, whispering against his cheek. “Am I missing something?”
He turned toward her, one dark brow raised. “How do you mean?”
Beyond them, conversation continued along much the same. The deep rumble of the bards speaking and Teague’s answering chuckles faded as her focus shifted to Conan.
“It seems tense.” She inclined her head toward the rest of the table. “Like there’s a problem I’m unaware of.”
“There’s been a lot of raiding between Mumhain and Connachta of late,” he whispered.
Alannah nodded. That made sense. She knew about the increased animosity between the two kingdoms, but only from what she’d heard through merchants and other travelers. Luckily she’d not seen much of it herself.
Conan’s stormy eyes sparkled. “I have an idea.” Sitting straight, he waited until he had the prince’s full attention.“Teague, as prince you help command the king’s army, do you not?”
“I do.” He narrowed his eyes, a deep, rich, chestnut.
“Alannah and Emer have two brothers who should have returned home with the other local men who fought to the north.”
