He straightened, turned slowly, and surveyed those who surrounded him. He had fought for them in every battle. Now, so swiftly, they turned on him.
He did not speak a word, yet the bitterness lodged hard like a stone beneath his heart. He wanted to go home to his mother. He could not.
He could not.
*
Liadan drew abreath and fought to quiet her heartbeat, which ran ahead of her like a maddened pony. It had started to gallop when she opened the door and saw Ardahl standing there lit by the red sunrise.
She did not know how to handle the emotions he raised. She did not know how to handle anything that had happened since Conall’s death.
Why had she never realized until now how much she’d relied on her older brother in times of difficulty and strife? The extent to which he lifted worries from her, worries about Mam, worries about far more trivial things and more terrifying things too, such as the threat from the west.
Always with a smile. Always so calm. Though her brother was not a quiet man withal, since he did love to tease and tussle, she now saw he had taken her troubles from her without fuss, and usually solved them.
Upon whom was she to rely now?
Mam had awoken sick and grieving. She had retched into the night pot, ill from the draught. And yet the draught was all Liadan had to help quiet her. Even now, Mam lay once more upon Conall’s bed and wept.
Poor Flanna had a face like a ghost. She too would be ill before Liadan knew it. She needed food, which meant Liadan had to prepare some sort of breakfast.
She would need to feed the serpent.
That thought, among the teeming others, stopped her cold. Aye, she’d sent him away to fetch water, a few moments’ respite. Yet he would return.
Here, where she did not want him.
“Flanna, darling, bring me some kindling that I might light the fire.”
Fire was always first. That done, she would beat her thoughts into a line if she had to.
Flanna slipped outside and came back with arms full of dry sticks. Without being asked, she set about arranging them upon the hearth.
What if Ardahl did not return? What was Liadan to do then? Go the chief? Would Ardahl then be punished? Further humiliated?
For he had to be feeling humiliated, aye. Though how he should be, at taking her wonderful brother’s place—
The door opened. He came in with the ewer, bringing shadows.
Liadan glanced at him and away. “Place it here. Please.” Was one required to treat a serpent with courtesy?
He did as asked, his movements neat and quiet, and stood.
“I will be making some breakfast. Sit by the door.” She did not want for him to come any farther in to their place. Her place.
“Mistress, I will need weapons.”
“So?”
“I cannot fetch my own. Were Conall’s returned here?”
That made her glance up sharply. Should he touch her brother’s things? Those most precious to him?
“His weapons were brought here, aye. After the burial.” Her lips curled savagely. “All but his black knife.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him. Good. She wanted him to hurt the way she did. The way Mam, whom she could still hear weeping, did.
He went and sat by the door even as her thoughts moved furiously.
