Once known, how might he live without her?
His mam had not come home by the time he left. No one knew what they had done. Liadan had straightened up the sleeping place, built the fire. Given him breakfast.
Kissed him goodbye.
He might never have the chance to lie with her so again. If he did not, it would hurt like a constant, open wound.
Better to carry that wound than not to have had her at all.
At the training field, Dornach set them to drilling upon the sodden ground. Ardahl once more trained with Fearghal, and he felt the glances of the other men, curious and resentful. Cathair, as he could not help but notice, watched him and Fearghal from the corner of his eye, and he was unusually hard on his designated companion.
Cathair, angry, made a daunting proposition.
At midday, the women brought food. The rain had ceased by then, and a watery sun appeared. Ardahl half hoped Liadan would come, half hoped she would not. He dreaded seeing her, for he did not know how he might hope to behave toward her, as he had before.
She did not come. He and Fearghal were served by one of the women from the chief’s household.
They sat on the wall and ate together as if they were of the same station.
“My wife is gey worried,” Fearghal said as he consumed his barley cakes. “She greatly fears my going off to fight again. Tries to tell me ’tis not my place as chief.
“I tell her it is my place as chief. That if I will no’ stand strong at the head o’ my men, I can no’ expect them to lay down their lives in my absence.”
“Aye.” Ardahl could only agree, and stole a look at the man. He still appeared weary beneath the high color earned by working hard, and blue flags flew beneath his eyes.
Ardahl experienced a flare of worry. What would happen to them if Fearghal fell?
He would have to make certain that did not happen.
Fearghal gave him a brief grin and, as if hearing his thoughts, said, “I tell her I will have the best warrior our clan can boast at my side—ye.”
With calm he did not feel, Ardahl repeated, “I am disgraced.”
“Aye, so.” Fearghal frowned.
“The druids have declared it so and put me in Conall’s place.”
Fearghal stopped eating. “I have said I do not know what happened between ye and Conall.” He fixed Ardagh with a cool eye. “Tell me again what you say occurred.”
“Conall turned on me for no reason I could tell.” Should Ardahl speak to the chief of his other suspicions, about Cathair? But he had no proof beyond Cathair’s association with a young woman. “There was a flurry and he lay dead.”
“And that is the truth?”
“That is the truth.”
Fearghal sighed.
Summoning all his strength, Ardahl said, “My chief, I do no’ see how ye can put me first among the warriors. The others will no’ stand for it.” Deliberately he added, “Cathair will not.”
“I put ye there because ye have earned the place. ’Twas ye and no’ Cathair who saved my life.”
“Even so.”
“Dornach believes in ye.”
“I am humbled by his regard. And yours.”
Fearghal smiled wryly. “Among our warriors,humbleis no’ a common thing to be. Aodh, who imposed your sentence, is dead.I canna say I have the power to lift what he laid upon ye. I do not. Ye will have to stay and serve Conall’s family as sentenced.”
