“She is no’,” Roisin answered for her. “I would ha’ seen.”
“There has no’ been time to show,” MacNabh told his mistress. “I bedded her but the once.”
“’Twould be a fine thing,” the crone whined, “could ye tell the king she is bearing, when he comes.”
Darlei began to shake. She could not endure that again, could not allow this beast of a man to violate her when she loved—
Deathan.
Her heart cried out for him even as her lips remained silent. Had she not chosen this path for his sake? Could she not then endure the price of his safety?
But nay.Not that.
“It would,” MacNabh said, speculation in his eyes.
“She will ne’er carry to term if she is skin and bones,” Roisin declared. “Ye maun get some flesh on her first. Eat, lass.”
Darlei poked at her food, unable to choke down more than a morsel.
Roisin gestured at her and said to MacNabh, “Ye canna showthatto the king. Pale o’ cheek and scrawny as a dyin’ hen.”
Darlei spoke for the first time. “I need to go outside. I need the air. I cannot survive shut away in that chamber day and night.”
They all stared at her as if they’d forgotten she could speak.
Before they recovered, she went on, “I am naught but a prisoner—me, a princess. I shall tell the king so when he comes.”
“Weel now!” MacNabh drew himself up and his eyes narrowed to slits.
Roisin snapped, “Ye are no’ a prisoner, stupid wench, but a wild thing. Must no’ wild things be kept carefully?”
“Shut yer trap,” MacNabh told her. His gaze, still narrowed, remained fixed on Darlei. “Ye think to ruin my good favor wi’ the king?”
Darlei pressed her lips together.
“Well, ye canna. The king and I were comrades in arms long ago and fought together against yer kind. I doubt much ye can turn him against me.”
“He did not intend for you to keep me pent up captive. For you to starve me.”
“We ha’ no’ starved ye, wretched bitch!” Roisin burst forth. “There has been food ye refuse to eat.”
“I am sick for lack of the sky,” Darlei said. “For the open air.” For sight of the man she thought she’d glimpsed.
“By God.” MacNabh put down his own knife. “I rue the day I e’er had a letter fro’ the king. Woman, this is a workin’ house wi’much activity in readiness for His Majesty’s visit. I ha’ no garden where ye can stroll.”
“Allow me, then, out into the yard.” She had thought about it much. Estimated the angle from whence the man with his barrow had come.
“Too dangerous. There are men repairing the walls. Moving stone.”
The old woman babbled again. “Let her come down here part o’ each day. Out o’ the room.”
MacNabh sighed. “I suppose that will be all right. Though someone will ha’ to watch her closely.” He pointed at Roisin. “Ye.”
“Och, is it no’ enough I ha’ to sacrifice one o’ my dresses as well as sew on it for her?”
“Ye will do as ye’re told, if ye want to keep my bed.”
Darlei shuddered.
