“Now ye’ve had yer way,” MacNabh told her, “eat.”
She’d not had her way. Time spent here in the hall did not give her access to the busy yard where she might catch more than sunlight. And it would force her into proximity with these people she abhorred.
But from here she might at least see the main doors. Should they stand open…
It was better, anyway, than a cruel slit of a window.
Determinedly, and with her stomach protesting, she addressed herself to her plate.
*
“I will tak’ye on.” The man who spoke was tall and dark-haired with a look of MacNabh about him. Young enough to be a by-blow, perhaps.
Deathan had caught sight of MacNabh when the man came out to direct those repairing the walls, or inspect their finished work. An aging warrior, comfortable enough in his status and as unappealing as a man could be.
The very idea of him touching Darlei fair had Deathan’s blood turning cold.
“Ye sure about that?” he asked the young man.
“Aye so. I fancy my chances.”
Did he? Young and green and no doubt nearing the end of his training. Deathan would hate to kill him.
The fellow already had his sword in hand, though, a third-rate weapon that looked like a castoff.
“Ye will ha’ to ask Master Ardroch’s permission,” Deathan told the boy.
The lad went pelting off without a word. The other men in the yard left off their work as if at an inaudible signal and began to drift up.
“That is young Tighe,” one of them said. “He’s a canny lad and good wi’ a sword.”
“MacNabh’s son?” Deathan asked.
The man looked surprised. “Got on a serving lass.” He grinned, showing gapped teeth. “Roisin fair killed him. That was when the mistress was still alive, and himself had Roisin on the side.”
“If MacNabh values him, then I’d best no’ take off his head.”
“Wha’ makes ye think himself values the lad?”
Tighe came running back with Ardroch striding behind him.
“Wha’ is all this? An excuse to stop working?” Ardroch asked.
“The lad challenged me,” Deathan told him. “Wha’ is a man to do?”
Ardroch rolled his eyes. “Go and get yer sword.”
A hum had started up by the time Deathan returned, and another circle formed. Men eager for diversion. He tried toloosen the muscles of his shoulders. He’d been laboring since dawn and certainly was not at his best.
Think of Darlei.A step closer to her, mayhap.
Nielan, the man Deathan had defeated last time, stood at the forefront of the circle, his gaze skeptical.
Tighe, though, had stars in his pale-blue eyes.
He was younger than Nielan, aye, and younger than Deathan himself. Quicker too, as Deathan found out when they engaged.
But clumsy. Unpracticed at controlling the power of his blows. A bit impetuous with his slashes.
