“A strong young man like your brother will soon recover from a broken arm. In future, if he does not like to play rough, he should perhaps not accept dares from Caledonians.”
How had King Caerdoc known it was a dare? Had he and Urfet somehow planned this between them? Or did he merely know his man?
“I must see to my brother,” Deathan said, to avoid offending, and followed his father inside.
Two healers worked over Rohr, who sat, rather than lay, on a bench. He had gone white, his face still streaked with sweat. Da stood at a distance looking on critically.
He grunted when Deathan took the place at his side. “Tell me wha’ happened.”
“Urfet dared him to race. Rohr, the fool, accepted.”
Another grunt. “Yer brother may be a fool at times, but he has a rightful pride. Did the bastard cheat?”
“They were jostling. Like the other races.” Deathan did not add that Urfet had been playing with Rohr, though he believed it. How would that improve relations?
Da said nothing, though the expression in his eyes told that he bristled.
“He is no’ hurt otherwise?” Deathan asked. “Just the arm?”
“’Tis enough. He will no’ be able to draw a bow, to ride, to practice at arms.”
“Still, it could ha’ been much worse.”
“That is wha’ galls me. This has gone too far, and the Caledonians ha’ been here too long. The wedding should ha’ taken place already.”
“Aye, but circumstance—”
“I no longer care for all that.”
“Father, about the wedding. We ha’ to talk.”
His father turned and glared at him. “Wha’ d’ye know o’ it?”
Should Deathan say that Mistress Caragh had engaged in wild and dangerous talk? It would be better coming from Rohr, but that did not now seem likely to happen.
Before he could part his lips to speak, the head healer stepped over to them.
“Chief MacMurtray—’tis a bad break, this. The bone did no’ snap clean. ’Twill take time to heal.”
“But hewillheal?” Father asked. “He will regain use o’ that arm?”
“If he is careful and keeps fro’ using it for the time.”
“I shall see that he does. Any other injuries?”
“Och, there will be bruises, and he bumped his head when he went down. ’Twill be sore for a while.”
If anything, Father looked even more unhappy. He stepped forward to begin berating his older son.
Deathan left the hut.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Darlei stood highon the wall that guarded the keep, where Deathan soon found her. She knew very well she should not be up here—two members of the guard had hurried to tell her so as soon as she and Orle ascended the steps.
But she felt so trapped and so beleaguered by the thoughts cramming her head that she’d wanted—no, needed—to escape. It was either try to make another break for freedom here in this country she did not know, or climb the walls where she could at least glimpse an elusive liberty.
“I just want to look out,” she’d told the guards, two big, rough-looking, well-armed men. “I just wish to see.”
