She straightened her gown to avoid looking at him. “I am… exhausted. Nothing more.”
“Then, ’tis time to rest.” Darragh raised his forearm for her to place her hand on it, and she allowed him to lead her back to the head table.
As soon as they sat, he took a sip from his golden chalice. Brighit feared he would ignore her, but he turned to her and said, “They are enjoying the dancing. I did not realize ye were so agile on yer feet.”
She snorted. “Are ye referring to my near fall?”
Darragh’s eyes creased at the corner with his smile. “I would never call attention to something ye had not intended to do. I would prefer to overlook unintended offenses.”
When his smile faded, Brighit realized he was seeking an explanation, an excuse at the very least, for her treatment of him. He held her gaze, but she didn’t know what to say. It was suddenly difficult to swallow, but then he broke the contact, looking away.
“I referred to yer dancing. Ye seem very comfortable with the music.”
Before she could answer, the large door to the great hall was shoved open with so much force that all in the room gasped. The dancers froze mid step, their eyes locked on the entryway, and even the musicians halted their playing to turn toward the sound.
Five large hooded men, covered with mantles of wolves’ fur, well-armed with axes, shields, and swords entered the hall. Warriors. An intimidating sight. They stood in the doorway, glancing about at the revelers as if not quite understanding what was going on. The man in the lead took a few more steps into the hall before removing his hood, revealing long, black hair and a beard to match. His eyes darted about the room as if searching someone out. His gaze landed on Darragh and Brighit, where it hesitated for the slightest moment before continuing around the room.
Tadhg stepped toward the men, his hand outstretched to their leader. “Seigine. Ye’re late to the festivities.”
They’d been invited. The tension in the room lightened a bit. All the neighboring tribes were called to a celebration unless they were enemies. The more important the person being wed, the more neighbors invited.
And yet… the newcomer’s dark eyes assessed Tadhg with what appeared to be disdain. Darragh tensed beside Brighit, but she dared not say anything. No one spoke. Seigine finally dipped his head, a show of acquiescence. “Forgiveness please, Tadhg.
They clasped hands and the entire assembly seemed to heave a sigh of relief. Brighit was fairly certain she had never met this man and his warriors. Over the past few days, many of the clans from the surrounding area had come to the castle to pay their respects, but it was impossible to keep track of them all.
Seigine continued. “I do not come to celebrate.”
“Where is yer king?” Tadhg searched the faces of the men behind him. “I do not see yer brother with ye. Has he intended an offense against me?”
“Cathair is dead.”
The collective gasp from the crowd sent a sensation like cold fingers sliding up Brighit’s back.
“In battle?”
The large man’s eyes seemed to bore into Tadhg’s. “No battle ensued. Wefoundhis body.”
“An accident?”
Brighit started to shiver. Uncontrollably. She sought out her uncle in the crowd, but his expression revealed only mild curiosity.
“Yer hands are cold.” She started at Darragh’s words, at the sensation of his hand gripping her own. Without looking, she knew he watched her.
“I am fine.”
“Let me get ye a—”
She shook her head, the movement causing shooting pain behind her eyes, and suddenly the room grew blurry all around her.
“No accident. He was murdered.” The tall man’s words were met with stunned silence.
Chapter 9
“Who would wish him dead?” Tadhg asked.
Brighit could barely hear him through the pain in her head.
“That is the reason we’ve come to ye for help. We’ve signed yer treaty.”
