Ciaran wasn’t long in coming. Zeus escorted him up the stairs, but once he hit the landing, he bolted inside the solar, forcing Desdra up from her chair. Her father was moving so quickly that she immediately looked around for a weapon. She wasn’t entirely certain that she wasn’t going to have to beat the man away, so she went to stand behind the chair as he approached.
As if that chair could protect her.
“Daughter,” he greeted her, looking far older and more haggard than she’d ever seen him. “Am I not welcome?”
Desdra didn’t move. She merely nodded. “You are welcome,” she said evenly. “But why are you here?”
Ciaran had his arms open as if he was going to hug his daughter, but it was clear that she didn’t want that. He ended up lowering his arms and looking around for wine.
“I can see things are as they usually are between us,” he said, irritated. “At least offer me some drink. I am thirsty.”
Warily, Desdra moved out from behind the chair and over to a small table that contained the warmed cider she’d been drinking. “All I have is this warmed drink,” she said. “There is wine in it, but it is watered. Do you want it?”
Ciaran made a face of disgust. “Nay,” he said. “Send for wine. I’ll not drink that sewage.”
Already, his visit was off to an unpleasant start. Desdra went over to the entry door and called to the nearest servant, sending the woman for wine. She also rolled her eyes at Zeus, who was standing at the top of the stairs. As he fought off a grin, she dutifully returned to her father, who had taken a seat by this time and was warming himself at the fire.
“Well?” Desdra said. “Why did you come?”
Ciaran glanced at his daughter, his hands out in front of the fire. “I came to tell you that your brother is dead,” he said. “Killed by outlaws as he traveled home about a few days ago.”
Desdra gasped. “Benedict is dead?”
“That’s what I said.”
He was so cold, so unfeeling. That was not news Desdra had been expecting and, in fact, he’d nearly smacked her over the head with it in the most insensitive way possible. She immediately burst into tears.
“Benedict,” she sobbed into her hand. “My sweet brother.”
Ciaran eyed her, annoyed. “Aye, it is tragic and all that,” he said impatiently. “But now I have a problem. That is why I have come to you.”
His attitude enraged her. “Aproblem?” she said. “I’d say you do, indeed, have a problem. Your son is dead!”
“He is,” he said. “My weeping like a woman will not bring him back.”
Desdra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How can you be so callous?” she said. “Your son has been killed. You could show some grief or sorrow. You could show something for his memory.”
Ciaran sighed sharply. “Stop carrying on so,” he told her. “I have come to you with a problem. Benedict is no longer here, so you must help me. I have no one else to turn to.”
Desdra was becoming increasingly angry at him. “Why do you not care about your own son’s death?” she demanded, wiping the tears from her face. “Why are you so cold?”
“I told you,” Ciaran said as if she had asked a stupid question. “Crying copious amounts of tears will not bring him back. He was traveling home from Ridlaw and was felled by outlaws, who stole his purse and left him on the road. He was found by someone from his village, who went to tell his wife. She buried him. That is the end of it.”
Desdra had stopped openly weeping and just stood there, staring at him in disbelief. “You are a vile creature,” she spat. “Get out of here. I do not want to talk to you.”
She started to march toward the door, no doubt to summon someone to escort him out, but he leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the arm before she could get away.
“It does not matter what you want,” he growled. “Sit down. You and I have much to discuss.”
She glared at him. “If you do not let go of me, I will scream and Zeus will come in here and throw you from the window.”
Ciaran wasn’t pleased with her disobedience, but he let her go. “Chase me away and you will never know peace,” he said in a low voice. “By the rights of God and the law, I am still in control of your destiny, so I would remember that if I were you. All I have to do is go to the local magistrate, tell him of your disobedience, and you will be forced to comply.”
She stepped back from him. “Comply with what?”
He looked at her before giving a wry snort. It was humorless. “Sit down and I will tell you.”
With a sharp sigh, Desdra moved away from him and sat down in front of the hearth. She made sure to be within reach of the iron poker in case her father got any wild ideas. He wasn’t beyond violence and she didn’t trust him.
