A brief moment of silence passed between them, one coated with music and cheer, before she spoke again.
“If ye ken I am the traitor’s daughter, as ye have so eloquently put it?—”
He shrugged. “I didnae use that word.”
“Why do ye still insist I marry ye? Ye could have let me go. Why do ye intend to claim me?”
He sharpened his voice. “I will tell ye.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“After ye tell me everything ye ken.”
“Everything I ken?”
It was his turn to nod. “Aye. Like, what did that man want with ye?”
“Ye ken what he wanted,” she said.
“I want to hear it from ye,” he said. “In words.”
“He wants me.”
It sat there, ugly and bare.
Ownership.
She had no wish to dress it pretty, and he did not look away either. Something in him went still, and she caught the tick in his jaw.
“Ye’re certain,” he said.
“Aye.”
“How long?”
“Since he came to our gate months ago,” she said. “Before that, he looked, and now he moves. Today, he followed me because the rules kept his hand open. He means to use what the law leaves clear.”
He listened to the shape of her answer, not to the tremor in it. She was grateful for that. It gave her back a little of what the word had taken.
“Ye had a knife,” he said. “I saw the band on yer wrist. Ye gave it up.”
“It wouldnae help me here,” she said. “And at Bryden, it would only make me bleed slower. Plus, since I bit him once, I doubted he would let me try anything again.”
He blinked. “Ye bit him?”
“Aye.”
He let the corner of his mouth twitch. “That was unwise.”
“It worked,” she said. “For the breath I needed.”
He nodded once. “And then ye paid for it.”
“Aye,” she said. “I will pay for it again.”
The silence stretched once again, and he let it, and she did not fill it. The noise of the festival was a line behind them now.
“Ye ken what I still daenae understand?” he said, his voice cutting through the silence. “There were endless lairds ye could have chosen. Why did ye choose me?”
