“She complained of an illness, and took to her bed in our quarters.”
“Did she know I would be here?”
“Yea, we all knew. Garrick had to obtain permission from his father to bring you as a guest, so as not to insult Anselm.”
Brenna bristled at this.Shewas the one insulted. To obtain permission indeed!
“We will speak later, Aunt,” Brenna said stiffly. “I hope by then you will be more supportive of me, rather than of these pagan barbarians.”
Hugh joined Garrick, refilling both their tankards from the huge, foaming cauldron of mead in the middle of the long table before he sat down. Men masked in animal heads danced and ran about the room, playing tricks on each other and various guests.
Garrick was hard-pressed to keep a stoical countenance as a man hidden beneath the head of a ram, whom he knew for a fact to be his half-brother Fairfax, snuck up behind Hugh and emptied a bucket of snow atop his head. Garrick watched in amazement as Hugh merely laughed and shook the snow from his shoulders, not even turning to see who the culprit was, even though Fairfax had run for dear life after completing the deed.
Finally Garrick laughed boisterously. “You have mellowed, brother. I know you have never liked the merry antics of the winter solstice feast. I was prepared to battle you to the floor just now, once you rose in a rage, drawing your sword.”
“And I disappointed you, I see,” Hugh chuckled, his golden mane shaking.
“Nay. I am in no mood to do battle.”
“Nor I. So we have both mellowed, eh?”
Garrick leaned back and studied his older brother speculatively. “I thought I was in high spirits, but you are even more so. You are as a man who has been granted a glimpse of Valhalla and has found it to be just as anticipated. Enlighten me.”
“Toast me, brother,” Hugh grinned. “I will at long last have a child.”
Garrick was indeed surprised. He pounded his brother on the back. “’Tis welcome news, Hugh!” He raised his tankard. “May the child be male, and blessed with the strength of his—uncle.”
Hugh roared with laughter. “I will settle for that.”
“Your wife must be ecstatic in her joy,” Garrick remarked. “’Twas a long wait.”
“Nay, she is furious. She always placed the blame on me for her barrenness, but she is still barren. ’Tis the new slave Cordella who is breeding.”
Some of Garrick’s pleasure was lost at this disclosure. “Are you sure ’tis your seed?”
“Yea,” Hugh answered proudly. “As you have kept your wild vixen for yourself, so I have kept mine.”
Garrick frowned at the mention of Brenna, remembering the grudge she harbored against her sister. He cursed himself for giving her a dagger, and prayed she would not use it against her sister.
He looked about the room quickly to find her, but she was nowhere to be seen. She was no doubt with Cordella.
Garrick rose quickly. “Your pardon, Hugh. I would find Brenna before our father’s feast is ruined. She has a talent for trouble.”
“Sit down, Garrick, ’Twould take more than a little vixen to ruin this feast. I would discuss with you your voyage this spring.”
“Can it not wait until later?” Garrick asked impatiently.
“If you leave now, Morna will be sure to think you are afraid to face her.”
“Morna?”
Hugh motioned toward the door and Garrick turned to see Perrin, looking justifiably embarrassed, and beside him, his sister Morna. She looked as lovely as ever. Her flaxen hair was pulled back tightly, accentuating the strong bones of her face, and her full curves were pressed hard against the dark green silk of her gown. Their eyes met, and Garrick’s were as dark as a stormy cove.
Hugh was right. He could not leave now. He turned his attention back to his brother and sat down slowly. He would just have to trust Brenna not to do something that they would all regret.
In the sky, a red mist was gathering, tinging the white landscape. An ominous color, red—the violent color of blood and anger.
Brenna stared at the northern lights for several seconds, imagining the shafts of violet-red mist to be bloody arms reaching out to unseen enemies. Her stormy thoughts and the vivid memory of her humiliation because of Cordella’s lies brought out such imaginings. Her anger was barely controlled as she opened the door to the women’s quarters.
