“State your demands!” he hissed.
“Easy, Saxon,” the whisper warned. “I come for answers while they still fight amongst themselves. I am not so quick to judge until I know all the facts.”
Royce frowned into the dark. He could make no sense out of what had just been said. He could hear no fighting. In fact, he heard nothing but their own breathing. The hall was as quiet as it should be in the middle of the night. All either still slept, or were dead.
“Who—”
The blade drew blood, silencing him. Kristen stirred at his side. He tried to relax the arm she lay on. He did not want her waking to this.
“I will ask the questions, Saxon. You will answer truthfully if you value your life.”
This made less and less sense. What knowledge could he have that would interest a Celt? And who was fighting amongst themselves?
Royce said quietly, “I will tell you whatever you want, if you let the woman go.”
“Let her go?” It was said in surprise, but he was not prepared for what the Celt said next. “’Tis my daughter you sleep with. Has your Saxon church given you this right?”
Royce closed his eyes. He had not heard right. He couldn’t have. Kristen’s father was no Celt.
Impatiently the voice continued: “’Tis no question that requires thought, Saxon. Either you have the right from your church, or you do not.”
“I do not.”
“Then has my daughter given you the right?”
Royce felt like laughing suddenly, this was so unbelievable. “I think you have made a mistake. ’Tis no Celtic wench I sleep with.”
The blade pressed again against his neck. “I have not much time to learn the truth, so do not waste it with evasions. Kristen is my daughter, and I make no mistake in who you are.”
The whisper was gone. She spoke in a clear, husky voice—a woman.
Royce said incredulously, “You are hermother?”
“God save me, who the devil did you think I was?”
“Not a woman!” he growled.
Kristen could not sleep through that. “Royce, what—”
“Be still, love, or this blade I hold to his neck is going to slip deeper.”
“Mother! Oh, God, it is really you? How—”
“Kristen, be still!” Royce added his warning as she sat up, shaking the bed, and more blood trickled down his neck.
“What blade?” Kristen asked, and then cried in alarm: “Oh, nay, Mother, do not hurt him!”
“Do not?” Brenna removed the dagger, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “Do not hurt him, after all Ohthere has told us he has done to you? Hewhippedyou!”
“That was a mistake,” Kristen said, pushing Royce back down as he started to sit up. “Did Thorolf not tell you so?”
Brenna paused. “Mayhap he would have, but your uncle Hugh gave him one of his fists when he started to speak in the Saxon’s behalf. I think he still sleeps.”
“Uncle Hugh is here too?”
Royce caught Kristen’s arms and sat up despite her effort to keep him down. “You lied to me,” he said coldly. “You said you could not understand Gaelan, and yet you speak to your mother in the same Celtic tongue.”
“Of course I do. We both learned it from her. Gaelan is my brother.”
