The druid went to the chest at the foot of his bed, lifting the lid and gazing down at a bundle of linen. He laid the bookhold parchment inside, then carefully peeled back the fabric. There within lay the Vaich’s golden dagger, carved with the sigil of the sun.
To return, he would first need his cunning. And secondly, he would need to survive.
Chapter thirty-seven
The Advisor
Things were returning to normal.
Or at least, Skyre had drunk enough to think so.
The festivities carried on for two full days, with his guests lingering in the wake of the Reaffirmation.
He was reminded of the joys he’d neglected, and was able to forget the miserableness of his wedding so long as no one mentioned it. After the first man who did so got a beating and the second was chased out by the Vaich’s little hounds, no one brought it up again.
The chamber was drowned in torchlight and filled to the brim with boisterous men.
Skyre was laughing again, and he savored it, watching his Féin making fools of themselves. Greyv had gathered some of the younger Aards and the pack of them put on a play.
“The Curious Tale of the Great Goose War!” He stood before the Vaich with his hands held wide. “Or how the good men of Bhabirn lost twice.”
“A clever man would only lose once,” Skyre said.
“Aye, but you didn’t see those geese.”
“How do you ken? You weren’t there!” someone called.
“You’re right,” said Skyre. “No man who lost to a fowl could stand here tonight.”
“Even if they were big fucking fowl!” cried Greyv.
The men paraded in obnoxious display and Greyv came and flopped down next to him.
“Look at this rich cunt playing entertainer,” said Skyre. “I should have hired you as a clown.”
“Lucky for you, I’ll do it free of charge.” Greyv reached over, grabbing the tankard from Skyre’s hand. “Now we’re even.”
Skyre smiled.
“Well, how does it feel? The king has his warband. Look at these marvelous bastards.”
It was all in good fun, yet Skyre couldn’t help but be startled. It was the first time in weeks anyone had asked how he was.
He didn’t know how to answer.
“The Aardmût will need leave before break of Tírnach,” Greyv continued. “That’s soon.”
“Not soon enough,” said Skyre. He longed for the thrill of the road. At least out there he could prove himself worth something. He was tired of court life and ceremony. “I want to smell the dirt again. Feel the sun. Saorla’s been cooped up too long. The girl ought to run. She was born to do it, not spend her whole life standing in place.”
“It’ll be just like we always said. Riding wild and hungry with your new heavy purse.”
Skyre chuckled shoving his arm. “Dinnae let the chamberlain hear you.”
“Or what? He’ll cut you off? His isn’t your father. You don’t have one—but you have coin. Think of all the fun we can buy.”
Skyre rolled his eyes as his friend slumped lazily in his chair, head tilting back as he traced shapes in the air. “There’s so many things for you to see,” he said. “Things I always wanted to show you.”
Skyre crinkled his brow. “Like what?”
