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If he saw the abhorrence in her eyes when Wulfhere accepted the ring-giver’s gift, he would not rest until he discovered its source. If he sensed how badly she wished there had been no pity or obligation involved when he’d asked her to dance, he might dissemble to spare her feelings further. And that would be worse. She wanted Brecc to always speak the truth to her. Even if it hurt.

“I would contend that the ring-giver’s gifts are overly modest this year.” There was no mistaking the criticism in her mother’s voice. “A small pouch of coins for an oath of full allegiance asks a great deal of each thegn.”

Each thegn, or simply her son?

“Given that so much of Wessex’s gold was given to the Vikings in exchange for our freedom, it is understandable,” Aisley said.

“It is the churches that have lost their treasures, not the king,” her mother retorted. “Else how could he have put on twelve days of feasting for so many?”

“Mayhap he considers the banquets and entertainment to be part of his gift giving,” Aisley suggested.

“Hush.” Diera patted Aisley’s arm to draw her attention to the end of the head table. “It is Wulfhere’s turn.”

Their brother exchanged a meaningful glance with the thegn seated beside him and accepted the king’s goblet.

“Who is the thegn sitting next to Wulfhere?” Aisley asked. Someone whose devotion to the crown was as insincere as her brother’s?

“Hush, Aisley!” This time it was her mother. “We must see what Wulfhere receives.”

Performing every expected gesture, Wulfhere bowed to King Alfred and raised the goblet to his lips. The king acknowledged the action with an inclination of his head before handing Wulfhere a small leather purse. Aisley watched as Wulfhere loosened the leather ties and withdrew a small piece of jewelry. He set it on the palm of his hand. The muscle in his jaw twitched, but then he offered a polite smile.

“I am honored, Your Majesty.”

“That is all?” Aisley’s mother hissed. “A silver brooch no wider than a chestnut?”

Aisley swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. “Mother!” She kept her voice low. “We can barely see the gift from here. It may be far more valuable than you believe.” A generous gift might have bought Wulfhere’s allegiance until the next ring-giving ceremony; a gift that he considered insultingly parsimonious may well do the opposite.

“King Aethelred would never have given his thegns so little. During his reign, a pouch such as the one Wulfhere received would have been brimming with jewelry.”

Aisley refrained from pointing out that with no means of acquiring more jewelry in the meantime, King Aethelwulf’s generosity was likely the primary reason that King Alfred was forced to be more sparing with his gifts. Regardless of its accuracy, in this state of mind, her mother would not have taken the observation well.

“Wulfhere is leaving the table,” Diera said.

A quick glance confirmed Diera’s remark. Several of the thegns who’d been seated at the head table were now on their feet. With most of the food consumed and the ring-giving ceremony over, it seemed that the evening’s celebration was over.

“Signal him, Diera,” their mother said. “I wish to see the brooch.”

Diera rose to do her mother’s bidding, and Aisley knew that it was time for her to leave. Wulfhere’s self-seeking disposition would undoubtedly overcome civility, and she had no desire to listen to him and their mother belittle the king for his gift.

Determined to remove herself while she still could, she came to her feet. “If you would excuse me,” she said. “I believe I will retire early.”

“Surely not before you have seen your brother’s gift,” her mother said incredulously. “Wulfhere is almost upon us.”

Which was precisely why she wished to go. “I am sure there will be many who wish to view it. I shall undoubtedly see Wulfhere on the morrow. He can show it to me then.”

Her mother frowned, clearly displeased. Already, the great hall was filling with people who had left their seats to mingle with other guests. Wulfhere’s voice rose above the rest, and their mother turned to greet him. It was exactly the distraction Aisley needed. Without another word, she reached for the cloak she’d set beneath the bench and stepped away.

Slipping around the table, she fumbled with the fabric of her cloak. The milling people made it difficult to draw it over her shoulders. She tugged at it, and suddenly, the fabric lifted.

“Allow me.” At the sound of Brecc’s voice, Aisley’s heart leaped—only to begin thumping wildly as panic settled upon her. Ignoring Brecc had been much easier when he’d been on the other side of the room. Now that she was within arm’s distance, his tall, broad-shouldered presence was far harder to disregard. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Why?”

Lines appeared on his brow. The question had surprised him.

“I wished to inquire regarding your health. At the banquet this evening you appeared . . .” He paused as though choosing his words carefully. “You did not seem quite yourself, and I was concerned that mayhap I had caused you undue suffering.”

She shook her head slightly. “I confess, I shed many tears after our conversation this morning, but I remain grateful to you for your openness. Some tears were of sadness for what my father was forced to endure and a renewed sense of loss that he is gone; some were of anger for the length of time I was forced to wait to learn the details you shared.”