The inhabitants of the broch broke their fast together the following morning with fresh griddle bread and fowl broth. It was a tense meal, for Tea and Eithni said little and the servants whispered to each other. When Galan’s men spoke between themselves they too used hushed voices, almost as if they did not want to break the silence that had settled over the table.
Toward the end of the meal, Galan shattered the quiet. “I and my warriors cannot remain here long,” he said, his gaze meeting Tea’s across the table. It was the first time they had looked at each other since their conversation on the wall the night before. Tea noted the lines of tension etched either side of his mouth—lines that had not been there a few days before. “Dun Ringill has few warriors left to defend it—but Dun Ardtreck has even fewer. We should search for Wid and those men loyal to him and Loc.”
Tea nodded. “Thank you.” She shifted her attention to Eithni, who sat beside her. “Do you know where Wid has gone?”
Eithni shook her head. “After Forcus slew Loc, he gave Wid a choice. Fight him, join him or leave. Wid left with a group of warriors and families loyal to him, and they rode east. That’s all I know.”
Tea’s throat constricted at this news. She knew why Wid had chosen to leave; however Forcus would have seen his decision as weak. A true Wolf would have stayed and fought. Still, her cousin was the rightful chieftain of her people, and she wanted to see him back here.
Galan turned to the tall, sinewy warrior seated opposite him. “Lutrin—take Cal and ride east this morning. When you find Wid, tell what has happened here and bring him home.”
Tea met Galan’s eye across the table. “You should not leave Dun Ringill undefended,” she said firmly. “As soon as Wid returns, you must leave.”
Galan held her gaze, his mouth thinning. “Aye, I’ll depart soon enough.” His gaze narrowed then. “But I won’t be going home alone—you’re coming with me.”
Tea put down the cup of broth she had been holding with a hard thump upon the oaken table, causing Eithni to start. “No, I won’t.”
“You’re my wife, Tea—we were handfasted.”
“Handfastings can be broken,” she shot back. “I release you from your obligations.”
He leaned over the table, his grey eyes darkening to slate. “Obligations … is that how you see things?”
She lifted her chin, her heart fluttering at the power of his gaze that stripped her bare and called her a liar. “That’s all it was,” she replied coldly. “A pact between two tribes—one that is now broken.”
***
Two women, one tall with dark hair pulled back into a severe braid, the other small with unbound hair the color of walnut, made their way down the hillside beneath Dun Ardtreck. Both women wore heavy fur cloaks, their breath steaming in clouds before them in the chill air. They strode purposefully, making their way toward the row of stone cairns to the south-east of the fort.
The fog seemed to have thickened with the dawn, lowering so that it blotted out the top of the broch from view. Tea coughed as the damp, gelid air burned her lungs; it was so raw out here this morning that her nose felt numb. She glanced at Eithni who huddled inside her cloak. Her face was pale and pinched, although her hazel-green eyes were brighter than the day before.
Unspeaking, they made their way to the bottom of the hill before climbing a rocky incline to the row of cairns of their forefathers. The mound nearest the fort was the freshest, the ground around it still muddy from its construction—it was also the most hastily-built. Unlike their father’s cairn next to it, which was a perfectly rounded sphere of stone, this one had been stacked in careless haste. One side of it was already starting to crumble.
Tea’s gaze narrowed. “Was this the best they could manage?”
Eithni sighed. “Forcus’s men made a hurried job.”
“When Wid returns, I’ll ensure this is built properly,” Tea replied. “Our brother deserves better.”
The two of them stood before the cairn, just before its entrance—a deep cleft that cut into the center of the tomb. Further in, there was a stone slab, preventing animals or grave robbers from entering. Within, lay her brother’s body.
Tea clasped her hands before her. “Did anyone sing a lament for him?”
Eithni shook her head. “No one attended his burial—Forcus wouldn’t let me, and Wid had already been driven out. There was no one here to see him safely into the afterlife.”
Tea’s eyes prickled with tears at this news, and she felt another surge of hatred toward Forcus. Loc had never done him any harm; instead he had always seen the warrior much like an elder brother. He had trusted and respected Forcus, but his killer had not even granted him a proper burial. Tea balled her hands into fists and breathed deeply until the crimson tide of fury passed.
“Then I shall sing one for him,” she said finally.
Inhaling deeply, dredging down into the depths of her soul, Tea began to sing. Lingering, quavering, long notes filled with sadness and regret lifted high into the fog, drifting across the still, mist-shrouded landscape.
Brave Loc mac Domech
Believer in peace
Go to your long sleep.
Brave Loc mac Domech
Warrior, brother and chief
Slain.
Betrayed.
Tears streamed down Tea’s face as she poured out all the love she felt for her brother, and her regret at how they had parted. He had tricked her, but she forgave him for it. Loc had believed in peace when all others opposed it. Her lament was her way of reaching out to his spirit, of letting him know that she was sorry and that she loved him more than words could ever express.
On and on she sang, until her throat was hoarse. When she finished, she felt wrung out, exhausted. This was the third lament she had sung in a year, and she would end up a husk if she had to sing many more.
Straightening up and wiping the tears from her face, Tea turned her attention to Eithni, who stood quietly beside her. Her sister’s eyes were dry, although they glittered with deep emotion as she stared at her brother’s tomb. A nerve flickered in her smooth cheek. Tea worried about Eithni. During their walk here, she had noticed that her sister’s gait was uneven and she limped slightly.
“Eithni,” she began gently, “what did he do to you?”
Her sister looked up, her face hardening. “I can’t speak of it, Tea,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly. “Even to you … I can only say that he was a beast, and that he used me in ways that will scar me forever, inside and out.”
“But, the way you walk … did he—”
“I can’t!” Eithni choked out the words, backing away from her sister. “I’ll heal in time, but you mustn’t rush me. Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell you what he did, but now I’m not strong enough. Please don’t ask me again.”
Tea nodded, her heart hammering at the thought that Forcus had damaged her sister. It made her feel ill.
She realized what a lucky escape she’d had during their time together. Forcus had never been a good lover—she had realized that fully after laying with Galan. Unlike her husband, Forcus had been rushed and rough in his treatment of her. She had been a maid the first time they had lain together, and he had hurt her. Things had gotten easier after that, but she had never really enjoyed their coupling. It had been one of the reasons she had ended things between them. However, she now realized things could have been far worse for her.
Tea stepped forward and drew her sister into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Eithni. I didn’t mean to upset you, I was only worried.”
Eithni wrapped her arms around Tea’s waist and squeezed in a wordless answer, her slender body relaxing against hers. When the two sisters drew apart, the panic had faded from Eithni’s eyes.
“Just promise me that if you need a healer, you’ll tell me,” Tea said firmly. “You can be so stubborn.”
“I am a healer,” Eithni replied with a shake of her head. “And if I’m stubborn you are doubly so.”
Tea snorted, linking her arm through Eithni’s before they turned and picked their way down the rocky incline. “I wasn’t talking about me.”
“No, but I see your pig-headed ways have not mended. What has your husband done for you to treat him so viciously?”
Tea stiffened. Of course, Eithni was talking of the conversation she had overhead that morning. She did not know of what had passed between Galan and Tea the night before.
Tea sighed. She did not want to go into this but nor did she wish to rebuff her sister, not when Eithni was currently so fragile. “When I first went to Dun Ringill, things were difficult between us,” she said finally, “but after a while we grew close.” Tea paused here, her jaw clenching. “Yet when word of raiders bearing the mark of The Wolf reached him, he turned on me.”
Silence stretched between them for a few moments. They had reached the flatter ground and started along a narrow path that wound through the village back toward the gates of Dun Ardtreck.
“And is he sorry for it now?” Eithni asked eventually, once she had considered Tea’s words.
“Aye—he says so, but I don’t see him the same way. It’s for the best, Eithni. My place is here—Wid is young and untested, he will need someone to help him rule Dun Ardtreck.”
Tea realized that Eithni was watching her closely now, her gaze narrowed.
“What is it?” Tea demanded, uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny.
“You gave your heart to him, didn’t you?”
Tea made a dismissive, scoffing noise. “You’ve seen how handsome he is. Galan is an easy man to like, but that doesn’t mean I’m smitten.”
“I think you are.”
Tea frowned. “Well, I’m not—I just want him to go.”
“He seems like a good man.”
Tea’s chest squeezed painfully at her sister’s words. If only things were as easy as her sister saw them.
“He is,” Tea eventually replied, her voice barely above a whisper, “but that changes nothing.”