Tea sat in stony silence as her sister washed her feet.
It was a ritual before handfasting, for the bride to have her feet washed so she could step out onto the path before her with confidence and make a clean start to her new life.
Tea’s heart pounded throughout the rite, her body rigid like a doe ready to flee.
She had fought Loc, but in the end he had gotten his way. Brother and sister were equal rulers at Dun Ardtreck, and both respected by their people. Yet when it came to marriage alliances, Loc commanded. After many ugly scenes—and tears from Eithni—she had finally submitted to her brother’s will. Tea knew that many at Dun Ardtreck sided with her; to see the chieftain’s sister wed to an Eagle would be hard to stomach. However, Loc had refused to change his mind.
She hated Loc for it—she would never forgive him.
Sensing her sister’s tension, Eithni glanced up, her face creasing with concern. They were alone inside the tent. The Eagles had arrived and Loc was welcoming them while Tea prepared for her handfasting.
Eithni gestured to the low wooden table beside them, where a cup sat next to a clay vial. “Tea … I’ve prepared a drink for you.”
“I’m not thirsty,” Tea replied stiffly.
“It’s All-Heal,” Eithni explained with a tense smile. “Remember I said I’d fix you a potion. The calming herb should make the ceremony easier. I’ve added a few extra herbs of my own; it should soothe you.”
Tea swallowed her rising nausea and forced a smile. She appreciated the gesture—Eithni was only trying to help.
Eithni finished washing Tea’s feet before drying them with a strip of linen. “Will you wear mother’s necklace?” she asked.
Tea nodded. “It’s over there.” She gestured to where the leather pack she had carried from Dun Ardtreck sat.
Eithni rose to her feet and crossed to it. She began rummaging through the pack. While her sister’s back was turned Tea looked down at the cup Eithni had handed her. All-Heal was not dangerous—but she was not sure she would be able to get through the coming ceremony without it. Her instincts told her to leap to her feet and run—yet Eithni’s potion was the only chance she had, if she was not going to shame her kin.
Bile filled Tea’s mouth. I shouldn’t worry over shaming them. Loc’s shamed us all with this truce.
Still, it had to be done. Tea lifted the cup to her lips and drank deeply.
Eithni returned to her, carrying the heavy, gilded necklace. It was an elegant coil, resembling a curled serpent. Tea’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of it. She remembered her mother wearing the necklace at feast days, the gilded surface gleaming in the firelight as she laughed and sang at Domech’s side.
“Here.” Eithni knelt before her and slid the coil around her neck. Her eyes glistened as she gazed at it. “It suits you,” she said softly.
Tea reached up, her fingers tracing the necklace’s cool surface. It was one of the few items she had of her mother’s—the rest had been buried with her.
“She would not want this,” Tea said, bitterness turning her voice brittle. “To see me wed the son of the man who defiled and murdered her.”
Eithni stared back, her expression pained. Tea could see she did not want to pursue this conversation, especially now. A moment later, Eithni tried to steer her sister away onto another topic. “Did you see them arrive earlier?”
Tea shook her head. She had retreated inside her tent the moment someone told her of the enemy’s approach. She had no wish to set eyes on any of them until she was forced to.
“I did,” Eithni pressed on. “I saw him, Tea, the man you’re going to marry.”
Tea swallowed painfully. “And?”
Eithni met her gaze, her cheeks reddening slightly. She gave a small smile. “He’s handsome, at least.”
Tea’s lip curled. He could be a fire-breathing demon for all she cared. “He’s an Eagle maggot,” she replied. “I care not if he’s got a pretty face. I’d sooner wed a turd.”
Eithni gave her a pained look but said nothing.
Tea sighed; she could feel the All-Heal taking effect. Her body was slowly relaxing, although she was still too lucid, too sharp. She needed to blunt the sharp edges of the world further if she was to go through with this.
She leaned forward and grasped her sister’s hands. “I’m sorry, Eithni. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just nervous. There’s a skin of wine in my pack, can you pass it to me?”
Eithni frowned. “I don’t think wine mixes well with the potion I just gave you. It could make you light-headed.”
“Please.” Tea hated the desperation in her own voice. She had never felt like this, out of control—weak. She did not trust herself.
Would she be able to face her husband-to-be without knifing him?
Her sister’s mouth thinned before she relented. “Very well, just a couple of sips.” Eithni rose to her feet and went to fetch the wine. She returned to Tea’s side and handed her skin, her brow furrowing. “I’d not touch any wine, mead or ale at the feast this evening. It’s best to be careful.”
Tea was just about to tell her to stop fussing when the flap covering the tent’s entrance opened and Loc ducked inside.
Tea stiffened at the sight of him. Ever since his decision at Harvest Fire there had barely been any civil words between them. Loc’s face was serious, his lean body tense, as he straightened up before his sister.
Tea’s lip curled at the sight of him. “What do you want?”
Loc sighed, his gaze meeting hers. “I didn’t come here to fight, Tea. We only have a short time left before you wed—let’s not sour it.”
Anger choked her for a few moments and it took three deep breaths to master it. “Don’t expect me to pretend I’m happy about this—I won’t.”
He looked steadily at her, sadness on his face, before answering. “I’ve spoken to Galan mac Muin—he seems a decent man, a good choice for you.”
“I should be able to make that choice for myself,” she hissed back.
Loc’s jaw clenched. “Let’s not go into this again. You know why you must do this.”
Tea lurched to her feet. “Don’t stand there and tell me this man seems decent. You know who sired him—a murderer and rapist. The same blood runs through his veins, and you’re giving me to him.”
Loc ran a frustrated hand through his long dark hair. “For the love of the gods, Tea, you test my patience. I’ve told you—Galan isn’t his father.”
Tea straightened up, her anger warring with the numbing effects of the potion, which now settled over her like a soft fur mantle. “And you are nothing like ours,” she snarled.
Color flared in Loc’s cheeks and he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her hard. “Enough!” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ve listened to your venom for too long now. You will do your duty and there will be no more defiance!”
His fingers bit into her shoulders, hurting her. Still she stared back at him, refusing to back down. Their gazes held for long moments. Then, with a look of disgust, Loc released her, turned on his heel and stalked from the tent.
Tea glared at his retreating back, angry words still burning within her. She glanced over at Eithni. Her sister gave her a reproachful look, which only served to fuel Tea’s rage further. Gritting her teeth, Tea unstoppered the skin of wine and drank deeply.