THE BROCH OF Dun Grianan celebrated Mid-Winter Fire with enthusiasm the following day. Women sang to the sun as they prepared the noon feast, their songs beckoning the warmth and light back into the world and chasing away the darkness. Erea, who had shyly asked to help them, joined in. The songs soothed the turmoil of the last day, reminding her of happy times with her mother.
The interior of the broch was warm and welcoming this morning, a vastly different place to Erea’s first impression of it. The oaken log burned high in the hearth, and every cresset along the walls had been lit, burnishing the stone walls in gold. Boughs of fragrant green draped from the rafters and decorated the entrances to the alcoves, and the scent of baking honey oatcakes blended with the aroma of roasting venison for the feast that was to come. Many of the women wore garlands of ivy through their hair, and Tad’s mother had gifted Erea one.
At the noon feast, Erea sat in between Tad and Ailig, at one end of the chieftain’s table—as far as possible from where the chieftain sat. Fortrenn’s mood was dark today, in contrast to the laughter and joy that echoed through the broch. He sat, drinking horn in hand, wearing his magnificent stag’s head cloak, and spoke to no one.
Erea stole an occasional glance at him as she ate and drank, regretting the act each time. Anger rose within her, making her breathing quicken and her jaw clench. She wondered if she could ever bring herself to soften toward him. Unlike Ailig, he was not sorry for what he had done.
In contrast to Fortrenn, both Tad and Ailig smiled throughout the feast. Her father was shy with her at first, yet as the feast progressed, he slowly relaxed.
Tad let them talk. He sat close to her, an arm loosely wrapped around Erea’s shoulders. At times she would glance at him and catch him watching her, his gaze soft, a faint smile curving his lips.
Once the feasting was done, the folk of Dun Grianan pushed back the tables, and two musicians started to play upon the platform next to the chieftain’s table: a woman played a harp, while her son accompanied her with a bone whistle. Men and women rose to their feet and started to dance.
After a while Tad leaned in close to Erea. “Would you like to join them?”
Erea flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t know how to dance.”
He took her hand and stood up, gently pulling her to her feet. “Then it’s time you learned. Come on.”
Sleep eluded Erea that night.
Careful not to wake Tad, she rose and silently dressed in the light of the single cresset that burned on the wall of his alcove. Wrapped up in a thick fur, she ducked past the hanging, and tip-toed around the edge of the floor. She then pushed her way through a heavy oaken door into the night.
The snow fell silently, fluttering down from a dark sky. A row of peat braziers burned around the base of the broch, illuminating the drifting snow flakes and the dun-colored stone of the round tower.
Alone with her thoughts, Erea drew her cloak tightly about her and skirted the edge of the fort. The braziers threw out just enough light to touch the frozen edge of Loch Mealt. The world seemed so different when it snowed—so quiet.
Erea stopped and gazed east, at where the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was approaching.
“There you are.” A man’s voice intruded. Erea glanced over her shoulder, back toward the broch’s entrance, and saw Tad walking toward her. Like Erea, he was bundled up in fur. His breathing steamed in the freezing air. “It’s as cold as a cairn out here, mo chridhe.”
My heart.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Erea replied with a tired smile. “After all that’s happened, my mind won’t rest.”
Tad smiled back and stepped close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He drew her close, and Erea leaned into his warmth, his strength. Tad placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Are you sure you wish to remain here?” he asked. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting us to leave Dun Grianan.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Erea admitted with a rueful smile. She reached for his hand, tangling her fingers with his. “Every time I look at your father, I want to rage at him.”
Tad snorted. “I’ve felt that way about him for years. He’s a stubborn old goat, especially when he knows he’s in the wrong.”
Erea loosed a breath, watching it steam before her. “I was thinking about what I said to my father,” she admitted. “It’s a time of new beginnings. We could go back to my hovel in the Black Boar Woods … but I’m not sure I could settle there now.”
“Why not?”
She craned her neck up to look at him. Bathed in the golden light of the brazier, Tad’s face made her breathing catch. His blue eyes looked dark in this light, his expression tender. She knew that whatever she decided, he would stay with her. She no longer doubted his feelings for her. In standing up to Fortrenn—to all his kin—he’d proved the depths of his love.
“It’s only a day since we left the woods,” she replied after a brief pause, “and yet it feels like a year. I don’t want to retrace my steps … I want to be brave … to move forward—even if that means living in your father’s broch.”
His mouth quirked, giving him that boyish look she loved so much. “You’re already brave … I’ve never met a more courageous woman.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I was impressed by your mother yesterday. That was some spine she showed your father.”
Tad huffed a laugh. “Aye … I’ve never seen her stand up to him before—not even once. It was about time.”
Erea’s brow furrowed. “He and I will never be friends—you do realize that?”
Tad’s face grew serious. He let go of her hand and reached up, cupping her cheek tenderly. “Aye, and I don’t blame you for disliking him. I can organize for us to move into one of the roundhouses in the village. It’ll give us some space.”
Erea smiled, relief flooding through her at the suggestion. “I’d like that.” She gazed up into his eyes. “Thank you, Tad.”
“You’ve had to put up with much from the folk of this broch,” he replied. “I’ll never hurt you again, Erea—and I will not tolerate any of my kin to do so. Ever. That’s my promise.”
His words made warmth seep through her, despite the winter chill that reddened their cheeks. She smiled. “Then I shall hold you to it.”
He smiled back before reaching up and brushing the snowflakes off her hair. “We shall be handfasted tomorrow, at noon … if you are willing?”
Erea’s smile widened into a grin. With everything that had happened, she had almost forgotten that she had agreed to wed him. Almost. “Aye,” she replied.
His smile turned mischievous. “And shall you wear drualus in your hair?”
“If you wish it?”
“I do.”
They stared at each other, their mirth fading. The sky around them was lightening now as dawn crept in from the east, illuminating the frozen landscape. Standing there on the shore of the loch, while the rest of Dun Grianan slept, Erea felt as if they were the only two people alive.
Tadhg mac Fortrenn would soon be her husband, and together they would begin a new life together—a life of their own choosing. The future stretched before them, as wide as a winter’s sky. Excitement flooded through Erea at this thought. Darkness now lay behind them; she could hardly wait for their life together to start. Standing on tip-toe, she wound her arms around Tad’s neck and drew him into a passionate kiss.
The End.
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