Page 25 of Darro

Now Darro wanted to punch him. “No’ everyone wishes ravish a female the moment they meet her.” Before the seneschal could reply he said, “I must go to the laird.”

Farlan’s eyes narrowed. “Good, for you came dangerous close to insulting me and my woman.” He left him at the archway leading into the great hall, and went on to his work room.

Darro found his eldest brother in the hall taking reports from the guard captains, and hesitated for a moment so he could tamp down his roiling temper. He would have to apologize later to the seneschal for his poor choice of words. Much of it had come from his current frustration with his own lot. He also knew Grace, the seneschal’s lady, had great courage and strength, for she had suffered a great deal after coming into the spell trap. During the last attack she had not only been badly burned, but also lost her grandmother, Inga Holm. Since then the lady had taken Inga’s place as chatelaine, and did a remarkable job at managing the household alongside her husband. Yet Darro suspected both of them put on brave faces to mask pain that would never fade.

Both of them hide as much as me.

He remembered Farlan’s kind màthair, her mortal husband and their daughters, who had been a close and loving family. Being parted from them had nearly driven the seneschal mad during their first century in the spell trap. As for his woman, Grace had been used for her stunning looks by her cruel màthair, and had later struggled after coming into the spell trap to keep from revealing the abuse to Inga. She hadn’t been gifted enough time to spend with her grandmother before Inga had died. Because she and Farland had known great heartache and deprivation, that had been the foundation on which they had built their love.

Why do I envy when I could share pleasures with one of our lady vassals? Doon or another of the older, unattached women would agree to share my bed. That should keep Mistress Martinez away from me.

Unhappy with his solution, but unable to think of another, Darro went to join the other men.

“Forgive me, Brother, but the chieftain went to the wall during the attack,” Tasgall said to the captain who was speaking when he saw Darro. “You only just now return? What saw you, Brother?”

He gave the laird a brief report on the bizarre attack. When he described the raiders all of the captains exchanged troubled glances. He didn’t have to tell the laird or the other men that never once since the clan had been cursed had such creatures come with the MacBren during his assaults on the stronghold.

“The fallen vanished with the dawn,” he said finally. “’Twas as if the enchantment wished erase them from our sight. Yet ’twas something wrong with that as well. The white lights turned red for a moment before the bodies disappeared.”

“Another alteration. We must somehow fathom what such means.” The laird frowned, and then his gaze shifted. “My lady, how fare our lasses?”

“They’re a little frightened, but otherwise fine.” Ava walked over to her husband’s side. “Excuse me for interrupting, gentlemen. I just wanted to listen in on today’s problems.”

“I’m glad you’re here, my lady,” Darro said. “Before the attack I went down to the lower passage to look for the spider that crossed through with Mistress Martinez. ’Twas spinning a red-colored web that passed through the barrier and held it open.” He described what he’d done to destroy the creature, and then added, “I saw someone on the other side of the barrier just before it closed. ’Twas an old, wrinkled male who stank of rot. He matched the description Lady Olivia gave us of the male who attacked her and forced her to come here.”

“Bodach,” Ava muttered. “What was he doing? Was he trying to shove someone else in here after the reporter?”

“Forgive me, but I couldnae see more than his scowl.” He grimaced. “Only ’twas clear he schemed something that involved the spider—mayhap something to do with its web, as it cast a length of it through the barrier. I destroyed it, and the web, yet I fear he may do more. It seemed as if he attempted casting another spell just as the opening vanished.” That made him go still, for it was a detail he hadn’t recalled until this moment.

“Did anything happen to you, Chieftain?” his brother’s wife asked.

“I dinnae believe so.” But it could explain why he feared Esme so much after the encounter, but not before.

“Place two guards at the entry to the spell trap at all times. Also, gather the other chieftains no’ on duty and bid them come to me in an hour. Rory as well.” To the other men Tasgall said, “Captains, please spread the word about the spiders among your men. I shall bid Farlan do the same for the vassals. Bid the guards on duty carry torches at all times. Any spider seen anywhere should be burnt with fire.”

Darro left with the senior men, ignoring the resentment that seethed inside him as he made his way to the garrison hall. Naturally the laird never considered what arming every person at Dun Talamh with torches would mean for him. He’d spend the next days dodging everyone he saw so his mortal weakness did not draw the flames to him and set him on fire. Of course Tasgall had to protect their brothers and the household against the creatures; he simply wished that his brother would for once remember that fire was his lifelong enemy.

“Chieftain.” Ava caught up with him and kept pace at his side. “Since everyone will be carrying torches I thought we should find a place to keep you safe, at least at night. What do you think about moving into the solar for the time being? You could help the guys in the watch tower, too.”

He stopped and regarded her., and fought to keep his tone respectful. “I’m the laird’s second, my lady, no’ a watcher. I cannae attend to my duties from the rooftops.”

“Alec could cover for you. I know I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but you’re my brother now, too.” She tilted her head, and gentle humor twinkled in her eyes. “I’m only fixing to help, really. Also, if you clench your teeth any harder you’re going to crack some molars.”

“My Fae blood shall heal them.” Not for the first time he saw why Tasgall had given his heart to this woman. “Dinnae worry about me, my lady. I’ve much experience with avoiding torches and hearths while attending to my brother’s orders.”

She nodded, touched his arm and then walked off toward the kitchens. He continued on to the garrison hall, where the other chieftains had already begun to gather in the big common room. Those with torches quickly placed them in wall sconces as each flame flared toward Darro as soon as he came near.

How like the clan to attend to me when Tasgall but forgets my weakness and doesnae dwell a moment on my needs.

“The laird bid us assemble in his chamber in an hour,” he told them. “Make ready to report on your men, their readiness for the next attack, and notions on how we may face the new threats. Also, make sure to keep two guards posted at the entry to the spell trap day and night until I say otherwise.” He glanced at the torches before he added on a grim note, “For my sake remind our brothers to mind the flames when near me, lest I catch fire—for if I burn, I shallnae burn alone.”

The chieftains uttered wry chuckles as they dispersed, and Darro left to make his way to the forge, where he expected to find Rory working, but found it empty. He went to the armory, but the big man wasn’t there, either. It took asking three different guards before one reported seeing Rory enter the archives earlier.

Darro knew the armorer disliked reading, but suspected he’d gone for other reasons. He hesitated outside the door before he cleared his throat loudly and walked in to find Rory watching images moving across the laird’s viewing scroll. They showed Inga Holm, the clan’s former chatelaine, as she walked through the gardens on a sunny morning. For a moment he stood and considered turning around and leaving, for the clan’s youngest member was yet in mourning for the lady he had loved.

“Chieftain.” Rory tapped the enchanted parchment, which went blank, and turned to face him. Two faint tear trails gleamed on his stunning face, which he wiped away without a hint of shame.

Unlike the other McKeran, the clan’s armorer had been raised in complete isolation deep in the forest, with only his lady màthair to keep him company. From what he had told Tasgall he had been born the last of Keran’s sons; their sire had never lived to see Rory. Likewise he had never met his other mortal kin, as his mother had become an outcast for bearing a half-Fae son. Perhaps all of that created the air of strangeness he possessed and made many uncomfortable with him.