Page 39 of Dorchad

Lucy wasn’t convinced of that. “Do you think he left the island?”

“Och, no, my lady. Only rarely shall he do thus, and never at this time.” The cook immediately went back to stirring the pot that didn’t need stirring.

“Never at this time meaning early morning, or spring, or what?” she persisted.

“The days before and after the new moon,” Ronan finally said. “He never leaves Gealladh when the night skies are full dark.” He gave her a troubled look. “Never shall he shirk his duties, my lady. Seneschal, he’s...shadowed by much.”

She privately agreed, but didn’t want to worry the old man. “No problem. I was just curious.”

From the kitchens she went in search of her husband, who usually spent a few hours talking with his senior men in the laird’s chamber. This morning it stood empty, and when she asked the guards they told her Tair had left early with a small group of patrollers. That left her to sit alone at the laird’s table, but not for long.

“Fair morning, my lady.” Cath sat across from her, setting down a mug of brew and an apple, which he began to slice and eat. “Our lord’s gone boar hunting.”

The tattooed war master knew everything that happened on the island. He was also infamously close-mouthed about his half-brothers, so she wouldn’t bother asking him what Tair was hunting when they’d just finished smoking the last of the winter meats or what the dickens Sgathan was doing away from the stronghold at the busiest time of day.

Cath watched her. “You’ve learned the value of strategic silence, I reckon.”

“No, just thinking a lot. Now that I’m an immortal, have you ever thought of me as part of the clan?” she asked. “I mean, I know I’m a girl, and I don’t have the mortal weakness problem, but I’ll live as long as the MacRune. I also married your lord, so that should count for something.”

A kind of sympathy warmed his cool dark eyes. “I’ve considered you as clan since the night of the slave camp raid.”

“Ta.” She watched him finish the apple, core and all. Cath might not care to eat meat, but he never wasted any other food he ate. “So what’s wrong with Sgathan? Did he kill someone?”

The war master looked like he might choke.

“I’m kidding. You know I don’t like him,” Lucy said, “but even I’m getting concerned lately. He’s moody and all over the place with his duties. Half the time I need him, I can’t find him. He’s also being an ass to Rebecca, which may be brotherly jealousy or maybe something a little nastier. The clan seems to know something about him that I don’t. So what’s the problem with him?”

Cath swallowed and sighed. “I cannae tell you, my lady. Nor may any other MacRune, even your lord husband. Seneschal, he’s very guarded, and doesnae confide in anyone his troubles.”

One thing she’d learned was the war master didn’t lie to anyone, probably because that hadn’t been possible when he’d lived among the dark Fae. Someday she’d have to convince him to explain why living in Elphyne had made him so painfully honest.

“He doesn’t chat up Dorchad?” When Cath shook his head she steepled her hands. “I don’t want to complain to Tair, but if Sgathan is headed for a meltdown, we should know if there will be any consequences from his mortal weakness.”

The war master looked a little worried now, too, but said, “Seneschal doesnae possess any weakness.”

“What? Why not?” When he shrugged Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come on, now. Tair said everyone in this clan has a weakness.”

“No’ Sgathan.” He looked past her. “We reckon his twin brother inherited the greater share of their lady màthair’s mortal blood, which made him a living target.”

Lucy thought of how dark and grim and scary Dorchad was in comparison to the seneschal, and it made a little more sense. “Your dad really didn’t do his lads any favors.”

“No.” His jaw tightened just as it did when anyone mentioned Rune.

“Sorry. Don’t let it bother you.” She patted his hand with a gesture of comfort as she glanced over her shoulder and saw her husband striding into the hall. A flush of pure carnal pleasure spread through her as she got to her feet.

“I forgot to ask,” she said to the war master. “What’s your weakness, then?”

“Like Sgathan, I’ve none. Living in Elphyne for so long boiled away the mortal blood in me, my lady.” He stood, bowed, and abruptly walked off, nodding to the laird as he passed him.

Lucy met Tair halfway, and he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the hall and into his private chamber.

“You shouldnae leave our bed before midday,” he told her as he sat her on the nearest flat surface and began unlacing her bodice.

“Where’s my boar, Lord Hunter?” she demanded.

“Four boars, which even now the beast master butchers for the evening meal,” Tair smoothly countered. “What said you to my war master to make him run from the hall?”

“Nothing. I just asked him about Sgathan and why he’s been acting so dodgy since Rebecca came to Gealladh.” Lucy had the oddest sense that Cath had just lied to her, too. “What’s your theory about that?”