“I tried,” Cenric grated.“I tried to warn him there will be another attempt tonight.”
Brynn searched her husband’s face, though she could already see the answer there.
Cenric’s jaw flickered with frustration.“He wants his enemies to try.”
Pride.Such pride.It seemed that was the one constant that could be depended upon when it came to kings.
The wine would likely not be served until after a few rounds of ale.Whatother meansdid Tullia have prepared if Brynn and Cenric declined her offer, as they intended to?
Heart in her throat, Brynn tried to remain composed.She was sure people stared, but the chatter of Valdari continued around her unabated.Brynn’s ears itched.She ached to understand, ached to know what gossip flitted on the air around her.She should have asked Cenric to teach her the language sooner.
Cenric was seated at Ovrek’s right hand in the place of honor, Brynn on her husband’s other side.Ovrek presented Cenric to those gathered around, speaking in long, rhythmic phrases.It sounded like verse.If she had to guess, he was praising Cenric’s bravery today.
Cenric seemed to accept the praise admirably, responding with thanks.His eyes were on the crowd, yet one hand gripped Brynn’s under the table.He was not letting her go, not even when she was mere inches away.
Brynn understood nothing, though she caught a few names—Egill, Hróarr, and a few other jarls, though she had forgotten the faces that went with some of the names.
Sifma occupied her usual place at the high table.The queen stared straight ahead, barely acknowledging when the rest of the room erupted in cheers or raised their cups in salute.
The cups were still filled with ale—not wine.This far north, it was a delicacy to be consumed only with the greatest fanfare.
Brynn’s chest tightened with sick anticipation.Tullia was clever and cunning.She left nothing to chance and if she wanted her father dead, she would find a way to do it.
Snapper flopped against her legs under the table, then rose and circled her, sniffing for crumbs and scraps.He seemed to be enjoying himself, for whatever it was worth.
Hróarr had been seated on Brynn’s other side, and it seemed almost spiteful to both of them.He did not acknowledge her, but he had a bruise on his jaw that she suspected had come from her husband.Vana occupied his far side, also not acknowledging Brynn.
Brynn wasn’t sure why that hurt.It wasn’t as if she had ever been particularly friendly with either of them, or as if rejection was anything new for her.She’d declined two invitations from Vana over the past days, and the beautiful woman probably felt slighted—rightfully so.
After a few moments, Vana rose and slipped behind the tables.She leaned over, speaking to the queen.Sifma clasped Vana’s hands, greeting her as one would a daughter.It seemed the queen and Hróarr’s concubine were as close as Brynn had heard.
Speaking of Sifma’s daughter, Brynn spotted a figure in red across the crowd.Even if she didn’t have her spotless clothes and eunuchs at her back, Tullia was the kind of woman who would stand out anywhere.Brynn watched as people nearby bent toward her, bowing and eager to pay her their respects.
Brynn had to search for several moments, but she spotted Tolvir as well, standing to one side with several other young men.He kept mostly to his peers and out of the way, not mingling with the crowd as Tullia did.He seemed in many ways to still think like a child.Brynn could see he still had blisters and bruises from their encounter.He pointedly did not look in her direction.
The evening droned on.
Meat was brought in earthenware bowls and shared throughout the hall.Bread cakes soaked with butter and herbs, cheese, and every kind of meat one could ask for.Pigs, calf, rabbit, venison, fowl, and several kinds of fish.Ovrek fed his people well, that was true.
Brynn was unable to eat, anxiety twisting her stomach into a hard knot.
When several barrels were rolled in to cheers, Tullia’s gaze singled out Brynn.As the barrels were set on the tables and a rich burgundy poured out, that was it.
Tullia cast a conspiratorial glance at Brynn, turning back to her conversation with what appeared to be a rich man and his companion.She laughed and conversed as easily with her father’s warriors as she had with that child in the bazaar.
Wine was sloshed into cups and passed around the hall.Thralls and young children darted this way and that trying to keep every cup full and every hand filled with food.
How much longer did this night have to go on?Brynn hated the suspense.She had a feeling she was being toyed with, though she doubted she was so important.
Ovrek raised his voice, calling for silence.The crowd of the hall quieted down, turning to listen as the king’s booming voice echoed over their heads.Brynn didn’t understand the words, but she had heard enough of these kinds of speeches to guess what was being said.No doubt thanks for loyalty, promises of continued rewards, and boasts of Ovrek’s own exploits.
“Are you alright?”Cenric touched her knee under the table.
“Just tired,” Brynn answered, casting him a faint smile.
Cenric kissed her temple, rubbing her back.
“Where is Tullia?”Brynn straightened.The woman had disappeared along with her two eunuchs.One moment she had been there and now she was gone.
