Wandering Lark Read Free Page B

other looked uncertain now, and followed. Then the matron stepped back in and closed the door, and Etienne turned to looking back out the window.
    Alaric, I hope you have moved on, she thought.
     
    Turlough stormed down the hallways like a fury, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of any who bowed to him as he passed. His chest ached and he could barely breathe as he surged through the corridors of Dun Gealach, making for the privacy of his own chambers. Mageborn, apprentices and guards stepped out of his path. They knew better than to approach him when he wore the expression of rage that he could no longer hide.
    He shoved open the doors of his study then passed through into his private bedchamber and slammed that door in his wake. Stumbling over to the hearth, he dropped into the chair there and covered his eyes.
    How could Etienne be so blithe? How could she not understand? No demon was worthy of life. And no mageborn who consorted with one deserved to live.
    “Briana,” he whispered, “why can’t they understand?”
    With several deep breaths, he uncovered his eyes and sat upright to stare at the flames in his hearth. His hand slipped into his robe just over his heart where he felt the silky strands tied in a ribbon. Gingerly, he pulled it out and stared at the lock of Briana’s hair.
    It was the color of flames, and her laughter the clear knell of a glass bell that he could still hear echoing through his mind. How often had they sat in front of fires in the keep in the Highland Ranges she called home? Eldest daughter of the Clan Chief of MacMorroch she was, and a rare beauty full of wit and wisdom. Turlough never tired of sharing her company.
    He had loved her with every fiber of his being. She made him feel giddy. She made him laugh. Stolen kisses were shared in the shadows of the gardens that bordered her windows. Turlough could still remember what it felt like to hold her in his arms and caress her hair.
    He had wanted her to be his wife and he would have sacrificed everything to make it so.
    But fate had a way of taking things from Turlough.
    In this case, fate had been the order of the High King of Ard-Taebh. The clan wars in Keltora continued long after the Unification, and the High King wanted them to stop, so he chose to make the MacPhearsons Keltora’s kings and insisted MacMorroch make peace.
    That had been the first mistake. The MacPhearsons were not to be trusted. True, their clan was large, but they were reivers and murderers and did more harm than good when they came into power. The clan wars continued in spite of the orders of the High King, so he came into Keltora with a vast army to force peace on a land of surly, kilted men.
    That was the second mistake. Keltorans were warriors born and bred. War was their breakfast and victory celebrations their supper. Still, the wiser heads prevailed, and the Keltorans agreed to come to the table and negotiate. But the MacMorrochs wanted the MacPhearsons off the throne, and the MacPhearsons were not willing to relinquish their power to plunder their own kith and kin.
    Turlough had lived among the MacMorrochs in those days, and he was there as advisor to the Clan Chief Aiden MacMorroch. While he could not say that the High King’s idea for peace was not a sound one, he would to this day say that it was the third and most tragic mistake.
    The High King wanted peace by any means. If he could not have it by their word, he would have it by joining their blood. MacPhearson’s one son was only fourteen and not yet promised a wife. The High King suggested that a wife of MacMorroch blood should be made his consort and eventually his queen.
    But therein lie the problem. Most MacMorroch women of marriageable age were already bound in contract to other men. Those still available were even younger than the king.
    No, Aiden wanted a woman of his clan with a good head and a good eye to share that throne. And who but his own daughter had the qualities he