“Does he not realize what day it is?”
“Oh, he knows. He’s waitin’ in the great room now.”
The glass in Rían’s hand vanished, replaced by a black waistcoat. “Get rid of him. Tell Oscar I’ll be down in a moment.”
“What’s today?” I asked, watching Ruairi take off down the stairs.
“It’s Friday,” Rían said with a long sigh, slipping into the waistcoat. “And on Fridays, St. Tadhg hears the quibbles and complaints of the masses. Since he has become a worthless drunk, the responsibility has once again fallen on my shoulders.” It took him three tries to get the first button on his waistcoat buttoned. “Ruling over the Danú is like minding a bunch of unruly children.”
For some reason, I found myself reaching for the second button. His throat bobbed as his hands fell away, letting me fasten the rest. “And you don’t like children?”
His lips twitched. “Only for breakfast.”
When I finished, I found him studying me with a thoughtful expression.
“Thank you.”
“Careful, now. If you keep this up, I may start thinking you have a heart.”
“A trip to the dungeon would remedy that,” he said with a wink, shifting a black coat.
He slipped his arms into the sleeves and straightened the hem, giving the staircase a wary glance. “Would you . . . Never mind.”
I stopped him with a hand on his elbow. “Would I what?”
“Would you like to come?”
“Am I allowed? Wouldn’t want to blur the lines between hostage and captor.”
His dimples appeared when he smiled. “You blurred those lines the moment you said you missed me.”
* * *
In the great hall, two wooden chairs sat on a dais, one large and ornately carved, the other shorter and plain, as if it had been taken from an old dining set and added as an afterthought.
Whispering Danú formed an orderly line from the foot of the dais, along the windowed wall, around to the entrance, and out into the hallway.
There had to be at least fifty of them.
I wasn’t sure if the wary looks were directed at me or at Rían as he sank onto the larger chair and called the first person forward. I stayed behind, content to fade into the background in case any of them were looking for an afternoon snack.
The first person, with the body of a man and the face of a wolf, said he was there to pay taxes on his land. He set a heavy purse on the dais at Rían’s feet, then left via the main door without another word.
Two short men with bulbous red noses wearing red tweed caps came up next, glaring at one another and grumbling under their breath. One tried to pass the other only to get hauled back by the shirtsleeve.
“See what I mean?” Rían muttered under his breath so that only I could hear. “Children.”
When the men reached the top step, they both bowed their heads.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
Tenting his fingers beneath his chin, Rían looked down his nose at them and asked, “What is your issue?”
The taller of the two pointed an accusatory finger at the other man. “He’s been takin’ fruit from my tree again.”
The shorter man smacked his counterpart’s hand away. “As I’ve said time and again, ‘tisn’t yer tree at all. ‘Tis mine.”
“It’s on my land.”