Ada leaned in and swept the box away and Malcolm looked out over the hall, an enormous regret filling the hollow between his shoulders.
The Battle Sorrow, he and Patrick called it. The knowledge that these warriors stretching out in the hall before him would ride into battle on his word. The knowledge that not all of them would return.
A soft touch to his shoulder and he turned to find Dani leaning close.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head to dismiss the conversation. He could not speak of this now.
“We should probably talk.” She stood up and reached a hand out to him. “Come on,” she yelled over the commotion in the room.
They did need to talk, though he dreaded the words he would have to say.
He rose to his feet and took her hand, allowing her to lead him out of the hall and through the narrow hallways to the kitchen and beyond, out into the dark.
Out here, with the moon shining brightly in the cloudless sky, the music was but a faint beat in the night. The early snow that had plagued their journey back from the stone circle had fallen only lightly here and melted into the thirsty soil almost as soon as it had touched ground.
Dani’s steps slowed and she glanced up at him, a shy smile perched at the corners of her lips.
“I didn’t exactly have a destination in mind. Only out. Away from the smoke and the noise.”
“And good timing it was to be out of there, too.” Warriors whose senses were heightened by the free-flowing ale and pulsing music were already pairing off with eager women, their bodies swaying together to the beat of the drums. Another hour and they’d have been forced to step over the writhing heaps on the floor. He didn’t fancy the idea of Dani’s seeing that part of the celebration. “This way.”
He took the lead now, holding tightly to her hand as he directed their path out to the glory he would one day complete. As they approached the half-finished building, he tried to imagine it through her eyes, wondering what she would think of his project.
The site straddled a small stream, which had been part of his reason for choosing this spot. Stone walls jutted up on all four sides, though they’d only reached a height equal to his chest. The roof was yet a dream, but one day he would complete his design.
“What is this place?” she asked when they stopped.
“In my father’s homeland, most settlements have a bathhouse. It was one of the first additions he made to Tordenet Castle when it became his. It is my intent to construct one here as well.”
“A bathhouse,” she repeated, smiling and stretching up on tiptoe for a better look.
“This way,” he encouraged, drawing her toward the side where a door would one day stand. “The entrance.”
She walked through ahead of him, stopping just inside. “Oh, Malcolm.”
Her voice, thick with disappointment, stopped him where he stood.
Again he tried to see it as he thought she might. An unfinished set of walls, surrounding a piece of meadow.
“I’ve much yet to accomplish before it’s done, but one day the world will see it as I do in my mind.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she responded quickly, walking toward the center of the enclosed space. “It’s just such a shame you’ll have to cut down this tree. It feels as if it belongs here on the bank of this stream, its little branches stretching out over it as they do.”
She was a king’s ransom indeed that he was giving up in order to save his sister’s life.
“The tree will stay.” It, more than the stream, was the impetus for choosing this site. “The rowan is sacred to my people. When I finish construction, the roof will open to the sky at this point, allowing this rowan to live on.” Exactly as in the atrium room his father had built at Tordenet Castle.
“Oh, good,” she said, nodding as she reached out to run her fingers down the tree’s trunk. “That’s so good. I’d like to see that when it’s finished.” A pause, almost as if she were marshaling her courage to continue. “But I wonder, will I get to see it, Malcolm? Or do you plan to send me away when you return?”
And there it was. That which needed to be spoken aloud. The words that would rip his heart from his chest, but which must be said.
“This is yer home now, Dani. I’ve told you that. You’ve no a need to doubt yer future.”
“But you’ll be wed to another.” She leaned against the tree, her arm outstretched, her fingers still laced with his.
The pale skin of her breasts rose and fell with each breath and, in the moonlight, her skin seemed to glow as if her life spirit radiated a light from within. So delicate and sweet, yet her words cut like a freshly honed blade.