Page 52 of Fletcher

The others murmured their agreement and huddled together, exhausted but no longer looking quite so terrified. Speal suspected their sovereign would coach Dearg on what to say to them before she sent her down to hold a reckoning. Likely she would attempt to make an example of her, and torture her in front of the others to goad them into obedience. To thwart such, she took the boning blade she ever carried in her boot and slipped it into her sleeve.

A long time later Dearg climbed down, one arm laden with a heavy sack. She brought it over and dropped it in the center of their circle. The sack fell over and spilled some lightly bruised apples, pears and stale oatcakes onto the deck.

“Food.” She ignored the other Cait Sith as she crouched down in front of Speal. “You should possess great hairy baws. Shall I slice a pair for you from your fat arse and nail them to your quim?”

“Touch her, and we come for you,” someone said behind her. “We shall come when you sleep. When you turn your back on any of us. When you think yourself safe. We shall come and keep coming until the last of us falls.”

Dearg glanced over her shoulder, and then scanned the grim faces of the other Cait Sith before she regarded Speal again and sighed. “Aye, right. I forgot none of them much like me.” She ducked her head. “Now ’twould seem you’ve poisoned them all against me.”

“You did that when you shoved your blade in Fiacail,” Speal told her.

For a long time the small Cait Sith just sat there staring at the deck. At last she lifted her head and demanded, “What facking want you?”

“Drop anchor at Insii Orc and give us the night so we may bathe and sleep. Gather better food and proper stores before we set sail again. No more threats. No more of us die.” She leaned closer to whisper the last against her shining curls. “Your pretty head on a pike, that I’ll dream.”

“Should mine decorate one, ’twill sit atop yours,” Dearg promised her.

After attending to his woman, and putting her to bed, Fletcher left one of the maids to sit with her and went in search of his brother. He found Shaw drinking alone in the great hall, his gaze fixed on the dying flames in the hearth. For a moment he wavered, until he remembered what the chieftain had said to Lark.

“Dinnae thank me,” the chieftain said as he approached, lifting his tankard and toasting him. “I wish you and the lass all the happiness you doubtless deserve.”

“You reckless bastart.” Fletcher knocked the whiskey out of his hand with one blow and bloodied his nose with the second. “What if she’d agreed jump with you?”

Shaw squinted at him. “Then you’d be up there leaping off now, I reckon.”

Instead of punching him a second time he walked the length of the hall and back again. “Never do thus again. Never think thus again.”

“Och, you’re such a great lass’s posy now that you’re proper besotted.” Shaw held up his hands in surrender as Fletcher came toward him, and then wiped his face on his sleeve. “You should ken I saw the love in her eyes even when she spoke of ending herself. Make no mistake, Brother, jumping’s the last thing she desires. She’s altogether mad for you.”

Being reminded that the woman he adored loved him in return turned down his temper to a low, seething ember of itself. He sat down beside him and took a long drink from the whiskey bottle before passing it to the chieftain. “You’re still an eejit.”

“’Tis why I like you so much. We’re more twins than brothers.” The chieftain drank, and then sighed. “Merrick shall come on the morrow to make amends, such as he may. I shall assure the king takes dire measures against the lads who attacked your Lark. You shallnae attend his visit. I outrank you, so dinnae argue.”

He started to tell his brother what he could do with his unwelcome advice, but knew he was right. “Aye.”

“I shall gladly attend in your place,” Shaw added, “for I vow stealing Mistress Ambrose, ’twasnae that fool Finfolk lad’s notion.”

“Bered’s goading the younger men so they may break the truce.” Fletcher rubbed his aching brow. “He imagines a war shall end Merrick’s rule, or he wishes prod the unmated males so they may rebel against the king.”

“Damned young fools think only with their tadgers.” The chieftain lifted a hand and beckoned to Nyall as he came into the hall. “What news? All’s well with the fish folk, then? Slapping the lad’s back and naming him the new king, mayhap?”

“Shut up.” The captain took the whiskey bottle and drank from it for a full minute before he thumped it down and dropped onto the bench beside Fletcher.

“Ignore him,” the seneschal suggested, “and tell me.”

“Merrick’s imprisoned Tethys—he’s the lad who attacked our ladies—and called for a gathering of the elders,” Nyall said. “They shall discuss the crime and decide the boy’s fate. Since he didnae end Lark he’ll likely escape death, but for violating the truce they’ll likely exile him. The king’s also forbid all the other males who schemed with him from leaving their dwellings for three moons. Nor shall he permit them take mates or ever go near an unmated female for the next centurial.”

“A hundred years?” Shaw whistled. “Och, I’m glad I didnae cross Merrick. My tadger, ’twould wither and fall off.”

“The attack, ’tis left all the Finfolk in uproar,” the captain told him. “’Twasnae just the violation of their laws and our truce. These lads and their wonts, they’re a problem without solution. The Finfolk cannae recruit females for them to transform; they must wait until fate brings them to wreck in our waters. Even when they come, most of the young males, they’re now forbidden to mate. ’Twill only make resentment grow. In the end such may result in a rebellion against the throne.”

“As you predicted, Brother.” The chieftain offered the bottle to Fletcher, who shook his head. “You’re wiser than me, then.”

“I need look in on my lady.” He stood, and regarded Nyall. “Spread word round the garrison that beginning now the men need attend all of our women. No female vassal shall leave the stronghold without a guard accompanying her.”

Instead of taking offense at being told how to assign duty to his men, the captain simply nodded.

On his way to Lark, Fletcher stopped to retrieve some clean garments and dry boots from his chamber, and there found her sleeping in his bed.