Spindle and Dagger - J. Anderson Coats Page 0,23

when I almost collide with Owain, blocking the hall door. His back is to me, and he’s leaning on the frame and shaking his head in an overdone way at whatever’s going on inside. I duck under his arm and my stomach clenches.

In the corner, Nest is trying to get David to stay on his feet, but Not Miv on her shoulder keeps pushing and struggling to reach the ring toy lying nearby. William tugs her cloak and whines that he’s hungry and he needs to piss and his feet hurt. Some of the lads are here — Rhys, and Morgan and Llywarch, and Einion penteulu, all eating cold oatcakes and hulking like wolves and watching the show.

Nest does not want my help. She has little reason to trust me and less reason to want my company. Owain made very sure of that.

“Look at them all,” Owain muses, “Gerald’s three little bratlets, clamoring like pigs at a trough. They all have the misfortune to take after him, too. Every time I look at them, I see their whoreson coward father.”

Nest straightens and knuckles tears out of her eyes. “Whatever this is, I’ll not go along with any of it. So kill us, damn you. Kill us and be done with it.”

William freezes. I can’t stop myself from moving a few paces so I’m nearer to him, and he grapples a handful of my cloak like it’ll save him somehow.

Owain shrugs elaborately. “Had I planned to kill you, you’d be dead now, but I can be done with you if that’s what you want. You’re welcome to stay here in my father’s fort with all his men. Gerald’s brats, though? They’ll come with me.”

“You son of a —” Nest bites it back. “No. You wouldn’t dare.”

Owain gestures, and Einion penteulu wrenches William clear of me so hard and sudden that a scrap of my cloak tears away in his hand. William lets out a pig-slaughter shriek and goes limp under Einion’s grip. I leap toward David, scooping him up and pressing his face into my neck. The little boy is gasping silent, shuddery sobs, and when Einion penteulu reaches his free hand toward David, I bare my teeth at him, and he stops where he stands.

Nest stumbles back, clutching the baby, but Morgan seizes her shoulder and waist and holds her fast. Jostled, Not Miv begins to howl. Owain watches without expression as Nest wrenches and twists and swears like a fighting man; then he gestures to Rhys.

When Rhys grapples Not Miv around the middle, Nest screeches, “Stop! Stop this right now, damn you! Just stop it!”

David is heavy in my arms. William still clings to the raggedy strip of my cloak like it anchors him to shore, whimpering with every unsteady breath he draws.

“You’re ready to behave, then?” Owain asks Nest. “Both you and Gerald’s brats? Best decide now. It’s not a chance you’ll have twice.”

Nest nods fierce and knobby, like it hurts her neck to do it and she can’t trust her voice with it. “You’ll be sorry before this is over, Owain ap Cadwgan.”

“I doubt that.” Owain nods to Morgan and he lets her go. Then Owain aims a knuckle at Nest and says, “Get Gerald’s brats into the yard. We’ve a lot of ground to cover.”

Nest sinks against the wall, patting Not Miv absently. She’s still panting like a hound in August, breath after shuddering breath. Einion penteulu looses William, and the boy stumbles into me. I expect him to push past and flee to his mother, but instead he presses his snotty face into my side, hiccoughing and shaking. I put an arm over his shoulders and hold him close.

“Mayhap Saint Elen will whisper in their little ears,” Einion says in a silky voice that makes me want to kick him where it counts, “and get them to behave the way she says to.”

“Owain wants the little ones ready to travel,” I reply, “and after that spectacle, it’ll go easier if none of you lot are here.”

Einion penteulu snorts, but he gestures to the others and follows Owain into the yard, where the lads will be gathering. Nest and I are left looking at each other in the empty hall. In the silence, I shift David to my other hip, then pull a broken piece of oatcake out of my apron and hand it to Not Miv. She gnaws it around whimpering cries.

I wait for Nest to square up and coldly tell me to go away,