The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,50

Kylia considered an ominous gesture, they wore the garb of warriors, their plaids tossed over one shoulder, swords in their scabbards, the hilts of dirks glinting at their waists.

As she moved among them, Kylia felt dwarfed by these tall, brawny Highlanders, so fierce, so solemn. She knew that the Council had been meeting behind closed doors for most of the day, and the sight of these intense faces had her heart beating overtime.

Grant looked equally intense as he escorted her to the table. She was relieved to see Hazlet already there, seated between Culver and Lord Giles. But was this a good thing, or did it signify that the older woman knew something the others didn’t? With her veil in place, it was impossible to tell if she was grim or jubilant.

After showing Kylia to her seat, Grant rounded the table and caught Hazlet’s hand, lifting it to his lips. “I bid you welcome, Aunt.”

“I need not be welcomed in my own home.” Hazlet neither smiled nor looked directly at him, keeping her gaze lowered behind her veil.

“True enough. But I’m grateful for the comfort of your presence at my table.”

At a signal from Grant, the housekeeper ordered the wenches to begin serving. Dougal settled himself beside Kylia and, as always, began his joyful ritual of eating everything offered to him.

Seeing Kylia’s smile, he paused to lick his fingers. “What do you eat in your kingdom, my lady?”

“We eat much the same as you. Fish. Fowl. Meat. And the many fruits and vegetables which we grow in our garden.”

“You have a garden? Who tends it?”

“My sister Allegra loved it the most. But when she left to wed her Highland lord, the task fell to me, though occasionally my sister Gwenellen lends a hand.”

“Can’t you merely order the plants to grow?”

Kylia laughed. “Will you be greatly disappointed to learn that we must work, the same as you?”

He considered that a moment, before helping himself to a portion of salmon. “Aye, I confess to disappointment. I’d hoped your Mystical Kingdom was filled with all sorts of unbelievable things, like—” he paused to let his imagination soar “—fish that leap into your kettle, and birds that can talk.”

Grant winked at Kylia before saying to his brother, “I suppose next you’ll be wanting horses that fly, and tiny winged fairies that play among the trees?”

Those seated around the table burst into laughter, and Dougal looked sheepish for a moment before joining in. “I suppose I was being foolish. But what is the purpose of the Mystical Kingdom if it’s just…ordinary?”

“Aye. What purpose indeed?” Grant shared a knowing smile with Kylia before sipping his ale.

“My laird.” Seeing that the others had finished their meal, Giles got to his feet and took his sword from its scabbard, lifting it high in the air to signal silence.

Around the great hall, the crowd of warriors went silent, and the servants paused to watch and listen, for they sensed that this was a moment of great importance.

“This day the Council met to report on the condition of its citizens, and to discuss he who will lead us in the days to come.” Giles turned to Culver, seated beside Hazlet. “Our esteemed cousin will announce the Council’s decision.”

Culver got to his feet and stepped away from the table so that his voice would carry over the length of the hall. “During the absence of our laird, Grant MacCallum, there were several sheep stolen from Kenneth MacCallum’s flock. After the theft of the sheep, it was suggested that a new laird should be chosen, so that such a crime wouldn’t be allowed to happen again.” At a roar of voices raised in protest, Culver flushed. “It matters not who made this suggestion, but the name offered as laird was Dougal MacCallum, younger brother of our laird.”

Grant turned to study his brother, who was flushed with discomfort.

“Dougal rejected the offer and asked that the Council delay a decision until the return of his brother. When it was pointed out that the laird might never return from his dangerous journey, his brother became insistent that the Council bide its time.”

Culver waited until the hum of voices faded. “It was later learned that the sheep were taken by a passing barbarian acting alone, who bartered them to James MacCallum for a blanket and a knife. When James learned of the theft, he returned the sheep to his cousin Kenneth.”

Culver cleared his throat. “There was thought to be another crime while the laird was absent.