Page 161 of Bride of Fire
“First of all,” Deirdre said, holding it aloft for all to see, “I hope all of you understand this is the will of the king and not the decree of any one clan.” Her ice blue gaze landed on Morgan then, and her voice was forthright, sincere, and reassuring. “As far as mac Giric and Rivenloch, this document affects neither our loyalty nor our friendship.”
Morgan nodded in agreement. The two clans had fought side-by-side, after all. Nothing could break the bonds of war.
Then she turned away.
“By order of the king, Castle Creagor and its surrounding lands are hereby awarded to Lady Jenefer du Lac of Rivenloch.”
His clan’s whispers of shock and disappointment circled the great hall as she handed the decree to Creagor’s new laird.
Morgan’s heart sank.
Then bitter bile rose in his throat.
How could the king do such a thing? How could he take away the prize Morgan had been awarded?
He and his clan had traveled over a hundred miles from the Highlands to get here. They’d already settled in. He was finally beginning to feel like Creagor was his home.
God’s eyes. His clan had even shed blood in defense of the keep.
The king’s betrayal filled him with rancor. How could a beardless boy, sitting miles away in his royal robes, steal Morgan’s future with a single stroke of his pen?
His clan gave voice to his ire. There was a swell of muttering and cursing from the mac Giric soldiers that was becoming a risk, even if they were no longer armed and hot from battle.
It was up to him to rein them in. And keep them safe.
He came to his feet.
“Heed my words, mac Giric! The king has spoken and made his will known.” He held up his hand for silence. “By all rights, Rivenloch could have marched on Creagor and forced us out at the point of a sword. But they did not.”
Even as he said the words, he knew Rivenloch would never have attacked, not while Jenefer was in his ranks.
“Instead,” he continued, “they’ve been merciful, fightin’ by our side.” To his horror, his voice cracked on the last words as he recalled how proud he’d been of Jenefer’s expert command of his archers. Not daring to look at her, he cleared his throat. “We owe it to them to return to the Highlands without delay.”
“The sooner, the better!” Colban barked.
Morgan narrowed his eyes at his loyal companion. He’d never seen Colban so grim. What had happened to him at Rivenloch?
Soon his clan was joining in with comments of their own, like monks trying to make good wine from sour grapes.
“I’ll be glad to be far away from the bloody English!”
“’Twill be good to see real mountains again.”
“We can be back and settled ere winter comes.”
“The siege stores will be good for the journey home.”
“…home…”
“Home.”
Morgan tightened his jaw.
His heart was breaking.
He told himself it was because he’d grown to love Creagor. He would miss its rolling hills and green grass.
He blamed the pain on all of his recent losses. The loss of his right hand man. The loss of his wife. And now the loss of his holding.
