The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 19

No one had to tell her when Ruarc arrived; she could hear his roaring voice from her room as soon as he sailed into the courtyard. Ruarc was not the type to let his arrival pass without fanfare—even if it was fanfare he created himself. Brienna heard him shouting at the stable hands and flirting with the maids and couldn't help but smile, the first time she'd done so since hearing the news about her father being hurt.

She ran down the stairs and met him outside, where he was clapping Ulf's shoulder and telling the old Viking that he was looking as beastly as ever. When he saw Brienna he picked her up in a rough embrace, then dropped her to her feet and held her at arm's length.

"Let me get a good look at you," he said, grinning. She smiled up into his face. "Yep, still ugly," he declared.

She smacked him. "How's father?" she asked.

"He's a tough old stick," Ruarc said, but his brow wrinkled slightly, and Brienna could tell that he struggled to conceal his own worry. "By the time I return I'm sure to find him as hearty as ever."

"And how's Lasair?" Brienna asked next. She had been hungry for news of her maid since they'd been separated.

"What about Lasair?" Ruarc asked, confused.

"My maid? She was sent home, to you," Brienna pressed.

Ruarc shook his head. "I haven't seen her since you made the passage here together. Why was she sent home, not enough room?" he joked, taking in the grandeur of the castle with an arm. "Don't fear for her," he said when he saw Brienna's bereft look. "She probably took up with some sailor and is getting her fill of salty kisses in the hull of a boat somewhere."

Brienna ignored him, not appeased. She knew Lasair wouldn't do such a thing, and if she had, she would have found some way of letting her know.

"Ah," Ruarc said, turning to someone who had just stepped out of the stables. "Sister, let me have the honour of introducing you to Prince Donnall of Leinster, our ally and future brother."

Brienna had to tilt her head back to get a full view of the man she was to marry.

Donnall was tall, so tall that it looked like his spindly legs shouldn't have been able to support him. His neck was bent in a permanent stoop that he must have gotten from having to adjust his height to interact with people or get through doorways. He was very fair, like all the blood had been leached out of him, and his hair was fine as silk and floated chaotically around his head. He reminded Brienna of milkweed at the end of it's season, when the plant had become a skeletal husk adorned with white fluff.

Brienna stumbled over a greeting, not sure if what she said was correct or not. She hadn't been schooled in how to behave when she met her fiancé for the first time.

Donnall, on the other hand, did not appear to be at such a loss, and immediately stooped further into a low bow and took one of her hands to press his pale lips against.

"It is my greatest pleasure. All my expectations of your beauty and grace have been surpassed."

As he said so, Brienna believed him; he seemed like he was in a fever of earnestness. His eyes glimmered up at her like that of a baby goat hungering to be fed.

Ruarc thankfully interrupted the lover's exchange and laughed heartily, giving Donnall a brotherly slap on the back that nearly had him reeling forward into the dirt.

"Bring us some bread, sister, we have travelled far today. And then take us to the king, we have much to discuss."

Brienna knew better than to ask what they would be discussing; unlike Llewellyn, Ruarc didn't believe that war and politics were appropriate topics for the delicate ears of women.

She brought them to the great hall, where she served them bread and ale until they were quite content, and then took them to Llewellyn's war room, where they found him reading scraps of parchment—the hastily scribbled messages from his lookouts stationed all around the country.

Ruarc joined with Llewellyn hand to forearm like they were long-lost brothers, even though they had seen each other only a week or so before. Llewellyn welcomed Donnall, she thought, less warmly, although she couldn't be sure.

After the men greeted each other Brienna went to leave, but Llewellyn asked her to stay. Ruarc looked surprised, casting a glance between them, but in the end accepted his sister's presence as if she were just another chair.

"Once again I'm obliged to thank you for your support of Connaught in this recent fight," Ruarc began. "Without you, no doubt, our fates would have been far worse. As it is, you'll be glad to hear that the English lords who think to make Ireland their own have drawn back to the shores of Scotland—for now."

Llewellyn nodded and made a gesture with his hand, signalling that no further flattery was called for.

"Connaught does not want for loyal allies," he said, "as far as Gwynedd is concerned."

As he said this last part, he was looking at Donnall, who returned his gaze blankly, but she wondered if there had been a second meaning hidden somewhere in Llewellyn's phrasing. Brienna felt herself vibrate with attention; she was witnessing the diplomacy she had once thought of as residing only in the sphere of men.

"That is true," Ruarc affirmed, "but now more than ever I feel it is necessary to ratify those friendships formally. I say we gather all of the heads of the kingdoms of Wales and Ireland here as soon as possible to declare our allegiance against the English."

Llewellyn nodded. "That can be done. It is a good idea."

"Wonderful," Ruarc said, returning to his customary cheery disposition. "And we can top it with the joyous occasion of a marriage," he went on.

"Are you getting married?" Llewellyn asked.

"No," Ruarc laughed, "thank heavens, not yet. I meant the marriage of my sister, to the future king of Leinster," he finished, turning to Brienna.

Donnall, who'd been quiet all this time, threw a sheepish glance at his soon-to-be bride, but Brienna didn't trust herself to look up from the floor.

"Thank you brother," she said. In her chest it felt like something was scrabbling to get out. It wasn't supposed to be this soon, she thought. She was supposed to have until the end of summer.

"Will our father be coming over for the wedding?" she asked Ruarc.

Donnall answered instead. "No. Your father is too weakened from his injuries to travel, I'm afraid," he told her.

Brienna only nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Then, she felt like she must say something, in order to excuse herself from that terrible room.

"I must go and prepare myself," she stuttered, "for the day."

Ruarc punched Donnall heartily on the shoulder. "Look at that," he said. "I hope one day to find myself a bride so eager."

Just before she stepped from the room, Brienna snuck a glance at Llewellyn, hoping for a look from him that would give her encouragement, some sort of strength to face what was coming. But he wasn't looking at her at all; his gaze was directed at Donnall, and it was so murderous, it gave Brienna chills.