Seven Brothers Blessed [ Lore of Penrua: Book IV ]

[ 27 ]

Breakfast was served in the small antechamber where the family typically had their meals. It was usually an informal affair; Brente would put out plates and cups, bread, honey, tea on warming rests, and any cold dishes left over from prior meals. The family would filter in and out as they woke and prepared for their day.

Aerte and Uachi had allowed Diarmán time to wash his face and change into new clothes, and then they had come down together. If there was anything odd about the connections made within their trio, Diarmán did not have much attention to spare to consider it. He was far too focused on what would happen today.

Han Taín was here. He was alive, and he was going to stay at House Eldranxx.

They were a family again.

The dining room was nearly empty. Inside, Leán sat alone, hunched over his plate in a manner that did not befit a nobleman. His cheek bulged with whatever he'd just shoved into his mouth.

"Good morning, Brother," Diarmán said. "I hope we have not disturbed you? I'm rather attached to my hands—shall I stay on this side of the table?"

Leán swallowed his mouthful and pointed to a dish of cold rabbit pie left over from the feast. "That's what I've got my eye on next."

"Then we will steer clear of it." He settled onto the bench opposite Leán and reached for one of the teapots as Uachi swung a leg over the bench next to him. "Will you be going out to the tenancies today?"

His mouth already full again, Leán chewed as Diarmán poured his tea, fixing him with a look, a frown shadowing his brow. Aerte had crossed round the table and now took her seat on the bench next to Leán.

"Why would I go to the tenancies today?" Leán reached for the dish of pie, pulling it toward him. "Do you not think there are a few matters to attend to here?"

Diarmán shrugged. He passed the tea pot to Uachi. "A fair point. Have you had a chance to speak with Father?"

Leán shook his head, his expression difficult to read, and sliced into the pie. As he served himself a piece, he looked at Aerte, giving her a tired smile. "Good morning. Pie?"

She smiled back, sliding her plate toward him. "Thank you."

There were footsteps in the hall, and Diarmán looked up in anticipation.

"I can't believe we're just sitting down to breakfast like everything is normal." It was Gaerte, who arrived with Emón. He stopped just inside the room, looking at the breakfast table with a frown. "What is there—leftover roast pheasant?"

Diarmán's stomach turned, and his appetite soured. He scanned the dishes set out for breakfast and was pleased to see there was no pheasant on the offer. "No. Rabbit pie and cold candied carrots and more bread than is usual. Sit, and I'll pour you some tea."

Emón's expression was hopeful as he scanned the room. "Has Father come?"

"I haven't seen him," said Leán. At his side, Aerte was staring down at her pie, picking at a corner with her fork as if she were removing something that did not please her from the dish.

Out of nowhere, Declaen appeared. He placed his hands on Little Emón's shoulders and moved him out of the way as he entered the room. He then stepped aside to make way for Lady Moigré, who looked even paler than usual, casting large, dark eyes around the room. "It's all right, Mother," Declaen said. "He isn't here."

"Good morning, Mother," said Leán. There were muted echoes from the others as Declaen crossed to the table, raising a hand in a general, lazy greeting to those who were already seated. Moigré trailed in his wake, clutching a shawl around her shoulders.