“I knew she could look thusly, like a princess should,” her mother remarked.

Inside the hall, many had assembled and when she entered, a cheer arose. Emlyn didn’t like having everyone’s attention solely on her and she kept her gaze averted. All stopped their speech, and the moment was filled with awkwardness. Her father stepped next to her, as did her mother.

She gazed around at those in the hall and saw James and his comrades on the far side. They stood with some of her father’s soldiers. She tried not to smile.

“My daughter, who would save us from our enemy.” Her mother waved a hand at her. “We celebrate her courage and wish her well on her journey to her betrothed.”

Her mother raised her arm and Emlyn pulled away. She disliked the fact that she was being dishonest with her mother and if she ever found out, she would never forgive her. As much as her mother frustrated her, she didn’t want her hatred.

Branwyn stepped forward and drew her away from her mother’s side, saving her from bearing such guilt. “You are beautiful. I cannot believe you wore the gown. I vow I would never appear as fetching as you in it.”

“I’m gladdened you gave it to me.” They moved farther into the great hall and Emlyn gave a scathing glare to Delyth. “Look, there’s Delyth. She told my mother where I hid. I shan’t speak to her for her treachery. It will take a long time for Delyth to gain my forgiveness.”

“You shouldn’t hold it against her, Em, for your mother can be daunting and we both know Delyth doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak false to your mother.”

“Nay, I suppose you are right.” Emlyn kept her gaze from her friend, wishing she could forgive her.

As the night continued, Emlyn tried not to appear happy, but knowing she would soon be in James’ company again—where she’d actually speak with him, brought her a sense of pleasure.

The feast was served and entertainments began. Candlelight glowed in every corner. The center table laden with foodstuffs, covered every inch, and greenery and floral drastically changed the hall from its usual foreboding mien. Her mother went to great lengths to make the feast rival any they’d ever had. In a way, Emlyn was honored by her mother’s gesture, but then again, she only did so for appearance’s sake.

How could they celebrate, believing she was going to her demise? Had they no empathy at all? She kept her expression solemn for she didn’t want her mother to suspect anything. Still, the way her clan acted caused her abhorrence of their indifference.

Gifts were placed in front of her, but Emlyn wasn’t one for material possessions. She cared not for the furs, the ornate jewelry, and trinkets given to her by the closest clan members. Still, she thanked them for their supposed kindness. She compared their gifts to payment for her life, because if she were really going to Marshall—that’s what she’d be giving in return—her life.

As much as she tried to avoid James’ gaze, she couldn’t, and found herself following him with her eyes. Each time she looked at him, she caught him watching her in return. His beautiful eyes bore into hers, as if silently telling her all would be well. If only she could be alone with him and hear that from his lips, but soon enough.

“You’re a fortunate woman, Emlyn.”

She apprehensively dragged her eyes from James and peered at Branwyn. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m being forced to leave my home. All believe I’m sacrificing myself to save our people when I’m being deceitful. They deem I have honor when I have not.”

“Honor does not serve when you are dead.”

“Nay, it doesn’t indeed.” Emlyn sighed.

“Keep yourself safe. Promise me, for I shall worry and pray for you each day.”

“Use your prayers for something more significant, Bran.”

Branwyn wept and Emlyn flinched at the sorrowful sound, knowing she caused her friend’s dismay.

“Come now. As you said I am a fortunate woman. Look at him, Bran. He’s likely what every woman wants in a protector. He is honorable, strong, appealing in face and body. And until I figure out what’s to become of me … mine.”

Branwyn wiped her tears away and gave a small laugh at her jest. “I vow I have never heard you speak so of a man, not even of Bevan.”

Emlyn grew melancholy then for she hadn’t thought of her betrothed in many a day. How her life would differ if she’d married him. She would be allowed to remain on the land that had been home all of her life. She would be able to practice at using her weapons, and left alone by her mother. Emlyn wanted to cry herself as all the weight of what she was about to do suddenly bore down on her.

“I wish you could be here for my wedding, but alas I know we shall part. I will always hold our friendship with fondness.”

She gazed at her friend, and her words brought forth such melancholy. “I know Cranog will make you happy and that brings me contentment, for that’s all I want for you.”

“At first I was unsure, but now … I deem he will do for a husband. I’m gladdened he’s a farmer and not one of your father’s soldiers. I would not have accepted him if he were, because I would worry that he would … end as Bevan.”

She hugged Branwyn and knew she spoke from the heart. If any man was made for her friend, it was Cranog.

The rest of the night passed quickly and before she knew it, many had left. The Gunn guardsmen, along with her father’s favored soldiers caroused their way from the keep on to their tents and garrison. Their boisterous exit was amusing. That is until she saw James. He didn’t appear as jovial as his comrades. Emlyn turned her attention to her mother who stood by her side flapping in her ear about some such nonsense. When she turned back, he was gone.

Her brothers avoided her all evening and kept giving her looks. Emlyn decided to confront them now and get it over with. Her brothers, both born from different mothers, looked nothing alike. David resembled their father more than any of her siblings. Griffen, whose mother was mistress to her father, had his mother’s looks.

Emlyn’s mother didn’t berate her father for his mistress, and oftentimes, her mother remarked that she was grateful she’d been given a reprieve. She couldn’t understand how her mother could be so tolerate when she tended to be ardent on all other matters.

David and Griffen stood by the hearth, and now was the chance to speak with them alone. She slunk forward and cornered them, not giving them the opportunity to flee.

“You will not speak with me? You two have avoided me all night.”

David grimaced. “Our apologies, Emlyn. ‘Tis just … I’m not in agreement with Father. You know that. You shouldn’t be sacrificed. We should confront Marshall and defend our land. We’ve enough arms to take to war with him and I pledge my sword will meet his one day soon.”

How passionate her brother was when it came to war. She touched his arm in a soothing gesture. “Worry not, David, for you may get your wish.”

“I have something for you,” Griffen said, as he pulled a leather sheath from his tunic, and handed it to her. “Here.”

She held it and admired the workmanship of the leather. “What is it?” Emlyn pulled the item from inside. “I cannot accept it. It’s your favorite dagger.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

“Nay, I want you to have it. You may need it. If ye get the chance, you can put it where it belongs. In that braggart’s heart.”

“You mean Marshall.” Emlyn sheathed the dagger and her heart swelled for at least her brothers cared for her.

Griffen laughed. “Who else would I mean?”

“David’s?” She let forth a merry laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I jest. Oh, I shall use it and am honored by your gesture. That reminds me, I will need someone to see to Aled. Will you?”

“That hound would rather be free. Why don’t you release him?”

“Nay, I cannot do that. He is not a wild dog. Please, promise you’ll see to his care?”