“Aye, well, ’tis not the worst thing on the face o’ the world, is it?”
Daerg’s face lifted. He was not the most comely of Gawen’s sons, having a stark, freckled countenance and eyelashes so pale it put one in mind of a fish. Usually he schooled his emotions well. Now devastation rode him hard.
“It is my place and my duty to please Father in all things.”
Well, and that was pure foolishness. No one could be pleased in all things. Adair did not say so.
“Moreover, this was my chance. To achieve something Baen could no’ do. He is a hard man to follow, is Baen.”
So he was. Their faultless elder brother with his fair hair and far-seeing hazel eyes, his competence on the field and nearly nonexistent sense of humor, was—
Well, faultless.
Adair wondered what Baen would think of his upcoming marriage. Who was she?
And would Father one day choose a bride for him, also? Would some far-flung marriage alliance be the way Gawen finally made use of what he considered a near-useless son? The prospect made Adair writhe. He thought of the bonny Forba, with her clever fingers that could coax music from wood and a bit of string, and do even more amazing things on a man’s body. Did he mean to marry her? He hadn’t got that far in his head. Now he would not have the chance—at least until he accomplished his impossible mission.
“Ye ha’ no need to compete wi’ Baen,” he told Daerg a bit lamely. “Ye are your own man.”
Daerg’s searing look of scorn told Adair what he thought of that advice.
“Here, have a drink.” Adair took up the jug, which splashed nearly empty. “Did ye drink all o’ this?”
“What else is there to do?” Daerg once more lowered his head to his hands in despair.
Adair cursed low, under his breath. “Come, man, it cannot be all that bad.”
“I have disappointed Father.” Daerg seemed stuck on that.
“And will he no’ get over his disappointment? Take it from one who knows. I have disappointed him scores o’ times.”
Daerg directed a bleary look at him. Adair could now see half of Daerg’s trouble was a state of mild intoxication. “Fine for ye, Adair. Ye being the favored one.”
“Nay, that is Baen again.”
“He never asked much from ye, though, did he? Never pushed ye very hard, either.”
That was true. Father had never asked much—till now.
Adair shrugged. “I was the youngest.”
“He always liked ye the best.”
“Least. I do believe he despaired o’ me.”
“It does no’ matter. The worst part o’ failing him is, they were my own lands I was going to claim. What manner o’ man cannot claim his own lands?”
“What is it like there—in Alba?”
Daerg shivered. “It is a dark and terrible place o’ black lochs and dark mountains, won awa’ from the savages who still inhabit the interior. The settlements o’ our people are held by mere fingertips upon the coastal lands. Kendrick’s settlement is a mad place. He has sons—two o’ them—who want it, all o’ it, for themselves and ha’ no liking for an interloper from Erin. And a stepdaughter and a wife no better who tells him what to do. No one there, I tell ye, is right in the head. ’Tis a terrible place to be.” He glanced into Adair’s face, and must have glimpsed something there. “Why d’ye ask?”
“Father is sending me there. In your stead.”
“You?” Daerg lost all his misery at least temporarily, in astonishment. The look he directed at Adair was not complimentary. “You?”
Adair grimaced. “Aye. I tried to tell him what a bad choice I am. He would no’ listen.”
“But—you are no sort o’ statesman or negotiator.” Daerg took up his cup and drank. “Worse even than me.”
