He turned his attention back to the table, to the piles of bread smothered in butter to the bowls filled to the brim with thick stew, to the succulent slices of boar slathered in rich sauces.
It was an extravagance they could not afford.
Earlier, before coming to the feast, he’d gone to see his uncle. He’d explained what he and Anna had seen at the barn and explained his worries that the MacDonald’s cut of the harvest would not leave enough grain to last Dun Achmore through the winter.
His uncle’s expression had gone grim and he’d turned to stare out the window of his study.
“Perhaps it’s time to renegotiate,” Emeric had said. “If we keep to our agreement with the MacDonalds, we’ll be hard-pressed to feed everyone.”
“We?” his uncle snapped, turning to face him. “What do ye mean ‘we’? There is no ‘we’, is there, Emeric? There hasnae been a ‘we’ since ye turned yer back on this clan for yer precious Order!”
The words had stung Emeric like pelting stones, but he’d refused to back down. “I’m sorry ye see it that way, Uncle, but it doesnae mean I’m wrong.”
His uncle sighed and he scrubbed at the side of his face. “Nay, lad, it doesnae mean ye are wrong. And I’m sorry. I shouldnae have said that. I understand yer reasons for leaving and I dinna begrudge ye them.”
His uncle’s understanding was worse than his anger. That old, familiar guilt twisted in Emeric’s gut and he had looked away, unable to stand the compassion in his uncle’s gaze. He didnotunderstand Emeric’s reason for leaving. None of them did.
“So what do we do about the agreement with the MacDonalds?” he had pressed.
“Whatcanwe do? It’s been all I can do to smooth ties with them since Aislinn set her heart on the Murray boy. It was an insult they willnae forget in a hurry. And now, if I refuse to give them what was agreed? We’ll likely have MacDonald warriors at our gates before we could breathe.”
Emeric had said nothing, but anger had seethed in his stomach. His clan had always been a poor one, sandwiched between two powerful neighbors, the Murrays to the west and the MacDonalds to the east and striking a balance between keeping the Mackintosh from being swallowed by either had been a tightrope his family had been walking all his life.
And now, looking at this feast they could ill afford, Emeric wondered if they were finally losing their balance and falling off that tightrope. He glanced around the hall, noting the revelry that filled the room. Men and women laughed and drank, oblivious to the fact that they were feasting on borrowed time.
He imagined this scene when winter arrived—their faces drawn and pale, snow falling ceaselessly outside and their bellies echoing its silence within. How quickly would this joy turn into resentment? How soon would they blame it on Aislinn’s decision to follow her heart or his uncle’s decision to allow it?
Emeric sighed heavily, the weight of these thoughts pressing upon him. His uncle noticed his gloomy expression and nudged him with an elbow.
“Ye’re brooding, lad. Tonight is a night of celebration.”
“Is it?” Emeric quipped in reply, his gaze drifting across the hall. “It feels more like a night of denial.”
His uncle’s face turned grave at Emeric’s words. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But we must take our moments of joy where we can find them. We’ll manage, as we always have.”
Emeric’s gaze landed on Anna. Her laughter echoed across the hall and she seemed to be enjoying herself.
His uncle’s words echoed in his head.We must take our moments of joy where we can find them.
He knew the truth of that all too well. When fighting for the Order, there had been countless moments when he had thought it might be his last. As a result, he and hissword-brothers had learned to live in the moment, enjoying the laughter and camaraderie when they could.
Emeric stood abruptly, drawing several curious glances from those seated at the high table. He navigated through the tables—and through the people who had already begun to dance in the space in the middle of the hall—and made his way towards Anna.
He received a few claps on the back and nods of acknowledgement from men he barely remembered, their well wishes and congratulatory words washing over him like a faint echo. It was odd how they still treated him like kin—not like the man who’d abandoned them.
He finally reached Anna’s table. She had her back to him and was engaged in a loud and laughter-filled conversation with Mavis Tanner, one of his mother’s seamstresses.
Words tingled on the end of his tongue.Would you like to dance?But before he could speak, Hector suddenly leaned close on Anna’s other side and held out his hand.
Anna nodded, took Hector’s hand, and allowed him to pull her to her feet and towards the dancing area. She didn’t notice Emeric, her attention focused on her partner. But just as they were about to step into the sea of dancers, she turned her head and caught sight of him standing at the end of a table.
She looked as though she was about to speak, but then the music started up and Hector whisked her away to join the dance.
Emeric was left standing there, feeling an utter fool. What had he been thinking? Take your joy where you canfind it? What a ridiculous sentiment. There was no joy for him here. Not since...
Ah, curse it!
He suddenly felt suffocated, like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Ignoring the curious stares that followed him, Emeric hurried out into the night.
