"Well, I hope not," Ninian replied, his grin widening."Because ye have a terrible singing voice."
"No, I don't."
"Aye, ye do.Remember that time at the Midsummer festival when ye tried to serenade that lass from Caithness and she threw her ale in yer face?"
"That was because I insulted her brother, not because of my singing."
"Are ye sure?Because I'm fairly certain it was the singing."
Cormac opened his mouth to argue further when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.
He looked down to find his sister Nessa gazing up at him with sympathetic eyes.Unlike the rest of his unruly family, Nessa was soft-spoken, thoughtful, and possessed the temperament of a saint.How she had survived growing up with the rest of them, Cormac would never understand.
"Dinnae fash so, brother," Nessa said quietly, with the hint of an apologetic smile."Ye ken they haven't changed at all since ye were last home."
The simple observation, delivered in Nessa's gentle tone, took some of the edge off Cormac's fury.He sighed heavily and pulled her into a hug.
"How are ye, sprite?"he asked.
"Surviving," Nessa replied, her voice muffled against his chest."Barely."
Despite everything, Cormac found himself smiling."Aye, I can imagine."
He released her and looked around the hall.Now that his initial panic and rage were subsiding, he could see the scene more clearly.With the exception of his siblings having grown taller and his parents looking older, not much had changed.
His mother was now arguing with a servant about the placement of a tapestry, insisting it was crooked despite the poor man's protests that it was perfectly level.His father had returned to his seat and was now engaged in what appeared to be a heated debate with himself about whether the wild boar needed more salt.And Ninian was attempting to juggle three apples while simultaneously trying to convince a serving girl that he was an excellent catch, despite clear evidence to the contrary.
It was as if nothing had happened.
It was exactly as he remembered.
And despite his lingering anger at being tricked, Cormac felt something in his chest loosen slightly.He was grateful everyone was alive, because he missed this.Missed them.Even if they were all utterly irritating.
"Tell me what's truly happening," Cormac said quietly to Nessa."What was so urgent that Ma had to fake Da's death to get me home?"
Nessa bit her lip, glancing toward their parents before leaning in to whisper, "They want ye to marry."
Cormac went very still."What?"
"They've chosen a lass for ye," Nessa continued in an undertone."From a well-to-do family in the north.Ma wants ye to meet her."
"Absolutely not," Cormac said flatly.
"I tried to warn them," Nessa replied."But ye ken how Ma gets when she has an idea in her head."
"Like a dog with a bone," Cormac muttered."Who is this lass?"
"Her name is Annag Ruthven.I met her once at a gathering last spring."Nessa paused, choosing her words carefully."She's very bonnie."
"But?"
"'Tis a good thing she is bonnie, because her character leaves little to be desired," Nessa finished delicately."She's a wee bit unkind."
"Of course she is," Cormac said."Mother always has a talent for finding me shrews."
"Aye, but there is a wee bit more to it.I overheard our parents talking.Annag's half-brother, the eldest son and heir Torin, has been missing for years since the battle of Halidon Hill.Without a strong alliance, Laird Ruthven could lose his lairdship."
"Surely Torin must be dead," Cormac said.
