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Bhric turned to Sven. “Bring Greta and Hertha here.”
“I will go with him,” Tavia said.
“No need for you to go,” Bhric said.
Tavia tugged at her husband’s hand. “A word, my lord.”
Bhric signaled Sven to wait and stepped a distance away. “Why the urgency to go?”
Tavia was glad he did not threaten her with that no matter what she had to say, he would not let her go. It meant he was willing to listen and that pleased her.
“No doubt all know by now that a messenger has arrived from Clan Strathearn. Doritt and Edward have a terrible fear that they will be returned to Lord Ivan. I want to assure the children that all is well, and they are safe.”
He could not fault her for thinking of the children and making sure they did not suffer needlessly in worry.
“You will take Fen with you,” he said, and his wife beamed with a smile of happiness that poked at his heart. Bloody hell, but he loved his wife.
“You are the best husband,” Tavia said and went up on her toes to kiss him.
Bhric grabbed her around her waist and lifted her so that she could reach his lips easily.
“Later,” she whispered in his ear when the kiss finished.
“Sooner,” he whispered back and was pleased when he felt her shudder against him. He placed her on her feet. “Sven, my wife and Fen go with you, be watchful of her.”
Sven laughed. “That war hound will not let anyone near her.”
“And either will you,” Bhric ordered.
“Aye, my lord,” Sven said and grabbed a cloak from the ones that hung on pegs near the door to drape over Tavia before they left the Great Hall.
“My solar, Bernard,” Bhric ordered, taking advantage of time alone with the man.
Bernard followed apprehensively behind him.
Bhric filled a goblet with wine and handed it to Bernard once in his solar. “What haven’t you told me, Bernard?”
Bernard gulped down a good portion of wine before he spoke. “Many in the clan and even among our own people believe the witch cursed the clan to suffer before Lord Varrick took her away.”
“Did anyone hear her curse the clan?” Bhric asked.
Bernard shook his head. “None can say they did.”
“What else do you keep from me?” Bhric asked, easy to see the man was reluctant to say more.
Bernard fortified himself with more wine before responding. “I have been warned to hold my tongue.”
“Who warned you?” Bhric demanded, angry that someone had had the audacity to warn one of his warriors to keep something from him.
“Auda, the clan healer. She warned me not to speak of it or—”
“Or what?” Bhric demanded again when Bernard suddenly stopped speaking.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I do not know if I should say.”
“I will make it easy for you, Bernard. You will tell me or suffer for it,” Bhric ordered.
“I will not be the one who suffers, my lord.”
