The chief seemed full of distrust, and he said, ‘That remains to be seen.’ Then he added, ‘You may stay the night with us. A few of our men are going hunting now, and you may join them if you wish. Your wife can stay with the women.’
Alarr was about to refuse, for he didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. But then, Breanne leaned in close. ‘I think he wants to learn if we truly are a threat. Go with them, and I will stay here. I have your knife, if there is a need.’
He was about to argue with her, when abruptly, he heard an audible gasp. A woman broke free from the others and hurried towards Breanne. Her hair was reddish gold, like Breanne’s, and her face was an older version. There could be no doubt this was her mother.
Breanne stood motionless, in shock. For a moment, the two women stared at one another, until the older woman said, ‘Breanne?’
When she gave a nod, the woman embraced her, openly weeping. Though Breanne did not push her away, it was obvious that she knew not what to do. She appeared startled by the woman’s presence and could not quite return the affection.
‘I think I should remain with my wife,’ Alarr said to the chief, ‘while she becomes reacquainted with her mother.’
Breanne followed her mother across the fortress to another roundhouse. Treasa gripped her hand as if she never wanted to let go. There was no denying that her joy was real. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her smile spread across her face.
As for herself, Breanne felt only confusion. She couldn’t force herself to be happy at seeing Treasa, for she didn’t know her at all. It almost made her feel guilty that she couldn’t return her mother’s happiness. All she could think of was how Feann had never once spoken of Treasa. Breanne had always believed that she was alone, never knowing that she had a surviving family member. More than anything, she had wanted to have that kinship bond with another person. Instead, she could hardly bring herself to feel anything. There was no sense of connection with her mother, and a slight flare of guilt troubled her. She ought to be overjoyed, instead of mistrustful.
Alarr followed her, and he appeared to be searching for any signs of danger. She was grateful for his presence, for she believed he would keep her safe. His hand remained at her waist in a silent warning to others, and the gentle touch brought her comfort.
Ever since she had given herself to him, he had remained close. Though she wanted to believe that he would keep his promise, she remained cautious. It did not seem that there was any trace of her foster father, and she was grateful that she had more time before the two men confronted one another.
An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach as she wondered if Alarr had been right about Feann. She had never seen a darker side to the king before. Had he exiled her mother as a means of controlling her lands at Clonagh? Or had he tried to save Treasa’s life after her husband was executed? She couldn’t understand why her mother would be a threat to anyone. But Feann’s purpose remained unclear. Breanne didn’t know what to think about a man who would lie about Treasa’s existence for so long.
Her mother led her inside and bade her to sit down. Alarr joined them but remained near the doorway to give them a measure of privacy.
She braved a smile. ‘I cannot tell you how glad I am that you came to visit me, Breanne. I’ve been in hiding for so long, I never imagined I would see you again.’
‘Feann told me you were dead,’ Breanne answered honestly. She hardly knew what to say or where to begin.
Treasa’s expression grew pained. ‘Sometimes I wished I were dead.’ She took a steady breath and admitted, ‘I lost everything. My home...my husband...even you.’
Breanne felt as if her emotions were in turmoil right now. She needed to put together the pieces of the past. ‘I need to understand what happened to you and my father. Will you tell me how you came to Dún Bolg?’
And why you remained hidden for so long.
Even as a prisoner, someone could have told her that Treasa was still alive. But they didn’t want her to know the truth, and she couldn’t guess the reasons why.
Treasa rested her hands in her lap and glanced at Alarr. Breanne reassured her, ‘Alarr can be trusted.’
Her mother hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe it. Finally, she said, ‘Your father, Dal, was a good friend and an ally of King Cerball MacDúnlainge. He is a powerful ruler, and there was a time when we thought of marrying you to one of Cerball’s sons.’
Then her expression hardened at the memory. ‘Dal thought we should send you to him for fostering, but I wasn’t so certain. I knew Feann would protect you, and he was not as ambitious as Cerball.’
Against her spine, Breanne felt the light touch of Alarr’s hand. Then he spoke, ‘Where is Feann now?’
Treasa shrugged. ‘He was here a few days ago. I suppose he returned to Killcobar.’ Her expression revealed nothing about her failed attempts at escape. In fact, from her demeanour, Breanne questioned whether Darin had been telling the truth. Was she truly a prisoner in exile? Or were there more lies?
From the tension in his hand, Breanne knew that Alarr wanted to ask more, but he held back the questions.
‘What happened to my father?’ she asked Treasa.
Her mother’s face tightened with emotion. ‘Dal wanted to raise his own status by fighting Cerball’s battles with our own men. I told him we
