adult
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“My father will not be amused. We should be in the hall waiting for his arrival. Is the bird necessary?” Mirza motioned Eoin, Seonaid, Fearchar and the servant through one of the many rooms leading away from the feast. “You and your flock.”
-
They entered Eoin’s chamber. It was a fourth the size of the prince’s, but comfortable. His pharmacy lay in the room next door to it. He had allowed Fearchar and Seonaid a peek inside. A year since he had seen the inside of those two rooms, and memories flooded him with a sense of loss…
-
Clothes lay scattered about Mirza’s room. Eoin, exhausted as he was, woke to a low sun. He lay spread out on the prince’s bench, rugs having been moved to leave him bare to the cold tile.
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Fearchar and Seonaid stared up in awe at the massive arched gate at the bottom of the mountain passage. It soared to heights Eoin’s memories had not clearly conveyed. They sat in a covered cart waiting as the line of merchants and travellers entered and exited through the pass. The guard in his uniform and…
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Snow and ice dripped from thatch eaves, creating slick, muddy tracks in the melt. Rodney’s birlinn docked on the second day of frost break. Thin sheets of ice dances around the hull, squeaking a thin tune over the thunk of wood and slap of rope. Gulls cried in a clear morning, greeting a pale pink…
-
“So, what’s in the box?” Seonaid asked the following day after breakfast. Eoin had finished plaiting his hair out of the way, leaving it to hang for the day. He was in his blue breeches, having left his shirt off. He despised the Southron garment. It was constricting around the throat and pressed his torc…
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Eoin peeled his eyes open and yawned. Hands splayed across his chest. The tingling of the void nagged at the back of his head. He blinked, bringing Seonaid’s face into focus. She had tucked up under his left arm, happily wrapping her thigh over one of his. He blinked again, trying to clear the cobwebs…
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I’m so sorry, Fearchar, Seonaid. I’m out of practice. I – I – “Wha’ di’ye mean White Horse a’ the Fyskar clan? Ye’re man, nae beast. Tradition died out centuries ago. None a’ the clans claim the land tha’ way. A disgustin’ myth told in dark corners.” Fearchar cut off the apology.
-
Seonaid and Fearchar’s heads spun into the inky blackness. “Ye bloody well could’a died, ye eejit!” Fearchar screamed at his employer. Eoin snorted. “You think that was a one-time occurrence.” He smiled sardonically.
Chapel Orahamm 