Authors: Emily Evans
King Mael had set the stage to show a very distinct hierarchy, like my cousin Tory’s wedding. The bride, groom, and their wedding party drank from crystal and ate off china, while we had red plastic cups and paper plates. I think the dinnerware was more symbolic than budget: as if the new family was solid and the old was flexible, changing. That’s where the comparison to Tory’s wedding ended. Tory may not have liked her new in-laws, but that tension was nothing compared to the threat of war that overhung our dinner.
Callum leaned over me, interrupting my musing. He turned my knife so the blade faced inwards. “You don’t want the guests to think you’re threatening them.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“We learn our history in Europe.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “We learn history. Houston was founded in 1836.”
He stared at me without saying anything.
The servant placed a small bowl of water and a hand towel in front of us. I dipped my fingers and dried them on the linen. I liked being at the high table. Maybe my mega-conglomerate would have a high table.
We received a dish of carrots next. Callum’s big hand shifted back to our plate and he nudged a piece toward me. He took one himself, but his gaze was on the crowd as if watching for any trouble.
The guests ate with manners no worse than my little brothers when Mom was watching; no better, but no worse. I’d expected barbarian hordes throwing scraps to the dogs.
“How’s this going to work?” I asked and bit into the crunchy carrot. It tasted like a normal carrot.
Callum said, “Expect lots of courses and small portions. That’s how we handle state functions back home.”
The King tapped the base of his goblet, drawing everyone's attention. “Eogan of Ulster, champion of the north lands, come forward. Receive your boon.”
The crowd hushed and Eogan stood and walked toward the high table.
King Mael held up a hand for him to stop when he reached the middle of the room. “Kneel as your lord kneeled before me and swear your allegiance.”
Ooh. Dig.
Eogan knelt, bowed his head, and held the hilt of his sword toward King Mael. “I swear my fealty to you: King Mael Cétchathach, High King of Ireland and to your sons, and their sons after them.”
King Mael rose and strode forward until he stood before Eogan on the expanse of empty limestone. He unhooked a brooch from his shoulder and pinned it on the champion. “I accept your vow as is my right. And I grant you a purse of twenty pounds gold.”
The guests clapped and King Mael continued the reward, “A place in my guard, the title of
Lord
, and your choice of a bride.” He waved a hand at the thirteen tables. “Which noble lady will unite with your family? Make your pledge now so that you may both make preparations to join my household.”
My hands clenched in my lap as Eogan extended his hand to a ginger at table six. She stepped forward, all blushing pale skin, and glanced back to her family.
In his allegiance building efforts, King Mael had given a woman away like a cheap prize. I tilted my head to Callum and whispered, “OMG. He did not just do that.”
Callum nodded. “He did.”
I scooted an inch over. Was that how Callum would choose his bride in the future? His royal father would pull up the counties on the computer and let him know his options. Creepy.
King Mael tapped the empty table and the couple took a seat in front of one of the trenchers. Twelve plates lay waiting.
The King waved at the doorway and the servants brought out the next course. After they gave Callum and me a portion of spinach and nuts, they served the new couple and proceeded around the room. While they worked and the guests ate, King Mael called forth the next champion.
He offered him a similar boon. He was both uniting and decimating the houses at once by taking their noble daughters and their best fighters. Brilliant.
Callum appeared watchful and wore an intermittent tight smile. The third course was rice and fish. I took a small bite with my spoon and swallowed, wondering when they invented forks, because there were none here. King Mael united another family. I tried not to watch and chased a piece of fish with the side of my spoon.
The fourth course was a seasoned meat. “What is that?”
“It’s boar, try a piece.”
“Like boar? Or boar?
“Boar.”
“What’s boar?”
“Like pig.”
His answer wasn’t definitive enough for me. I nudged the square bits of meat to his side of the plate. He ate without reservation.
The fifth course was a small game hen. I tried to push it to Callum’s side, but he cut a slice and held it to my mouth. “Eat.”
It tasted like chicken. I watched a knight draw a teary blonde away from her family to the new table as I chewed. Awful.
The next few courses consisted of rice, pork, bread, cheese, and four more arranged marriages. The goods varied by region, but all were accompanied by a title and a bride.
I leaned toward Callum and whispered, “This is obscene.
You cannot give away women the same way you give away cattle.
”
Callum put his mouth to my ear. “He can reward anyone here at will. He is king.” His warm breath countered the chill severity of his words.
I stared down at the new dish of cherries and wished I were home. Mom probably made beef and cheese enchiladas with Spanish rice and guacamole. I wanted TexMex and freedom for women.
Callum touched my arm. He held one of the red cherries between his index finger and thumb. “Try this.”
The flavor burst in my mouth. Sweet, the same as at home but different. I placed the pit on the table and reached for another with cherry-stained fingers. Callum tapped my arm, leaned toward me, and opened his mouth.
It made me smile, and I pushed the fruit between his lips. He chewed and handed me another. I knew what he was doing, but I was so happy for the distraction from the bride lottery that I let him. We ate plums, grapes, and cheese cubes. Anytime I tried to look at the events going on in the main part of the room, he distracted me with a warm touch or a new morsel.
His fingers trailed over the back of my hand. Tingles jolted up to my elbow. Each time he brushed his thumb over my mouth to feed me another bite, the sensation jolted from my lips to my heart to my toes.
I pushed a piece of the plum into his mouth and pressed the tip of my thumb against the perfect curve of his lower lip. His eyes brightened and a flush rode high on his cheeks, fascinating.
He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “Our second dinner date.”
I shivered at the deep, pleasing sound of his voice.
“Custard tart.” The heavily accented server startled me.
“Uh. Yes, thank you,” I said, feeling heat cover my cheeks.
“Hud. Step forward,” King Mael said.
Callum’s head jerked.
The thirteenth warrior stepped up to receive his prize. He knelt.
Something sly flickered over King Mael’s face. “I grant you thirteen pieces of silver.”
While before the amounts had grown, this time the monetary figure was the smallest given out. The crowd murmured at the insult. Hud’s face flushed above his bushy black beard. He rose and strode directly to the high table and dropped his fist down, jolting the dishes. He stood right in front of me, near enough for me to see bits of dinner in his beard, close enough to see the rage of ruined plans in his eyes. “I choose the King’s ward as my bride.” His dark eyes pierced me. “I choose you.”
I shook my head
no.
No thank you. “I’m not from here. I’m not a part of the prize pool.”
Hud ignored my refusal. “It’s done.”
Callum rose. “I challenge you.”
King Mael assessed both men with a steady gaze.
We had to go. I put my hand on the side of Callum’s leg and whispered, “Callum, please. Ignore this.” I tried to tell him with my eyes that we’d escape tonight.
Callum didn’t look at me. His gaze stayed on Hud.
The King held up a hand. “The time to test our neighbors is gone. If you are itching to test your mettle, Callum, test it on someone worthy.”
Hud glared and backed away. His arms crossed over his chest. Table thirteen jerked at the slight.
King Mael stepped closer and motioned for Callum to come down from the high table. “Someone worthy of battling a royal. Me.”
Was he saving Callum? Or, did he have another agenda?
The crowd shifted and their eyes grew greedy in delight at the spectacle. Callum strode down to the limestone floor.
King Mael stepped in front of Hud. “Your choice has been denied. Opt for another or take the table without a bride.”
Several of the knights snickered at that.
Hud chose a pissy-looking brunette at table four. He liked brunettes. No woman wanted to be chosen second. He’d pay for that mistake in the years to come.
The King motioned Callum closer.
This was happening. I got up with a sick twist in my stomach, gathered the soft wool of the skirts in my hands, and hurried toward them. “Whatever I need, you swore it. You both did. I need you to not fight.”
King Mael motioned to his guard. “What’s set in motion cannot be stopped.”
The guard brought two swords forward: one iron and plain, the other topped by a large emerald—the royal sword. My heart stopped as green flashed in the candlelight. We needed that sword.
Callum’s shoulders straightened, and his gaze stuck to the sword as the King lifted it into the air, leaving the plain weapon for Callum. The second Callum’s hand folded over the grip, King Mael charged him.
I backed away.
King Mael fought with aggressive strong thrusts. Callum countered each move. Callum’s strengths lay in his twists and the use of his feet. Watching him was like watching one of the mixed martial arts events my brothers favored.
King Mael had incredible strength and skill himself, but it became clear that Callum wasn’t inclined to land a blow. He was just blocking. King Mael used that weakness to his advantage, slicing a shallow cut in Callum’s left arm.
I covered my mouth to hold in a scream. I wanted this to stop. I wanted to go home.
A few knights cheered and raised their fists in the air. The battle took on a more heated atmosphere after that, more forward momentum, more jabs. In an odd move, King Mael stepped back. His grip loosened. His arms widened. Callum landed a heavy blow on his wrist. A thin line of blood flowed down, over the white of his hand, across the green emerald and onto the steel of the sword. Not waiting for the King to recover, Callum swung at the royal weapon. A metallic boom reverberated through the air and the iron sword hit the limestone with force and a loud whack. The force popped out the large emerald and the gem slid across the floor and landed blinking up at me. I knelt and picked up the bloody, hard stone, pressing it between my fingers until the ridges bit into my skin.
King Mael grinned and held his arms open. “Well done, my heir. My proven loyal kin. I grant you this boon. A thousand cattle, five hundred sheep, Castle Marauch by the sea, and all the surrounding lands, one hundred guard, fifty servants...”
With each item he named, the crowd gasped and applauded. Envy echoed in their murmurs as the prizes grew. It became clear that King Mael was sealing Callum’s place as heir, not rewarding him for a thrown hand-to-hand battle. Instead of seeming honored, Callum paled and his mouth tightened as the trap snared around him.
“Kneel.”
Callum knelt. King Mael removed a heavy gold chain laden with rubies from around his neck. He placed it over Callum’s head. “And of course, the selection of a bride. Which house will you honor? Who will unite with our blood?”
OMG, he’d outwitted all of us. He’d just forced Callum to stay.
Callum’s eyes flashed and I felt for him. King Mael knew Callum wanted to leave and would refuse to take a bride. What would happen to him when he rejected the King’s offer? Nothing good.
Still on his knees, Callum said, “Hayley McLaren. I choose Hayley.”
A weird relief and pleasure filled me, even though I knew we were leaving.
“Come to us, Lady Hayley,” King Mael said. His voice boomed.
I stepped forward and took hold of the King’s outstretched hand. He presented me to the diners like a winning bingo number. I kept my lips together in a fake grin. King Mael drew another necklace off and placed it over my head. Cold, heavy gold landed around my neck. Dark red stones spaced two inches apart weighted it into place. Rubies?
King Mael turned to Callum and his voice quieted. “Your request for the hand of Lady Hayley must be denied. You will have to choose another. I fear the Lady Hayley has already been taken. My Lady Hayley will be my Queen and the one to give me a true heir.”
My hand jerked. Callum tensed.
King Mael’s grip tightened and the blood left my fingers. I couldn’t stop the gasp. The guests stared at me with malicious greed, envy, and other mixes of emotions I couldn’t begin to guess. I had to say something. I had to get out of this. I had to fake it. I didn’t know the protocol, but I knelt beside Callum, letting gravity pull me free from the King. Kneeling on the hard stone, I was in the perfect position to throw up my thirteen courses. Bowing my head, I lied, “You honor me.” My voice came out gravely.
“If I cannot have Hayley, I take my spot solo,” Callum said.
The ladies in the crowd gasped. A radish landed on the floor in front of him. By the way the blonde woman thrower smiled, she’d made the gesture half in anger, half to get his attention.
The King clapped and we rose.
Music began again and the guests moved around us and converged on the thirteen couples to offer their congratulations. I went back to the high table alone and ignored the rest of the courses while King Mael chowed down beside me. The remainder of the banquet passed in a blur, but I had formulated a plan. I needed to avoid King Mael and get a moment alone with Callum.
Our central seating made getting to Callum difficult. The minutes turned like centuries. As the evening darkened, the guests divided into groups, some surrounding a knight telling tales, others two musicians, one with a large ancient-looking harp and one with a hand drum. King Mael circulated and I saw Callum stomp from the great hall.