Dark Side of the Sun by Belinda Burke

Author:Belinda Burke [Burke, Belinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2014-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

* * * *

The next day passed slowly, and Bran learned new definitions of boredom as he sat without speaking, and waited for something horrible to happen.

The feast Saoirse had warned him about was far worse than even the worst things Bran had imagined. As if he were an animal in a cage, men poked and prodded at him with the butts of their spears, or dared each other drunkenly to risk a sidhe curse and touch him. He said nothing when Dealla proclaimed a second victory over the sidhe and offered him as proof, said nothing even when Mac Briuin announced that Bran would be sacrificed at Imbolc, the festival of rebirth celebrating the end of winter. What was there for him to say?

Dealla sat on the dais beside her father, on a high chair set at his right hand. From his place at Mac Briuin’s left, he could just barely see her, but Saoirse wasn’t beside her. Bran distracted himself from crude words and painful prodding by searching for the girl with his eyes. He finally caught sight of her seated at one of the high tables, beside a woman who shared the green of her eyes and the shape of her nose. Her mother, maybe? Bran didn’t know. He hadn’t seen her before.

Saoirse looked up then and met his eyes, smiled at him—was she so happy, because he wasn’t talking like he had promised? But no, it wasn’t a happy smile. Courage, it said. She was only eight years old, just a girl-child, the daughter of his enemy, but he took comfort from her regardless. So what if she was just a child? He wasn’t alone here, and that was something.

When the feasting was done and the hall was empty and silent, the warriors dispersed and Bran found himself looking forward to the visit the girl had promised.

It was late when Saoirse returned, mouse-quiet, and this time Bran had already woken from another strange, dim dream of Macsen Cadoc. Like the dream of the night before, it was slippery in his waking consciousness even as he remembered that it had been clear and perfect while he was asleep. Bran remembered only the feeling that Macsen was thinking of him and the knowledge that he had been outside himself. And maybe snow—snow…

Bran’s skin tingled with coolness. He shook his head to clear it and greeted the girl standing before him. Saoirse had brought a much smaller version of the feast with her, boar and mutton, bread and berries and a leather satchel of stewed vegetables, cold and messy but delicious—even a little cake, glistening with honey in the faint gleam of the moonlight. He saw the girl staring at it, and grinned, wondered what it had cost her to put that away for him.

When Bran had eaten everything else he took the cake in his hand and broke it in two. He passed one half back through the bars to the girl.

“Here, Princess. Share with me.”

“You’re sure, Bran Fionnan?”

He nodded and hid the widening of his smile.

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