Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [132]
"There's Eamonn!" Alais pointed across the hall, where his bright head was visible. "He and Brigitta arrived yesterday, and his younger brother, too!”
"Has my mother not arrived?" Dorelei asked.
"Oh, yes! I'm supposed to take you to her." Alais took Dorelei's hand and plunged into the crowd, leading her across the hall.
I began to follow, but I didn't get far before I was waylaid. Phèdre and Joscelin were yet to make an appearance, and my D'Angeline features stood out like a beacon.
"You're the young prince!" A stalwart blond fellow with impressive drooping mustaches clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Gwynek of Brea.”
"Imriel de la Courcel," I offered.
"Welcome!" He grinned beneath his mustaches. "Peder, come greet the young prince! And by all that's holy, bring the lad a drink.”
A taller version of Gwynek came over to introduce himself, thrusting a goblet of mead into my hand. By the time I'd won my way free, I'd met a dozen clan-lords of the Eidlach Or and the Tarbh Cró, all of whom were deemed important or influential enough to be invited to attend our nuptials.
They were friendly, but there was a testing edge to their friendliness; even with each other. Travelling the taisgaidh ways, quiet and undisturbed—save for Morwen's mischief—Alba had seemed a peaceful place. Now I remembered Drustan saying there was always feuding among the clans. It was easier to believe here. I could well imagine these men drinking together under the same roof in cheerful brotherhood, and going home to plot raids on one another.
I met a few of the Cruithne clan-lords, too. They were more somber and less effusive, gauging me with dark eyes. More than once, I caught lingering gazes studying my bare, unmarked face, wondering if this untried warrior was worthy of being made an honorary member of the Cullach Gorrym.
It was Eamonn who came to my rescue, shouldering his way through the crowd. "What a crush!" He gave me a lopsided grin, suggesting he'd had more than a few cups of mead. "It's worse than that riot in Tiberium, eh?”
"Or suppertime at Innisclan," I muttered.
He laughed. "Come on. You've got family to meet.”
With Eamonn's aid, I made my way to the far side of the hall. It was quieter there, with chairs set about for the women, who were conversing far more peaceably than the menfolk.
Dorelei was seated beside her mother, holding her hand and smiling. The Lady Breidaia glanced up at our arrival, her eyes shining. Indeed, all of the women were beaming, including Alais, who looked fit to wriggle right out of her skin. Even Brigitta was smiling, and Conor, seated among the women with his harp on his lap, was grinning wide enough to split his face. I guessed Dorelei had told them our news.
I bowed deeply to Breidaia. "Well met, my lady. 'Tis an honor.”
Someone giggled. "Such manners!”
"Imriel is always polite," Dorelei observed. "Except when he's not.”
Ignoring her daughter, Lady Breidaia rose and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. She had a calm, warm presence, and I liked her immediately. "Welcome to the family, Imriel," she said softly. "We're so very pleased.”
Alais let out a squeak. "Oh, Imri! Aren't you excited?”
I felt myself grin as foolishly as Conor. "I am, actually.”
"Why?" Eamonn looked perplexed. "I mean, you are already wed, aren't you?”
"Not that," Brigitta said with affectionate scorn. "They're having a child.”
"Dagda Mor!" Eamonn stared at me. "You are?" I nodded, and he glanced over at Brigitta with a grin of his own. "Well, we'd best busy ourselves, hadn't we?”
At that moment, Drustan and the others entered. Those who were seated rose, and a silent hush of respect fell over the hall. Some of it was for the Cruarch of Alba, but I daresay a good deal of it was for the Master of the Straits.
And, too, for Phèdre and Joscelin.
After all, they were the ones had freed him.
Save for the bustling servants, clearing empty platters and bringing laden ones in turn, the hall was still. Drustan stood for a