Read Online Oath of the Brotherhood by C. E. Laureano - Free Book Online Page A

hands fisted in her skirts, made of fine blue wool that suited her far better than the previous night’s silk. No one in the hall moved, but whispers rustled among the tables.
    Conor didn’t know what he meant to do until he stood, descended the dais, and crossed the floor to her side. Surprise surfaced in those luminous gray eyes when he gave her a little bow and held out a hand. “My lady, would you permit me?”
    The surprise melted into a smile. She dipped her head. “Thank you.”
    Aine placed her hand atop his, and Conor escorted her formally to the table. She smelled of fresh air and herbs, and the clean fragrance among the heavier scents of beeswax and rich food was almost as distracting as the insistent tingling in his palm where her fingers rested.
    A servant scurried forward and pulled out the chair beside Conor’s. Aine sank into it gracefully. As Conor returned to his space, Niamh shot him a poisonous look, eliciting a grin from Gainor and raised eyebrows from a number of the guests.
    Their attention shifted a moment later when Calhoun arrived without Riocárd. The king held up his hands for attention, and the lutist in the corner broke off his playing.
    “I regret to inform you Lord Riocárd was called back to Tigh unexpectedly,” Calhoun said. “Fortunately, we may continue to enjoy Conor’s company.”
    Conor frowned. Even Galbraith adhered to customary courtesy. What was so important he would risk offending his new ally by recalling Riocárd so soon after their arrival?
    Aine shifted in her chair beside him, drawing his attention away from one puzzle and onto another. He already had a fair read on Calhoun, Gainor, and Niamh. But Aine, with her reserved manner, brilliant smile, and secret errands, remained a mystery. Add in an ageless quality that made it hard to tell if she was older or younger than him, and it was no wonder his eyes returned to her again and again.
    “What is it?” she asked, finally catching him in his perusal.
    Heat crept up his neck. He could hardly tell her his thoughts. “Who is Mistress Bearrach?”
    Her expression shuttered, and her body stiffened.
    “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to pry.”
    “No, it’s all right.” She raised her eyes to his again. “Mistress Bearrach is a healer. I’m apprenticed to her.”
    That explained it then. Healers always seemed slightly mysterious, as if their vast, arcane knowledge separated them from ordinary people. “I think that’s admirable.”
    “You do?”
    “Of course. You’re doing something important. I haven’t done anything useful my entire life.” Conor flushed. Why had he said that aloud, least of all to her?
    “I doubt that,” she said, but she shifted her eyes back to her plate.
    Conor almost groaned. She’d withdrawn again, just when he thought they were establishing a connection of sorts. He slumped in his chair, determined to return to being invisible.
    When Calhoun dismissed them from the hall, though, Aine didn’t immediately flee upstairs. Instead, she said, “It was thoughtful of you to escort me to the table. Thank you.”
    “It was my honor.” Conor gave her an abbreviated bow. “It seems we are both something of strangers here.”
    “For what it’s worth, I think you will fit in quite nicely here. Good night, Conor.”
    “Good night.” Conor waited until she vanished from sight before he started up the stairs behind her. As he headed toward his chamber, an unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest, and it had nothing to do with magic.

    Aine stood outside the door of her shared chamber, wishing she could wait until her sister fell asleep. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was argue. Still, she couldn’t avoid her forever. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
    Oonagh had already helped Niamh undress down to a linenchemise, and she was brushing the girl’s long hair. Niamh glanced up, but she said nothing.
    Aine closed the door, relieved she wouldn’t