Chapter 11
C omgall could not remember when he had ever been so cold - or so furious. Water dripped from every inch of him as he stormed up the hill and back towards his chambers.
“Send a healer to Princess Eithne’s room,” he snapped at the nearest servant, who bobbed a curtsey and scurried away. The boy had been in the water too long. It would be a miracle if he’d suffered no ill effects. Comgall could only hope that all was well. He was a pleasant enough little boy, and none of this was his fault.
How could that woman be so stupid? It was miles to Ireland, even if the northern coast was visible on a clear day. And that was without the vicious storms that so often hit this stretch of water. Ireland was far too far away for any woman to travel there alone, let alone a princess who clearly did not know her way around a sailing boat. And with a child! At night! Absolute madness. It was sheer luck that he had reached them in time, or no doubt they would be facing much more dire consequences .
At the same time, though, as Comgall reached his bedchamber and stripped off his wet clothes, he was not surprised. Every report had told him how close-knit Eithne’s family were. And how proud. Mad though it might be, it made a strange king of sense that she would return to her brothers after Dubnus’s unpleasant scene. Perhaps she wanted them to send an army to avenge the insult. After all, her brother had already killed one good man of Dal Riada, while on a supposedly peaceful visit. Why not a few more?
Comgall scrubbed himself dry with an old blanket, then reached for fresh clothes. Thank goodness a fire had already been burning in his room. He was finally getting the feeling back in his fingers and toes.
This had all been such a terrible idea. His mind had been clouded with ideas of peace, and doing what was best for his country over his own honour. He had not seen the truth. No marriage could patch up the feud between their families, not while Comgall’s cousin Donall still lay unavenged in his grave. Comgall would never take his revenge on a woman, but marrying her? Was he mad?
Comgall banged on the door to summon a servant. The man appeared in seconds, sketching a quick bow.
“Fetch me hot water,” Comgall ordered. “I find I’m chilled to the bone.”
He paced across the chamber. Yes, he definitely felt angry at himself. But there was something else there as well, underlying the anger. Regret. Did Eithne, his future wife, really feel so unwelcome and unsafe at Dunadd that she would rather risk the open seas at night? With her child ? It was stupid of her, to be sure, but Comgall also had a great deal of guilt to carry. She had not been treated like an honoured guest, let alone like a future queen.
There and then, Comgall made a resolution. No matter what he thought of Eithne’s family, no matter how much he wanted revenge, he would do better by her. She would never again have cause to run away from him.