Chapter 21
T he buzzing of angry voices filled the air with so much noise that Comgall could barely breathe. It seemed as if every lord in Dal Riada was trying to speak at once. Dunadd’s huge hall was packed to the rafters with nobles and dignitaries - everyone who’d come for the inauguration and wedding had ended up squeezed in here, all demanding answers at the top of their lungs.
But Comgall could only focus on the two women in front of him, standing in the small area of open space that his guards had cleared.
One woman looked smug and proud. The other looked terrified.
Out in the crowd, people were already calling for Eithne - the false Eithne - to be punished. Judging by the fear in her eyes, she could hear what people were saying. They weren’t unreasonable, either. No one should get away with impersonating royalty. But Comgall felt as if he’d got to know this woman, at least enough to recognise that she did not want riches or power.
“Can you explain yourself?” he asked her. With his eyes, he begged her to finally tell the truth. He needed her to work with him, or there was nothing he could do.
“My name is Bethany,” she said softly, looking down at her feet. “But I am afraid I can tell you no more, my lord.”
Bethany. A beautiful name. And close enough to Eithne that Comgall started to wonder…
“Isn’t it obvious?” Eithne - the real Eithne - said loudly, tossing her long red hair back over her shoulders. “She was clearly trying to trap you into marriage and make herself queen.”
Bethany went white and looked up at Comgall in horror.
Everyone was listening now. The noise in the hall had almost stopped.
Comgall crossed his arms over his chest and pitched his voice so that everyone could hear.
“I do not believe that this woman, Bethany, intended any sort of plot. She frequently tried to escape the wedding; to my shame, I am the one who kept her here against her will. I will not blame her for anything until I have compelling evidence of her guilt.”
Eithne scowled heavily. Comgall supposed it was reasonable enough she would resent the woman who had almost taken her place.
“My lord, could I speak to you in private?”
Bethany’s voice was so soft that he barely heard it over all the rising chatter from the crowd. Comgall heard it all the same - and so did a few other people, who glared at her. No doubt, a lot of people expected to see her punished. But Comgall would keep his word .
“You may speak to me,” he said.
Careful not to touch her, he waved Bethany through a small side door - into the room where he had kissed her for the first time. Bad choice. He tried hard not to think about that night. Or, worse, last night, when she’d come to him in his room. When he’d thought maybe she wanted to stay.
He turned to her as soon as the door closed.
“Would you have gone through with it?” he asked. “Would you have married me.”
Bethany hesitated.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Right up until we stood beside each other in church, I might not have known. But I did everything I could to get out of it! You must know that I never intended to trap you.”
“But why would you pretend to be my fiancee if you had no intention of marrying me?” Comgall asked, running his hand through his hair. It seemed like every one of her answers generated a hundred new questions, and the frustration tied his thoughts in knots.
Bethany turned away a little, so that he could not see her face.
“My ex-husband was a cruel man,” she said. “I never again want to be in a position where a man has such power over me. I want freedom, for me and for Matthew.”
“That doesn’t answer my question in the slightest,” Comgall pointed out. “Bethany, please, you must know that I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
Bethany nodded, although the movement was reluctant.
“So why won’t you tell me the truth?” he asked. “The real story?”
She hesitated again. He thought she might not speak at all .
“I’m running away from my ex-husband,” she said. “He’s not dead at all, and I’m afraid he’s found me. Pretending to be your fiancee kept me safe for a while, but now I need to get away. I need to disappear somewhere that he will never find me.”
Comgall grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“You don’t need to keep running, Bethany,” he said, praying that she heard the sincerity in his voice. “You can stay here as long as you like, and I will always keep you safe. Your ex-husband will never touch you again, I swear it.”
She smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders a little so that his hands fell away. He ached to touch her again, to reach out and stroke those soft cheeks, run his fingers through her silky hair, but something warned him to keep his distance.
Then she asked the question he had been dreading.
“Are you still going to marry Eithne? The real Eithne?”
His heart plummeted to the depths of his stomach. No matter what he wanted as a man, the path of the king was clear.
“Yes,” he said. “I still have to marry Princess Eithne.”