Chapter 32
T he next few hours were full of chaos. Ciaran whisked Bethany away. She’d expected to return to the tiny guest room, but instead he took her straight to Comgall’s rooms.
“No one can touch you here,” he said grimly. “There are a dozen guards on duty outside. You will be safe, I swear.”
Comgall himself had vanished before Bethany even left the tent.
“I need to find out exactly what’s going on,” he had said, his face like stone. How could Bethany tell him that he would never understand? He’d just watched his priest die, and another man disappear into thin air. Of course he needed to feel in control.
People came and went from Comgall’s chambers in what seemed like an endless stream. There was bathwater for Bethany and Matthew, then fresh sets of clothes. Bethany relished scrubbing off the taint of Lucan’s touch. As for the clothes, she told the servants to burn them. She could not shake the feeling that some of Dubnus’s blood stained the hem of her dress.
Afternoon darkened into evening, and still there was no sign of Comgall. Bethany began to ask everyone where the king was, but no one seemed to know anything. She got no answers.
A splendid meal appeared on a tray, but Bethany could not eat more than a few bites. She fed Matthew all of his portion, though. His tears had dried, although he kept asking why Daddy had been so mean. Bethany had no answers for him, and her heart ached a little more every time he asked. Her beautiful little boy did not deserve such a cruel, manipulative father.
At last, Matthew’s eyelids began to droop. Bethany tucked him into Comgall’s big, soft bed, and retreated to the sitting room. She sat beside the fire and wondered how long it would be before Comgall reappeared.
But when the door opened, it revealed Ciaran outlined against the darkness.
“Comgall is waiting for you in the hall,” he said. “I’ll walk you there.”
Even with her elegant new dress, Bethany felt deeply awkward as she walked into the hall. She could feel every single pair of eyes that turned to stare at her. All these people still knew her as a fraud - as a fake princess. Worst of all, Princess Eithne herself was there, standing at the front, close to Comgall. At least she didn’t look happy about any of this. That gloating expression had vanished from her face. On the dais beside Comgall, Maible and Tomás stood stony-faced and serious.
Comgall kissed Bethany’s hand in greeting as she reached him. Then he turned to face the rest of the hall.
“This woman,” he announced, his voice carrying to every corner. “Was the victim of a terrible plot to murder her and steal her child. That is why she lied about her identity - to protect her son.”
Horrified murmuring spread across the crowd. Bethany wished the ground would swallow her up and put an end to all of this. But Comgall was not finished.
“The main orchestrator of this plot was Dubnus, priest of Dunadd,” he continued. “He is now dead.”
The horrified gasps grew even louder.
“But he did not work alone,” Comgall said, pitching his voice so that everyone could still hear him, even over all the noise. He looked straight at Eithne. Bethany followed his gaze, confused. The younger woman had gone utterly white.
“Dubnus bribed a number of guards to help him,” Comgall said. “A number more agreed to keep quiet in exchange for a reward. They will all be punished. He also worked with Princess Eithne to spy on me.”
“It’s not true!” Princess Eithne cried, rushing towards the king. Two guards grasped her arms, holding her firmly in place as she fought against them. “I’m here to marry the king!” she shouted. “I would never betray him!”
“I have my own spies at your family’s court,” Comgall informed her. Bethany had never heard him sound so cold. “I am well aware that you never had any intention of marrying me. Dubnus must have paid you a great deal of money indeed, to stay here so long.”
Eithne glared at him. From where she stood, only a few feet away, Bethany could see the younger woman’s eyes burning with what looked like hatred.
“No doubt your family will find you another powerful man to marry,” Comgall said. “Perhaps this time, unlike with your poor, dead first husband, you might even stay loyal to him. ”
Bethany stared at Eithne, trying to fight back her rising overwhelm. All these people, involved in a plot to get hold of her son? None of it felt real.
“I want to go back to my room,” she whispered. Ciaran, standing close beside her, squeezed her elbow in acknowledgement. He nodded to Comgall then guided Bethany from the hall.