‘Answer the question. You are addressing a king,’ Evnis said. ‘Gar is close to your family, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Cywen glared at Evnis; the act made her feel better.
‘There were no others with him, with Gar?’ Sumur said, taking a step towards her. ‘Men like him?’
‘No. What do you mean, like him?’
Sumur didn’t answer, just stared at her until she looked away.
‘This Gar, tell me about him,’ Nathair said, glancing at Sumur.
‘What’s to tell?’ Cywen shrugged. ‘He is, was, stablemaster here. He’s always been part of my family, like kin, really.’
Nathair’s fingers tapped the rim of his cup. He was staring intently at her. ‘What else. Where is he from?’
‘Helveth, I think.’
‘This is a long way from Helveth. What brought him here?’
‘I don’t know.’ Cywen shrugged. ‘He never really spoke of his past. Something bad happened, I think, and Brenin gave him Sanctuary. He was a good king, renowned for his wisdom and kindness.’ She scowled at all of them now, knowing they had all played a part in Brenin’s death.
Nathair’s lips twitched in a smile, which made her angrier. Was he laughing at her?
‘So why was he so involved with your family?’
Cywen shrugged again. ‘I don’t know – he and my da were good friends . . .’ A rush of memories almost overwhelmed her, her voice cracking. She paused. She didn’t like this, but it was clear that there must be some kind of reasoning behind this questioning, and if she played along, within reason, perhaps she could discern what was going on here.
‘Your brother, he had a wolven with him,’ Sumur said, his accent thick. ‘How did that happen.’
‘Storm? Corban saved her, as a cub.’
‘What did you say?’ Nathair whispered, a frown creasing his forehead.
‘Storm – that is the wolven’s name. He could tell you more; he was there when it happened.’ Cywen nodded at Evnis.
‘During a hunt we stumbled upon a pack of wolven. We killed them, though at some loss,’ Evnis said, pausing. ‘Vonn, my son, nearly died . . .’
‘And?’ Sumur prompted.
‘There was a litter of cubs. I killed them all, except one – Corban took it, claimed King’s Justice when ordered to relinquish it. Brenin was not here – he was at your father’s council, I believe – so his wife, Alona, gave judgement. She allowed the boy to keep the wolven. Foolish of her.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ snapped Cywen. She closed her eyes, could almost see Storm, smell her. And with her, Corban.
‘That wolven nearly ripped Rafe’s arm off, and it killed Helfach,’ Evnis hissed. ‘It should have been put to death.’
Anger swelled in Cywen. ‘You’re the one that should be put to death,’ she snarled at Evnis. ‘You’re the traitor that let Owain in. None of this would have happened if not for you. Corban, my mam, Gar would still be here, my da would still be alive . . .’ Suddenly the anger was a white, consuming rage. She snatched for a knife, actually growled as she realized nothing was there and without thinking launched herself at Evnis, fingers clutching for his throat.
Evnis threw himself backwards, eyes wide with shock, but Sumur and Conall were quicker, each grabbing one of Cywen’s arms. Buddai snarled at them both, teeth snapping, not sure whom to bite first. Sumur reached for his sword hilt.
‘Easy, girl,’ Conall hissed in her ear. ‘Your hound’s about to die on your account.’
Instantly she went limp, the anger draining, consumed by concern for Buddai.
‘No, Buddai,’ she commanded. The hound paused, looking at her.
‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I’ll not do anything. Evnis’ life is not worth trading for Buddai’s.’
Conall released her, nodding to Sumur. The black-clad warrior held her gaze a few heartbeats, then let go.
‘I can’t stay here,’ Cywen said, ‘the smell is making me sick.’ She gave Evnis a withering look, then turned for the door. Conall held it shut.
‘Let her go,’ Nathair said, ‘though I may ask for you to return.’
‘Make sure he’s not here, then,’ she said, and left.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVNIS
Evnis glared at the closed door, wishing Cywen dead. Who does she think she is, the little brat?
‘I like her,’ Nathair said absently. He looked distracted.
‘So do I,’ said Conall, ‘even if she did try to kill me.’
‘Really . . . ?’ Nathair raised an eyebrow, focusing on Conall.
‘Aye, on Stonegate, the night of the battle. She threw a knife at me, then, when that didn’t work, she pushed me off the wall. That’s how I got this.’ He touched his bruised cheek. ‘Course, I did pull her over with me. Thought if I was finished she should be as well.’
‘I like her even more, now.’