Galvin yanked his arm to free it of Royden’s grip, but Royden’s hold was like a shackle.
“Release me,” Galvin demanded.
“Raise a fist against either of us and you’ll find what it’s like to lose a hand,” Royden warned.
Galvin paled, his eyes darting to Royden’s stump, and he backed away from him. “I want no more, no less then you have—I want my clan and land safe.” Galvin tempered his tone when he looked to Oria. “Your da assured me he would get Arran to wed Purity.” He shook his head slowly. “He was so convincing. I almost thought he had already seen it done, he spoke with such confidence. I was a fool to believe him.”
“My father was no liar,” Oria said. “The attack changed everything for all of us. Otherwise he would have done his best to keep his word.”
“Done his best? He was supposed to see it done by your wedding day. He promised me that Parlan would have good news for me that day and so I agreed to go to the wedding. When I got your father alone that day,” —Galvin nodded to Royden— “he told me William hadn’t said a word to him about a marriage between Arran and Purity. He lied just to get me to attend your wedding. What kind of friend does that?”
On the return ride home, Oria remained silent, lost in her troubling thoughts.
Royden attempted to comfort her. “Maybe Galvin is lying. We’ll ask my da when we get home.”
“And if he confirms what Galvin said, what then?”
“What possible reason could your da have for helping a man, from all accounts, who is more beast than man? It isn’t something your da would do,” Royden said.
With a sharp turn of her head, she looked with wide eyes at her husband. “Unless he was forced to.”
Chapter 26
When they reached home, they went straight to Royden’s da and he confirmed what Galvin had told him. Oria’s da never talked to him about Arran and Purity.
“There would be no reason for William to talk to me about it. He was well aware the choice was Arran’s,” Parlan said. “I don’t know why Galvin would claim such an outlandish thing.” He turned a quick glance on Wren, busy at the table in their cottage crushing herbs in her mortar and pestle. “Do you see anything about this, Wren?”
“Please do tell us if you have seen anything concerning my da,” Oria pleaded.
What she had discovered so far had proved more detrimental to her da than helpful. And no matter what anyone said she couldn’t believe her da guilty of betrayal.
Wren stopped grinding the herbs and let the pestle lay free in the mortar as she turned sympathetic eyes on Oria. “I wish I could offer you something, anything that could ease the worry you have for your da. Unfortunately, nothing has been revealed to me and I can’t see anything even when I try to have a look. That usually happens when I find the situation so steeped in secrets and promises that it clouds everything. Or I’m not meant to know. I’m truly sorry. I wish I could offer you more.”
Disappointment stabbed at her, but Oria didn’t let it show.
“You should sit and have a nice soothing brew and let your thoughts rest,” Wren advised. “It will help you to see things more clearly.”
Royden could see his wife had no intention of doing as Wren had recommended. He thought differently. He hated seeing his wife hurting like this. If he could take the pain from her, he would. Since he couldn’t, he’d be right there beside her offering all the strength and love he could.
He slipped his arm around her waist like he’d done so often since returning home, needing to keep her close, feel her there against him, know this was all real and he wouldn’t wake to find it nothing more than a dream.
“I could use a brew,” he said and led her out of the cottage.
They settled on a bench in the Great Hall, the heat of the hearth at their back and Royden glad they had since his wife shivered once seated.
“This can’t be true,” Oria said. My da was a good man. He would have died before betraying anyone.”
“We’ll find the truth,” Royden said with a firmness that had his wife turning a sad smile on him.
“I so want to believe that, but I can’t help but wonder how.” She shook her head. “Who do we trust to tell us the truth?”
Royden worried when his wife sat drinking the hot brew and not saying a word. He expected her to be voicing her thoughts, bouncing them around to see if any could be pieced together and made sense of or discarded as nonsense. Her silence unnerved him, since she rarely kept quiet.