by Mia Pride
“Nay, mama! How can you expect me to seek a position in the king’s home, of all people! I only just rejected his most recent offer to marry one moon ago! I couldn’t possibly live in his home as his ward! How do you know he would even accept me after I refused his offer?” Una implored, “And even if he did, I fear it would be extremely complicated living within his home after all that has transpired.”
“Only you are to blame for the complications that have arisen, Una,” her mother admonished her weakly. “King Brocc is truly taken by you. He always has been. If you will not allow him to care for you as a wife, surely, he will do so as a guardian! You need the protection of a man. A young lass cannot live alone. Tis unsafe. Do not think of yourself as his ward,” her mother said with a raised gray eyebrow, brown eyes twinkling with mischief, “think of it as a mutual understanding. You will care for his home and he will care for you.”
Una released a great sigh of uncertainty at her words, “I do not want to think on this now, mama. You will recover and none of this will even matter.”
Una had been wrong. Her mother passed away only a few days later, despite her efforts.
After her mother was cremated and the druid recited the ceremonies to guide her spirit into the Otherworld, Una retreated quietly back to her mother’s roundhouse. It was filled with the sad remnants of the life they had shared. Looking around at the bundles of dried flowers hanging from the exposed wooden beams along their home’s circular interior, Una let out a sorrow-filled sob. Her mother had been too ill to venture out of the home, so Una had often gathered flowers and brought them indoors for her to enjoy.
Her mama had never thrown away any of those bundles, cherishing them as she had her own daughter. Tying string around the stems of the flowers, Deidre would hang the bundles all around their home, allowing them to replace the nature she had once loved to explore. Staring at them now, they seemed like objects from another life, a life that was lost. They no longer brought Una joy, only sadness and painful memories.
Una felt disconnected from her own body, unable to think past her grief or fully absorb her new reality. Collapsing hopelessly upon her straw mattress covered in soft furs, Una yanked the dark green linen curtains closed around her bed, engulfing herself in darkness. Relinquishing herself to the loss of her mother, Una burrowed deeper into the furs. Lying on her stomach with her head cradled in the fold of her arms, tears soaked into the sleeves of her green dress.
Consumed by melancholy, Una was unsure of how much time had passed as she lay within the cocooned warmth of her bed allowing the darkness to consume her. Something gentle and warm stroked her soft curls away from the nape of her neck. Was it her mother’s spirit? Gooseflesh crept up her neck and Una squealed in fear, scrambling into the corner of her bed, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her chest heaved with panic as her eyes took in a dark shadow hovering above her like a specter from the Otherworld.
As the curtain of the bed opened further and her eyes adjusted to the onslaught of light, a large man with jet black hair and hazel eyes towered over her with a look of pity twisting his chiseled features. His mouth was set in a firm line and small black whiskers grew from his strong jaw. She gasped and her breathing grew more rapid as she recognized King Brocc towering over her. She could never seem to catch her breath when he came near. He was entirely too handsome and utterly distracting, even when she was consumed with grief.
“Una, you should not be alone like this.” He looked around her dark home, the hearth only a pile of glowing embers as the chill overtook the room, and frowned back down at her huddled, shivering form. “Come with me. I will take care of you. My mother is living with me since my father passed last autumn. You can keep each other company.” He nodded as he held out his hand. Una wiped her eyes and sniffled as she looked up at the extended arm of the man who had once been her foster-brother. Those days were long gone, buried deeply beneath the new darkness of her present despair.
Take care of her? What did he mean by that? Her temples were pounding and she could not think straight. Having no energy to argue and not feeling within her right mind, she only slightly hesitated as she reached out and gently took his hand. Staying alone in this empty home was the very last thing her mother would have wished for her only daughter. She couldn’t stay with Brocc for long, but her heart would burst from loneliness if she stayed within these walls a moment longer. At least she would have Isobel’s comfort.
He pulled her out of the bed with ease, but her knees buckled as her feet touched the ground. Brocc swooped down and picked her up, cradling her frail body in his arms as they left her home. Her head nestled in the comforting warmth of his neck was a welcome distraction from the winter chill surrounding them, the snow crunching beneath his feet with every step away from her home.
Eyes closed and aching from her previous release of tears, her other senses were heightened and she could hear the happy bleating of her sheep who were warmly huddled together in their byre during the cold season. The smell of manure briefly assaulted her nostrils, but she knew, come spring, that same manure would help fertilize her fields. But she couldn’t care less in the moment, for her heart ached much too deeply to think of the future. However, somewhere underneath all her disorientation, she couldn’t help but enjoy Brocc’s spicy musk scent and her heart fluttered at the ease with which he carried her small body against his own.
Arriving at the large rectangular home built to house the kings of Darini, Brocc carried her through the thick wooden door, down a short corridor, and lightly placed her upon a soft mattress covered in an abundance of furs. The room was beautiful and bright with white lime-washed walls, soft blue bed curtains, and an intricately carved wooden storage chest. A tallow candle set in an iron candelabra burned slowly upon the table next to the bed. “I hope this will do for now, Una. You are welcome here for as long as you wish. I am at your disposal at any time.” His voice was soft and sincere, but she swore she saw a flash of mischief in his eyes as he walked away and pulled the hide curtain closed behind him, enclosing her chamber in privacy.
Una, still whirling from being whisked away in the strong arms of her foster-brother, couldn’t help but scoff as she looked around. He hoped this would do? By all the gods! Una had never seen the inside of such a home. The chieftain of their tuath sure lived well. The flooring of his home was actually made of wooden slats! Not the hard-packed earth of her mother’s home, or every other home she had ever seen, for that matter. Sure, she had a bed with curtains for privacy in her home, but this was more like her own chamber, tucked away in a special corner of the house with its own walls and a curtain for extra privacy. She had never known such a chamber existed! No fancy chamber could take away her pain, but she could not help but breathe a sigh of relief knowing that, at least for that moment, she was not alone, and that would surely please her mother.
“King Brocc,” Una dipped her head with formal respect as she spoke, “I wish to go for a walk. I will be back shortly.” A sennight had passed since Una came to stay with Brocc. Their interaction had been minimal and she was thankful for the reprieve. She knew he was giving her time to grieve. Isobel made their meals and Brocc offered her a place at his table with them, but Una preferred to dine in her chamber, much too nervous to sit anywhere near the intimidating man. He was the same Brocc as ever, she knew, but his position as the king made him seem more godlike than human. Her daily walks gave her a chance to escape the strangling emotions that gripped her body whenever he was near.
“I wish you would simply call me Brocc. I have known you most of your life. It irks me so,” he sighed and rubbed his jaw as he watched her walk toward the entrance of his home. He stepped closer and she knew he was intentionally invading her space, as he so often did. “Enjoy your walk. I will be gone as well, tending to some…business.” A sleek smile curved his lips as he brushed past her on his way out.
“Business, indeed,” she muttered as she watched his authoritative form walking in the direction of
the gathering hall. No doubt his business was in the female form. Who knew where Brocc disappeared to most days? It was no concern of hers, she reminded herself as she squared her shoulders in self-preservation.
At least Isobel was here to keep her company during the days while Brocc was gone, and during the night, she made Brocc’s proximity a bit less nerve-wracking, although his unbearable smugness did not seem to dim much even around his mother. When Isobel did leave to tend to an ailing villager or assist a birth, the atmosphere seemed to thicken and crackle with tension around them as he sent her suggestive looks or hovered closer than usual. But Isobel would return with a knowing smirk on her face and Una would conceal herself, once again, within her company.
Walking through the village to sort her frazzled thoughts, Una looked into the distance and saw the vacant home that had once been her mother’s…and now belonged to her, she reminded herself with a sigh. If only she could bring herself to go near it. She longed to see the bundles of dried flowers hanging all around the house, but the memory was still too raw.
It was frigid outside with gray clouds covering every inch of the sky above. The snow had abated over the last few days, but the air smelled thick as if more would fall soon. Una wrapped her red cloak tightly around her body and clung to it as the wind whipped about her face. No gloom would deter her from gaining the small bit of peace she earned on her walks and she pushed on into the damp green grass that spanned as far as the eye could see, some patches still sprinkled with snow. It was too cold for the wildflowers she loved to be in bloom, but dandelions, seemingly impermeable to the winter frost, dotted the earth like small drops of sun. She bent over to pick a bundle of them to hang and dry for later. Dandelion tea had been her mother’s favorite.
The snow had begun to fall as expected and, after an hour of walking, she decided to head back. Arriving back at Brocc’s in a windswept mess, she pushed her hood down over her shoulders, exposing her tattered locks of hair, then removed her soggy cloak and leather slippers. Rubbing her frozen hands together and blowing on them to return their warmth, Una entered her chamber and gasped with unexpected delight.
All her mother’s dried flowers were meticulously hanging from the beams above her head. Una smiled in a way she had not in a long time and her entire body grew flushed. Brocc had done this. Overcome with a swelling joy, Una dropped the sagging dandelions on the wooden floor and swiftly turned on her heels. She needed to thank him promptly for his warm gesture and felt suddenly ashamed at her distant treatment of him…and for assuming his “business” had been with a woman.
As she ran excitedly into the corridor, Una collided with something solid, knocking her back slightly with a grunt. Looking up startled, she realized that she was face to face with Brocc as he looked down at her with his golden hazel eyes, holding her steady around the waist to keep her from falling. She really must pay closer attention. How many times had she collided into Brocc over the years, consequently ending up in his arms? Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Una felt as if she were losing control of all the emotions she had carefully concealed for so long.
“My thanks,” she whispered as a tear ran down her cheek and her arms wrapped tightly around his large chest in gratitude. He was wearing a red tunic with blue plaid stripes, cinched tightly at his waist with a leather belt. It accentuated his muscles and she could hear his heart beating beneath the thin cloth. Warmth emanated from his large body, as if he was his very own hearth, and she longed to cling to him indefinitely. The smell of leather, spice, and musk hung in the air around him and the familiar scent made her head spin as blood rushed to her cheeks.
Brocc stepped back and lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to face him. But when she did, the heat in his eyes was enough to scorch her soul. It was as if he was memorizing every angle of her face. The rise of her high cheekbones, the slope of her nose, the way her slim face narrowed at the chin. She blushed under his scrutiny.
Una felt herself growing weak and turned her gaze away, looking down at the floor. “Una, you are most welcome. I would do anything to see you smile, to make you happy.” He ran the back of his finger across her cheek and wiped away the tear before it ran down the column of her neck.
“Come eat with me. Mother has left rather suddenly to aid with the delivery of a babe. She will be staying there for a few moons since the mother of the child is a recent widow and will need help. But she baked some bread and started a rabbit stew with cabbage and carrots before she left. I would greatly enjoy your company at my table.” He must have seen her hesitation and feared another rejection. Brocc put out a hand and smiled widely, displaying two perfect rows of white teeth and just one dimple on his left cheek. He asked, “Please?”
Una took a deep, steadying breath and looked away quickly, focusing on anything but Brocc’s irresistible smile. Isobel had left? For a few moons? She would be all alone with Brocc. Oh, nay! This was much too sudden and she was not prepared for this. She risked shifting her eyes back to him and immediately regretted it. His smile was infectious and Una couldn’t help but respond with one of her own and nod her head in agreement as he took her hand and led her to the table. After all, he had been very kind.
As he started to serve her a bowl of stew, her eyes widened in horror. “Oh nay, my king. I cannot allow you to serve me! Please. Sit down. Let me…” He looked at her with amusement, as if never expecting to hear his stubborn former foster-sister pleading to serve him, but he decided to humor her as he took his seat on one of the cushions surrounding his low table and handed her his wooden bowl. She ladled steaming stew into it, allowing the aromas to drift up her face as she inhaled deeply, feeling her own hunger grow.
She bent over to place the hot bowl down in front of him when he gently ran a finger up her wrist. She pulled away quickly, as if burned. “My thanks, Una,” he said with a grin. “It looks tempting…” But his eyes were not on his stew and his intense gaze made her palms sweat. Why was she having a hard time breathing? She smiled awkwardly back and sat down, adjusting her new soft blue dress to cover her crossed ankles. Brocc had ordered a few new dresses for Una and she was delighted with their fit and quality. She could, of course, make her own clothing, but it was kind of him nonetheless and the dressmaker in the village did a much finer job than she ever could.
“You look very beautiful in your new dress, Una.” She could feel her cheeks blazing, as they tended to do whenever he looked at her, and she nervously ran a hand over the long plait of brown hair hanging over her shoulder.
“Many thanks, King Brocc,” she said with a shy smile and then brought the bowl of stew up to her lips, feeling his unwavering gaze on her every move. It was the same burning gaze he had always locked on her when they were younger, but he had at least pretended not to stare back then, allowing her to also pretend that she had not noticed. But now it was an intense, open gaze and one that she could not pretend not to see.
“Please, just call me Brocc, Una. King is so…formal. It makes me uncomfortable, especially when said by a woman whom I grew up with and have asked to marry many times.”
At his bold comment, she sputtered and almost choked on her stew. She had been quite sure Brocc had forgotten all about his proposals. After all, she knew enough about him to know he had no shortage of admirers, or lovers if the rumors were true. Why would he continue to pursue her?
Perhaps it was her refusal. Men loved a chase. But she was not trying to make him chase her. On the contrary, she was trying to chase him away. He would only grow tired of her average looks and shy demeanor before he decided to take other lovers, leaving her alone with their brood of children while he stayed away at night, or worse, brought a concubine to live within their home. She would never settle for a man who could lose interest in her, and Brocc was just that sort of man.
Her shaky hands struggled to place the bowl back on the table without spilling its contents and she stared into her stew nervously, as if the chunks of carrots within the thick gravy coul
d save her from humiliation. “As you wish, Brocc. I shall not refer to your status any longer, if it pleases you.” She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, wringing them nervously beneath the table.
He leaned over and poured sweet mead into her mug with a kind smile, but she felt certain there was more to his gesture than simple kindness. They continued to eat in silence with only the sound of the hearth crackling behind them. Brocc seemed to watch the level of her purple mead with every sip. When her cup was still half full, he proceeded to top it off with a smirk.
Una usually watered down her mead and even half a cup of the sweet, sticky drink had addled her senses, but she welcomed the distraction it offered from his overwhelming presence, and she gladly took another large gulp. Once their bowls were empty and he could see her mead depleting, he removed her cup and she grimaced, watching as he swallowed the last of her drink in one large gulp.
Sensing her disappointment, he chuckled and scooted himself closer to her, placing his large hand over hers. “I see you were looking forward to finishing that mead?” he cocked a brow up at her in mock interest. “Fortunately, I am a man of honor, and I never allow a lass to imbibe more than her fill.”
“Oh? And how does a ‘man of honor’ know when a lass has had her fill?” Una leaned in and bravely locked eyes with him.
The mead was definitely serving to bolster her courage and Brocc smirked in response. “Probably when the lass’s cheeks and nose are bright red and she is suddenly quite bold with her words.”