Morfyd dug into her satchel and pulled out several jars of herbs. She grabbed a bottle of wine, poured some into a chalice and then mixed in some herbs.

“Here. Drink this. Straight down.”

With shaky hands, Talaith took the chalice from Morfyd and did as she ordered.

“Good.” Morfyd took the now-empty chalice from her. “Give it a few minutes and you’ll be amazed how well it works.”

“What about everyone else here?”

“Those who lived away from the castle are fine, although from what I can tell they slept quite deeply. The few servants who’ve been bustling around this morning are all those who lived with their families off the castle grounds.”

“And the ones who live here?”

Morfyd winced. “Aren’t much better than you, I’m afraid. But I’ve already made them a batch of what I just gave you.”

As Morfyd said the words, a soft warmth spread throughout Talaith’s body, and the brutally painful soreness seemed to wash away like so much sand during a high tide.

Morfyd studied her closely. “Feel better?”

“Aye.” Talaith smiled in relief. “Aye, I do. Gods, thank you, Morfyd.”

“You’ll have to drink some more tonight before you go to bed. But by tomorrow you should be completely fine.”

Talaith wanted to hug the woman, but decided against it. Instead, she stood and took several tentative steps. Her smile turned to a grin. Even the soreness between her legs had melted away.

“I’m getting the ingredients to that miracle concoction, Morfyd.”

Morfyd laughed as rose to her feet, watching Talaith walk around in front of her. “Of course. With your skills I have no fears you’ll make it wrong.”

“Mmmhm. It even helped with this burn.” She very lightly reached back and brushed her fingertips along the burn marks peeking out from under her dress.

“I have to admit…that did surprise me.”

“Why? Have you never accidentally burned one of your lovers during a lusty bedding?” she joked.

Morfyd took the chalice back from Talaith. “Accidentally?”

“Aye. Do you have something for burns? I’d prefer not to have to live with the scars if I don’t have to.”

Coughing out an uncomfortable, awkward laugh, Morfyd pulled the shoulder of Talaith’s dress down a bit. “Uh…Talaith. This was no accident.”

“What do you mean?” That didn’t make sense. Briec had never hurt her, intentionally or otherwise. Even last night, when his lust got the best of him, he still made her feel cherished, cared for, and so very loved.

“I mean Briec marked you last night. He Claimed you as his own.”

He’d Claimed her. Briec’s desperately spoken words floated back to her, “Tonight I Claim you. Tonight I make you mine.”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“Does it look like he told me?” Talaith screamed in fury, the full weight of what he’d done slamming down on her. “That arrogant bastard. I’ll kill him.”

“Talaith, I don’t think it was anything he could control.”

She stalked up to Morfyd, ignoring the fact the female towered over her. “Are you saying if the kitchen maids were with him last night, he would have done the same? Are you telling me this is meaningless?”

“No. That’s not what I mean at all. What I think is that Claiming you was something he’d already planned. Knowing Briec he’d planned to wait. To discuss it with you first. At the very least tell you he was going to do it.”

“Really? Is that what you think, sister? How fascinating your load of centaur shit is.”

“Perhaps you should calm down.”

“Perhaps you should f**k off!”

Talaith stalked over to the open archway of the Great Hall and stared out over the courtyard. Trying to get control of her enormous panic. He’d Claimed her. Gods, what did that mean? Exactly what would he expect of her? She wouldn’t lie to herself, if Briec had asked her, she would have said “yes” and stayed with him forever. Not hard, because she loved him. But, more importantly, it would have been her choice. That’s all she wanted these days. To have a choice. But he’d taken that from her.

Trying desperately not to cry, she watched the soldiers prepare for the presence of Lord Hamish and his army in a few weeks time.

Talaith stared and debated what she would do. And that’s when they came around the corner. Éibhear in chainmail shirt and leggings and Iseabail in the leather leggings and the soft oversized cotton shirt she’d been wearing the night before.

Iseabail, talking non-stop as always, followed behind Éibhear like a puppy. They reached the steps of the Great Hall entrance and Éibhear stopped, turning around to grab Izzy by her shirt and pulling her onto her tiptoes.

“Please. For the love of all that’s holy, woman—stop talking!”

“Well you don’t have to yell at me. I was merely saying…”

Éibhear, growling like an enormous bear in the woods, released her daughter and stalked up the stairs. Izzy still behind him. Still talking.

As Éibhear walked past her, muttering, “Good day, Talaith,” she briefly wondered when everything turned a bright, blood red.

Thoroughly branded, thoroughly f**ked, and thoroughly pissed off, Talaith let the full range of her anger loose…and she let it loose on Éibhear.