The Forbidden Land Read Online Free Page B

‘Happen ye’d best brush the cobwebs out o’ your hair and change your clothes afore your mother sees ye. That is, if ye have a dress that’s not all torn and grubby, which I doubt.’
    ‘At least I’m no’ some muffin-faced prig, scared to lift a finger in case I break a nail,’ Finn flashed back.
    Brangaine’s eyes lingered on Finn’s hands, the nails all broken and black as a blacksmith’s. ‘No, no-one could accuse ye o’ that,’ she said coldly. ‘Though I’m sure we all wish ye’d wash your hands occasionally. It’s disgraceful the way ye run about looking ye’re the daughter o’ a swineherd instead o’ the MacRuraich …’
    Finn’s temper snapped. With an inarticulate cry, she sprang forward, punching Brangaine in the jaw. Her cousin fell back with a shriek, falling over a little gilded table and smashing the vase of flowers that stood upon it.
    At the sound of the scream and the crashing porcelain, the door to the dining hall swung open and the court ladies looked out. When they saw Brangaine sprawling amongst the flowers and the shards of broken vase, Finn standing over her with clenched fists, they cried aloud in consternation, fluttering forward with raised hands and mouths open in dismay. ‘Oh, my lady, how are ye yourself? Are ye hurt? Gracious alive, ye be bleeding, poor lassie!’ they cried.
    Gwyneth came out after them, her beautiful face tense with anger. ‘Fionnghal, what in Eà’s name have ye done?’
    ‘I punched her in the gob,’ Finn replied inelegantly. ‘And she deserved it too, the polecat!’
    ‘Ye did what?’ Gwyneth cried. ‘I canna stand any more o’ this wild behaviour, Fionnghal! Is this the way a lady behaves? Look at ye! Ye look like ye’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. What am I to do with you?’
    Finn glowered back at her, the elven cat crouched at her feet, tail lashing. Across the room Brangaine was being helped to her feet, her eyes bright with tears, her lip split and bleeding.
    Brangaine pulled her lace-edged handkerchief from her reticule and daintily patted her lip, glancing down at the bright stains with consternation. She said, rather breathlessly, ‘Och, please do no’ be too angry with Fionnghal, my lady. Indeed it was my fault; I was teasing her.’
    Finn flashed Brangaine a look of surprise and resentment. That’s right, make me look even worse, ye slyfaced prig , she thought. The elven cat hissed, her tufted ears laid back along her skull.
    ‘No matter the provocation, a lady should never lose her temper,’ Gwyneth said, trying to control her own. ‘There is no excuse for striking ye like that. Look at your mouth, ye poor wee lassie. Nan, will ye ring for some ice and a cloth? Fionnghal, I want you to apologise to your cousin at once.’
    ‘I shall no’!’ Finn cried passionately. ‘She deserved to be thumped, the slimy sneaking toad!’
    ‘That’s enough!’ Gwyneth cried. ‘Fionnghal, ye are no’ a street-bairn any more. Such conduct is absolutely unacceptable! Ye shall stay in your room until ye have the grace to apologise to your cousin and beg forgiveness for your rude, uncivilised behaviour.’
    ‘I’d rather eat roasted rats!’ Finn cried. ‘She does naught but needle me and sneer at me and make me look a gowk.’
    ‘Ye mistake her,’ Gwyneth said icily. ‘Brangaine is a lady born and raised, and has far too much courtesy ever to speak or act unkindly. Ye are too quick to take offence.’
    Finn protested passionately but Gwyneth would not listen. When her daughter still refused to go to her room, she called in the guards and bade them escort her away. Eyes flashing, Finn drew her little eating dagger but they disarmed her and marched her away with hard hands clamped around her arms. She stared back at her cousin with hostile eyes, not believing the look of guilty apology which Brangaine cast her way.
    The heavy oaken door slammed shut behind her and she heard the key turn in the lock. Finn turned and