Honor? Firstly if she was able to get her teeth into the fossilized chicken leg Ulla, her face framed by a bonnet,now set before her, it would be a miracle on a par with the loaves and the fishes. Secondly there was no plate to put it on. Nor knife to cut it with. Clan wars had—thirdly--been started over less.
At least, fourthly, the hall had been cleaned. Winter greenery garlanded the undraped stone walls. She granted Lord Ewen that. Or maybe it was Archibald Kelty?
Probably it was. Already shed branches lay on the floor. It was hardly an old warrior's job to supervise garland weaving. And while his eyes were still black as coal, he was half blind in one of them.
"Some wine mah lady?" Ulla hovered at her elbow with a silver flagon.
"I—"
Kara's fingers hovered over the top of the gobl
