Chapter Eight
When Griffin walked into the dining hall the following morning, the atmosphere had changed dramatically. Scores of tables stood where none had the evening before. Egan’s court raised a ruckus as they broke their fast on glazed ham, eggs, bacon, and fresh baked bread—more food than Fela had seen in a month. As Griffin made his way to the king’s table, his “court” cheered and raised their flagons of ale, calling out Griffin’s name like he was already one of them.
“Lads, bring our guest to the table,” the king roared above the din. “He’s just in time for the morning’s entertainment.” Egan’s jeering smile sent warning bells off in Griffin’s mind.
Meaty hands grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him to sit in the chair beside the king. They bound his hands with shackles and
