Read Night Bird's Reign for Free Online

the best brother anyone could ever wish for in the whole wide world.”
    “Yes,” Gwydion said blandly. “There’s no better brother than Uthyr.”
    “Ha, ha,” Amatheon said flatly.
    “Oh, do you two want a bath first or do you want to go to the hall?” Duach asked.
    “You saying I need a bath?” growled Amatheon.
    “Well, it wouldn’t hurt,” Duach grinned.
    “We’ll go to the hall first,” Gwydion replied, for he was eager to see Uthyr.
    As Duach opened the doors to the Great Hall, bright lights and cheerful noise spilled out. The hall was filled with people, some sitting at the long tables, some standing in front of the roaring hearth fire, some dicing in the far corners. Most of the people were the men and women of the King’s teulu, dressed in the brown breeches and blue tunics of Gwynedd’s warriors. They had bright daggers at their belts and brown leather boots to the knee laced with strips of blue cloth.
    Bright banners of silk hung on the walls. The banner over the east wall showed the Battle of Naid Ronwen, when Queen Gwynledyr put to death the treacherous Coranian husband who had tried to steal her throne.
    The banner of the Hawk of Gwynedd, shimmering brown on blue silk and worked with sapphires and silver thread, hung on the west wall. Under the banner the dark, polished wood of the King’s table shone in the firelight.
    Surrounded by people, King Uthyr sat at the table, his massive oak chair tilted back precariously, his legs stretched out and crossed negligently at the ankles, resting on the table’s surface. He was paring his nails with a knife and laughing at something, his even, white teeth gleaming in his tanned face. His brown hair with just a touch of red was tied back with a thin silver chain, and his auburn beard was closely cut. Around his neck he wore the silver Torque of Gwynedd, studded with sapphires. He wore a huge, sapphire ring on his right hand. His blue tunic was embroidered with silver and worked with sapphires, and his breeches were brown. His leather boots were turned down at the top to reveal a lining of blue cloth. Uthyr’s deep set, dark eyes under heavy brows glanced toward the door and widened at the sight of Gwydion and Amatheon.
    “Brothers,” he roared as he leapt from his chair and over the table. His long strides ate up the distance between them and, as he reached them he enveloped each brother in a fierce bear hug, actually lifting them off their feet and swinging them around.
    “Little brothers!” he said, setting them back on their feet with a thump. “The Shining Ones bless you both for coming.”
    “Uthyr, you’ve got to get over this shyness of yours,” Amatheon said, grinning, while Gwydion tried to set his rumpled tunic to rights. “And your tendency to treat important men like the Dreamer with overwhelming respect. It gives the wrong impression.”
    Uthyr grinned back and flung his arms around their shoulders. “We’re just about to eat. Come, you two sit with me.”
    As they made their way through the press, the warriors of Uthyr’s teulu shouted greetings and a few good-natured, rude remarks. “Hey, Gwydion,” someone shouted from the back of the crowd. “Learned to use a sword yet?”
    “No,” Gwydion shot back. “Have you?”
    “Amatheon,” a warrior called, “ready to lose at dice?”
    “Ready to take your money,” Amatheon retorted with a grin.
    Amid the laughter and jokes, they slowly made their way down the length of the hall. As they neared the King’s table, a young man with curly red hair and an engaging grin in a freckled face rose from the table and bowed. His brown, hooded robe, embroidered in green around the hem and sleeves, proclaimed the man to be a Druid. The pendant on his slender golden torque was a circle inside a square, with an emerald glittering in the center. “Griffi ap Iaen,” the Druid said, offering a slightly exaggerated bow, along with an impish grin.
    A young woman in a sleeveless gown of blue