Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (26 page)

He shoved her to the floor and ran for the window. The door crashed open. Logan was there, and Gwyn. The guard fixed his eyes on Igraine’s. “We’re one.”

Logan drew his sword and took three steps. Glass shattered, and the guard jumped. Gwyn screamed.

But there was no impact. Igraine struggled to her feet. “Where is he?”

Logan swore an unfamiliar curse under his breath. He pointed. “Look.”

In the distance, two great black wings rose into the sky to cross the moon.

Chapter Sixteen

For the man who serves Alshada faithfully, there is eternal rest in the golden city.

— Proverb of the Kirok in Aliom

Igraine twisted the cup of tea in her hands. Logan’s mouth was grim. Duncan’s eyes were tense, angry, and defensive. Gwyn’s face was pale and frightened. “I want him found,” she said. “Tonight.”

Logan’s hand tightened on his sword. “I’ve dispatched as many men as I can spare to look for him.”

Braedan watched her with a solicitous eye. “Are you certain you don’t want a sleeping draught?”

“No, I don’t want to sleep. What was his name? Matthias? I want someone to hunt Matthias and his creature down and kill them.” She sipped the tea. “What was that thing?”

“I don’t know, highness,” Logan said. “It looked like one of the Ferimin, but I didn’t think—” He bit off his words. “I saw Matthias land on the thing’s back. It was waiting for him. He could be in Espara by now. ”

She grimaced at her tea. It was some kind of herbal infusion Repha Felix had prescribed, and she’d insisted on adding a shot of oiska, but it wasn’t what she wanted. “I need straight oiska.” She put the cup down and Gwyn started to rise, but Logan put a hand on her shoulder. He fetched oiska and poured for Igraine. “How did Matthias get into my chambers?”

“I think he slipped in during the bustle of activity around the banquet, highness,” Logan said. He gave her the oiska.

She tossed the shot back in one swallow. The burn of the oiska soothed and warmed her.
 
“I don’t care what you have to do,” she said to Braedan. “I want his entrails held high for all to see. Hang the rest of him from the city walls.”

His voice was regal and steady when he took her hands and spoke. “I will hunt for him, I promise you.”

“And in the meantime, if he comes back?”

“I will post additional guards around your room, including some at your bedchamber door, if you wish,” Logan said.

She nodded and let out a long breath. “I haven’t taken a bedmaid in years. I prefer to sleep alone. But until he is caught, I will have my maids sleep with me.”

“A wise precaution,” Duncan said. “May I have a word with her highness alone?”

Braedan kissed her forehead and stepped out of her antechamber with the others. When she and Duncan were alone, he knelt before her. “Igraine, go home. You aren’t safe here. I will ask your father to give you some position of authority in his court. I’ll see that he sends you to Aliom to treat for him if you’d like. But please, my lady. Return to Eirya.”

He doesn’t know—Braedan hasn’t told him.
“Duncan, I can’t. I have given Braedan my consent.”

“Your consent?”

“To ask Father for my hand.”

His eyes widened, and he stood, slowly, his body tense. “You would be queen here? You would marry a usurper?” His voice carried an angry tremor.

“I would. He’s not what any of us thought. I think—I know I could develop some affection for him.” She paused. “I already have.”

Duncan turned back to her and sat. He laced his fingers together so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “Grainy, you will only bring yourself grief. Wedding him will only cause you tears.”

She stood. “You forget your place, Lord Guinness. I do not seek your counsel.”

Duncan stood. “This is a foolish course,” he started, his voice rising.

She whirled back to face him. “Foolish? You think to know how I feel? What I want?”

“I know you’re a pragmatist and a realist, and I know your passions run hot and cold with the tides,” he said. He waved away the beginnings of her protest. “No, for once, you should listen. You’ve already seen something tonight that shouldn’t even exist, something that had a hand in trying to kill you, and yet you would stay here? In this—this den of vipers?”

She raised her chin. “And you would have me return to Eirya to wed some lordling who can’t keep his breeches laced? To just retreat into the shadows and do my duty? Bear a dozen children for the crown, like a good Eiryan lady?”

He tipped his head toward the ceiling and muttered a plea for mercy. “Listen to me, Igraine. I know you don’t believe in unseen things, but after tonight, I feel I should tell you—Cara had a foreboding about this journey of mine for days before I left. When I boarded my ship, she wept. Cara doesn’t weep. She stood holding our son and weeping as if she would never see me again. She fears for you so that she cannot sleep.”

“You know I adore Cara, but she is with child, and her husband is far from her side. I cannot put too much weight on the fearful dreams of a woman with child.”

“Still, after what happened tonight, I would think you might consider returning. My ship can sail on the morning tide. You can correspond with the king from Eirya. If your affections are true, a few months of separation will do no harm. And it will give him time to bring this man Matthias to justice.” He paused. “Please, Igraine. I could not live with myself if something happened to you when I could prevent it.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I thank you for your concern, Duncan, but I will not be chased away from my duties by one mad guard. I trust Braedan and Logan to keep me safe.” She held up a hand when he started to speak. “I will take precautions, I assure you. But I will not go home.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and a rueful grin crossed his mouth. “You never change, Igraine. I should know better than to assume prudence on your part. Very well. But know that I’ll keep my ship ready to sail the moment you say.”

“Aye.”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.”

“I will.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek.

He opened the door to the corridor. “Since I cannot speak sense into her, I’ll take my leave, majesty. May I trouble you for additional guards to see me back to my ship? I’ll stay there tonight. I can’t be certain this attack wasn’t aimed at Eirya, and I want to have my house thoroughly examined before I take up residence again.”

Braedan gave orders and stayed behind as the others dispersed. He poured another cup of oiska for Igraine and one for himself. She took her cup and drank the shot while he swirled his in its cup. “How can I make amends?”

“Draw and quarter the bastard where I can see it, and we’ll consider that a start.”

He smirked. He lifted his hand to her lip and ran a thumb across it. “He hit you?”

“He slapped me. I’m unharmed.”

“Your neck?”

“A scratch only.”

He set his cup down. “Duncan is protective of you.”

“He is my father’s friend of forty years. They once fought for my mother’s affections. My father was the upstart merchant and my mother the crown princess.” The oiska made her talkative and bold. “She was betrothed to Duncan, but she loved my father. The king proclaimed single combat to first blood to decide who could marry her. My father tricked Duncan, gave him a sting on his arm, and won my mother’s hand.”

“Tricked him?”

“My father had little training in how to fight back then. He fought like a street child. Duncan was a lord and had all the armor and training. My father didn’t even have a sword. He threw aside the one the king gave him and used only his dagger. While Duncan was obeying forms and rules, my father dashed in and stung him on the arm. Duncan shows off the scar as an example of what happens when a man becomes too arrogant in his strengths.” She poured herself another shot of oiska, and the warmth at last stilled her shaking nerves.

Braedan grinned. “I can see where you get your upstart nature. It’s an inborn trait.”

“Perhaps.” Silence hovered around them.
He’s so close.
She put a hand on his chest. “Perhaps you shouldn’t leave tonight.”

“No?” He picked up her hand and put his lips against the red rope burns on her wrists. “Don’t you think you’ll be safe enough with a chambermaid in your bed and extra guards at the door?”

She closed her eyes. He put one hand in her hair, and she lifted her chin. He kissed her neck.
He smells like the sea. Like fresh air.
“Perhaps if you are so concerned for my safety, you should guard me yourself.”

One finger of his other hand stroked her skin along the edge of her dressing gown, inching it open. “Perhaps I should sleep between you and your maid to guard you both.”

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be an ass.”

He laughed and kissed her neck again. His breath warmed her skin. She pressed herself against him. “You’ve been through a lot tonight. I don’t want to take advantage,” he said, low, against her ear.

She put her arms around his neck. His arms tightened around her waist. She tingled from his touch as much as from the oiska.
I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.
“What makes you think I’m not taking advantage of you?”

“I want to prove myself to you. I want you to know I’ll be faithful to you.”

She put her mouth against his neck. He inhaled, sharp, as her mouth moved up to his ear. “I promise you, after a night with me, you’ll not want another woman,” she whispered.

His voice wavered when he spoke. “A promise like that . . . How can I refuse?”

Her mouth found his.
The way he kisses—
His hands slid up her sides, and his mouth trailed down her neck to her shoulders. “Please tell me you know how to use that tongue for more than just arguing with me,” she said.

He laughed. “I think I might.”

She laced her fingers with his and led him to the bedchamber. He shut the door. She started to unbutton his doublet as he trailed two fingers along the edge of her dressing gown down to the top of her breasts. His touch sent prickles down her neck. He untied the robe and pushed it off her shoulders, his mouth following the silk as it exposed her skin. “Igraine,” he whispered. His hands slid into her robe and tightened against her back. She expected the rough skin of a man used to holding a sword, but his hands were smooth and soft and his grip firm and insistent. He put his mouth next to her ear, and she shivered and closed her eyes. “I don’t expect this. You don’t have to do this.”

“I never do anything I don’t want to do.” She tilted her head up and met his eyes. She pushed off his doublet, took his silk undertunic off, and ran her hands along his chest. She dropped her robe and pressed herself against him. “I want this.”

His mouth was on hers, and she lost the will to speak again.

When they lay spent next to each other, he pulled her close against him, pressing up against her back. “Did I find all the places you wanted kissed?”

By the spirits, yes.
“You may have missed a small spot behind my left ankle,” she said.

He chuckled. “I’ll get that next time.” He kissed her ear and nuzzled against her neck. “You were no maiden, my lady.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He kissed the nape of her neck. “You certainly know what you want.”

She smiled at the sensations of his fingers tracing idle shapes on her thigh and his mouth nibbling at her shoulder.
He makes me shiver. I shouldn’t feel this way about him. He stole this throne. But what he does to me . . .
She rolled over, lifted his hand, and toyed with his fingers in the moonlight that streamed through the broken window. The cool night air raised gooseflesh on her skin, but she shunned blankets. She wanted to see him. “Virginity is a silly notion, isn’t it? A man’s worth is counted by how many women he beds, but a woman’s worth is decided by some little barrier between her legs. There’s no way to prove if she lost it to a man or a horse.”

He snickered. “A horse?”

“I’ve been riding since I was three. My maidenhead was gone long before I lost my virginity.”

He watched her mingle his fingers with hers. “Have there been a lot of horses?”

She laughed. “Three before you. I’m sure you lost count years ago.”

He was quiet for some time, his mouth resting on her shoulder. “I did. I should have been pickier. Kinder. A string of maids and whores and a few sayas and camp women—that’s all I have to show.” He sighed. “I’ve been selfish. And foolish. I drank too much when I was younger, and it made me cruel. I fear most of those women got little pleasure from me.”

She pulled his arm tighter around her middle. “You aren’t the man in the rumors. Did exile change you?”

“Perhaps. Living that way—the men called me king, but it meant little. We all used the same waste ditch. I suppose it did tame me.”

“Tell me.”

“At first it was just me and Cormac. He was a mealy-mouthed commoner that my father hated, so he saddled me with him. We had no money. We begged the indulgence of farms and inns and did odd jobs and survived. I smelled like a pig. I learned to live with deprivation.”

“Then your uncle found you?”

“Eventually. Logan found me first. He and his men saw what happened in Kiern. They deserted and tracked me down. They swore fealty to me on a field outside of a broken down village. Just like that I had a small army. They’re all still with me—Logan, Ewan, Malcolm, Aiden. Those first twenty men are the core group, the most loyal men I have. I wrote my uncle, and he started sending money. He tried to send men, but I sent them back. I didn’t want confused loyalties. I built my own army.”