Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (38 page)

“Is that it? Are you hers now—the Morrag’s?” Her voice cracked on the Morrag’s name.

“No.”

“How do you know?”

He pointed to his head. “I never told her yes. She won’t take me until I tell her yes.”

The fire hissed behind her. “Then it will always be like this?” She waved a hand at the horse. “You dashing off to slaughter someone when you can’t fight it anymore?”

“He deserved to die.”

Her voice rose, tinged with righteous anger. “You don’t get to judge that. You are not Alshada.” She swiped her eyes and turned away. “We’ll take her home, and then I want you to find someone else to guard me. I can’t do this anymore.”

Gods, no. I can’t—
He reached out to take her arm. “Mairead, wait.”

She turned back. Tears spilled over. “You will always leave,” she whispered. “You left your people, your name, your mother, even Aine. You can blame the mark or the Morrag or just your foolishness, but you will always leave.”

Her tears glistened in the firelight, and Connor put his hands on her cheeks to wipe them away. “I don’t want to leave.”

She closed her eyes and whimpered. “Please don’t say that.”

He tipped her head up to his and slid one arm around her waist. The Morrag faded to a distant echo in the furthest part of his spirit. “I need you.”

Her hands pushed against his chest in one weak attempt to walk away, but then she slid them up around his neck and pulled his head down to kiss him.

He pulled her against him, aching to feel skin against skin, desperate to keep her close.
I need this woman—by the spirits, I need this woman.
After death, her kiss gave him life. His hands tightened on her body.

Mairead mumbled “no” between kisses. She wrenched out of his arms. “No.” She turned away, and her hand went to her mouth as she started to walk back to the fire.

“Mairead—”

“No.” She shook her head. She held her hand out to keep him away. He stepped toward her, but she turned and held him at arm’s length. “I can’t, Connor.”

“Mairead, I want you. I need you. Please, don’t walk away.”

“Do you love me?”

Time paused. Aine had asked him that same question once. With Aine, he didn’t know. With Mairead, he knew—without hesitation—the truth. The question hung between them, waiting for acknowledgement. The fire crackled, keeping random time. The horse stood close, panting. Mairead’s brilliant green eyes demanded honesty, commitment, everything she deserved—more than he could offer.
I do love you.
He wanted to say it, but the words stopped in his throat. Desire warred with what he knew was true—that whatever else she had done to change him, he was still ravenmarked. He would still leave. “I don’t know.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. Her voice cracked again when she spoke. “I don’t want less than your whole heart.” She went to her blanket and sat down, drew her knees to her chin, and stared into the fire.

Emptiness rushed into the gap where the Morrag had been. Connor returned to his horse and slumped against it, drawing up slow, even breaths until he felt steady again.
You will always leave,
she’d said. He couldn’t deny it. In a numb daze, he unsaddled his horse, rubbed him down, and gave him water. He walked to the edge of the ravine and wrapped their camp in braids of air to hide their scent.

For the first night in eight years, the Morrag folded her wings and fell silent.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Give me your cup, Alshada.

Let me drink even to my death.

— Songs of King Aiden, Book 30, Verse 12

Igraine held a kerchief to her nose as she descended the stairs into the prison cells beneath the castle. The guard, Aiden, showed her to Logan’s cell. “Her highness begs a word,” he said.

Logan looked up. They’d taken his livery, and he sat on the small cot in a homespun tunic and woolen breeches. His eyes were drawn and tired, and the dark curls on his head were unkempt and greasy. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“Let me in and then leave us,” Igraine told Aiden.

Aiden glanced at Logan, who sighed and nodded. The guard opened Logan’s cell and ushered Igraine in. “You still have some authority with them at least,” she said.

“They’re used to obeying me.” He leaned back and stretched his long legs in front of him. “There’s little point in coming here. I have nothing more to say.”

“Why are you doing this? I know it wasn’t you.”

“Ronan Kerry thinks it was.”

“Why does he think that?”

He shrugged. “He saw me letting a group of people out of the castle gates. He’ll say they were assassins and that I was helping them escape.”

“Were they?”

“No. They were the few kirons and sayas I could save.” He paused. “He will also accuse me of plotting to kill you.”

“Me? Why?”

“The royal issue dagger on the assassin in the forest. I’m the one who issues those. When you were under Felix’s care, I went to the armory to count the knives. There were three missing. I had the one we found on the assassin. We haven’t found the other two.”

“What does that prove? Someone stole them—probably Matthias.”

He shook his head. “The first thing I did after Matthias attacked you was count weapons. Everything was there. This happened after he left.”

“What else does he think he can use against you?”

“Your maid—the one who is sharing Kerry’s bed—she told him I asked you to go riding with me. He thinks I tried to get you away from the castle to have you killed.”

She knelt on the rushes on the floor and took his hands. “What possible reason would you have for killing me or the kirons and sayas?”

“Kerry wants the throne. He sees me as an obstacle. Braedan’s men obey me, not him. If he can get me out of the way, he will gain control of the royal guard.”

She frowned. “But why would you confess? With a confession your life is forfeit. The law is clear. A confession means there can be no trial. You will suffer the immediate consequences of this. Why not let there be an investigation and trial?”

His hands were slack around hers. “For a promise. For assurance.”

“What—”

“Igraine. Please.” He leaned forward and put his forehead against hers. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not afraid of death. I’ll die in service to those most important to me.”

Igraine didn’t know how to answer. She steeled her will. “Tell me who you think truly ordered this done.”

“I can’t say. No one in the castle died but your guards. It appears you were the only target inside these walls. The ones we killed were assassins, like those who killed Duncan Guinness. They were shadows. Untraceable. They had no markings to identify them.”

“Who would want me and the kirons and sayas dead?”

“I don’t know. Not Kerry. He wouldn’t want to anger your father, and he wouldn’t see the kirons and sayas as a threat.” He shook his head, frowning. “Kerry is subtle, and this attack was anything but subtle. This was someone who wanted to send a strong, bloody message that the kirok isn’t welcome on Taura.”

She nodded, slow. “What about Cormac?”

Logan blinked, surprised. “Cormac?”

“He’s been acting so strangely, and have you seen how pale and sickly he’s become? And where was he that night, or the night Matthias attacked me? Did we ever find out?”

Logan’s mouth drew into a tight line, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Cormac has many secrets, but he’s not a murderer. And as competent as he is as a seneschal, he’s a follower, not a leader. I can’t see him masterminding something like this. He is unswervingly loyal to Braedan. Unless Braedan ordered him to do this, he would not even consider it. As for where he was, I can’t say.”

Igraine reached for his hands again. “I will find out who did this. I will clear your name, I swear it. And I will not allow you to come to the court to confess. I will hold your case aside until I can learn what happened.”

He shook his head. “You can’t do that. I’ve confessed to two nobles and a seneschal. My life is forfeit. There is no recourse. You know the law. You’ve read every book and scroll in the castle. My confession will stand, and I must be executed.” His eyes were drawn and pained.

She stood, angry. “This is foolish. You would shame your king, shame your guard, shame your own family name for a lie? To be executed for something you didn’t do?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I don’t use my real name—I haven’t in years.” He stood. “Follow the law in this. Let me take the blame. Put the kirons and the sayas to rest, and let the kirok curse me.”

“This isn’t over. You may be resigned to this, but I’m not.”

“It’s too late. Kerry has already signed the execution papers. I’ll be dead by morning.”

She shook her head. “No, Logan—I’ll find you a way out of this. I swear it.”

***

Ronan agreed to see Igraine that afternoon. He sat at his desk with a goblet in one hand and a parchment in the other. He wore the indigo of his house with the gold sash of chancellor across his chest. He stood and beckoned her in. “My lady. Have a seat. What a delightful treat to see you outside of court.”

She let him seat her near his desk. “Lord Kerry—”

“Please, we’re to be relatives, highness. Call me your uncle. Or Ronan, if you prefer.” He sat behind his desk.

She smiled coolly. “Lord Kerry, we need to discuss Logan’s confession and trial.”

He spread his hands. “Of course, highness, but I don’t know what you would have me discuss. He’s confessed. The law is clear.” His voice held an edge. “And as you have pointed out, my lady, if the king and his agents do not follow the law, who will?”

Her stomach tightened. “His agents—such as his chancellor? I’m curious about something. Why would you want this position? Don’t you wish to return home to your wife and your holdings?”

He leaned back. “Have you ever been to Stone Coast? Nothing but rocks, gulls, and ice in the winter, and in the summer, we don’t even have ice to break the monotony. My inland holdings are green, at least, but little grows there except highland cattle, and that’s only because they thrive on the scrubby gorse.” He waved a hand around the room. “I prefer the amenities in Torlach. Politics, scandals, beautiful women . . .” His eyes drifted down her body.

She suppressed a shiver. “And has your wife given up on faithfulness, then?”

A cruel sneer tempted his mouth. “She never made me promise it. I see no reason to deny myself the company of a beautiful woman.” He steepled his hands near his chin. “Do you think you’ll get faithfulness from my nephew, highness? You’re fooling yourself. He’s king. He doesn’t need to ask. You can protect your little chambermaids all you want. They will still throw themselves at him for the chance to say they’ve fucked the king.”

You want to play vulgar? I can play vulgar.
She leaned forward; his gaze flickered toward her breasts. “And you get his seconds? Is that what you’re hoping for? A turn with me?” She leaned back. “You’ll not get one.”

He laughed. “Shouldn’t I evaluate the woman my heir wishes to marry? Perhaps I could teach you something.”

“I doubt that.”

He stood and walked around the desk to loom over her. “Your friend, Logan. What is your relationship with him?”

She stood.
I won’t be intimidated by this ass.
“He’s a guard. A friend. And he’s never been anything but a proper gentleman.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard that Logan had his hands all over you in the stables. According to a witness, your dress was around your waist and his breeches were down before you noticed his presence.”

Her heart raced. “Did Matthias tell you that? He saw us there when we came back from riding. Logan was helping me with my cloak, that’s all. Braedan knows all about it.”

“Truly? The only person to speak for you is a disgraced guard in prison for treason and murder.”

“And your only proof is the word of a man who tried to kill me and then fled.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “What do you know about Logan? Why is he doing this? You know he didn’t commit this crime. Why would he confess to it?”

“The evidence points to him.”

“Hardly any evidence—a royal-issue blade and words of a foolish maid who runs to your bed every time I scold her.”

“And what I saw—your lover letting assassins out of the gate.” He paused. “Why would you share the bed of a man who kills those you were asked to protect?”

“I don’t share his bed. I am the Princess Royale of Eirya and the betrothed of King Braedan. I would not sully his name or mine by bedding a guard.”

Ronan folded his arms. “You really believe he loves you. How naïve are you? He sees your blood, your potential to give him an heir, your title—that’s all. He’ll give you faithfulness for a year, perhaps, and then you’ll squeeze out a son, and he’ll lose interest in you. You’ll get fat, and he’ll find some trim little tart to warm his bed. Igraine, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I have no need to prove anything to you. Braedan’s faithfulness or lack of it is between me and him.”

“Your lover, Logan—”

“He’s not my lover.”

“Whatever he is, he’s a dead man. He’s confessed. There is no recourse.”

I have to find something—some proof of Logan’s innocence—but I have to buy some time.
“I demand that you give him a trial.”

He shook his head. “My apologies, highness. The execution is scheduled for dawn. I expect you there.”

Igraine clenched her fists, fighting for composure. “I will not sit by and watch a travesty—”

“Yes, you will.” He leaned close enough for his breath to warm her cheek. “You are the future queen of Taura, are you not? You will see justice carried out in the king’s absence. You are an ambassador of the holy kirok. To avoid the execution would be snubbing your nose at those you claim to represent.”

The room spun and her leg still ached, but she gritted her teeth against the discomfort.
Time. I need time.
“You’re a bastard.”

“Be careful, your highness. I may be a bastard, but you answer to me until the king returns.” His mouth curved in a sneer. “If he returns.”

Her stomach plummeted, and she no longer trusted her legs. She put a hand on the chair.
Braedan—I have to warn him. But how?
She swallowed hard and inclined her head. “Good day, chancellor.”

He opened his door and gestured to one of the guards from Stone Coast. “My lady, you appear a bit pale. My guards will show you back to your rooms. You’ll need your rest before tomorrow.” He nodded to the man. “Take the lady to her rooms and be certain she stays there.”

Her mind raced. “You wouldn’t deny me my ladies, would you? And I need to speak with Cormac about some cases. He needs to know about the research I’ve done.” She put a hand on his chest and lowered her voice. “Please, Ronan.”

He hesitated. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I have no objection to you meeting with Cormac, and I would never deny a highborn lady her maids.”

He counts on Cormac’s loyalty. But Logan says Cormac is unswervingly loyal to Braedan. Will Cormac help me, or has he joined Kerry?

By the time the guard ushered Cormac into her study, Igraine had come up with a plan to help Logan and Braedan.
If Cormac will help.
She gestured to a seat and smiled at him. “I would stand, Cormac, but my leg requires rest.”

He sat. He had a bit more color to his face this day, and he wasn’t sweating as he had been. “Is your leg bothering you? I can send Felix up.”

She shook her head. “It’s healing well. I’ve always healed quickly.” She hesitated.
How to approach this? I can’t trust him, but he’s the only hope I have of helping Logan.
She bit her lip. “Where were you during the attack, Cormac?”

“I was here, my lady. In the castle. I was in my chambers.”

She leaned forward. “You weren’t. The guards couldn’t find you until they’d almost secured the castle. Where were you until then?”

He closed his eyes. “Please, highness—”

“Cormac, I don’t care what your proclivities are. If you were in a brothel or a venom den, fine. I just want to help Logan. He didn’t have those people killed. He was not the one who let the assassins into the castle walls. I don’t want to see him die for someone else’s crime.”

He said nothing for some time. He simply sat with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, his face pale. “My lady.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “My lady, I don’t know how to help Logan. He confessed. His life is forfeit.”