Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (44 page)
Malcolm waited outside the doors of the hall and fell in step next to the king. As they walked into the cool afternoon air, Braedan spoke in low tones. “Mac Rian is lying to me. He’s brought this on himself. I need to find out what he’s after. I need evidence, not just hearsay. Eavesdropping won’t be enough.”
“Yes, majesty. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Did you speak with the lady Olwyn when you left the hall?”
Malcolm nodded. “She was happy to speak with the king’s guard. She assured me that your quarters would be prepared to your liking, and she was very insistent on finding out what your liking was.”
Braedan nodded. “It was clear that Olwyn would like to have the ear of the crown.”
“More than just an ear, from the questions she asked.”
Braedan smirked.
“Don’t trust her, majesty. That one has her eyes set higher than you know,” Malcolm said.
“What do you mean?”
“Logan was right. Olwyn wants a crown. I fear for the lady Igraine. Olwyn asked a lot of questions about her, and after the attempt on her life . . .” He shrugged.
“That was just one mad guard’s obsession.”
“Was it?”
Braedan’s mouth tightened. “What did you tell Olwyn?”
“I told her that you and the lady have great affection for each other, and she seemed disappointed. She asked about your wedding plans. I didn’t know what to say. I told her that you were still negotiating with the Eiryan crown, and that such things take time with the autumn rains and the sea weather getting rougher.” He frowned. “She wants a crown, but I think she’d be nearly as happy if you took her back to Torlach to serve Lady Igraine. I think she would make herself available to serve you whenever you wished. If something happened to befall the lady Igraine, why, she would be right there to comfort you.”
Braedan grunted. “I’m sure she would.”
They walked through the gates and past the scattered houses to the west of the estate, stopping when they reached the main road. Both men stared into the trees, hands on the hilts of their swords. “I can feel their eyes on me,” Malcolm said. “How can they be so well-hidden so close to the road?”
Braedan didn’t answer. Even the most elite Taurin soldiers or his own personal guards would be hard-pressed to hide so close to a major road. But Malcolm was right—eyes hovered on them.
Predators slavering over a full table,
Braedan thought. He suppressed a shudder, but he wanted them all to see him. They should know the king had arrived in Kiern. “Come on. Mac Rian will be expecting us for his feast.”
***
The king’s men certainly make more than their share of noise,
Maeve thought. She rubbed her neck and stretched her shoulders in a futile attempt to relieve the tension carried by the Sidh. What had started as a mere twitch of discomfort weeks before had grown nearly unbearable in recent days.
First Mac Rian intrudes on the forest, and now the king. Will we ever know peace again?
She knuckled her back and sat down to evening tea.
Shouts and curses rang through the air, and Maeve flinched and rubbed her temples.
Gods, not more trouble.
The strain of so many Taurins near the village put all of the Sidh on edge, and the normally peace-loving people had fallen more and more to fighting among themselves. “Go see what it’s about, will you, Evie?”
But when Evie opened the door, Maeve stood and sucked in a breath at the sight of the slim, well-muscled, graying tribesman before her. He stepped into her hut and spoke in his low rumbling voice. “Maeve. It’s time to talk.”
Before he could react, Maeve summoned the air and wove it into violet braids as strong as steel. She wrapped the braids around him. He shot her a self-assured grin, and she tightened the braids. “You are not welcome here, Edgar.”
“So I was told when the earth guardian I brought revealed the village. I regret I had to hurt a few of your people to get your attention. They didn’t want to let me through.”
“They have been told not to allow any tribesmen access to the village.”
“That might mean something if they were willing to fight.”
She turned to Evie. “I’ll be fine. Go see to those who are injured. Make sure the healers can take care of everyone.” Evie curtsied and left.
Maeve tightened the braids around Edgar again. He grunted, but his eyes twinkled and his grin widened. “Something funny?”
“I was just picturing another time when a fierce young Brae Sidh queen decided that she’d had enough of hunters near her village.”
The memory softened her anger. “You and Culain were taken a bit off-guard, weren’t you?”
He grinned with a wicked edge. “There is nothing more comely than a woman with the kind of power you have.”
“Don’t try to charm me, Edgar.”
“I’m not. I envied him. I still do.”
A smile threatened the corners of her mouth as she remembered the day. “You were cocky beasts—him sputtering about his nobility and connections and you grinning because you knew exactly where you’d chased that stag. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wanted to meet the woman whose beauty I’d heard so much about. Can you let me go now so we can talk like civilized people?” He sensed the retort that hovered on her lips, and he stopped her. “Or at least, like people who have a common enemy?”
She sighed. She let the magic retreat, and he let out a long breath. She didn’t realize how tight the braids had been until he rubbed his wrists and forearms. “I’m sorry.”
“You bested me fairly.”
“The years have been kind to you,” she said.
More than kind.
They had been good friends once, thirty years before. She had met Edgar and Culain when they had chased a stag into Sidh territory. Culain was in his late thirties, married, with a family and a duchy to run, and Edgar was in his twenties, a man brimming with confidence and self-assured bravado. Only two years later, Edgar found himself burdened with caring for an entire tribe when the previous traitha died on the hunt. The earthspirit selected the traithas, and though older, wiser men also entered the vision hut with Edgar, the earth had branded Edgar chieftain by the time they all emerged the next day.
The echoes of that young boy still hovered on Edgar’s face beneath the snaking blue lines of his brand. He still brimmed with confidence, but it was wiser—mellowed with age. His face was still handsome, the grace of his bone structure smoothing the edges of age that encroached. She still found his dark green eyes bewitching with their long lashes and mischievous twinkle. He wore a leather jerkin and breeches. Both arms were covered with the tattoos of the many hunts he’d been on, and she wondered if he’d started tattooing his legs yet. His braids were still dark with occasional gray streaks. She found herself reminded of Culain. A pang of loss went through her. In Connor’s absence, Edgar was the one link she had to Culain.
This is the man I might have chosen once. How could I have let so many years go by?
Edgar appraised her with a gentle, appreciative gaze. “You are the same as you were thirty years ago. Time stays his hand for you. Even he respects your beauty.”
Despite her bitterness, Maeve’s stomach lurched at his flattery.
I won’t be demure before this man.
“You still have the eyes of a wolf and the tongue of a bard.”
He stepped closer to her. “Maeve, I should have been more insistent about watching over you when Culain died. After we fought, I was hurt. I shouldn’t have let it stop me. I should have been here. He was a brother to me.”
“I wouldn’t have seen you. I was so angry. I still am. I am struggling with this—with forgiving you for taking Connor.”
“I didn’t take him. He wanted to be a tribesman.”
“You and Culain didn’t have to make it all so appealing.”
His tone matched hers, steel for steel. “Did you never forgive Culain, either? He gave his blessing.”
I tried.
“Connor rejected everything about the Sidh once he tasted the life of the warrior. He didn’t want to use his talent. He drank the blood of the animal. He refused to even consider a Sidh girl—”
“He wouldn’t look at a tribal girl either—not for more than a night—if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not.”
Edgar folded his arms. “Maeve, Connor sought the tribal path, but he has a calling. His purpose is bigger than either of us know. There’s something he’s meant to do or be, and we couldn’t stop it if we tried. His Sidh blood and the tribal training are both part of that calling.” She started to respond, but he held up a hand. “Culain couldn’t have stopped it either, but he wouldn’t have tried.”
Anger dissipated at the thought of Culain, and she lowered her voice. “I know. He was a good father. When I let him be.”
Edgar took a deep breath. “Where is Connor? He didn’t make it back for the hunt this year.”
“I thought he didn’t hunt with you.”
“He doesn’t, but I always hear his name. He’s the best hunter in the nine tribes. Everyone talks about him no matter which tribe has the honor of hosting him.”
Despite her distaste for the hunt, maternal pride swelled in Maeve’s chest.
Culain would have been proud, too.
“He is on an errand for me. The heir is gone. He is taking her to safety.”
Edgar smirked. “Are you sure you trust him with that? She needs to remain chaste, doesn’t she? He’s not a wolf for nothing.”
Oh, believe me, I know more about Connor’s indiscretions than I’d care to admit.
“Connor knows that if he abuses her he’ll have me to answer to, and I am the only person he still fears.”
“Is he still bound to you?”
She hesitated. The truth of it struck her as she considered how to answer.
If I tell him no, he’ll think I let Connor go, and it will soften his heart toward me. And it’s not a lie. But if I tell him the whole truth, he’ll know that the ravenmark is taking Connor.
She closed her eyes. “No. He broke the bond.” She pursed her lips. “The Morrag called him. He answered.”
Edgar took a step toward her, and she opened her eyes. He reached out with one hand. “Maeve—”
She stepped back. “Don’t. I won’t have you prowling around me like a desperate cat.”
“What if I were prowling? I’m still unattached. So are you.” He unlaced his jerkin and pulled the left shoulder aside, revealing the unfinished marriage tattoo. He pulled the shoulder back up, but left the jerkin unlaced. “You interested? I’d hate to mar that perfect Sidh skin with a tattoo. We wouldn’t have to make it permanent.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I can see where my son learned all of his bad habits. Why are you here?”
He grew serious. “Mac Rian is in the forest. We’ve been holding his men at bay for weeks now, but today the unbeliever king arrived in Kiern with a retinue that could storm the forest and give us a real battle. And I think Mac Rian has more men than he’s revealed as well. He’s too confident. I came to ask for your help. If we work together, we can send these fools running and rid the world of Mac Rian’s poison.” He paused. “They’ll try to get an earth guardian who can reveal your village. They think if they reveal the Sidh village, they can get the reliquary. They’re counting on our hatred of each other to ensure that a guardian will do their bidding.”
Olwyn controls her father. She wants it. What is that woman?
“But the heir is gone. How would they carry it? Only one of Brenna and Aiden’s line can even touch it.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps they want to reveal it and guard it until they find a way to carry it. It doesn’t matter, does it? Your home is still in danger whether they can accomplish what they want or not.”
She thought carefully before she responded.
It’s time to let the anger go.
“If I do this, this is not a new alliance. This is not peace or forgiveness between our people. I will not pursue a formal treaty with anyone but Hrogarth.”
A muscle twitched in Edgar’s jaw. “Then what is it?”
“It’s two old friends protecting their homes. Two leaders protecting their villages.”
“Mac Rian killed Culain. I want him gone.”
“I want to taste vengeance, too. I have no love for Mac Rian. But, I will not risk my people more than necessary. With the king here, I will be cautious. I don’t want him to know any more about us than he already does.”
“Then we’ll do this? We’ll get rid of Mac Rian and give the Mac Corin whelp a good drubbing?”
Maeve took a deep breath. “What do you have in mind?”
The Forbidden then joined the field of battle, and the Syrafi could not stand against them. Cuhail and his ravenmarked warriors heard the call of the earth, and they answered it.
— Legend of the Syrafi
Minerva folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips. Edgar sat across the fire from her, his legs crossed, his hands folded in imitation of hers. The earth guardian called Nedra stirred the fire into life again and settled on her knees, the brand across her face snaking and twisting in the faint light. “This is no small request,” Nedra said. “She is an outlander and an oathbreaker. And she’s part Sidh. If they realize—”
“They won’t,” Edgar said. He pulled a small murky stone from the pocket of his jerkin and gave it to Minerva. “The Sidh queen offers this animstone to shield your Sidh talent. Should you choose to do this, that is. It won’t shield the power of the guardian.”
Minerva took the stone and turned it over and over in her palm. The light of her wisdommark shone through the gray and lent it a faint blue hue. “If Braedan finds out I was a saya, he will kill me,” she whispered.
“That is possible,” Edgar said. “And I will not force you to do this. It is your choice.”
“Let me do it,” Nedra said. She gave Edgar a feral grin. “I’ll take a few of the thief’s men to the grave before they take me.”
“You’re too valuable to the village,” Edgar said. “And your power can reveal the Sidh. Minerva’s power isn’t strong enough, but it might be enough to fool Mac Rian and the king.” He watched Minerva and waited.
Minerva shifted her gaze from Edgar to Nedra and back to the stone on her palm. The weeks with the wolf tribe had been more tolerable than she expected. As the head earth guardian in the tribe, Nedra gave Minerva the privilege of serving the earth guardians as an apprentice—a position usually reserved for young girls who wanted to become guardians. Minerva went about her duties silently, busy and grateful to be alive. Still, guilt nagged at her.
I forsake my vows again,
she thought daily.
Alshada, forgive me. Forgive me for serving the earthspirit again. I will return to the kirok as soon as I can. This was the safest place.
Her palm itched and burned almost constantly, and at night, she sometimes cried silently into her sleeping mat in Nedra’s tent. Nedra never mentioned whether she heard or not.
Now, Edgar sat before her, waiting.
I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to face this king, this duke. I can quietly wait out the winter here and then go to Lord Dylan’s estate.
She scratched her palm and cringed.
If I were to die doing this, it would free me from this magic—from the pull of the earthspirit. And perhaps this is why Alshada brought me here—to give me freedom from pain through sacrifice. If I help the Sidh and protect the relics by doing this, it will be worth it to die.
She closed her hand around the animstone. “Tell me what to do.”
***
Braedan found cleansing comfort in the autumn chill that filled his room after the feast. The flattering and fawning of eager nobles and merchants made him feel sullied, and he now lay on his bed undressed, covered from the waist down with a thin linen sheet.
The feast had been less than he expected, but more than he wanted. Mac Rian had invited anyone with any kind of money or position in the town to meet him. He’d managed to excuse himself early in the evening, and the others dispersed soon afterward. They had come to meet the new king. No one wished to share Mac Rian’s company any longer than necessary. He could be gracious and courtly, but if someone said something he didn’t care for, he grew brooding, waspish, and unreasonable.
The door creaked open, and he reached under his pillow for the sacred dagger Hrogarth had given him. He had thought at the last minute that the sacred blade might be useful in treating with the tribes and had slipped it into his belongings almost as an afterthought, but there was something comforting about holding the bone hilt. His grip tightened on it. “Yes?”
“Sire.” Malcolm’s voice greeted him from the bedchamber door. “Lady Olwyn begs a word.”
Braedan stood and pulled on breeches. “Send her in.”
Olwyn entered without Malcolm and shut the door behind her. The moonlight streaming in through oiled-skin window coverings illuminated her dark features. “Majesty. I thought perhaps you might like some company in the absence of your foreign princess.”
“Company,” he said, unhappy to hear his own voice hoarse with desire. “That’s the sort of thing that happens over afternoon tea, my lady.”
She gave him a tilted, exotic smile and approached him. One elegant hand traced his chest and belly and hooked the top of his breeches. “What would you prefer to call it?”
You promised Igraine. This woman can please you for a night, but you promised faithfulness. And this woman is no Igraine.
He put his hands on Olwyn’s arms. He couldn’t decide whether to push her away or pull her closer. “I’d call it an ambitious woman who sees a crown on her head trying to seduce her king.”
“Your princess is ambitious, too.” She put her mouth against his neck, raising gooseflesh. “I merely use different means to power. More pleasant means, I believe.” Her hand loosened his breeches.
He turned his head and saw the blue scarf on the table next to the bed. He pushed her away. “I’m sorry, Olwyn. I am faithful to Igraine.” He stepped back. “Unless you had something else to discuss, you should go.”
“Majesty,” she said, an air of gentle chiding in her voice. “If you have not yet wed your princess, what harm is there?” She tipped her head. “Does your princess please you?”
“Igraine pleases me in more ways than you could imagine.”
“I doubt that.” She closed the gap between them and put her arms around him, pressing herself up against him. “Your princess need never know.”
He pulled her hands off him and pushed her arms down to her sides. “I think you should go, Olwyn.” He opened the door for her.
She paused next to him before walking through the door. “This is not over,” she whispered against his ear.
He grabbed her arm. “Do you threaten your king, my lady?”
Her mouth curved in a languid smile. “You misunderstand, majesty. I would never threaten my king.” She tipped her head in the smallest nod proper and walked past Malcolm with her head held high.
Braedan waited until she was out of earshot to motion Malcolm into his room. He shut the door. “Have you found out anything more about her?”
Malcolm shook his head. “The servants are either bewitched by her or afraid of her. I haven’t had time to go into the town yet, but perhaps someone there will say something.” He nodded toward the bed. “The princess will appreciate your devotion.”
Braedan turned away. “You can go.” He picked up the blue silk and lay down in his bed.
I’ll marry her the moment I’m back if she’ll let me—alliance or no.
In the morning, Braedan woke from a fitful sleep and dressed in simple breeches and tunic. He pulled on his boots and splashed cold water on his face, then strapped on his sword and slipped the dagger that Hrogarth had given him into his belt. He took a deep breath and strode to the door.
Malcolm bowed. “Sire.”
Braedan noted the lines under Malcolm’s eyes. “Did you sleep?”
“A few hours. I just relieved Ewan a short time ago.”
“Do you know where Mac Rian is this morning?”
“He’s waiting for you in his study.”
Malcolm led him through the long corridors of the estate to a small room at the far end of the house where Mac Rian waited near a table laden with food. He greeted Braedan with a smooth bow. “Your majesty. I thought we could break our fast while we discuss the problem of the tribes.”
Braedan sat. “An excellent suggestion.”
The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner I can go home.
A servant poured mead for Braedan and portioned food onto a trencher. “I don’t want mead. Bring water,” Braedan said.
“I was pleased to see how many men you brought with you, sire,” Mac Rian said. “We should be able to dispatch the problem with ease.”
Braedan leaned forward. “Is that what you thought—that I came to slaughter some tribesmen for you? I have no intention of drawing the tribes into a battle unless I must. I don’t intend to lose my men in the forest because you refuse to obey the treaty.”
Mac Rian’s face paled. “What do you mean, majesty?”
“I know you have violated the ancient treaty between Taura and the tribes,” Braedan said. “I just don’t know why. If you have a good reason, please tell me. I will defend you as your liege lord if the cause is just. But Mac Rian, if you are making trouble or seeking something that isn’t yours, tell me now. I will not humiliate myself or the crown before the tribes.”
The man’s face was ashen, and his hands shook. “Seeking something? I don’t know what you mean.”
He’s dug himself into a hole that he wasn’t prepared to be in.
“Who are you in league with, Mac Rian?”
“I am in league with no one other than my king.”
Braedan opened his mouth, but a breathless servant burst into the room. “Majesty, my lord, you’re needed right away.”
Both men stood and followed the young man to the great hall. Two of Mac Rian’s men stood in the hall holding a woman between them. She was dressed in furs and leather; one cheek bore a fresh bruise, and blood dripped from a cut on one arm. Her hands were bound behind her back. She stood still and calm, her head bowed in demure acceptance of her captivity.
Mac Rian stepped toward the woman. “Who are you? Why did you venture across the road?”
She lifted her head, and when she saw Braedan, she flinched. She seemed to force herself to straighten. “I didn’t. Your men found me performing an earth ritual in the forest. They brought me here.”
Mac Rian’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Is she an earth guardian?”
One of his men nodded and turned her around. He forced open her right hand. Braedan saw a brand in the shape of a circle with a cross through it. Faint silver light glowed under the mark. “We found her performing an earth ritual on this side of the great road.”
Mac Rian stepped closer to her as his men turned her back around. “What were you doing? Cursing my estates?”
“I cursed nothing.”
Braedan frowned.
This isn’t right. This isn’t the kind of woman I’d expect in the tribes. This woman fears me—I saw it on her face—and she seems to have already accepted defeat.
Mac Rian motioned to his men. “Take her to the prison. Chain her and put a heavy guard around her.” He turned to Braedan. “I trust, sire, that we can use some of your men to guard her as well?”
“You don’t speak for me, Mac Rian. And you won’t order my men,” Braedan said.
Mac Rian stared at him, his lips tight. Malcolm and another guard flanked Braedan. “Do you see? The wolf tribe has nothing but hatred for me. They wish to ruin my holdings, and now they are even sending their earth guardians across the road to curse me with their magic.”
Braedan folded his arms. “I saw a woman kidnapped from the forest where she was doing what is her right to do on her land.
You’re a fool, Mac Rian. Don’t you see what they’ve done? They put one of their women out for you to capture to draw you into a fight. Do you really think you would hold her if she didn’t want to be held? She could have escaped your men in the forest. She was bait. They will thrash you and send you back here limping, if you’re lucky. If you’re not, they will kill you.”
A muscle twitched in Mac Rian’s jaw. “This is an act of aggression against my holdings. I am within my rights to defend myself. I will ready my men to attack the wolf tribe at dawn tomorrow. If you care to join us, your majesty, we will welcome you.”
He can’t see past whatever bargain he’s made.
“Before I commit to anything, I will speak with the woman alone. Leave us.”
A shocked silence pressed in on them. Mac Rian’s lips had gone nearly white. He finally bowed. “As you wish, sire.” He motioned his men from the hall.
Malcolm stepped forward to take hold of the guardian, but Braedan motioned him away. “If I make him leave, will you speak with me peaceably?” he asked the woman.
She gave him a slow nod. “Yes, your majesty.” She flinched again.
She calls me majesty. She’s not tribal, and she knows she made a mistake.
“Leave us,” Braedan told his guards. Malcolm hesitated. “I’ll be fine, Malcolm. She has promised a peaceful conversation. The tribes do not break faith.” He dropped his voice. “You can keep Mac Rian’s men away from the door, though. I’d rather he not hear any of this.” Malcolm nodded and left the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
“You know something of the tribes?” the woman asked.
“Just a bit.” He gestured to her hands. “If you wish, I will remove the ropes.”
She eyed him, still distrustful.
“You promised me a peaceful conversation. I have no reason to doubt you.”
She turned and offered her hands. He drew his dagger and sliced through the ropes. She motioned to the dagger when he stepped back. “You have a sacred blade.”
“Hrogarth gave it to me. What is your name?”