Time After Time (107 page)

Her mother’s handmaid and Feoras hugged each other and then kissed each other upon the cheeks. They spoke like long-lost friends.

Kaireen ran to her family. Her father’s was face was red and sweaty, as though he strained to holler. The whole side of his face was swollen and a dark shade of purple. He was bent over and holding his side. Her mother’s red-gold hair was disheveled and her left eye was swollen shut and a cut on her lip had dried blood.

Shay appeared the least disturbed. She was tied and gagged like the others, but looked not as if she fought. Instead, her blond hair shone like rays of the sun. Kaireen smelled the hint of rose perfume. Did she dress so because of Elva’s words, or to look her best for the battle?

Where was Shay’s daughter, Megan?

Gathering her robe, she knelt in front of them. She eased the linen strips from their mouths. “What darkness is this?”

“Rhiannon.” Her mother spoke first, shifting on the stone floor. “She is behind this. Behind it all-she’s the traitor we’ve been searching for. I should have listened to your father when he did not want to take her in.”

Her father spit the last piece of wet linen from his mouth. “Damn their clan to the tenth generation.”

“Careful,” the guard to his right waved an axe, “or our Lady Mistress may ask your head removed if you cannot keep your mouth shut. She is the now Lady of this keep and you will address her as such.”

Her father sputtered, but then acquiesced.

“Lady Mistress?” Kaireen looked around the tower. “The O’Neill clan has no Lady Mistress. The laird is th…”

The guard snatched her by the arm and dragged her to Rhiannon.

She stood in front of her mother’s handmaid, confusion in her eyes. Long ago when Kaireen had been about Megan’s age, Rhiannon had come into her clan, an outsider, an O’Neill. She had grown up with the woman around and never thought to question why she was allowed to live here. But surly—

Rhiannon’s stare was hard like quarry stones. Her taunt skin was pulled tight by the grey bun of her hair. She nodded to the guard, who kicked the back of Kaireen’s legs, forcing her to kneel.

A gasp escaped Kaireen at the sight of her mother’s velvet gown on this servant. “My mother’s…” she said as the guard twisted her arm.

“Do not speak unless addressed from her lady mistress,” he seethed.

“My son and I rule here now,” Rhiannon leered. “The fight is nearly done and we triumph.”

Had everyone gone daft? “You have no authority here, nor anywhere.” Kaireen shook her head as it couldn’t be true. Why would her parents allow a Laird’s wife — ?

Rhiannon smacked Kaireen with the back of her hand. In her mouth, she tasted her own blood. She spit the blood upon Rhiannon, and again she was slapped.

“You have the manners of swine.” The older woman swept her hands across the velvet fabric of her stolen dress. “Now, I am the late laird’s wife. Not that I expect you to understand. Feoras is my son and rightful heir.”

Kaireen twisted around to see her family’s reaction, but the guard held her in place by her arm, which throbbed like hooks jabbed into her.

“Once my mother is returned to her clan,” Feoras gleamed, “and rulership established, we will deal with you.” His leather boots slapped across the stone floor to her. With a fist full of her auburn hair, he jerked her head back. “You and your Lochlann killed our laird with his own sword. I pity not the death our clansmen will give you.”

The sword? Aye, she had been so busy she forgot. The sword was in her room, last she knew.

Feoras forced her head in a bow to his mother. Then he swaggered away. The guard dragged her forward, after Feoras and his mother.

At swordpoint, the other guard led the rest of her family from the tower.

As Kaireen descended the steps, she wanted to kick the guard beside her who would not let go of her arm.

But the sword Feoras spoke about itched beneath her skin like a rash that would soon show upon her flesh. Why did his words sting her so?

What happened with the sword? She searched her memory. When Elva braided her hair before her punishment, the sword was safe in her—

Wait. Then Rhiannon came to escort her to her parents for their judgment.

Rhiannon. She must have seen the sword and taken it.

Fear plummeted into her stomach. This was why the O’Neill’s attacked. They believed she used the sword to kill their laird. Rhiannon had framed her, but only she knew the truth. Now every man, woman, and child of the O’Neill clan would want her dead.

Chapter Thirty-one

Bram groaned as cold breath filled his lungs. Ribs bruised and broken screamed with each movement.

The sun hid behind white clouds, rays reaching through. He smelled grass, blood, and lilac.

A shadow blocked his view of the sun and he flinched. Searing pain gripped his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the moment to pass. He could not defend himself. This enemy would run him through and not give a second glance.

The pain eased and he was able to open his eyes.

An angel appeared before him. Her white hair flowed to her waist. Her face ancient, yet youthful, gazed at him. She was dressed in a grey livery.

“Elva?” he choked.

“Shh.” She brushed his hair from his brow. A medallion hung from a silver chain round her neck. Orange amber filled the stone, and silver carvings encircled the gem. Carvings like writing or symbols he had never seen before. “Everything is fine.”

“Where is Kaireen?” He struggled to lift his head, but could not because a force held him.

He realized Elva’s hand rested on his forehead. “Is she safe? Has the battle ended?” As if in answer, swords scraped against swords and shields, resonating through the air.

A shout drew silence from the courtyard. He lifted his head and saw Rhiannon and Feoras in the distance. Men held Kaireen, her father, mother, and sister.

Feoras waved his sword in the air. “Men, we bring vengeance for our laird.” The crowd cheered. “We have released our Lady Mistress from their prison, and she is returned to us now.”

Again the crowd cheered, but Bram heard grumbling among the applause.

“Our Lady Mistress!” Feoras swept into a bow as Rhiannon inched forward.

“My clansmen.” She waited until the angry shouts died from both clans. “These monsters sought to destroy us. Our laird trusted me as a spy in their midst. They killed our laird, my beloved husband. Now I beseech you, take your sword and kill all of them. Leave no babe alive. We take these lands and rule them for the O’Neill’s.”

A deafening roar rose. Their applause died away at Feoras’ waved hands for silence. “The murderous witch stands among you now.” Feoras hauled Kaireen forward and Bram gritted his teeth from pain as he tried to move.

“They lie.” Elva spoke.

Everyone inhaled as though waiting her permission to breathe. Bram wondered how anyone heard her when her voice had sounded like the wind to him. But the others reacted as if thunder had spoken.

Elva stood near him, although he blinked and had not seen her rise. A yew staff was in her hand.

“Servants who speak without permission will be flogged.” Rhiannon cleared her throat. “Speak again and the flogging will last until you have no skin left.”

“This be like your laird’s?” Elva smiled and tapped a medallion hung around her neck with her free hand.

Whispers rang through the crowd.

“Stolen, no doubt from this witch by her devil laying there.” Feoras pointed to Bram.

“No,” Elva said, and the pressing crowd drew back. “Bearach wears his father’s medallion.”

Then in answer, Bearach strode forward. Blood gushed down his left arm. But he held his medallion in his right hand for everyone to see. He gazed back at Elva in wonder.

Rhiannon stuttered when Elva raised her hand in silence.

“Kings and queens must seek approval when in the presence of a Buhn-Druid to speak.” She struck her yew staff on the ground and people jumped.

“You are a druid?” Kaireen frowned. “How is that possible? You are my handmaid.” Surely she jested; a druid of that stature was the highest ranking of that religion. Protected and secreted even among their own kind. And a Buhn-Druid was rumored to control the hearts of kings because of their gift of prophecy and ability to turn a battle in their favor.

“And what does Druid mean in the Celtic language, but the hidden ones?”

At the handmaid’s words, Rhiannon’s eyes bulged. Feoras gripped his sword, but Bearach shook his head and moved to block his brother’s path.

“Long ago I foresaw the injustice and calamity that would fall upon our clan.” Elva stepped forward. “Although I could not change this future, I knew worse would come if I did nothing. Forty years ago, I kissed my brother goodbye and came as a servant to the Liannon clan. Not as a spy, but as a protector of both the Liannon and the O’Neill clans. They gave me work, food, and clothing.”

Mumbles rose among the O’Neill and Liannon men.

“Kaireen, nor any other Liannon, or the Lochlann Bram, harmed our laird. My brother was killed by his son.”

Angry shouts drowned the sounds of robins flying overhead. Kaireen stood red faced.

Elva pointed with her staff. “Feoras and his mother are the guilty ones. He has the blood of Bearach’s son upon him. And even now he seeks to kill his other rival.”

Everyone gasped, seeing Feoras’ sword facing his brother’s back. The tip pushed through the chain mail. Bearach twisted away and raised his sword to his brother’s.

Bram struggled to move, to reach his sword that lay at his feet. But as he lifted his head, he saw his leg twisted at an angle. He wriggled, groping for the hilt. His muscles convulsed from the burning pain ripping through his leg. He clenched his jaw, fearing to breathe until the pain subsided. He heard someone shouting.

“Do not move!” Feoras jerked his arm toward Elva. “Witch. She blinds you to the truth. Poisons your thoughts against us.”

Kaireen took a step forward, but Rhiannon grasped her arm.

“Feoras,” Rhiannon clamored as though ensuring everyone heard her. “This one holds your sword by her witchcraft to kill my son, Bearach.” She jerked Kaireen toward him.

As if planned, Feoras’s wild eyes darted to her. His sword shook. He eased back, lowering the sword. “Aye, Mother.” He stalked to Kaireen, and yanked her forward by her hair.

She cried out, raking her fingernails across his hand. But he dragged her forward to Elva and Bram.

Bram roared. She was in danger.

The throng pressed in closer. But Bram could not move. He could not help her. While he lay helpless, she may die before his eyes.

Feoras smiled down at him. The smile elongated his nose, causing his face to resemble a gargoyle’s.

Elva stood at Bram’s feet. She sidestepped and then brought her staff down on Feoras’ head.

He stumbled back, releasing Kaireen. Needing no encouragement, she rushed to Bram’s side as he laid on the ground, unable to console her.

Tears fell on his face as she kissed him. Elva kicked his sword and the hilt rested next to his side. His fingers dug in the dirt, but his fingertips brushed Kaireen’s robes. Where was his blasted sword?

She sobbed her words. He could make no sense of them. “Kaireen, hand me my sword.”

“No, Bram,” Elva seethed. “This is not for you to do.”

At her words, confusion rang through his mind. Damn her, while she played, Feoras stood, his sword in hand.

“You will die for that witch,” Feoras snarled. “I will kill your apprentice first.” His wild eyes watched as Kaireen paid him no heed, but stared at Bram.

Bram knew the look. It was the look of a madman with murder caressing his mind.

“I cannot move.” He swallowed. “Take my sword,” he said to Kaireen.

“I-I cannot.” She looked to Elva.

“I am forbidden to draw blood.” Elva took a step back.

Feoras hit Elva with his sword hilt across the face. She fell back, her head struck Bram’s twisted leg and he cried out.

“You see?” Feoras waved his arm to the throng. “He is her familiar, I saw him dead. Now he lives.”

The crowd yelled in agreement.

“I must slice off his head and maim her power.” He raised his sword back with both hands. The blade came swiftly.

Bram saw Kaireen move from the corner of his eye.

His mouth screamed no, but he knew she could not hear him. She must not sacrifice her life for his. He wanted to knock her off balance and save her.

But the unseen force he touched earlier rushed him again, pressing his body to the ground. He could not lift his head. Wind whistled in his ears.

He saw Kaireen’s face, her chin set in a stubborn lift. Her green eyes narrowed.

Feoras brought the sword down. Blood splattered across his face.

No, dear Odin, not my sweet Kaireen!
Bram thought. She was part of his soul.

Suddenly, the force left him. The pressing on his chest eased. He lifted himself on his elbows, grunted from the soreness.

At his side Kaireen kneeled, his sword in her hand and her dagger plunged into Feoras’ stomach.

Rhiannon shrieked, running toward Kaireen. Her hands held her purple skirts. Wisps of her grey hair loosened from her bun.

Instead of softening her gaunt face, the strands gave the impression of Caoranch, the mother of demons. “I will kill you!”

Kaireen pulled the sword back and Feoras slumped to the ground. She pointed the blade at Rhiannon using both hands.

“Stop. Or you meet Feoras in death.”

Bram grinned, noticing she wore a friar’s brown robes cinched at the waist with a piece of rope. He wondered how long her penitence would last for these sins.

Damn his broken body. He should have protected her, not the other way around.

“You cannot harm me.” Rhiannon stared at Kaireen.

“All the Liannon and I imagine the O’Neill’s who remember you will attest to your bullying. I believe what Elva, sister of Laird O’Neill, has spoken to be true.” She kept her eyes on Rhiannon, but addressed the crowd. “I follow the will of you, our clansmen. What say you?”

“They need a leader to tell them what to do, not a simple girl,” Rhiannon smirked.