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He expected the young woman to regard him with derision. Instead, she seemed more curious, her gaze discerning.
‘Killian and I are not brother and sister by blood,’ Carice said. ‘But I’ve always thought of him in that way. His mother sought sanctuary with my father, and we grew up together, though we had different parents.’ She ventured a smile, but he sensed that she was growing even more tired.
Taryn moved closer to them, and upon her face, there was sympathy. ‘Why does your father want you to marry the High King, if you find him to be cruel? Especially if you’ve been so unwell?’
‘Because Brian wants me to be High Queen,’ Carice admitted. ‘And because he does not believe how ill I am. He cannot accept weakness in anyone, and he keeps sending for healers who bleed me and give me potions I despise.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I suppose, in his own way, he wants a better life for me. You know what a father will do for his daughter, do you not?’
Killian caught the sudden flash of pain over the young woman’s face when she nodded. ‘I do, yes. And I know what a daughter would do for her father.’
A silent understanding passed between them. Then Carice added, ‘I know you are trying to help him. But you should not endanger yourself. There are other ways you might send men to Tara.’
Killian wasn’t so certain. If the Queen had refused to intervene on her husband’s behalf, then there were reasons for it. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to lose the opportunity to get Carice to safety—not when Taryn had offered to help.
‘I will speak with Brian and see what can be done,’ Killian offered. He placed the cat beside Carice and pulled the coverlet over her, brushing her hair aside. ‘Rest now.’ Harold curled up beside his sister, and she stroked his ears. Her eyes held sadness, as if she’d resigned herself to an unwelcome fate. But Killian wasn’t about to give up hope. There had to be a means of saving her—and he wouldn’t stop until he’d found a way.
* * *
Taryn followed Killian into the hall, but he did not return towards the stairs. Instead, he beckoned for her to follow him towards another chamber.
‘Aren’t we going to speak with your chieftain?’ She wasn’t certain quite where he was taking her.
Killian seized a torch from an iron sconce on the wall and opened another door. ‘Not yet.’ He stood before the entrance, waiting.
Though she knew he was expecting her obedience, she took a moment to study him closer. She could see the chain mail beneath his dark woollen clothing. His forearms were scarred, and his face held the dark bristle of unshaved cheeks. His grey eyes were the colour of the sky on a winter’s morning.
Taryn took a single step inside the chamber, then froze. The room was small, hardly large enough for a chair, and it had no window at all. ‘I’m not going in there.’ She didn’t know this man at all and certainly didn’t trust him.
He placed the torch upon one wall, and it illuminated the space, casting shadows on the wall. ‘We need to talk about Carice. Close the door and stand beside it if it makes you feel safer.’
While she thought about it, the grey cat wandered into the room, weaving against her legs before it went back to Killian. He picked it up, and the animal began purring.
She took another hesitant step inside the chamber and closed the door. Killian remained on the far side of the room, the torchlight flickering across his face. ‘You don’t like animals, do you?’
It surprised her that he’d noticed. ‘Oh, I don’t mind animals. It’s just that they don’t seem to like me.’
Killian set down the cat. ‘You’re afraid of them.’
‘Sometimes.’ She saw no reason to be dishonest, but when the cat approached, she couldn’t help but retreat.
‘Don’t show your fear,’ he advised. ‘They sense it.’
She knew that, but she’d never been able to suppress the way she felt. Not only because of her brother Christopher’s death, but also from her own scars. She didn’t remember how she had been attacked, but she had nightmares about wild teeth tearing into her flesh. Every time she was near animals, the hairs on her arms stood on end, and fear enveloped her. The reaction was instinctive, though she knew most animals meant her no harm.
‘What should we do about your sister?’ she asked, needing to change the subject.
Killian paused a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking, and there may be a way to solve both of our problems.’
He was watching her, and Taryn pulled her hair forward again, not wanting this man’s discerning gaze upon her face. ‘What do you want me to do?’
He crossed his arms. ‘Accompany Carice to Tara, and do not leave her side. Not at all.’
Curious, she leaned against the wall, wondering what sort of deception he intended.
‘We won’t be explaining ourselves to anyone,’ he continued. ‘When anyone addresses Carice, you will be beside her. If all goes well, the High King’s men won’t know which one of you is the bride. Let them believe what they want.’
The idea was a bold one, but it would indeed create an illusion. ‘And what will we do about her illness?’
‘Hide it as best we can.’ He spoke of her standing at his sister’s side, granting her physical support so she could walk to the litter. ‘Brian will want that as well.’
‘And what will we do about him?’ The chieftain would undoubtedly give away Carice’s identity if he accompanied them.
‘If he escorts Carice, I will ensure that he does not stop her from leaving,’ Killian answered.
The ice in his voice frightened her, for she knew not what he intended to do. Whatever it was, Killian was not a man she would ever want as her enemy.
And yet, she could not fault him for wanting to protect the woman he called sister. Would he hold the same loyalty towards his own woman, if he were married? Perhaps. And yet, she believed he was a man who walked his path alone. He wore an air of isolation, as if he wanted to remain apart from others.
‘What will happen to Carice?’ she asked him. ‘How will she escape?’
‘Within a day or two, one of the MacEgan men will “kidnap” her,’ he answered. ‘Carice will disappear, and you will take her place for a few hours that night, before anyone notices she’s gone.’
‘And if I do this, will you help me to free my father?’ she ventured.
He studied her for a moment but shook his head. ‘I will take you the rest of the way to Tara, but that is all.’
It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but it was a start. ‘What of the other men? Is there someone else who might help me?’
His silence was not reassuring. There was so little time left, and she had to find someone quickly. It would take days yet to reach Tara, and if she did not find someone here, she would have to seek help from mercenaries. Such warriors would sooner steal her gold than do her bidding.
‘Brian’s men will not stand against Rory,’ he said at last. ‘And even if you did find someone to free King Devlin, your father could never return to his kingdom. Not if the High King wants him dead.’
Her spirit dissolved in fear, for that was true. She might save Devlin’s life—but she could not save his reign. The only way to truly bring him back was to mend the breach between the two kings. Someone had to intercede on her father’s behalf...someone with the ear of the High King.
Like his son.
Killian MacDubh might be a bastard, but surely the Ard-Righ would listen to him.
Yet Killian wanted no part of his father. He was trying to keep Lady Carice from wedding the man. It was unlikely that he would even consider her request.
‘I could pay you in silver or pearls,’ she said. ‘If you found men willing to help me.’ She eyed him, adding, ‘Certainly, the task would be too difficult for only one man.’
His expression tightened at her challenge, as if he wanted to rise to the bait.
Just how proud are you, Killian? she wondered. Was he willing to help her, in return for the riches he lacked?
‘Too difficult, is it?’ he countered. In one swift motion, he extinguished the torch. Darkness enveloped the room, and Taryn huddled against the door. Only the faintest embers glowed against the wood, and she could hear nothing at all.
Silence permeated the space, and a moment later, his hands were upon her shoulders, his breath against her ear. ‘When I want to be unseen, this I can do, a chara. Like a shadow.’
Shivers erupted over her skin, and she tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Never before had any man come so close to her, and she could feel the hard planes of his body behind her.
‘It will be dangerous at Tara.’
She told herself to step forward, out of his hold. And yet, her feet stubbornly refused to move. A reckless side to her imagined what it would be like if he pressed her back against the wall and claimed a kiss.
He turned her in the darkness, keeping her hand in his. Against her palm, she felt the calloused skin of a swordsman. ‘It is, aye.’
‘And you’ve said that you will not help me,’ she reminded him. ‘Unless there is something else you want that I can grant.’
The moment she spoke the words, she regretted them. It sounded as if she were offering herself as the prize.
His hand moved through her hair, his thumb skimming the ridged scars upon her cheek. The touch only reminded her that she was a woman no man would ever want. He didn’t have to speak a single word for her to know the answer.
Abruptly he opened the door, and light speared her eyes from the hall. ‘Stay with my sister for the rest of the night. I will tell Brian that you are here.’
He made no promises, and she could not imagine what he was thinking right now. A strange ache caught within her, knowing that she was utterly alone in wanting to save her father.
Taryn closed her eyes against the light in the hall, pushing back the hurt feelings before she emerged. She knew she should do as Killian had ordered, returning to share the chamber with his sister. And yet, she did not want to be brushed aside so soon.
She tiptoed down the stairs, hiding herself against the curve of the wall so that she had a view of the Great Chamber. From here, no one would see her. The chieftain was seated at a long table, upon a dais, surrounded by other men. The High King’s soldiers were dining at the lower tables, tossing bones to the dogs, and drinking ale.
Killian walked towards the chieftain, striding past the men as if he ruled over all of them. But Brian Faoilin looked displeased to see him. The chieftain motioned for one of his guards to come forward, and he spoke quietly to the man.
Killian stared at Brian, waiting for his chance to speak. But instead of agreeing to an audience, the soldier approached and ordered him to leave. It was clear that the chieftain had no intention of acknowledging a fuidir.
Taryn was startled to realise it. Why? What harm was there in speaking to the chieftain? Though it was true that Killian lacked full membership in the tribe, due to his low status, surely Brian would allow him a voice.
Killian didn’t move at all, but folded his arms and held his ground in his own defiance. Fury darkened the chieftain’s face, and he stood. The first soldier seized Killian, shoving him against one of the benches. But instead of losing his balance, Killian moved with swift reflexes and flipped the man over, tossing him across the table. Food and drink went flying on to the floor, and a moment later, he stood before the chieftain, a faint smile upon his face.
You cannot force me to go, he seemed to be saying.
The violent hatred in the chieftain’s eyes stunned her. He looked as if he wanted Killian to be beaten bloody and left to die. Within seconds, other soldiers joined in on the fighting, trying to force him out. Even the High King’s men stood from their benches, surrounding Killian. All, save two men, whose expressions held anger and displeasure at the disturbance.
Instead of surrendering, Killian remained in place. A moment later, he was no longer standing there. Never in her life had she seen any man move so fast. A fist swung towards his jaw, but he dodged the blow and it collided with another man’s face.
He was indeed like a shadow, here for a fleeting second, and gone the next.
The drunken men continued to fight, but Killian somehow managed to move away from them. When anyone tried to hit him, he spun and shoved them off balance. It soon became clear that he was defending himself, not provoking more fighting. But when one soldier’s fist connected with Killian’s jaw, it turned violent. Killian struck back, beating the man bloody, until his opponent backed off. It was an unmistakable silent message sent to the others. At last, he threw a dark glower at Brian and strode towards the back of the hall, as if he didn’t want to waste words on the chieftain.
Taryn hurried from her hiding place and followed him outside. The rain had stopped, but the air was moist and smelled of damp earth. Within the inner bailey, she glimpsed her guard, Pól, and she sent him a nod, thankful that he’d made it safely inside. She raised her hand in recognition, intending to speak with him later.
Killian continued towards the stables, and she hurried to keep up with him. Her footing slipped a time or two, but eventually she reached the outer door.
For a moment, Taryn rested her hand upon the outbuilding, taking the time to push back the unreasonable fears. The horses would be enclosed within the stalls, she told herself. If she kept her distance, no harm would come to her. Though it was foolish to be afraid of horses, a darker memory lingered on the edges of awareness.
It was your fault that Christopher died, came the voice of her conscience. She closed her eyes, wanting so badly to push back the grief. But against her will, she saw her brother’s lifeless body in her vision, her heart still hurting for the loss.
She’d been a young girl, only four years old. Christopher was twelve and was home from his fostering, visiting for Yuletide. She’d idolised him and had followed him around everywhere, wanting so badly to be near him. Her brother had an easy smile and he’d never seemed to mind her attention. Sometimes he would swing her up on his shoulders, letting her feel as tall as a grown woman.
Sweet Jesu, she had loved him.
But one morning, she had run through the courtyard, eager to bid him farewell before he went off hunting with their father. She hadn’t paid any heed to where she was going, and Christopher’s horse had reared up without warning, throwing him off. Her brother’s head had struck a stone, and he had never awakened again.
The bitter guilt had remained with her all these years, for it had been her fault.
Taryn took a tentative step inside the stable and was relieved to see that all of the animals remained still and quiet with only an occasional nicker. Killian stood on the far end, resting both palms against a stall. Tension lined his shoulders, and she suddenly questioned her decision to follow him.
‘You were supposed to stay with Carice,’ he told her.
In his voice, she sensed the caged frustration. But even so, she wanted to understand what had happened in the Great Chamber. ‘Why did the chieftain refuse to let you speak?’
He didn’t turn around, and his knuckles tightened against the wood. ‘Brian wishes that I had never been born. He’s hated me since I took my first breath.’
‘Why? What threat could you possibly pose to him?’
He faced her, and in his grey eyes, she saw a man of ice. There was no pain, no emotion at all. Only a frozen mask of indifference.
‘I’m a bastard, Lady Taryn. I was not born a member of the tribe, and I’m not worth even the dirt beneath his feet. Why would he speak to me?’ Killian studied her with a mocking smile. ‘Brian wants naught to do with me. He wanted me hidden from everyone, like a secret meant to be forgotten.’ He spread out his hands, gesturing towards the stable. ‘Look around you, Lady Taryn. This is my home. I sleep here, among the horses and dogs.’
She didn’t like that at all. A man’s worth had nothing to do with his birthright.
‘You are not to blame for your mother’s choices.’
‘A choice?’ He looked incredulous at her words. ‘My mother had no choice at all. She was with child when she fled the High King. Brian took her in, but we were both treated as fuidir.’ He shrugged as if it meant nothing. Still, it bothered Taryn to see a man so mistreated, merely from circumstances of birth.
‘Why did she leave the High King?’
He sent her a disbelieving glance. ‘It’s more likely that she never wanted to be with a man like him. She wouldn’t speak of Rory, though everyone knows I am his son.’
‘Does he know about you? That is, did you ever go to see him?’ Though it was quite a distance to Tara, she couldn’t imagine that he’d remained here.
‘No. Brian told him about me, but Rory cared nothing about my existence. I had no desire to meet him, based on my mother’s experience.’
She suspected there was more that he hadn’t revealed. In his eyes, she saw the hard resentment of a man who hated his life. Most of the fuidir she’d encountered were not as proud as this man. But Killian seemed unwilling to accept a fate such as this, and she could not blame him.
‘If this is not the life you want, you could leave,’ she suggested.
He said nothing, and she realised that she did have something to offer this man. A home where he would not be treated as a slave. ‘If you free my father, you could come and live among our people at Ossoria. You would have a place with us.’
The doubt upon his face made it clear that he did not believe her. ‘I intend to see my sister to safety. That is the only reason I am escorting you to Tara—to help her escape. After that, I will go my own way.’
She wasn’t ready to give up so soon. Not when there was a chance he could save her father’s life.
Yet, there was so much bitterness locked away in Killian, it was festering deep inside. Despite the High King’s reputation, there was a blood bond between them, of father and son. There might be a way for him to gain Rory’s favour.
‘And after Carice is safe? What then?’ she pressed. ‘Will you return here and live among men who treat you like the dirt they walk upon?’
Rage flashed in his eyes and she knew she had struck upon his weakness—pride. This was a man who had the demeanour of a king, though he was trapped in the life of a slave.
