The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen (Legacy Book 1)

by Hannah E Carey

  Though her dream of becoming a warrior had been lost, she hadn’t gained nothing from her months of training. Her fitness had vastly improved and she had learned to accommodate and work around her breathing difficulties. She wasn’t cured, but she was far better off than she had been under her mother’s overprotective influence. Unfortunately, since arriving at Ciall, she’d found herself busy with wedding plans and thus was unable to spend quite as much time outside as she’d hoped. Today, however, would not be one of those days.

  Her thoughts were on her impending ride as she descended the stairs down to the castle’s first level. When she stepped into the high-ceilinged entryway, her gaze lingered on the large, ornately carved doors that led into the Great Hall and she couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Bleddyn was inside. Their relationship had come about quickly, but he had made his devotion to her clear, showering her with all manner of extravagant gifts and insisting that nothing was too much for the woman he would soon call his wife. She strolled up to the front doors of the castle, the two warriors standing guard giving her a cursory glance but otherwise paying her no heed. She went to open one of the front doors, only to hear the loud creak of the hall doors opening behind her.

  “Ciara!”

  Bleddyn’s call stopped her and she turned to see him striding toward her, his hand-picked advisory council scattering about the entryway behind him. His brow was furrowed, leaving her to suspect that the meeting had not gone as he had wanted, and she could see the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well for weeks, the few troublesome village elders along with the stress over Niall’s impending arrival wearing on him. But even still, he was handsome. He favored his father with his tall build, blond hair, and striking blue eyes, and as always, he was impeccably dressed in his well-fitting crisp white shirt, black pants, gleaming black boots, and dark green waistcoat. His silver feather pendant, the ancestral heirloom that marked him as the Ri of Seabhac, hung from his neck and its dark green gemstone glimmered in the afternoon light.

  “Where are you going dressed like that?” he asked, frowning at her.

  She glanced down at the plain cream-colored shirt and dark grey pants she’d donned. Though she knew he preferred her to wear the expensive Kelnorian gowns he’d purchased for her, the dresses were hardly practical for riding.

  “Out for a ride,” she answered. “I’ll only be gone—”

  “Ciara,” he said, with a slight shake of his head, “I paid a lot of coin for those riding habits that I bought you. There’s no reason for you to be going out dressed like a commoner. Not when you have clothes that show the world that you’re far more beautiful than that.”

  She tensed, biting the inside of her cheek before she spoke again, attempting to soften her tone. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gowns. They’re just not practical for trekking through the mountains.”

  “You know how I worry about you galivanting around the mountains. You could get hurt out there all on your own. If anything were to happen to you—”

  The call of one of his advisors, a dark-haired, middle-aged man named Gwilym cut him off. Though Ciara had never cared for the man, in spite of him being one of Bleddyn’s closest allies, for once she wasn’t at all displeased by his interruption. Bleddyn muttered under his breath before looking over his shoulder and informing Gwilym that he would be there shortly.

  When he turned back to her, he let out a sigh. “I’m needed elsewhere. I know how much you enjoy your rides, but wait for me to be able to go with you. It’s safer that way.”

  Her chest tightened as she watched him walk off, he and Gwilym wandering off down one of the castle’s hallways in deep discussion. She knew he worried about such things, but she wasn’t incapable. She’d regularly ridden in the Balla mountains, peaks far more treacherous than any in Seabhac, when she was a girl. He’s stressed. Things will settle down once this visit with Niall is over, she told herself. Spirits know I’m not exactly looking forward to seeing him again either. Bleddyn had spent weeks trying to arrange a trade deal with his younger brother, finally demanding to meet in person to sort out their disagreements and hopefully make Niall see sense. From everything she had heard, Niall had changed since his mother passed and he became Ri. While part of her dreaded seeing the living proof that the man she remembered was no longer, she wouldn’t abandon Bleddyn to deal with his brother alone.

  Shaking off her disconcerting thoughts, she ignored the stern looks of the warriors and pushed her way through the front doors. It wasn’t as if Bleddyn could forbid her from going on a ride or dictate her dress; this was Pern Coen, after all. She had just as many rights as he did. Once outside, she smiled, surveying the scene before her. The castle was built into one of the tall peaks of the Seanathair mountain range, overlooking the nearby village of Bach. The rock- and tree-laden land below her was bathed in hints of gold, red, and orange as autumn began to make its presence known on the island. From her high vantage point, she could see the river Fadh winding its way through the mountains, a thin strip of blue among the trees. She was eager for a few peaceful hours of riding along its banks.

  Making her way down the steps, she followed the dirt path that led to the stable. When her gaze fell on one of the small herds of mountain ponies grazing in one of the lush pastures, she pushed her lingering thoughts of Bleddyn aside. Time with the horses always lifted her spirits. She refused to let his overprotectiveness ruin a perfectly beautiful day. A few warriors guarded the stable building, but they didn’t so much as glance her way when she stepped through the stable doors.

  It was cooler inside, out of the sun, and she rubbed her arms as she walked to the tack room, halfway wishing she had thought to bring her cloak. Once in the tack room, she slung her mare’s bridle over her shoulder but when she went to pick up her saddle, she frowned. Her regular saddle was gone and in its place was the useless sidesaddle that Bleddyn had brought up from Kelnore. She poked her head out of the room and called for one of the grooms.

  “Rhosyn’s saddle is missing,” she told the man when he met her at the doorway.

  “Ri Bleddyn has said that is the style of riding that is befitting of the future Banrion of Seabhac,” the groom replied.

  She clenched her jaw but gave him a nod to dismiss him. In return, he bowed. It was an act that she personally found ridiculous, but she had quickly discovered that Bleddyn’s concerns over appearances were amplified in his own home. She looked back at the offending saddle with disgust. Bleddyn had paid handsomely to have it imported from the south, informing her that all the fine noblewomen in Kelnore rode in such a contraption. He had insisted that he wanted to treat her as finely as any noblewoman and that her future place as Banrion required a certain level of distinguishment, but she’d yet to be able to accustom herself to riding in such a manner. Refusing to be hampered by the saddle, she grabbed a grooming brush and hoof pick along with the bridle before heading back outside.

  When she stepped through the gate and ventured into one of the pastures, her gaze focused on her black mare, Rhosyn. The mare was a gift from Bleddyn, a descendent of the fine horses bred by the Ris of Ceffyl. Ciara had quickly fallen in love with the beautiful yet sensible mare. She walked over to Rhosyn and slipped the bridle over the mare’s head, rubbing the white star in the middle of her forehead.

  Luckily, Rhosyn was mostly clean, only requiring a quick use of the grooming brush and a brief cleaning of her hooves. Leading the mare out of the pasture, Ciara used the fence to vault onto her back. Without a backward glance, she urged the mare into a trot and the two of them took off into the forest. The farther she rode down the dirt path that led away from the castle, the freer she felt. It was easier to breathe among the trees, easier to forget the stresses of the upcoming wedding, her future as Seabhac’s Banrion, and Niall’s impending visit.

  The terrain began to flatten some as they descended the mountain, making Ciara comfortable with letting Rhosyn pick up her pace. When they reached the banks of the river, she
allowed Rhosyn to wander off the path. The soft murmur of the river rushing over the stones and the sunlight sparkling on the moving water was soothing. Rhosyn walked sedately along the riverbank and Ciara had just begun to let her thoughts wander when the mare tensed underneath her.

  She looked in the direction that Rhosyn’s ears were pricked, curious as to what had caught the mare’s attention. A lone grey horse stood a few yards away, drinking out of the river while its rider stood at the horse’s shoulder. When Ciara got a better look at the stranger, her breath caught and she pulled Rhosyn to an immediate halt. It was Niall.

  There was an ache in her chest as she stared at him, his light brown hair tousled by the wind blowing down from the mountains. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he was even more handsome than she remembered. He wasn’t his brother. Niall had never had Bleddyn’s imposing height or his striking good looks, but he was handsome all the same. Niall was shorter and leaner, taking more after their mother in both looks and demeanor. He wore the simple, well-made clothing he always had and his fur-lined dark blue cloak was thrown over his horse’s back.

  She shook her head, breaking the trancelike state she’d found herself in, but before she could come to her senses and turn Rhosyn around, he looked up and noticed her. Their gazes locked and she was caught, unable to move. There had always been something about his dark blue eyes that had drawn her to him, eyes that could sparkle with mischief just as easily as they could hold deep kindness. The longer he stared at her, however, the more she noticed the color seem to drain from his face.

  “Ciara?” he asked, his voice somewhat strangled when he spoke.

  Self-consciously, she tucked back a few strands of her hair that had come loose during her brisk ride down to the river, feeling uncomfortably aware of her unkempt appearance before clearing her throat. “Nia— Ri Niall. It’s… good to see you again.”

  He shook his head, swallowing hard. “What are you doing here? In Seabhac?”

  She raised a brow, not certain if he was lying or truly that clueless. Bleddyn had said that he had told Niall of their engagement and yet it seemed unlike Niall to be quite that forgetful. He’s changed, she reminded herself. He’s not who he was when we were children. Not anymore.

  “I live here now,” she answered.

  “Oh… I hadn’t heard.”

  His reply left her even more confused and she glanced around, puzzled as to why he was even out in the wilderness of Seabhac on his own. They weren’t on the main road and she could see no sign of anyone else with him.

  “Are you lost?” she asked.

  “No.” He dropped his chin, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’m afraid I just needed a bit of time to myself.”

  She bit her lip, hating the ache she was starting to feel in the back of her throat. It was difficult to see him again, difficult not to dwell on what might have been and how he had changed. She needed to get back to the castle. Bleddyn would be displeased if he knew she had gone out to ride on her own and she was hardly in the mood to deal with his disapproval, but she couldn’t seem to tear herself away from Niall. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, she came to her senses. She had started to back Rhosyn away from him when a woman’s shout broke the still air. Niall looked over his shoulder as a tall, blond woman on a light bay horse rode up to the river.

  “Ri Niall,” the woman called. “Are you ready to continue?”

  “A moment, please, Maura,” he replied.

  A sudden coldness hit Ciara at her core. Maura, she thought, swallowing hard. His lover.

  “I’m afraid I’m expected at the castle,” Niall said, turning back to Ciara.

  “I must be going as well,” she replied, barely managing to give him the respectful nod fitting of his title as Ri before she wheeled Rhosyn around.

  She urged her mare into a brisk trot, guiding her back to the path. Niall called her name, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t even trust herself to look back at him one last time, lest she do something foolish like ride back to him. There had been no confessions of love between them. He had never truly been hers. And he’s obviously moved on, just like I have.

  But the knowledge brought little comfort and she still found herself blinking back tears as Rhosyn carried her back to the castle. He’s not the same, she told herself, rubbing her eyes and urging Rhosyn into a quicker pace. Bleddyn has said he’s changed, and those in Blaidd rarely even see him these days.

  The forest wasn’t as soothing on the ride back, even with its peaceful quiet and the colorful leaves falling from the trees. By the time she reached the stable, Ciara’s stomach was in knots. She leapt from Rhosyn’s back and led the mare back to the pasture. She brushed out the horse’s sweaty, roughened coat the best she could before putting her things away and racing back up to the castle.

  Slipping in through a servant’s entrance, Ciara took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. When she finally reached the top, she ran around the corner, only to slam into someone. The man she had almost bowled over put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Her tension eased when she recognized the castle healer, Bleddyn’s cousin, Odran.

  “Where have you been?” Odran asked with a slight furrow in his brow. “Bleddyn has been looking all over for you. Niall is apparently arriving earlier than expected.”

  She grimaced. “Is he here yet?”

  “No, but you know how Bleddyn is. Especially lately.”

  She did know, all too well. She sighed before biting her lower lip. “I was out for a ride and I lost track of time.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, pressing his lips together before motioning her on. “I can buy you some time.”

  “Thank you. I owe you.” She gave his arm a squeeze.

  “I’ll do my best not to continually remind you of all the times I’ve gotten you out of trouble since you got here,” he said, giving her a wink.

  She flashed him a smile before dashing off down the hallway. Though at thirty, Odran was closer to Bleddyn’s age than her own, he was one of the few friends she had made inside Ciall’s walls. Her heart raced as she continued on her way to the chambers that she shared with Bleddyn. Upon reaching them, she took a deep breath before pushing the door open. When she saw that the only person inside was her handmaiden, a young woman from Bach named Delma, she let out a sigh of relief.

  “Mistress Ciara,” Delma said, rushing over to her and wringing her hands. “Ri Bleddyn has been looking for you. He says the visitors from Blaidd will be here soon.”

  Ciara placed her hand on Delma’s arm, attempting to soothe the other woman. “My absence is my fault. I’ll make sure Bleddyn knows that.”

  Delma nodded, giving her a grateful smile before hurrying over to the wardrobe. Ciara still hadn’t gotten accustomed to having someone like Delma waiting on her hand and foot, but the woman was helpful and kind, and Bleddyn insisted upon it. Delma pulled out a gown that Ciara couldn’t recall seeing before. The pink taffeta shimmered in the sunlight and the bodice was heavily beaded. Bleddyn must have had it brought up with his latest shipment from Kelnore, she thought as Delma laid the gown across the satin sheets of the bed.

  Ciara couldn’t help but admire the silver beadwork and the stitchwork on the sheer sleeves. When her mother hadn’t been wasting coin or chasing men, she’d worked as a seamstress. Ciara had spent many hours helping her mother with her sewing and Aideen had taught her how to recognize quality.

  The dress boasted fine craftsmanship, as fine as any of the other gowns that had been imported for her, including her wedding gown. Before becoming betrothed, she had known Bleddyn was close with his family in the southern Empire on the other side of the channel and that he had often preferred finer things, but she hadn’t realized just how much until she had come to live with him.

  “Delma,” she said, running a hand across the smooth material of the dress. “This is lovely, but it’s rather cold out today. Perhaps one of my other gowns would do.”

 
Delma’s shoulders tensed and she licked her lips. “I’m afraid Ri Bleddyn was quite insistent about this dress.”

  “But surely he can’t expect me to freeze to death standing outside. I’ll wear it for him some other time.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Delma said, bowing her head and picking up the dress.

  “You don’t have to worry about Ri Bleddyn,” Ciara told her, uncomfortable with the hint of fear she saw in the other woman’s eyes. “I’ll make certain that he knows the choice was mine.”

  “Of course, Mistress.”

  Delma put the gown away and, at Ciara’s instructions, pulled out a dark purple gown she had brought with her from Arth. It was more in the older style of the island, but the long sleeves and thicker material would keep her warm. Ciara discarded her own clothes out of habit, but let Delma help her with the dress. Taking a seat in front of the mirror, she held still while the other woman attempted to do something with her hair, which had gotten tangled on her ride. The wardrobe was still cracked open and as Delma worked a comb through her knotted tresses, Ciara’s gaze fell on the beautiful new dress. I’ll wear it another day, she thought. When I don’t have to stand outside and greet visitors from Blaidd. Bleddyn couldn’t begrudge her comfort.

  Chapter 4

  Troubled Kin

  The only thing Niall could think about as he and his warriors rode up to the portcullis of Castle Ciall was Ciara. He’d been uneasy ever since they had left Blaidd, but his fear had vanished the moment he had laid eyes on her. She was more beautiful than he even recalled from his visions. He could still picture her as she’d been down by the river, her braid messy and her cheeks ever so slightly flushed from her ride as she sat confidently on top of her black mare. To know that she is in Seabhac…

  He shook his head. He simply had to see her again and he silently vowed that he would make it so. Even if it was only for the goodbye that they had never gotten to share. He hated that the last memory she had of him was nothing more than a stolen kiss.