The creak of the opening portcullis jarred him back to the present and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by Ciara now, not with Bleddyn awaiting him. His brother would be looking for any weakness to exploit and he couldn’t afford to show anything that would allow for it. His warrior chief, Maura, shot him a questioning look when they reached the portcullis, but he motioned for them to continue on.
The churning in his stomach returned as his grey stallion, Gealach, carried him through the gate. He glanced down at Rhew, trotting along next to his horse, the wolf oblivious to the tension in the air. It had probably been a foolish choice to bring her, but she had been his constant companion for the last six months and her presence soothed him. He would need her if he was to spend the next five days inside Castle Ciall, feigning some manner of civility while trying to hide what he was. He had no control over when his visions struck, and a man whose eyes glazed over and stopped breathing was difficult to explain. Rhew would help ease his ever-present anxiety.
Niall let out a deep breath as the horses walked into the castle courtyard, their hooves clattering on the rough stone. Maura stayed at his side, her face a mask of practiced calm, while his advisor, Aled, and his six warriors trailed behind them. The nearer they drew to the castle’s front steps, the more Niall could feel his chest tighten. Winter will be here soon, he reminded himself, pulling Gealach to a halt. His people needed the deal at hand. He didn’t need to give them yet another reason to view him as a failure.
When he swung from Gealach’s back, a warrior from Seabhac stepped forward to take the stallion’s reins. Bleddyn had, of course, demanded that the meeting be in person. Niall was unsure what had provoked his brother’s stubborn resolve on that matter, but his wariness clung to him even inside the keep. Bleddyn hadn’t bothered to hide his anger over their father not naming him as Ri of Blaidd and Niall couldn’t quite shake the memories of the recurring vision that had been haunting him for weeks.
Warriors from Seabhac, all male and without a single woman in sight, took the rest of his party’s mounts. Niall straightened his cloak and readjusted the silver brooch at his throat, its wolf head engraving matching the one on his clan ring. Satisfied that he didn’t look completely disheveled from the road, he turned his attention to the top of the steps where Bleddyn awaited along with his betrothed and a handful of warriors.
As Niall focused on the woman at Bleddyn’s side, he found it difficult to breathe. It can’t be… He’d heard of his brother’s quick engagement and impending wedding, but Bleddyn hadn’t shared the name of his betrothed and Niall had never bothered to find out. Now, however, there was no mistaking Ciara. No wonder she seemed put out down by the river. She was Bleddyn’s betrothed.
“Ri Niall?” Maura asked, her lips pursed as she glanced over at him.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to walk up to the bottom of the steps. He would have to get this over with sooner or later. Maura stayed at his side, along with Rhew and Aled. His warriors followed just behind them as they climbed the granite steps. Niall’s chest hitched when they reached the top of the landing, and he found it impossible to tear his gaze away from Ciara.
Compared to his brother’s tall frame, she looked even more petite than usual. Her shirt and pants were gone, replaced by a purple gown that contrasted well with her brown eyes. The dress was hauntingly familiar to the one she always wore in his visions. Her rich brown hair, so dark it could almost be mistaken for black, was halfway pulled up into an intricate braid while the rest fell down her back. And yet as beautiful as she was, something was missing. The spark was gone from her eyes. She blinked rapidly at the sight of him, averting her gaze.
“Niall,” Bleddyn said, giving him a curt nod before gesturing to Ciara. “I’m sure you remember Ciara, my betrothed.”
“Of course,” Niall replied, swallowing hard. If only Bleddyn knew just how clearly he remembered her and their passionate kiss. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Even though I’ve seen you almost a hundred times over the past few months, he thought, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and Niall recognized the gravity of his mistake as Bleddyn pinned him with a dark look. Drawing Ciara closer to him, Bleddyn fixed Niall with a scowl.
“Ri Niall,” Ciara replied, respectfully inclining her head. “It’s good to see you again as well.”
Bleddyn gestured for his warriors to open the castle doors. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey.”
Niall followed them in, Maura and Aled staying on either side of him while Rhew trotted along at his heels. Maura shot him a sidelong glance when they stepped into the entryway. At twenty-four, Maura was his age and had been a part of the war band since she was seventeen. Though they had never been close, he had known her for years and counted her as an ally.
When Conor’s warrior chief had stepped down shortly after Niall became Ri, Maura had been the logical choice for the man’s replacement—to him, at least. Many in Blaidd saw her as too young for the task, but she had proven herself countless times since taking the role. Outside of Aled, Maura had become his closest ally inside of Castle Clogwyn. At least, as close as he would allow. His interactions with her were still limited, but she and Aled had proven invaluable in helping him oversee the clan and had kept him from being completely devoid of human contact.
“That is Blodwen’s niece, is it not?” Maura asked under her breath, making a subtle nod toward Ciara.
He nodded, trying to hide his grimace and ignore the ache that had settled in his chest. “It is.”
The doors swung shut behind them and Bleddyn came to a stop in the middle of the entryway.
“I trust your trip was uneventful?” Bleddyn asked, dismissing most of his warriors while Ciara remained at his side.
“There was some snow in the high mountains,” Niall answered. “Doesn’t bode well for winter.”
Bleddyn grunted and Niall resisted the urge to let out a low snort at the ridiculousness of their conversation. Talking about the weather as if we’ve somehow gotten along like the best of friends since Mother passed.
“I assumed after your travels that you would want to rest,” Bleddyn said. “We can begin our discussions tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
“Then I will see you at dinner.” Bleddyn paused, giving a faint smirk. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to dine in your room?”
Niall stiffened, making himself hold his brother’s gaze. You would like that, wouldn’t you? he thought. Me hiding away like I do at Clogwyn. It would undoubtedly be the wiser choice, but tonight he would risk it, if for nothing else than to see Ciara again.
“I think we can muster up the energy for dinner,” he replied.
Bleddyn’s mouth downturned and he motioned curtly to his warriors before flashing Niall a cold smile. “Very well. Do make sure to keep your… mongrel under control during your stay. My people are not used to such oddities.”
“You’ll have no trouble from Rhew,” Niall said, stepping a bit closer to his wolf.
His brother’s words reeked of arrogance, as if somehow the two of them hadn’t grown up in the same home. Their whole lives, their parents had kept a small pack who served as companions and hunting partners, continuing the tradition of their ancestors. When they were younger, his brother had largely ignored the wolves, but as they had gotten older, Bleddyn’s disdain for the pack had grown.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Bleddyn said with a stiff nod, his jaw tight.
“I look forward to it.” Niall plastered a smile onto his face. “And to our discussion tomorrow.”
That was a lie if there ever was one, he thought, watching Bleddyn’s smile once more turn into a scowl. His brother at least seemed to have enough sense not to use his fists in the middle of the entryway. Arrogant though he might be, Bleddyn had always been a good fighter and his sheer height made him a formidable oppone
nt, something Niall knew all too well from their childhood.
Bleddyn called for warriors to see them to their rooms and Niall turned his attention to Ciara to bid her farewell. He couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes when he did so: It was a look that said she would rather be anywhere else. The woman before him was a shadow of the one he’d seen along the river.
He tore his gaze away from her, following the warriors to the stairs. They climbed the steps, Rhew staying close at his side. Niall reached down to pet her head, trying to let the wolf’s quiet presence soothe the fractious energy vibrating inside him. It was going to be a difficult five days.
“You’re certain that you do not wish to dine in private?” Maura asked when they reached the top of the steps.
“Yes,” he replied, the warriors from Seabhac guiding them down a long hallway. “I’ll dine with the others tonight.”
She nodded, falling silent as they continued on. Maura knew his habits better than most. It was a rarity that he ate in the Great Hall of Clogwyn with the rest of the castle’s inhabitants, but she didn’t question him further. Dinner would be risky, but he had no intention of giving Bleddyn the satisfaction of his absence. Not tonight, at least.
Chapter 5
Mind Speaker
Ciara was no stranger to awkward family meals. Most of her life had involved stilted conversation and awkward silence at mealtimes while her father tried to ignore her mother’s latest transgressions, but Niall’s welcome dinner in the Great Hall of Ciall had been a miserable affair. Bleddyn had been agitated and Niall had been more closed off and distant than Ciara had ever experienced.
She had been relieved when dinner had finally come to an end. The tension in the room had been thick and Niall’s mere presence, even with his standoffish behavior, had brought back memories of him that she had thought herself long rid of. In particular, memories of a kiss that she had no business dwelling on when she was to marry his brother in a mere three weeks.
Bleddyn’s shoulders were tense as they climbed the stairs and even in the dim lantern light, Ciara could make out his furrowed brow and pinched mouth. She wanted to attribute his surliness solely to Niall, but she couldn’t shed the niggling doubts that something had changed in him since she’d arrived in Seabhac. They walked to their chambers in silence, Bleddyn seeming deep in thought.
Once inside their bedroom, Bleddyn slumped down onto the large four-poster bed while Ciara walked over to her vanity, choosing to undress herself instead of calling for Delma. As she removed her jewelry, she watched him scrub a hand over his face before he let out a heavy sigh. Setting her necklace and bracelets on the vanity, she walked over and sat down next to him. He briefly closed his eyes, letting out a long, low breath as she began to rub his tense shoulders.
“What is it?” she asked.
“He makes everything so difficult,” he answered, his muscles tightening once more.
“Niall?”
He gave a curt nod, his lips pressed together into a grimace.
“He won’t be here forever,” she said, continuing to knead his back. “You’ll strike the trade agreement and then he’ll be gone.”
He was silent for a long moment, his grimace remaining.
“Father always thought he was the better son.” He snorted under his breath, his tone laced with bitterness. “No matter what I did, he found fault in it. Only Mother believed I would ever amount to anything.”
“Some parents are harsher than others,” she replied, her chest tightening as she thought of her own mother and the countless unkind words that had been directed at her over the years.
He angled himself toward her and her hands fell away from his back.
“You know that everything I do is for us, don’t you?” he asked, cupping the side of her face. “For our future. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.”
There was a quiver in her stomach at his cryptic words, but she pushed it aside. “I’m going to marry you, aren’t I?”
He brought his lips to hers, but when he kissed her, she found that she couldn’t focus on his touch. Instead, all she could think of was Niall. What sort of fool was she? Unaffected by the handsome man in front of her, the man who actually wanted her. It was pathetic and yet Niall was all that came to mind as Bleddyn held her close.
When he eased away from her, he stroked the side of her face, pressing one more kiss to her cheek. “I have to speak with Gwilym before I turn in for the night.”
She frowned as he got to his feet. “This late?”
“I don’t envision that Niall is going to make any of this easy and we need to be prepared to start negotiations in the morning.”
The tenderness in his expression had vanished and irritation had crept back into his voice.
“Of course,” she mumbled, too tired from the emotional day to argue further tonight. She’d already spent a half hour before dinner trying to convince him that the gown she’d chosen was a more practical choice than the otherwise lovely Kelnorian dress he’d wanted her to wear.
“I’m doing this for us,” he said, bending down and kissing the top of her head. “Don’t forget that.”
She watched him go, biting the inside of her cheek as she struggled to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Niall will leave and things will go back to normal, she told herself, getting up to undress and ready herself for bed. He would return home to Blaidd and she would do everything in her power to forget him and focus on her future with Bleddyn. There was no use in holding on to childish dreams.
∞∞∞
Dinner had put Bleddyn in a sour mood. Ciara had spent half the evening stealing glances at Niall, and Bleddyn had lost count of the number of goblets of wine he’d downed to make it through the insufferable affair. At least Ciara didn’t press me about me needing to speak with Gwilym, he thought as he walked the castle’s dark, empty hallways.
Perhaps it was a sign that she was beginning to accept the role that he had planned for her as Banrion of Seabhac, one that didn’t involve her questioning everything he did, disobeying him at every turn, and continually trying to insert herself into the clan’s affairs. She was proving to have inherited more of the brash and wild spirit that her father’s side of the family was known for than he had anticipated.
By the time he slipped out of the castle, the wine had begun to lose its hold on him. His warriors said nothing when he stepped out onto the path that led to the stable. He had trained them better than that. Obedience, discipline, and unquestioning loyalty: Those were the characteristics he prized in those around him. He had rid himself of most of the men and women who had served first under his grandfather and then under his aunt, keeping only those who had met his strict standards, along with those who could be easily bribed. People would do much for coin and his increasing wealth through the weapons trade gave him ample money to purchase the loyalty of others.
Many disagreed with the changes he had made, especially his decree to only allow men into the war band, but they were blind to the might of the rest of the realm—in particular, the might of Kelnore. His cousins hadn’t maintained control over such vast territory by allowing in weakness. It was through strength that he had brought prosperity and it was through strength that he would maintain control. And control is the one thing that has kept me from ruin, he reminded himself as he approached the stable.
Gwilym waited for him outside the building, holding two readied horses. The darkness hid the other man’s features, but when Bleddyn drew closer, the torches outside the stable doors allowed him a better glimpse of his advisor. Gwilym’s posture was stiff and he drummed his fingers against the side of his leg. At times, the man’s skittishness irked Bleddyn, but Gwilym was loyal to a fault.
“Everything is ready?” Bleddyn asked.
Gwilym jumped, turning to face him before delivering a quick bow. “Yes, Ri Bleddyn.”
Taking his horse’s reins, Bleddyn threw them over the bay stallion’s head before mounti
ng. Gwilym swung into his saddle and they urged their horses forward. Skirting the edges of the keep, they guided their mounts to a smaller side gate. Bleddyn wasn’t foolish enough to leave through the main portcullis. Not when they were going to see her.
Bleddyn took the lead and they guided their horses into the wilderness that surrounded the castle. As his stallion, Mawr, navigated the rocky terrain, he could feel his palms beginning to sweat inside his gloves. His churning stomach, along with his clammy hands, almost made him want to turn back. The game he was playing would come with great risk if any of the pieces did not go as planned. Not to mention that there was always something unnerving about being in the presence of the woman he sought, but he clenched his teeth and forced his gaze to remain between Mawr’s black-tipped ears. I have to see this through, he thought. To prove to Father that he was wrong in doubting my abilities and my strength.
The horses made their way deeper into the tall mountain peaks and the caw of ravens soon broke the still night air. The birds soared in and out of the trees, causing the horses to snort as the creatures kept pace with them. The strange flock of birds should have startled Bleddyn as well, but they didn’t. Not this time. They were hers, guiding them to the crude hut that she called home. Soon, he could see a faint trail of smoke climbing over the trees and into the night sky. The birds flew off, abandoning them to return to their mistress.
“She’s expecting us, isn’t she?” Gwilym said, his voice trembling slightly.
“So it seems,” Bleddyn replied.
He wanted to scoff at the other man’s unease, but his own body was tense with anticipation and even a hint of fear. He had grown up with parents who believed in both the stories of the Spirits of the island and in their giftings, though he had often mocked such beliefs himself. For countless years, he had held the stories to be just that, stories, until he had stumbled upon Fiadh.
The villagers of Bach were the first to spread the rumors of her. Speaking of a woman with dark power who lived in the wilderness of the Seanathair mountains and twisted minds. After months of complaints and unrest, he had finally sent out ten warriors to kill her and rid himself of the nuisance. Eight of them had been killed, while the remaining two had been found by villagers weeks later, driven out of their minds.
The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen (Legacy Book 1) Page 4