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

by Hannah E Carey

  Quinn’s face fell and she pushed the remains of her steamed greens around her plate before mumbling an apology.

  “Ciara does seem to keep to herself,” Brynn said, tilting her head ever so slightly as she looked at Niall. His aunt’s pointed gaze was enough to make him shift in his seat. He had never hidden his feelings for Ciara from his family when he was growing up, especially when he had grown older.

  “I haven’t seen much of her,” Brynn continued, “though Odran has speculated that that might be more of Bleddyn’s doing. He speaks highly of her. I think in some ways, he feels sorry for her. So far away from home with no one inside the castle to really make her feel welcome.”

  Niall took a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide his scowl. Ciara had never cared for being the center of attention, but she had always been kind and had her own small circle of friends. He didn’t care for the thought of Bleddyn isolating her.

  “Tell me, how are the wolves?” Brynn asked, settling back in her chair.

  Some of the tension in Niall’s shoulders eased at the mention of the small pack that called Castle Clogwyn home, and he relaxed in his seat, happy to fill his aunt in on their antics. Though the continuing conversation proved to be somewhat of a distraction, Niall still found his thoughts drifting back to Ciara. The images of her at Bleddyn’s side blurred with the images of her in his visions, but the last thing he needed to do was provoke Bleddyn’s ire while he was in Seabhac on matters of diplomacy. Whatever the Spirits meant by showing him Ciara, it did nothing to change the fact that she had chosen Bleddyn, not him.

  Chapter 7

  A Ri of Old

  A light breeze blew through the gardens as Ciara stared at the blank page of parchment in front of her. With a sigh, she dipped her quill into the inkwell resting beside her on the stone wall and began to write. She only managed a few words before she set the quill down in frustration. Her shoulders slumped and she shoved the parchment aside.

  It was the third time that day that she had tried to write Sorcha, but the words wouldn’t come. She longed to confide in both Sorcha and Eira, to tell her friends of her misgivings that seemed to grow by the day. The future that had once seemed so clear when Bleddyn had proposed now felt muddled, even more so with Niall’s arrival.

  She twisted her silver bracelet, wishing her feelings for Niall were as cold as the metal she touched. The jewelry itself even seemed to mock her. It had been a gift from Bleddyn, worn at his insistence over the well-worn leather bracelet from her father. She had tried her best to ignore Niall since he had arrived, but every time she looked at him, she was left wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t disappeared.

  She glanced at the parchment again, wishing her closest friends weren’t so far away. But if I write them, will they even answer? The question left her with an uncomfortable dullness in her chest. She’d written both Sorcha and Eira, along with her aunt, since she had left Arth, but none of them had ever written back. The breeze blew again, carrying a chill that echoed the one that she felt inside.

  Grabbing her cloak from where she had draped it over the wall, she threw it around her shoulders to ward off the cold. She was wearing the pink dress that Bleddyn had insisted upon the day before. There was nothing practical about the fabric, lovely as it was, but she hadn’t had the energy to argue with him again.

  They had gone their separate ways after breakfast, Bleddyn to meet with Niall and Ciara to discuss wedding details with the castle’s head housekeeper, Eavan. While she had escaped from Eavan after lunch, Bleddyn had been tied up with Gwilym all afternoon and, if she were truly honest with herself, Ciara had found his absence to be somewhat of a relief. Though she wasn’t certain if such a revelation boded well for their impending marriage.

  Quickly approaching hoofbeats drew her attention and she glanced over at the stable, visible from her place on the garden wall. She watched with curiosity as Niall rode up on his grey stallion, his white wolf trotting along at his horse’s side. She knew she shouldn’t linger to watch him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  He dismounted, one of the warriors outside offering to take his horse. Niall politely declined, leading the stallion into the stable himself. A smile tugged at Ciara’s lips. Some of the man that she remembered still remained. She was tempted to wait for him to re-emerge, but she shook off the thought. You’re engaged to Bleddyn, she reminded herself. And he is in a relationship with his warrior chief.

  Carefully, she slid off the stone wall, letting out a sigh of relief when she made it down without ripping the gown. If she damaged it, she would never hear the end of it. Not to mention that it would make it difficult to hide the fact that she had been climbing around on the garden walls again, something that Bleddyn found dangerous and highly improper for the woman who was soon to be Banrion of Seabhac.

  Gathering her parchment, inkwell, and quill, she tossed them into the leather bag that she had brought outside with her. She took her time on her way back to the castle, wandering the gardens. The sun told her that it was already late afternoon, but she knew that Bleddyn would be occupied with Gwilym for a while longer. She was in no rush to get back inside.

  The atmosphere in the castle had been tense ever since Niall’s arrival, and she had no doubt that she’d most likely find herself cornered by Eavan again for more discussion on wedding flowers, fabrics, and menus. Where Ciara had wanted a simple affair on one of the mountainsides, Bleddyn had insisted upon an extravagant ceremony at the castle. It had been another fight that she had finally grown tired of.

  As she strolled along the crushed-shell path, her gaze wandered to the perfectly manicured plants around her, all being closely managed for the upcoming wedding, a wedding that she found herself less and less excited about by the day. The thought left an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach and she swallowed hard.

  As she continued on, a small bunch of yellow wildflowers caught her eye and she couldn’t suppress her half-smile at the sight of them. They brought back memories of her father, of the times when he would take her into the Balla mountains and they would often pick similar flowers to bring home with them. Aideen would complain about the ragged-looking plants, but Lochlainn had always viewed them as the most beautiful blooms of all, growing in spite of the harsh wilderness around them.

  She didn’t imagine that Bleddyn would appreciate her find, but she bent down and picked the flowers anyway, humming to herself as she did so. The song was another memory of her father, a lullaby that he would sing to her in Old Pernish to coax her to sleep when she was young.

  “I always forget that you’re one of the few people on the island who still knows that song.”

  Ciara froze at Niall’s voice. Slowly, she straightened and turned to face him. He stood a few feet away, his wolf sitting at his side. Clutching the flowers in her hands, she tried to ignore her racing heart. In many ways, he looked nothing like Bleddyn, though both brothers shared the same strong jaw and striking blue eyes. But that was where the similarities ended.

  Niall was shorter than Bleddyn, with his mother’s brown hair and more of her features. The wind whipped his fur-lined cloak of midnight blue, the fabric bringing out his eyes. The only hints of ornateness in his dress were the silver brooch at his neck and a glint of silver embroidery along the collar of his shirt, another sharp contrast from Bleddyn, who never missed an opportunity to flaunt his new wealth. Not that Niall needed fine clothes to accentuate his looks. The longer Ciara stared at him, the more she felt her mouth growing dry.

  Clearing her throat, she tried to muster up a half-smile that she hoped didn’t give away the desire that coursed through her. “You were always more fluent in Old Pernish than I ever was.”

  “Ah, but we were both more fluent than Bleddyn,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  She couldn’t help but smile broadly in return, her tension easing just as it always had around him. “I don’t think my mother has ever forgiven you for teaching me to curse in Ol
d Pernish, you know.”

  He held up a hand as if warding off an attack, but his tone was full of teasing. “It’s not my fault that you decided to use such language at the dinner table.”

  She couldn’t hold back her laughter, her memories of the unfortunate incident returning. “I think I would have gotten away with it too, if my father and Aunt Blodwen hadn’t been there. You were always getting me into trouble.”

  “And always getting you out of it.”

  She leveled him with a stern look and he sheepishly shrugged.

  “Well, most of the time, at least.” He paused, his expression turning more somber before he took a few steps closer to her. “How have you been?”

  Her breath caught, her body heating as she struggled not to be affected by his closeness, trying to remind herself of the man in the castle who she had promised her loyalty to.

  “Well enough,” she answered. “And you? Things must be different, now that you’re Ri.”

  He gave a slight grimace. “They are. In many ways.”

  “I… must admit, I was surprised to see you out. Bleddyn said you’re somewhat of a recluse these days.”

  “He would say that, wouldn’t he?” He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I won’t deny that some things have changed, but I beg of you not to believe everything that he says about me.”

  “I won’t,” she replied, the words coming out breathier than she intended as their gazes locked.

  He cleared his throat, taking a step back. “Can I see you inside? Though unfortunately once we get through those doors, I don’t have the faintest idea where I’m going. I haven’t been here in years. We didn’t visit as much after Grandfather died. I’m finding the memory of my youth fails me.”

  She chuckled softly. “You see me to the doors and once we get through them, I’ll see you to your chambers so that you aren’t wandering the halls indefinitely.”

  “Forever in your debt it is, then.” He grinned, offering her his arm.

  She stashed the wildflowers in her bag before taking it, the act of touching him bringing a sense of awareness that was impossible to ignore. He took them in through a side entrance, avoiding the prying eyes of servants and warriors, and then she led the way to the stairs.

  “Where were you today?” she asked, dropping his arm before they began to climb the steps.

  “In Bach,” he answered. “Visiting family.”

  “Your father’s family?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve wanted to see them, but Bleddyn doesn’t seem inclined to arrange it before the wedding.”

  “A pity,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs and she guided him down an empty hallway. “My Aunt Brynn always loved you.”

  “I suppose I’ll see them at the wedding, at least.”

  She cast him a sidelong glance, his jaw noticeably tightening.

  “You’ll be there as well?” she asked, biting her lip.

  He didn’t respond immediately, working his jaw before answering. “Most likely.”

  “Will you be bringing Maura with you? She seems lovely.”

  The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but there was no sense in begrudging him for moving on when she had done the same.

  His steps slowed and he glanced down at her, his brow furrowed. “Why would I be bringing my warrior chief to your wedding?”

  She could feel her cheeks heating and she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Bleddyn said that… well he—he told me that she is your…”

  She shot him a pleading look, begging him to be the one to say it, but he just stared back at her, wide-eyed and bewildered.

  “She’s my what?” he asked.

  “That you two are… together. Like a couple,” she finally blurted out.

  His jaw dropped open but he quickly shut it.

  “What?” he sputtered before breaking into a strangled laugh. “Spirits, no. No, nothing of the sort. There isn’t anyone like that in my life right now.”

  Her face was on fire and if she could have melted into the granite floor, she would have.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. “Bleddyn must have misheard.”

  An awkward silence fell between them, one that she couldn’t help but hate. By the time they made it to his chambers, she was torn between wanting a quick escape and wanting to spend more time with him. She backed away from him when they reached his door, her stomach in knots, but he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her to a stop.

  “Thank you,” he said, holding her gaze. “For seeing me back to my room.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied with a weak smile. “I apologize for my assumptions.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  When he let her go, she felt oddly empty, lingering in the hallway as he turned to open his door.

  “Will we see you at dinner tonight?” she asked.

  He hesitated, his back to her as he dropped his head. “I’m a bit drained from the day, but… perhaps.”

  “I’ll hope to see you later, then.”

  He angled his body toward her ever so slightly, his gaze following her as she turned away. She resisted the urge to look back as she took off down the hallway. Time spent with him was akin to sitting too close to the edge of a fire. The warmth of the flames was tempting, but take too much risk and one wouldn’t get away without suffering the consequences.

  Chapter 8

  Discontent

  Delma fumbled with the long line of buttons as she helped Ciara into her floor-length, pastel green evening gown. The servant’s gaze flitted back and forth between Ciara and Bleddyn as she worked. Ciara couldn’t blame the other woman for her nerves. Bleddyn had been in a foul mood after his long day of meetings. He had at least apologized to Ciara for his short temper, blaming it on a frustrating morning with Niall followed by an afternoon of having to appease the village elders.

  Delma hooked the last of the buttons, stepping away. “All done, Mistress. The pearls tonight?”

  “That will be fine,” Ciara replied, casting a sidelong glance at Bleddyn.

  He sat on their bed, his blond hair slicked back and his dark green overcoat and black pants spotless. He frowned while he pored over a stack of papers, a deep furrow in his brow. Delma came back with a three-loop pearl necklace, perfectly displayed by the low neckline of Ciara’s gown, and a matching pearl bracelet. While Ciara slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, Delma hooked the necklace in place.

  “That will be all, Delma,” Ciara said. “Thank you.”

  Delma curtsied, Bleddyn not even glancing up as she hurried out of the room.

  “Do you think you could have picked a less jittery handmaiden,” he said after the door shut, continuing to scowl at the papers in front of him. “She was starting to make me nervous with all of her flitting about.”

  “Perhaps if you weren’t such a bear to deal with this evening, she would have felt more comfortable.”

  He stiffened, but Ciara maintained her straight posture and lifted chin. She should have perhaps felt bad about her sharp remark, but she was weary of his irritability, and the knowledge that he had lied to her about Niall had gnawed at her for hours now.

  “Perhaps I wouldn’t be so irritable if you were a bit more understanding of my current situation.” He tossed the papers on the bed, growling in disgust. “Spirits forbid Niall simply agree with me on something.”

  She took a deep breath before crossing the room, trying to find some manner of patience for the man in front of her. It didn’t excuse his temper, but she supposed he had had a long day. And he has apologized, she reminded herself.

  “I think everyone is a bit short-tempered of late,” she said, struggling to rid her tone of irritation. “He’ll only be here a few more days.”

  “He can’t be gone soon enough,” Bleddyn muttered, standing up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and Niall and the elders have tried my patience. You look beautiful tonight. Exactl
y as a future Banrion of Seabhac should.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, managing a slight smile.

  As they walked to the door together, he cast her a sidelong glance. “I heard you were wandering the castle with Niall today.”

  She tensed, biting the inside of her cheek as she fought the urge not to snap at him and tell him it was none of his business. “We ran into one another in the gardens. He needed help locating his chambers.”

  He snorted. “Of course he did.”

  “He did mention something to me though. Something that was quite interesting.” She fidgeted with her bracelet, taking a deep breath before continuing. “He said that he and Maura weren’t together. Not in that way.”

  Bleddyn went unnaturally still before quickly recovering and shrugging. “He probably told you that just to hide it. I can’t imagine that he would want the whole island knowing that he’s taken his warrior chief to his bed.”

  “Like my aunt did with my uncle? I didn’t know that was some sort of crime.” She tightened her hold on the bracelet, her jaw clenching. “Niall seemed quite serious when I spoke to him about it.”

  “Niall is a liar. That is part of why I warned you to stay away from him.”

  “Niall is a liar or you are?”

  One of his hands clenched into a fist, his posture rigid. “I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but as your betrothed, I would hope that you would be inclined to believe me over him. I don’t have time for this ridiculous argument with you right now; we need to get down to dinner.”

  He shoved open the door, not even offering her his arm before he stalked out. She was left fuming, her muscles quivering as she followed him. She caught up with him halfway down the hallway, her breathing a bit quick from fighting to keep up with his long strides. When they reached the top of the staircase, he stiffly offered her his arm and she begrudgingly took it. Spirits forbid we don’t keep up appearances, she thought as they descended the steps.