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

by Hannah E Carey

  “We need to be getting back,” he said. “We’ll be expected at dinner tonight.”

  “Of course,” Brynn replied, setting down her mug before getting to her feet.

  Ciara and Niall both stood as well, Brynn hugging each of them before they left.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she said to Ciara. “You’ll be a part of this family soon.”

  “Thank you,” Ciara replied, blinking rapidly before averting her gaze.

  Brynn saw them to the door and they walked back down to the horses, Rhew at their heels. They led their mounts back through the village, and Niall was relieved that the village square wasn’t as packed as it had been hours earlier. Rhew’s presence helped, but crowds set him on edge most days. Once outside the village, they mounted their horses again, riding back toward the looming forest. Niall let Ciara take the lead down the narrow path, keeping Gealach just behind her mare. When they reached the river, the trail widened and he brought his stallion abreast with Ciara’s mount. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line and she stared fixedly through her horse’s ears.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” she answered, not even glancing his way. “Just thinking about everything that awaits me back at Ciall.”

  “With the wedding and all?”

  She gave a tight nod. Silence fell between them for a few moments before she spoke again.

  “Do you ever wish that things could be different?” she asked, fidgeting with her reins.

  His heart began to race, a jolt passing through his body as part of him longed to cling to the few shreds of hope that he had left. “Sometimes. Do you ever wish that?”

  “I feel like I find myself wishing for it far too often lately,” she said, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear it.

  His breath hitched. “Ciara, I…”

  “Race you back to the stable.” She suddenly urged her mare into a canter, breaking off from Niall and Gealach.

  “Ciara!” he called after her. “Wait!”

  At his cue, Gealach picked up a swift canter and Niall called for Rhew to stay with him. The wolf seemed to find their impromptu race great fun, though Niall didn’t share Rhew’s enthusiasm. Ciara barely managed to stay in front of them and as the path narrowed again, he was forced to rein in Gealach behind her. By the time they got within sight of the stable, she had at least slowed her mare down to a brisk trot. When they reached the stable yard, they both dismounted, their horses breathing hard from exertion. Before Ciara could dash off, Niall grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her to a stop, feeling her own pulse pounding under his fingers.

  “Wait,” he told her. “Please.”

  When she turned to face him, he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He frowned, remembering the trouble she’d had with her lungs during their youth.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, letting out a noisy breath. “I’m just winded. I’m not that fragile.”

  “You’ve never been fragile,” he replied, holding her gaze. “But something is bothering you.”

  She shook her head, biting her lip as she stared down at her boots. “I’m fine, Niall.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I’m certain.”

  He dared to risk taking a few steps closer to her, trying to calm his pounding heart as he took her hands in his. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  She looked away, a sad smile crossing her face. “I don’t even know if I know what I want anymore.”

  A lump settled in his throat. He should leave, shouldn’t press whatever was still between them, but he couldn’t. Not while looking at the pained expression on her face.

  “You know that I’m always here for you,” he said, inwardly chastising himself for his foolishness as soon as the words slipped out.

  She held his gaze, a haunted look in her eyes. “Are you?”

  The simple question cut him to his core, leaving behind a physical ache, one that grew when he thought of how much he hadn’t been there for her, not like he had wanted to be. Not like he had hoped.

  “I will be,” he told her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

  “I have to go,” she whispered, pulling away from him and leading her mare back to the stable.

  He watched her leave, rooted in place while guilt assailed him and left him with a pain in the back of his throat. He cursed his supposed gift, struggling not to dwell on all the ways that he had let down Ciara—and everyone else he cared for. Rhew whined, bumping her nose against his leg, and he let out a sigh, rubbing the top of her head. With his wolf at his side, he led Gealach back to the stable to untack him and cool him out, not at all certain how he was going to weather the remainder of his stay at Castle Ciall.

  Chapter 11

  Common Blood

  As soon as she returned to the castle, Ciara hid the dagger in the drawer of her bedside table. The last thing she wanted to have to do was explain to Bleddyn where it had come from. With his moodiness of late, she didn’t want to risk being on the receiving end of his displeasure.

  While she and Niall had managed to return to Ciall before dinner, she wasn’t left with much time to change. She called for Delma, changing out of her comfortable clothing as the other woman chose a gown for the evening, a wine-colored dress that Ciara was particularly fond of. The gold embroidery work on the billowy sleeves was exquisite and the cut of the dress was flattering, leaving her shoulders, along with most of her back, bare.

  Delma paired the gown with a gold necklace and matching bracelets that wrapped around Ciara’s upper arms, depicting the moon and the stars. Dinner at the castle was always a formal affair and tonight Bleddyn wouldn’t be able to complain over her not dressing the part.

  He met her downstairs in the entryway, giving her a brief kiss before escorting her into the Great Hall. She couldn’t help but notice the tense set of his shoulders and the way that he didn’t seem to focus on a single word that she said. The dark circles under his eyes were far more prominent and his movements were stiff as they walked to the head of the table.

  She tried not to look at Niall when she took her seat, but he and his fellow clan members were seated up near her and Bleddyn. Part of her had hoped not to see him at dinner. It felt as if there was far too much left unsaid between them. Deep down, she knew she hadn’t been entirely fair in her accusations. He had lost his mother, just like she had lost her father, and then he’d had an entire clan thrust upon him, but his months of silence and unanswered letters still hurt.

  When she did risk glancing down at Niall, his gaze was apologetic. As if he, too, felt remorse over the way things had ended. She picked up her goblet, tearing her gaze away from him and taking a sip of her wine. The dry red wine was as good a distraction as any. She still hadn’t adjusted to the taste of it, though she knew Bleddyn paid handsomely to have it brought up from the mainland.

  The meal began and Bleddyn fell into conversation with Gwilym, as they seemed to do almost every night. Ciara ate in silence, no one around her interested in drawing her into conversation. The evening dragged on in the same way that almost every meal had since she’d arrived at the castle. Bleddyn, as usual, downed more and more wine the longer he was at the table. Ciara fought the urge to grimace as she watched him. The excessive habit was one she hadn’t noticed before coming to live with him and though she’d brought up his tendency toward drunkenness and her concerns over his lack of self-control, he didn’t seem to have any real desire to change.

  “Damn useless servants,” Bleddyn grumbled after draining his fifth glass of wine and discovering the pitcher on the table to be empty. He looked over at her with a scowl. “Go to the kitchen and get more.”

  She stiffened. “I think you’ve had quite enough for one night.”

  “And I don’t think that’s your decision to make.” He gestured to the pitcher, his eyes cold. “Go.”

  She stood up, gritting he
r teeth at his demanding tone. Niall’s gaze locked with hers when she picked up the pitcher, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed together into a thin line. She didn’t know if he’d overheard the conversation or not, but he looked far from pleased. Bleddyn didn’t leave her time to dwell on the observation, however, snapping at her to hurry up. Clenching her jaw, she used the servants’ door near the head of the table. The large kitchen smelled of spices and roasted meat, and servants rushed to and fro. The head cook, Fergus, noticed her mere moments after she entered and hurried over to her.

  “Mistress Ciara,” he said, eyes wide. “Is something wrong? Is Ri Bleddyn displeased with the meal?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she answered. “He’s just requesting more wine. Immediately, I’m afraid.”

  Fergus took the pitcher, calling for it to be filled. While she waited, Ciara listened to the clatter of kitchen servants at work. Fergus soon became occupied with readying the desserts and after a few moments, a younger woman not much older than Ciara herself pushed through the fray, pitcher in hand.

  “Here, Mistress,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Ciara replied, taking the pitcher from her.

  The woman curtsied, leaving Ciara once again hating the formalities that Bleddyn demanded, along with the distance that he insisted needed to be kept between them and the servants. Returning to the hall, she heard Bleddyn and Gwilym’s loud conversation still continuing on. She couldn’t meet Niall’s gaze when she walked past him, not wanting to see the pity that she was certain would be in his eyes.

  “Took you long enough,” Bleddyn muttered as she set the pitcher back on the table.

  “The kitchen was busy,” she tersely replied after sinking back down into her seat.

  Bleddyn snorted, curling his lip as he refilled his goblet.

  “Bleddyn,” Niall said, clearing his throat. “I’ve noticed a large wheel down by the river when I’ve gone to Bach. I’m curious as to what its purpose is.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve dared to leave the safety of the castle, brother.” Bleddyn smirked. “It uses water from the river to help with forging. I’m sure you’ve noticed the increase in Seabhac’s wealth from selling weapons to the Kelnorian army. Our own cousin is involved in the trade, after all.”

  Niall continued to cut into his lamb, but Ciara could see that his shoulders were tense.

  “And your people have no qualms with supporting Kelnore’s wars? Even when many have questioned the rightness of much of their fighting?” Niall asked.

  Ciara sunk her fork into a piece of roasted carrot and paused, glancing down at him. The questions were ones she too had raised, though Bleddyn had been insistent on not having her involved with what he deemed clan affairs.

  “Seeing that I am Ri of Seabhac and you are not,” Bleddyn replied, his eyes hardening, “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”

  Niall’s jaw clenched and he stared down at his plate.

  “The water mill is quite a marvel,” Gwilym said, taking a large sip of his wine. “Emperor Stelios himself commissioned the design for them years ago. They’re widely used across the empire. Stelios was undoubtedly a forward-thinking man for his time, in spite of what is said of him.”

  Niall narrowed his eyes at Bleddyn’s advisor. “You mean, in spite of the fact that he was a cruel tyrant who murdered thousands?”

  “Careful, brother,” Bleddyn said. “His blood runs through your veins just the same as mine. Say what you wish of him, but you can’t deny the wealth that he brought to the empire or his superiority on the field of battle.”

  “I dare say Mother wouldn’t have agreed with you.”

  “Mother was influenced by Father.” Bleddyn’s nostrils flared, Ciara catching one of his hands curling into a fist. “At times to her detriment. Stelios knew the place of men.”

  “Though it was a woman who caused Stelios’ downfall, wasn’t it?” Ciara said, giving Bleddyn a pointed look.

  She knew the stories of the man whose army had invaded the island and caused the great war. The same man her aunt had bravely fought against not only to save the people of Arth, but all who called Pern Coen home. And even she was aware that Ri Rhiannon had held no lost love for her uncle—rightfully so. Bleddyn’s eyes narrowed and he grabbed her wrist under the table. There was a cold smile on his face as he leaned over, pressing his lips to her ear.

  “If you have any sense in that pretty little head of yours,” he hissed, “you will keep your wicked tongue to yourself for the remainder of the evening.”

  She yanked her arm away from him, her heart pounding in her ears as she inwardly seethed at his rough treatment. She had tried to be forgiving, tried to make excuses and be understanding, but his need for control was going too far. Not to mention his inflated sense of self-importance, she thought as she watched Gwilym begin to skillfully praise Bleddyn for all of the good he’d done for the clan, while Bleddyn practically preened.

  Ciara began to pick at her food again, but she was hardly hungry anymore. Even when dessert was brought out, she didn’t have the stomach for it. When she reached for her wine, her gaze locked with Niall’s. His posture was rigid and he pinned her with a look that silently told her that he would love to do nothing more than leave the hall. And perhaps take me with him, she thought, his eyes boring into hers. She shook her head slightly, tearing her gaze away from him and taking a sip of her wine to banish her ridiculous thoughts. Regardless of the afternoon that they had spent together, things were vastly different for both of them now. She could hardly expect him to wish to simply pick up where they had left off.

  Somehow, she managed to make it through the rest of the meal, silently vowing that as soon as it was over, she wouldn’t be lingering in the hall, no matter what Bleddyn wanted. She needed space to think, to try and piece together the past few weeks and ask herself if this was the life she truly wanted. The thought brought with it an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that told her that perhaps it was time to listen to her gut instincts.

  As soon as Niall and his warriors finished eating, they departed the hall. Others began to follow suit and Ciara got to her feet in the hope of blending in with the crowd but Bleddyn grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to her seat.

  “Wait,” he told her.

  “Give me good reason to,” she replied, her jaw tight.

  “I have something to discuss with you.”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a long day and—”

  “I need to explain my actions.” He stroked her arm, leaning in close. “I can tell that you’ve been upset with me these last few days but I want what’s best for us, Ciara. What’s best for Seabhac.”

  She wavered, biting her lower lip. One last time, she finally decided. I can hear him out one last time. Nodding, she remained in her seat while the room emptied. The hall doors shut for the final time, the noise echoing in the now empty room. She glanced over at Bleddyn, her stomach beginning to churn. His expression was still cold and his jaw still set as he leaned back in his seat, absently playing with his finally empty wine goblet.

  “You were seen going down to Bach with Niall today,” he said. His gaze was on the goblet but there was a sinister edge to his voice that made the hair on the back of her neck rise.

  In spite of her growing unease, she lifted her chin. “Niall took me to see your aunt and uncle. It was a kind gesture on his part, nothing more.”

  Bleddyn’s grip on the goblet tightened, his knuckles growing white as he went unnaturally still.

  “I don’t imagine that you will ever fully grasp what it is that I am trying to do for this clan. For us.” He angled himself toward her, narrowing his eyes. “But my tolerance of your foolishness grows thinner by the day.”

  “Please explain to me how any of my actions have been foolish.” Heat flushed through her as she pinned him with an incredulous look.

  He slammed a fist down on the table, causing her to tense and notice a vein in his neck
starting to throb.

  “You will stay away from Niall during the remainder of his visit,” he said. “Don’t think that I don’t see how he looks at you. You will do as you’re told and you will not question me or my instructions if you wish to take your place as Banrion of Seabhac.”

  “Perhaps I am questioning if I even want to take such a place at all. I do not know what has gotten into you, but I am not some pawn for you to control as you deem fit.”

  She started to get up, but he was faster. He sprang from his chair, slamming her back down. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders, holding her in place. There was a feral look in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine.

  “You are mine,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “You belong to me and you would do well to remember that.”

  She gritted her teeth, hating how her hands shook. She wanted nothing more than to strike him and demand that he let her loose, to scream at him that she belonged to no one, but she was also keenly aware that she was the one at a disadvantage in this moment. She had no weapon and with his size, he would easily overpower her. The door to the hall creaked open and her gaze darted to it, her pulse racing and her breathing shallow.

  Bleddyn tightened his hold on her, his voice low as he spoke. “Do not even think about running. You dare leave this room, leave this castle, and I will hunt you down and bring you back here myself.”