Delma arrived moments after he left to help Ciara dress, and she struggled to keep her nerves under control. She let Delma choose her gown, a pale lavender silk with gold accents that would be certain to please Bleddyn. Once Delma had helped her change, Ciara took a seat in front of the vanity in order to let the other woman brush and pin her hair.
Ciara fought not to fidget as she gazed at her reflection in the large mirror. She desperately needed to speak to Niall but she also suspected that Bleddyn would be having her closely watched. She chewed the inside of her cheek, scanning the contents of the vanity. An idea had come to her shortly after Delma arrived, but she would need to find something sharp in order for it to work. If she were to speak with Niall, it needed to be far away from prying eyes, and she would need help. There was only one person in Ciall who she would explicitly trust with his life.
Just as Delma put the last hairpin in place, Ciara’s gaze fell on a small handheld mirror tucked away in one corner of the vanity. Ciara reached for it, managing to nudge it off the vanity in the process. When it hit the stone floor, the glass shattered, just as she had hoped. Delma gasped, immediately setting down her brush.
“I’ll send for someone to clean it up at once,” Delma said, hurrying around to the other side of the chair.
“It’s not that big of a mess,” Ciara replied, waving her off before bending over to pick up the broken mirror.
She bit her lip and swept a hand over a bit of broken glass, the stinging sharp pain that followed making her wince. A trickle of blood ran down her finger and she looked up to see that Delma had gone pale.
“Mistress Ciara, please forgive me,” Delma said, her voice shaking.
“Nonsense.” Ciara shook her head. “It was my own clumsiness. I’ll go down to see Odran. He’ll have it fixed up in no time.”
“Shall I call for an escort?” Delma asked, wringing her hands.
“I think I can manage,” Ciara answered with a smile. “Thank you, though.”
She got to her feet, Delma helping her avoid the broken glass and wrapping a piece of cloth around her bleeding finger. Once out in the hallway, Ciara kept her gaze firmly fixed on where she was going, wishing she could rid herself of her quivering stomach. The castle was quiet and she saw only the occasional servant or two on her walk to the infirmary. No one is going to begrudge me seeing the castle healer when I’m obviously injured, she thought, trying to ignore her rapidly beating heart.
The infirmary itself was on the first floor and Ciara was relieved when she saw no one lingering in the hallways outside the large chamber. She knocked with her good hand, her gaze darting behind her and her muscles tense. No one will know, she told herself. And you trust him. He’s given you no reason not to. The door opened to reveal Odran on the other side. His red hair was slightly tousled and he still looked half-asleep, blinking rapidly as he looked down at her.
“Well,” he said. “This is a surprise. Is this a personal or a professional visit?”
“Professional.” She held up her hand with a tentative smile. “I’m afraid I require your services.”
He leaned against the doorframe, flashing her a grin that reminded her far too much of Niall. She had quickly learned that Odran was as much of an incorrigible flirt as Niall—or at least as Niall had been not so long ago.
“Why, Ciara,” Odran said, “if you wanted to see me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”
She rolled her eyes and he let out a laugh, stepping back to let her into the room. The space was a bit chaotic, but it suited him. A few beds lined one wall while the rest of the walls were covered with shelves filled to the brim with all manner of herbs and healing supplies. Odran saw her to a chair, pulling another over and settling across from her as she removed the bloody fabric from her finger.
He took her hand, frowning as he gently inspected the wound. “You did a number on this. Dare I ask how?”
She shrugged. “Just a bit of broken glass.”
He raised a brow, getting to his feet and wandering over to one of the shelves. “I’m afraid I’ll have to stitch it, but it shouldn’t take much.”
She glanced down at her finger, wincing when she realized how deep the cut was.
“How have your lungs been holding up?” Odran asked, returning with a small basin of water, bandages, a needle and thread, and what she assumed to be a flask of spirits.
“Well enough,” she answered. “The tinctures you’ve been giving me have helped.”
Nodding, he passed her the flask. “Good. Take some of this. It’ll help.”
She took a few gulps before Odran began to clean and flush the wound on her finger. It stung when he used the finely threaded catgut to pull the flesh together. Tears pricked at her eyes but she gritted her teeth. She’d had worse injuries when she had trained for the war band. Once he was finished, Odran wrapped her injured finger in a bandage and she let out a long breath.
“Keep it as clean and dry as you can,” he said, “and maybe no riding for a few days.”
“Thank you.” She worried her lower lip, her stomach clenching as she rested her hand in her lap. She knew the real reason she had come, but her heart felt as if it were in her throat. Niall’s life is at stake, she thought, taking a deep breath. For his sake, she couldn’t afford to delay.
“I… I’m afraid that I did have an ulterior purpose for coming here,” she said.
Odran had begun to gather his things, but he went still.
“And that is?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling.
“Last night, after dinner, Bleddyn had me remain with him in the Great Hall. Prince Regulus of Kelnore arrived, along with a man from Dineum.” The pressure in her chest began to ease as the story tumbled out.
Odran frowned at the Kelnorian prince’s name. “Regulus is here?”
She nodded before continuing. “Yes. Bleddyn sent me upstairs before they talked, but something didn’t feel right about the whole exchange. I snuck back down and overheard them speaking and they… they intend to kill Niall.”
“You’re certain of this?” Odran took in a sharp breath, his eyes widening.
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I know what I heard and I swear I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
Cursing under his breath, he got to his feet and began to pace. “Did they say why they wanted him dead?”
“Not that I heard. Bleddyn just said that he wanted Niall dead before he leaves here.”
“Truthfully, the two of them have never really gotten along,” Odran said with a grimace. “I remember Bleddyn was furious when Uncle Conor named Niall Ri of Blaidd, but to go as far as to kill his own brother?”
“Even if it is just an empty threat, Niall needs to know.”
He stopped pacing, holding her gaze. “What’s your plan, then?”
“Can you arrange for me to speak with him? In private, perhaps in the gardens. Bleddyn watches every move I make these days, but Niall needs to at least be warned.”
He slowly nodded, pursing his lips. “And what is your plan? If Bleddyn finds out you had anything to do with this, he’s going to be furious.”
“I’m not staying here; I can tell you that much. Will you at least be willing to help? I know that Bleddyn is your kin…”
“And so is Niall. Bleddyn may be my blood, but I’m not blind. I’ve watched him change over these past few years since Aunt Rhiannon died and Enfys left him. We all have.”
She bit her lip, looking away, her own self-loathing returning. What had she been thinking, agreeing to marry a man she barely knew?
“I’m sure I’ve looked like a fool to you all these past few weeks,” she said, her throat tight as she stared hard at the granite floor.
“Bleddyn can be convincing when he wants to be,” Odran said, his voice growing soft. “Anyone in our family can tell you that.”
“So I’m learning.” She let out a shaky breath before sitting up straighter in her seat. “You’ll arrange for me to speak with Niall? And
perhaps you would be willing to be there as well?”
“Leave it to me.”
“Thank you,” she told him, getting up. “I need to get to the Great Hall before Bleddyn notices me missing.”
He nodded, seeing her to the door, but he paused before opening it.
“I don’t mean to speak for him,” he said, casting her a sidelong glance, “but I’m sure that Niall would be willing to offer you safety in Blaidd if you needed it.”
She murmured an acknowledgement before she stepped back into the hallway. The thought was a tempting one—it had certainly occurred to her more than once as she had lain awake in bed all night—but she wasn’t so certain she knew Niall anymore either. She needed to go home, back to Arth. It was time to stand on her own two feet and sort out the mess that she had managed to get herself into. She couldn’t risk running from Bleddyn only to run straight to Niall. No matter how enticing that thought was.
Chapter 14
Three Lives Saved
The vision had changed. It woke Niall in the early hours of the morning, leaving him reeling and gasping for breath as he lay in his bed. He sat up, struggling to deepen his breathing as the blankets covering him fell to his waist. Pressing his hands to his face, he let out a groan. The Spirits were proving relentless of late. Rhew stirred down at his feet, cracking open her eyes before grumbling and going back to sleep.
He rubbed a hand over his face, the images coming back to him. The vision had started the same as it always had, but this time when Ciara had appeared and beckoned him into the shadows, he hadn’t gone with her. Instead, he had remained in the middle of the Great Hall, studying the odd cup. The wind had come as it had each time before, and the cup spilled out blood that coated the stone floor. But this time when the massive raven had flown into the room, he hadn’t woken. Instead, the bird had struck him, its talons shredding his skin over and over again. The very moment that he thought he could stand the pain no longer, he’d woken, and even though he bore no real injuries, the memories still sent a shiver down his spine.
With a sigh, he looked out the window, the early morning sun almost blinding him as it streamed in through the glass. Thanks to his pull into the Spirit Realm, he was exhausted, but even if he avoided breakfast, he would still have to meet with Bleddyn later in the morning. His brother refused to budge on his demands and with each passing day, it looked less and less likely that Niall would be able to work out a trade deal that would benefit the people of Blaidd. It would be yet another thing to add to his long list of disappointments.
There was a knock at the door and he allowed himself another small groan as he rolled out of bed. Telling Rhew to stay where she was, he pulled on his rumpled shirt from the day before. It was wrinkled, just like his sleeping pants, but it would at least hide the black tattoo that ran across his collarbone and marked him for what he was. He made a vain attempt at smoothing his disheveled hair and then answered the door. Maura stood in the hallway, dressed for the day with her long blond hair pulled back into a practical braid.
“The others and I are heading down to breakfast,” she said. “Were you wishing to join us or dine in your chambers again?”
“Can you have food sent up?”
She nodded before glancing over her shoulder. Pursing her lips, she turned back to him. “You should know that there have been rumors from some of the servants this morning.”
“What rumors?” he asked, frowning.
“Rumors that Prince Regulus of Kelnore arrived last night.”
An empty feeling settled in the pit of Niall’s stomach and he gripped the door handle. Regulus was the youngest of his Kelnorian cousins and Niall had never particularly cared for him; he and Bleddyn had made his life miserable when they were boys. Regulus was arrogant and short-tempered, and Niall could think of no good reason for him to be in Pern Coen. His older, far more decent, brother, Dimitrios, was living in Darnic, fulfilling a diplomatic role as the Imperial liaison to the island while also serving as a captain in the Imperial army. The last Niall had heard of Regulus, he was spending his time involving himself in various investment schemes in the capital city of Talekos.
“See what you can find out about why he’s here,” he told Maura.
“Of course,” she replied with a respectful nod. “And I’ll be certain to have breakfast sent up for you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She flashed him a broad smile before she left, but he didn’t think much of the exchange after he closed the door. His thoughts were too focused on what could have brought Regulus to Ciall, and none of the reasons he could think of were particularly good ones. Shaking his head, he tried to shift his focus to the day ahead. He changed into clean clothes, combed his hair, and shaved off the last few days’ worth of stubble before slumping back down onto his bed.
The room should have felt like a safe haven, but instead it was beginning to feel like a prison. Rhew stretched out next to him, nudging his hand. He scratched the wolf behind the ears, trying to allow her presence to calm him, though it didn’t work as well as he’d hoped. Are you happy now? he asked the Spirits, doubting that they even cared to listen. Are you happy with what you’ve reduced me to? Hiding away in here instead of dealing with my problems.
There was no answer, not that he’d expected one, but the silence annoyed him all the same. Before he could plunge into further self-loathing, there was another knock. He got up, his stomach growling as he strode to the door. With any luck, his breakfast had arrived. Rhew followed him and this time, he didn’t stop her. His wolf was as tired of being cooped up as he was. When he answered the door, he was surprised to see his cousin, Odran, standing in front of him with a tray of food.
“Are things so slow in the infirmary that they’ve enlisted you in the kitchen?” Niall asked, raising his brows.
“I offered,” Odran replied with a shrug.
“Thank you.” Niall reached for the tray.
“No, allow me,” Odran said, half-pushing his way into the room. “It’s no bother, really, and you are Ri, after all.”
Not having the energy to argue after his already disastrous morning, Niall opted to step aside and let Odran have his way. The sooner he brought the food in, the sooner he could leave. Rhew caught the tantalizing scents of the fresh bread and meat, following Odran over to a nearby table. As Odran set the food down, Niall called Rhew off, the wolf puffing her cheeks and giving one longing look at the table before slinking back over to Niall’s side.
“She looks well,” Odran said, nodding to Rhew. “There’s a few fresh scraps for her as well.”
“Thank you,” Niall replied, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to ignore the tightness growing in his chest.
Odran went to leave, but he stopped just beside Niall, so close that they were only inches away from one another. Niall started when the other man slipped a piece of parchment into his hand.
“One o’clock,” Odran said, his voice low. “In the north end of the gardens, near the white roses.”
Niall stared down at the parchment, momentarily dumbfounded, before looking back up. “What in the blazes are you—”
Odran was out of the room before he could finish his question, the door swinging shut behind him. Niall rubbed his temple, swearing he could feel a headache coming on and mildly wondering if the morning could get any more bizarre. The note in his hand was folded and sealed, though the small droplet of wax bore no insignia. Sinking into a nearby chair, he broke the seal, the furrow in his brow only deepening when he saw the handwriting. The scrawling script was Ciara’s. The note itself wasn’t signed, but he easily recognized her writing after their years of exchanging letters. Absently petting Rhew, who had come to sit at his feet, he began to read:
I need to speak with you regarding an urgent matter. I’m afraid the topic is a delicate one and best discussed in private. Once you read this note, please burn it.
His breath caught, the letter dropping in
to his lap. Nothing since his arrival at Ciall had seemed in any way normal, but with each passing day, the web of unease surrounding him had continued to grow. The change in his vision, the rumors regarding Regulus’ arrival, and now Ciara’s cryptic note made his stomach turn.
Glancing back down at the paper, a small seed of hope burrowed its way deep inside of him in spite of his best efforts to squash it. His thoughts flitted back to dinner the previous night. He hadn’t cared for any of Bleddyn’s behavior, but in particular he hadn’t cared for his brother’s treatment of Ciara. And judging by her expressions that night, neither had she. Was she having second thoughts? He took a deep breath, picking up the letter again. He would meet her and make certain that she knew that she didn’t have to stay at Ciall if she didn’t want to. He would help her however he could, whether she wanted to return with him to Blaidd or go her own way. Walking over to the fire, he tossed the letter into the flames.
Rhew whined when he returned to the table and he set down her plate of meat, which she eagerly scarfed up. Turning his attention to his own food, he sat back down and forced himself to eat. His stomach was in knots, but he knew he had a long morning ahead of him. As he took a sip of his ale, he glanced out the window, his gaze falling on the distant gardens. He had hours until he would be able to speak with Ciara, but he was eager to see her again, even if her urgent news had the potential to spell trouble for them both.
∞∞∞
As Niall strode through the garden hours later, he could feel his palms starting to sweat and he wished for the hundredth time that he had brought Rhew with him instead of leaving her with Maura. His morning had done nothing but put him on edge. The talks with Bleddyn had gone far from well; if anything, his brother had seemed more agitated than he’d been the day before. Though he’d seen no signs of Regulus, Bleddyn’s ever-changing moods had done little to ease Niall’s mounting anxiety.
The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen (Legacy Book 1) Page 11