The door to the study opened and he looked up to see Bronagh enter. The warrior chief was followed by Suibhe. The insufferable woman was forcefully pulled into the room by two more warriors. She scowled at Bleddyn, contempt clear in her eyes as she was shoved into a seat on the other side of the desk. Her hands were bound and bruises marred her skin. Bronagh came to stand behind her and in spite of her haggard appearance, she stared at Bleddyn with a defiance that made his blood heat.
“I’ve heard you’re causing trouble again,” Bleddyn said, leaning back in his seat and fixing her with a cold stare. “Tell me, what is it that I’m going to have to do to make you realize that your little rebellion is pointless?”
“You have no proof of your accusations against Ri Niall,” she told him, lifting her chin.
“By his attempt on my life, Niall proved that he is no longer deserving of his place as Ri. Not to mention that he has kidnapped my betrothed and quite obviously abandoned his clan. Blaidd needs a leader and as his brother, I am next of kin.”
“Your father is still alive and the people of Blaidd have far more trust in him than—”
“My father isn’t here,” Bleddyn snarled, straightening in his seat. “And he also quite obviously has no interest in returning. You will join the rest of those in the war band who have sworn their loyalty to me or I will have no use for you. Is that clear?”
She was silent, her jaw tight as she glowered at him.
“Take her away,” he told Bronagh with a curt wave. “Perhaps more time in the dungeons will cure her of her stubbornness. If it doesn’t, kill her.”
Suibhe was hauled to her feet, the two warriors along with the mercenaries and Bronagh dragging her out of the room while she spat curses at Bleddyn the entire way. The door to the study finally swung shut and Bleddyn rested his face in his hands, letting out a low growl of frustration. He had no idea where Niall was, and only his brother’s death would solidify his place as Ri. Their father was another matter, but as far as Bleddyn knew, Conor was wandering the wilderness somewhere in Ioliare with no desire to make contact with the outside world. If Conor did return to Clogwyn, he would find that Bleddyn wasn’t the incapable son that he had always envisioned him to be.
Though I suppose that wherever Niall is, at least like Father, he is far away from here, he thought. The last thing he needed was Niall showing up somewhere nearby and trying to scrounge up support. The clan should have never been his in the first place. Niall had no idea what to do with such power, no matter how much their father thought him the better son. His brother’s incompetence was clearly shown in his poorly defended castle and the clan’s pathetic coffers.
There was another knock at the door, followed by Regulus’ presence being announced. Bleddyn straightened in his seat, calling for the other man to enter. He had been waiting for Regulus to report in for days now. Hopefully with Niall’s body in tow. Regulus sauntered into the room, taking the seat across from Bleddyn with confident ease. As much as he wanted to believe that the other man’s demeanor meant good news, Bleddyn knew him too well. Regulus never missed the chance to don his mask of arrogance, not even when he failed.
“I hope you’re here to tell me that Niall and Odran are dead and Ciara has been safely returned to me,” Bleddyn said.
Regulus leaned back in his chair, raising his brows. “May I remind you that that little wench of yours turned on you. Are you so sure you want her back? I’d be more than happy to take her off your hands.”
“I am completely sure.” Bleddyn narrowed his eyes. “She is to be returned to me alive, unharmed and untouched.”
Regulus maintained his careless expression, but his gaze dropped to the table. “My men are still looking, but they haven’t seen or heard any signs of them between Ciall and Beag. I’ve left Kyros heading up the search.”
Bleddyn gritted his teeth. Beag was in the northern part of Blaidd, not far from the border of Seabhac, and he’d had his own warriors scouring the clan farther south. “I’m beginning to doubt that these mercenaries you chose are worth the money I paid for them.”
Regulus stiffened. “They helped you take control of this castle, did they not?”
“Then maybe it’s the man leading them.”
“You wouldn’t have them without me,” Regulus said, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “Nor would you have Dimitrios distracted and out of your way.”
“One thing you haven’t ruined yet,” Bleddyn muttered.
The only thing, he inwardly added. Though without Dimitrios preoccupied with carefully orchestrated unrest in the territory of Darnic, the plan would have never stood a chance. As both a prince and a captain in the Imperial Army, Dimitrios would have posed a considerable obstacle.
Enough of your ridiculous posturing, Fiadh said.
Bleddyn didn’t start when he heard her voice. Over the past few weeks, he had grown accustomed to it. Upon their arrival at Clogwyn, she had holed herself up in her private chambers, claiming that she needed to seek guidance from Cigfran. Though her ravens freely roamed the halls, Bleddyn had barely seen her since although they had continually communicated with one another through their bond.
You know something? Bleddyn asked, watching Regulus petulantly play with his dagger.
Your brother has gone north, Fiadh answered.
Bleddyn frowned, drawing Regulus’ attention. The other man watched him curiously, no longer as skeptical of Fiadh’s abilities as he had once been.
Send the Kelnorian whelp north of Ciall, Fiadh said. One of my ravens will be going with him and if any harm comes to it, his soul will be on the line.
Bleddyn resisted the urge to smirk. Fiadh hadn’t lost her distaste of Regulus, though she had begrudgingly admitted that in spite of his childishness, he did have his uses.
“It appears Niall has gone north of Ciall,” Bleddyn told Regulus, cracking his knuckles. “Perhaps to try and leverage aid from Ciara’s family.”
“You’re certain of this?” Regulus asked, wrinkling his brow.
“Cigfran is certain of it. One of its creatures will be traveling with you. You are not to harm it in any way. And if you want that land, I expect results this time.”
Regulus’ eyes hardened but he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. Bleddyn dismissed him, the other man’s movements stiff and jerky as he left the room, but Bleddyn didn’t have time to dwell on Regulus’ ill temper. He finally had Blaidd under his control. Now he just had to keep it that way.
∞∞∞
Niall and the others remained at the cave for five days before Odran deemed Ciara well enough to travel. Niall had spent most of his time trying to distance himself from the others, Ciara in particular. The close quarters hadn’t made the task easy and his anxiety was his constant companion. He at least hadn’t had another vision since the one that had come to him when they had first arrived.
Reaching Caoirigh took less than a day and Ciara managed the trip better than Niall had expected. As much as he had tried to avoid her, he hadn’t been able to rid himself of his worries over her well-being.
Caoirigh was a moderately sized village, the crowds large enough to keep him jittery but not nearly as bad as they had been in Bach. They all kept the hoods of their cloaks low over their heads as they rode through Caoirigh’s muddy streets, searching for shelter as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Eventually, they ended up at a tavern called the Black Sheep, according to the well-worn sign hanging from the eaves. The building looked as if it had seen better days, but the village only boasted two other taverns. One was full and the other had refused to allow Rhew even into their stables. It was either the Black Sheep or sleep on the street.
Niall waited outside with the horses, Ciara, and Rhew while Maura and Odran went inside. Odran and Maura were the least recognizable of their party, and the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. Ciara leaned against Rhosyn’s shoulder, her face downcast as she fidgeted with her mare’s mane. Niall wanted to
tease with her, to coax out a smile, but instead he tightened his jaw and focused on their surroundings in an attempt to stay alert for any sign of soldiers or warriors.
The past few days had been their own sort of torture, struggling to find the friendship that he had once shared with her while trying to ignore the feelings that ran far deeper than that. When the tavern door opened and Maura and Odran reappeared, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. There were no scowls or disgruntled looks on either of their faces this time
“They’ve got two rooms,” Odran said. “Price is a bit high, but it’s this or the street. They said Rhew could stay for a few extra coins. Unfortunately, we’ll have to double up.”
Niall nodded, his stomach clenching. He’d hoped for at least a night or two of privacy, but apparently he wouldn’t be so lucky. If you care for me at all, he silently told the Spirits, you’ll leave me be until we’re far away from here.
A young boy, no older than sixteen, emerged from the back of the tavern and took their horses. Niall reluctantly handed over Gealach’s reins before squaring his shoulders and climbing the front steps behind Ciara, Rhew at his side. The tavern was noisy and a haze of smoke filled the air. Rhew drew a few disgruntled looks, but no one spoke against her presence as they walked in. Villagers were gathered around a long bar at the end of the main room, throwing back ale and other spirits. Their loud conversation and laughter would have drawn Niall in not so long ago, but now it just made him grit his teeth.
Odran led the way through the crowded room and then down a narrow hallway. Their rooms were at the end of it, across from one another. Maura and Ciara took the room on the left, leaving Odran and Niall the one on the right. The door creaked loudly when Niall opened it, the space small and the floors grimy. The room’s one dingy window boasted a few too many cobwebs, but the beds looked clean enough. Odran dropped his saddlebags on the bed closest to the door and Niall took the remaining one, which was shoved up against the wall by the window.
“You think we’ll be safe enough here?” Niall asked, taking off his cloak.
“I hope so,” Odran answered with a grimace. “Ciara still needs a few more days of rest and we need more supplies.”
Niall nodded. He couldn’t argue with Odran on either account. Though he needed to get back to Blaidd, he didn’t feel right leaving Ciara on her own, especially in light of her injuries, and they wouldn’t get far without adequate supplies.
“It might be wise to avoid the main roads on the return to Clogwyn,” Odran said, sitting down on the bed.
Niall did the same, kicking off his boots and leaning back against the rickety bed frame as Rhew jumped up beside him. “It might. I’ll feel better when we’ve crossed the border back into Blaidd. I’m uneasy being gone for so long, but the castle should be in good hands with Suibhe and my advisors. I don’t think Bleddyn would be bold enough to try and lay claim to the clan while I’m still alive.”
Odran was silent for a few moments, his lips pressed together. Niall ran a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to close his eyes and try to sleep away his problems. The last few days were catching up with him and he looked forward to sleeping on something other than the hard ground.
“Is there anything between you and Ciara?” Odran said, averting his gaze as soon as he asked the question.
Niall’s cheeks heated and he cleared his throat. “No. Not anymore.”
“But there was at one time?” Odran raised a brow.
“There was, but… it was brief and I don’t have the luxury of pursuing a relationship right now. Not to mention that it wouldn’t be fair to her. Not after Bleddyn.”
“And Maura?”
Niall let out a quiet groan, briefly closing his eyes. First Ciara and now Odran. He was getting sorely tired of the assumption being made.
“Maura is my warrior chief,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Odran gave a slow nod. “Good to know.”
“Are your parents aware of all that’s happened?” Niall asked, eager to steer the subject away from his nonexistent romantic life. He had worried for Brynn and Macsen for days, not wanting to think of what Bleddyn would do if he suspected them of being involved in Odran and Ciara’s scheme.
“I alerted them the night of the feast,” Odran replied. “They left Seabhac for Ceffyl. They should be safe with Hywel.”
The tightness in Niall’s chest eased. Their families had always been close with Briallen and Torin of Ceffyl, and he had trust in their eldest son.
“I’m going to see what the food situation is,” Odran said, getting to his feet. “Care to join me?”
Niall shook his head, his shoulders tensing again. Truly he would love nothing more than to enjoy a drink at the bar and allow the crowd to distract him from his worries, but he couldn’t risk it, for a multitude of reasons.
“You go ahead,” he replied. “I’m more tired than I expected and I should probably lay low.”
“Suit yourself.”
Odran left and Niall lay down on his bed, Rhew curling up at his side. He listened to the noise that drifted through the thin walls. More than one set of footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing him to let out a quiet groan. There weren’t enough curses in Old Pernish to express how much he loathed what his life had become. He stroked Rhew’s back, staring up at the ceiling above him, focusing on the cracks in the wood. He was exhausted, and with Odran gone, he was guaranteed a few hours alone to let his guard down. He needed to rest while he could. Spirits knew what the next few weeks would entail.
∞∞∞
While Maura ventured out with Odran to see what they could find to eat, Ciara chose to remain in their room. The space was small and only one tiny window allowed in light, but she was more than happy to have a real bed for the night. Her side ached and her lungs were protesting the long day’s ride. She sat propped up against the creaky headboard, the blankets pulled up to her chin. Out of habit, she fidgeted with her bear bracelet while she waited for Maura’s return.
The past few days had allowed ample opportunity for the two women to talk, and Maura had been both practical and kind. Ciara had tried not to dwell on the knowledge that the other woman was everything she was not: strong, confident, brave—not to mention a warrior. Those thoughts were childish and petty, especially given as kind as Maura had been. She wasn’t particularly proud of the dark places her thoughts had wandered in recent days.
As she stared down at the well-worn blanket, her throat tightened. She needed to get home as soon as possible. Not necessarily to her mother and her web of control, but back to Arth and far away from Bleddyn and his lies. Biting her lip, she swallowed hard. She had been a blind fool, there was no doubt of that, but she knew, deep down, that at some point she would have to emerge from her place of self-pity. There would be no moving forward otherwise.
With a sigh, she rested her head back against the headboard, allowing her eyes to drift shut and doing her damndest not to let her thoughts drift to Niall. Somehow, even though she knew that he was right and that it was for the best, it had still hurt to hear his insistence that they shouldn’t be more than friends. It was all the more reason that she needed to strike out on her own when they left Caoirigh. The border of Arth wasn’t far and the separation would be good for the both of them. He could get back to his life and she could return to what remained of hers.
The door cracked open, the hinges in desperate need of a good oiling, and Ciara opened her eyes. Maura entered with a tentative smile, carrying a bundle of clothes under one arm and two bowls of some steaming food in her hands. The smells made Ciara’s stomach growl and she got to her feet, intending to help the other woman. Her movements were stiff and her body sore, but she took one of the bowls from Maura.
“Thanks,” Maura said, closing the door behind her. “I can’t vouch for how it tastes, but it’s the best option that we could find.”
“Thank you,” Ciara replied, sitting back down on the edge of her bed and blowing on a spoonful of
stew before taking a bite. “It’s not bad. There are certainly worse things in life than bland food.”
Maura quietly laughed, some of the tension in her shoulders easing while some of Ciara’s own unease dissipated. Setting her bowl of stew on the bedside table, Maura handed Ciara the bundle under her arm.
“Odran wanted me to pass these on to you; they’re from Niall,” Maura said as she gave her two large shirts. “I have a few extra things you’re welcome to as well. They might be a bit big, but I figure we can make them work for you.”
Ciara took the shirts from her, struggling against the painful lump that had formed in the back of her throat. She chastised herself for the handful of ridiculous, petty thoughts she had allowed herself to entertain regarding the woman in front of her. Her meager supplies, in particular her lack of clothing, apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed by her companions, and she was touched by their generosity.
“Thank you,” she said, setting the shirts aside.
Maura’s expression softened as she settled down on her own bed, facing Ciara. She picked up her stew, crossing her legs, and the two of them began to eat in comfortable silence.
“It was brave, what you did,” Maura said after a while. “We owe you and Odran our lives.”
Ciara averted her gaze, biting her lip. “I’m afraid it doesn’t feel particularly brave. Especially knowing that there were many lives lost.”
“But Niall and I would have been among them if you and Odran hadn’t intervened.”
With a sigh, Ciara looked down at her stew, stirring what remained of the mixture of vegetables and venison. “Sometimes I question if a truly brave woman would have even gotten herself in the situation that I was in in the first place.”
Maura was quiet for a moment, pressing her lips together.
The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen (Legacy Book 1) Page 15