Wrath carried Verity out of the feasting hall and when he was only a few steps from his dwelling, her eyes suddenly sprang open. He was surprised to see the color of her eyes was now dark blue as it had been when he first found her.
“It cannot be,” she no soon as whispered then her eyes closed again.
He laid her on his sleeping pallet, covering her with the blanket. He pressed his palm to her forehead and felt no warmth. There was always worry when heat settled in the body and feeling none brought some relief. What had she meant by it cannot be? And would she remember saying it? The King was right. He did not know this woman well enough to trust her. Why then did he feel that he could?
Wrath hurried to get the healer, Bethia. Before anything, he wanted Bethia to confirm what he already believed. Verity was not ill, weakened by her arduous journey perhaps, but not ill.
Verity woke with a start when the door closed. She stared anxiously at her surroundings before she realized where she was and recalled what had happened. She sat up and brought her knees up to her chin, hugging them.
She could not believe what she had seen. It was not possible, but her visions had never been wrong. She remembered the first vision she ever had. It had frightened her and she had shared it with Hemera. Hemera had warned her to tell no one about it or else she would be sent away to live with the seers, older women who lived only to predict and advise. Verity had been much too young to be forced into such a constrained life.
She and Hemera had kept her secret, and it was Hemera who had advised her to fake a vision now and again so it could be explained away as an odd attack that took hold of her on occasion. She had been wise in suggesting it and even wiser for Verity to have listened to her, for when a vision did strike her, no one had paid heed to it. It was also the reason not one Northmen would mate with her. They did not want their offspring suffering such an oddity.
It was what had brought her to Wrath. It was in a vision she had first seen him and had begun to feel safe with him. It had shown him protecting her and Hemera. She could not believe what her vision had revealed to her in the feasting hall. She shivered, recalling it.
The Northmen were coming for her and Hemera.
The door opened and a woman entered, and Wrath followed in behind her.
The woman approached the sleeping pallet. Her gray hair was shorter than Verity had ever seen on a woman. It barely brushed her shoulders. She was tall and thin and there was kindness in her eyes and a smile on her face. Verity was about to return the smile, when Wrath’s words sent a chill through her.
“This is Bethia our healer.”
Verity hugged her knees tighter to her. “I need no healer.”
“You look well enough,” Bethia said, pulling a bench close to the sleeping pallet and sitting.
“I have strange attacks on occasion. I am used them. They are nothing and they harm no one.”
“They just come and go?”
Verity nodded and looked to see that Wrath leaned casually against the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes steady on her, listening to her every response.
“How long have you suffered them?”
“Since I was young.”
“Before the Northmen took you?” Wrath asked.
“No,” Verity said, shaking her head. “They came long afterwards.”
“Do you suffer any pain when they take hold of you?”
Verity was surprised it was Wrath that asked and even more surprised that he sounded concerned. “No, I feel nothing.” That was not quite true. Some of her visions left her in fear, just as this one had. Most left her feeling tired.
“Then why do you hug yourself so tightly?” Wrath asked, pushing away from the door with his shoulder and approaching the sleeping pallet.
Verity was grateful to the healer for answering.
“What would you expect from her after her wits are stolen from her? It must leave her a bit confused.”
Wrath stopped at the end of the sleeping pallet. “Does it leave you confused?”
“It depends on how long it takes me to wake from one. Longer attacks leave me more muddled.” That was the truth, though she had never confessed that to anyone but Hemera.
“It must leave you tired as well, especially so after your difficult journey,” Bethia said, reaching out to pat Verity’s arm. “I believe a nice warm brew and some sleep will see you fit again.”
Verity was quick to respond. “I need no brew.”
Bethia patted her arm again. “I think perhaps that a healer did not treat you well.”
Verity shivered and gave her knees another hug as she nodded, having no wont to speak about it.
“My brew soothes, nothing more, but if you prefer not to drink it that is your choice.”
“If it will help her, she will drink it,” Wrath said and was puzzled by the strange look Verity turned on him.
“The brew will do her little good if she is forced to take it,” Bethia said and reached for the pouch hanging from the belt at her waist. She opened it and drew out some dried crushed leaves. She held them out to Wrath. “Take these to Simca, you will find her—”
Wrath took them from her. “I know where to find Simca.”
“Yes, you would know where to find her.” Bethia grinned. “She will know how to prepare the brew. Wait and bring it back here, if you will?”
“You will stay with Verity until I return and you will see if there is more you can do for her.”
Bethia agreed with a nod, though she knew it was not a request.
“You are safe with Bethia,” Wrath assured Verity before he left.
Verity hoped so, but she worried. Some healers had a way of knowing things and if it had not been for Hemera, the Northmen healer would have seen her dead.
“I have seen your kind of attacks before, where a woman suddenly slips into a deep slumber and cannot be woken.” Bethia said once they were alone. “They come upon women who have visions. Some tribes fear the women who can see what is to come, other tribes revere them, though isolate them, since they also fear them. After all, who wants to be around someone who knows your fate?”
Verity remained silent, fearful this woman would divulge her secret.
Bethia patted her arm for a third time and smiled. “But you need not worry about that, since your attacks stem from illness.” Her smile faded some. “Wrath sees things others do not. It is how he keeps the King protected, safe from those who wish him harm. He does not trust easily and does not tolerate fools and liars. He also has a temper that once let loose is not easily contained. But mostly, he is a man of honor and you can ask for no better man to call friend.”
“I am grateful for your wise words and I will remember them well.”
It was not long before Wrath returned and when he entered, he went directly to Verity and handed her the vessel he carried, not giving her a chance to refuse it.
Bethia stood. “It has a fine taste and will soothe you.”
“She will drink it,” Wrath said, sending Verity a stern look.
Accustomed to obeying, Verity sipped at it and was pleased by the pleasant taste and scent that drifted up her nose.
“She is well?” Wrath asked of Bethia.
“She is fine and, as she told us, she is accustomed to the attacks. She deals well with it when it overpowers her and now that you are aware of it, you will know what to do when it happens again.”
Wrath had his doubts about that, since his insides had knotted when he had seen her about to collapse. “There is nothing that can be done to help her?”
Bethia patted his arm and smiled. “Be there to catch her.”
Wrath did not find Bethia’s response humorous, since he worried what would happen to Verity if he was not there to catch her.
Bethia stopped at the door. “An attack such as hers can rob her strength. See that she rests.” She sent a smile and nod to Verity and left.
Wrath sat beside Verity. “Drink, it will help you.”
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He did not sound like those who had ordered her about with almost every word they spoke. There was concern in Wrath’s voice and, of late, she had known little of that.
“You challenge me, Verity.” Her eyes showed surprise at his words. “I want to believe what you have told me about yourself, but I wonder if I would be a fool to trust you until I have learned more about you.”
Verity wished she could be truthful with him, but it was how he would respond to the truth that she feared the most. He would know all sooner or later, but until then she had to hold her tongue.
“The King wants to hear what your sister has to say. He has instructed me to go in search of her.”
“When do we leave?” Verity asked anxiously. The sooner they found Hemera the better. Her visions did not always allow her to see when things would happen, so she did not know if the Northmen were making plans or had already left to come after them.
“You are not well enough to travel.”
“You must take me with you. How else will you know my sister?” she begged.
“You will tell me about her and there must be traits you both share that I would recognize.”
Verity reached out to rest her hand on his arm. “Hemera is different from others. She is often lost in her own thoughts and is slower to respond when spoken to. I worry how she will survive in a strange land on her own, and I fear that I will be too late in finding her. Please you cannot leave me behind. I must be there when you find her, however it is we find her.”
Wrath had felt her hand tighten on his arm with every word she spoke. Her concern and fear were real, yet he felt there was something more she was not telling him.
“What were your plans once you reached our shores?” he asked and watched a brief flicker of doubt flash in her eyes. It was clear that she was hesitant to speak.
“We were not sure, safety from the Northmen was our first concern,” Verity said, seeing no harm in telling him that.
“You believe the Northmen will bother to chase after two slaves that escaped? That does not seem likely unless of course you have done something so offensive that the Northmen seek reprisal.”
Verity wanted to bite her tongue for not having thought on her words. “We are property and the Northmen do not like to lose what belongs to them.”
“You are Pict. This land is your home. The King will see you are safe as long as you are truthful.” It made no sense to Wrath that she should worry that the Northmen would come for her and her sister. They would not dare arrive on Pict shore and demand the King return two of his own people and even if she had done something to offend the Northmen, King Talon would be the one to see her punished.
“It is hard for me to believe that my sister and I are finally free after all these years. I worry that I will wake and discover it is all a dream.”
“It is no dream. You are home now and have nothing to fear.”
If only that were true, Verity thought as she drank more of the tasty brew.
“Tell me the last thing you remember before the sea claimed your vessel,” Wrath said and moved his arm so that her hand fell off it. Surprisingly, her hand quickly latched onto his hand, as if she feared him leaving her side.
“The clouds were so heavy above, that darkness covered whatever there was of the moon. The swells grew larger and we hung on tightly. Then out of the pit of darkness came a huge wave and suddenly we were being swallowed by the icy sea. The next thing I remembered was waking up on the shore, wet and cold, Hemera nowhere to be seen. I needed to get warm before I could do anything else. I was lucky to come upon an empty dwelling. It took some time, but I got a fire going in the fire pit. It took several settings and risings of the sun for my garments to dry and for the cold to leave my insides. Only then did I begin my search for Hemera, and it was not long after that that the snow began to fall.”
Wrath had known strong, courageous women and had fought beside many, but they had been trained since they were young, not so Verity. Her life had been one of servitude and obedience. How she had gained the courage and strength to plan an escape, brave the unpredictable sea, and survive a watery grave was remarkable. Or there was more to her story.
“I thought I found a torn piece of Hemera’s cloak, but the wind snatched it from my hand.”
“Where was that?”
“I wish I knew,” Verity said with a sigh that spoke of frustration. “The snow was falling heavily and I was barely able to see where I walked. The dark piece of wool was like a beacon in the storm. It was caught in a bush and as soon as I grabbed it, the swirling wind robbed me of it.”
“It sounds as if your sister was searching for you as well. Do you know how long after that I found you?”
“I am not sure, perhaps one or two sunrises.” Verity shook her head. “It could have been more. The snowstorm made it difficult to tell.”
“As soon as the snow stops, we will take our leave and search for your sister. Until then, you are to rest so that you are not more burden than help to me.”
“I will be no burden,” Verity said sharply and hearing her curt tone quickly apologized. “Forgive me, I meant no disrespect.”
“You are not my slave, Verity, and while I will not tolerate a snappish tone from anyone but the King, I understand the reason for your curtness. I warn you, though, use it sparingly with me.”
He stood abruptly and their hands parted with the same suddenness, causing them both to exchange surprised glances. Or had the sudden parting left them feeling as though they had been torn unwillingly apart?
“You need to rest and regain your strength for our journey.”
She would have argued that she was strong enough whether she was or not, but a yawn settled it for her.
Wrath took the vessel from her hand. “Sleep, I have matters to see to.”
“I cannot continue to intrude on your generosity. There must be some other place I may dwell until we take our leave.”
“As the King has decreed, you are my responsibility, and since I am still not sure if I can trust you, I will keep you close.”
“You cannot mean that I am to continue to share your sleeping pallet?”
Wrath leaned over her, bringing his face so close to hers that she thought for a moment he meant to kiss her, and she shivered.
“You keep something from me and until I find out what it is, you will stay by my side whether it is in my dwelling or sharing my sleeping pallet. He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her down to lie flat on her back. He then leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her head. “You will not move from here until I return.”
Verity nodded slowly and after staring at her for a few moments with dark eyes that reminded her of the sky during the raging storm at sea, he moved away and hastily left the dwelling.
Verity expelled a heavy breath, feeling as if she had just escaped a potential storm. She lie there thinking about the vision that had shown Wrath helping her find her sister and realized that in one of her previous visions Hemera had already been found. Wrath had stood close while she and Hemera hugged tightly. Had Wrath helped her or had he found them after Verity had found Hemera on her own?
Deciphering some of her visions proved challenging while others were so potent in their image that when they proved true, Verity felt as if she was reliving the incident. That particular one was proving to be more challenging. Did she stay and leave along with Wrath? Or did she go off on her own and meet up with Wrath later? Either way Wrath would find them.
So far, she had had no visions of what became of her and her sister beyond that image. She sat up, her thoughts too busy to rest.
Hemera could be lying in the cold snow somewhere, perhaps just outside the stronghold’s gates. The worrisome thought had her hurrying to her feet.
Stronghold gates were often opened at sunrise and closed just before darkness fell. What if Hemera had made it as close to the Pict stronghold as she had? She could be out there now lying in the snow freezing to death.
She slipped on her cloak and went to the door. She opened it slowly and peered out, relieved to see Wrath had left no guard at the door. She pulled her hood up and stepped out of the dwelling.
Snow was falling but not heavily and with a determined step she made her way through the village.
Chapter Five
Wrath sat at the long narrow table in the Council Chambers, the High Counsel meeting almost at an end. The last matter to be discussed was who would fill the seat on the High Council of Warrior Commander. Tarn had once held it, but had proven to be no friend to the King, as did Bodu who had held the seat of Master Builder. Both men had proven enemies of the King and had met a fitting fate.
The King had appointed Paine, his executioner, though no longer, Master Builder. He had often helped the King construct small versions of dwellings he wished to build before the actual construction was approved. No one on the council had objected to Paine’s appointment, but then the King had the final decision as always.
Wrath thought someone would have been chosen while he was gone, but he had returned to find the seat had remained empty.
“We must fill the position of Warrior Commander,” Gelhard said. “The warriors grow restless without someone to command them.”
Wrath shook his head as soon as the words left the man’s mouth and from the way Midrent, the Tariff Collector’s brow went up and the way Ebit’s, the Crop Master, eyes turned wide, they were thinking the same as Wrath. He looked to the King and waited.
King Talon glared at Gelhard. “Are you saying that my warriors believe I cannot lead them?”
Wrath placed his hand over his mouth to hide the smile that surfaced when he watched Gelhard turn as white as the falling snow.
“No. No, my King. I meant no such thing,” Gelhard said, trying to right his foolish wrong.
“Then what did you mean?” King Talon demanded his voice so strong that it seemed to echo off the walls.
Gelhard stammered, though nothing coherent came out of his mouth.
The King's Warrior (Pict King Series Book 2) Page 4