The Farrier's Daughter

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  Alainn blushed.

  “Ah!” he said, smirking with evil intent. “So that’s the whole of it then! Does my nephew know of your condition, is that why he is so set upon marrying you?”

  “He does not know, and I ask you keep it concealed. It will be best if he marries the woman you have chosen for him. Should I fail to end the curse, I do not wish to see him suffer.”

  Killian stirred, and she knelt to examine the gash on his head. Taking her dagger, she slit her palm and allowed blood to drip onto his wound. The chieftain looked on, clearly disturbed, then surprised as the wound healed as if it had never been there.

  By this time they could hear the footsteps of more guards approaching. Alainn tried to avert her eyes from the two wounded men on the floor. One of them began to come to. The chieftain stood over him and, with no hesitation, drove his sword through his heart. He roughly pulled the weapon from his chest and slit the throat of the other.

  “Why?” she asked simply.

  “I can hardly permit you to go free when they have witnessed your powers. Though my army is loyal, tongues are sure to wag, and rumors will run amuck. If my priest catches wind of this, when he already believes your abilities are born of evil, he will not soon be silenced on his quest to see you burn. So,” he shrugged, “their lives needed ending.”

  She threw him such a look of complete despair as he threw back his head and laughed.

  “You think me shrewd and unfeeling, Maiden McCreary, but I do what I must to ensure the safety of my kin and the strength of my clan.”

  Killian had begun to gain consciousness. Alainn grabbed her cloak and her weapon, and threw the O’Brien a look of loathing. The guards clustered at the door parted, as if moved by an invisible hand, and let her pass. The chieftain shivered as she glanced back at him, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

  Chapter Twelve

  Killian awoke in his own bed with a throbbing headache. He tried to remember what had happened and then wanted badly to forget. When he tried to stand, he was overcome with dizziness. His sword was no longer in its sheath, and his knife was missing. When he could finally stand without falling over, he headed for the door in an unsteady gait. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Stumbling down the hall to his uncle’s bedchamber, he pounded on the door, calling his name angrily when no one answered.

  “Killian, ’tis so good to see you!” It was his aunt, Lady Siobhan, peering out of her own chambers. “I was overly worried when you were so late in returning. I feared you might have fallen into some trouble, for I heard the English had been spotted in the area.”

  “Aunt Siobhan.” He bowed respectfully, felt himself growing dizzy again, and fell back against the wall. His aunt rushed to his side to steady him.

  “Killian, you are hurt! Whatever has happened to you? There is blood all down the back of your garment. Come inside with me, I will see to your wounds!”

  “ ’Tis nothing! I have come in search of my uncle. Do you know of his whereabouts?”

  She was dressed in a nightdress with a thick shawl around her shoulders. Her yellow hair, always piled neatly on her head during daylight hours, hung loose. She pushed the lengthy strands from her eyes and shook her head.

  “I do not believe he has come to his chambers yet. He was in the great hall earlier, and I heard mention of some discord and someone being taken to the dungeon, but I am not certain what happened. Your uncle does not share such matters with me. But, Killian, you must come inside my chambers and tell me what troubles you.”

  “I mean you no disrespect, Aunt Siobhan, for you are well important to me, but I have no time for discussion this night. I have a miserable ache in my head, to be sure, but I believe there is no fresh wound.”

  He placed his hand to his head and felt a raised welt but no open gash. His aunt instructed him to bend so that she might examine it, and he obliged her.

  “Killian, it is healed! Surely, this is not a most recent wound. Were you wounded in Galway or on your journey?”

  “It appears I am not so very clear on the details of my injury.”

  He could only vaguely remember a sharp pain in his head before he met darkness. He pulled on his tunic to straighten it, for his clothes were still slightly askew, and the amulet around his neck dangled free for a moment. His aunt gasped.

  “Where did you get this, Killian?”

  “It was given to me,” he said gruffly, offering no further explanation.

  “May I see it?”

  Remembering Alainn’s warning, he gently shook his head. “I am apparently not to remove it.”

  “It has been charmed for you?” Her eyes were filled with excitement and confusion.

  “Aye.”

  “Wait here for one moment!” she instructed.

  “Aunt Siobhan, I have matters to attend to,” he complained.

  “One moment, Killian, that is all I ask.” She ran back into her chamber.

  Leaning against the wall to steady himself, he waited with growing impatience. When she came back, her face was pale.

  “What is it Aunt Siobhan? You look most unsettled.”

  “Aye, Killian, I am unsettled, to be sure.”

  She touched the amulet that still hung from his neck, carefully studying how it had been charred. The front still bore the druid symbol of the trinity knot, the triquetra, but her face fell when she saw the back.

  “There is a piece missing. Do you know where the other side of the amulet is?”

  “I’ve never seen any other portion, bar this.”

  She pulled her own amulet from her neck and passed it to him. He noticed the symbol was entirely the same and noted that it had also been scorched by heat at one time. When he turned it over he saw a crest.

  “What crest is this?”

  “ ’Tis my family crest, from our druid ancestry. The bearer of the amulet you wear is of our druid sect, but without the crest I am unable to distinguish what line it lays claim to. She must have cared for you dearly, for a druid is only ever to give away their birth amulet to the one who claims their heart or to a child they have birthed. I had the blacksmith forge two amulets for my sons when they were infants, but my husband would never allow them to wear the mark of the druids. I thought perhaps they had been stolen, but they remain securely hidden. Please, you must reveal who the owner is. This is of great importance.”

  Killian was about to speak, when he heard his uncle’s voice. He stiffened. The man came round the winding corridor, accompanied by someone Killian had not seen before. His uncle’s chest was bare, and a large bandage was wound around his neck and shoulder.

  “Hugh!” cried Lady Siobhan. “What has happened to you? How were you wounded?”

  “You might ask your nephew that very question, Wife.”

  “Killian, you did this? The two of you have quarreled violently? What could have caused such a serious rift between blood kin?” Both men stared defiantly at one another. The third man who was considerably shorter and smaller of girth, spoke for the first time.

  “Milord, you must not exert yourself, I have sewn up the wound, but it may reopen if you are not cautious.”

  “I am quite well enough. ’Tis not the first time I’ve suffered a blade and, in truth, not the first time I have suffered a blade by my kin. But, ’tis usually on a playing field or in a soldiering bout. You must tend to my nephew, for he too was wounded this night.”

  “I don’t need to be tended to. I only need a word alone with you, Uncle.”

  “My physician is most knowledgeable. He will make certain you are in fit form to begin the bouts in the morning. The O’Brien’s are counting on you to score points for our clan.”

  “And why would I want to take part in anything that would benefit you, Uncle?”

  “The challenges and jousting matches are excellent ways to stem anger and frustration, Killian. Direct your anger at your opponents and you will have a clear advantage.”

  “I desire to speak with you alone, Uncle. We ha
ve many subjects to speak on.”

  “The night is late, Killian. We both must rest, for this week of events and celebrations promises to be a time of great happenings. You must greet your cousins in the morning, as well. And your intended, Maiden MacDonald, will be most eager to make your acquaintance again to be sure.”

  “If you do not speak with me in private, Uncle, I will air subjects best left between only the two of us!”

  “Hugh, if Killian wants to speak with you, grant him his request.”

  “You stay out of this, Wife!”

  “He is like a son to us, Hugh. You cannot be suggesting he harmed you?”

  Killian threw a caustic look at his uncle, but spoke to his aunt.

  “I am proud to be referred to as your son, Aunt Siobhan, but I am not this man’s son. He is a stranger to me. In truth, he is dead to me. I will stay this week, to be here for my cousins, but when it is through, I will be gone from your castle, Uncle, and I’ll not care to ever see you again.”

  “You’ll change your mind, Killian.”

  “I would not count on that.”

  “Killian, you must tell me what has caused this unpleasantness between the two of you!”

  “ ’Tis nothing I can discuss with you, Aunt. Forgive me if I have upset you, it was not my intention.”

  His aunt looked from him to her husband and back again, great despair on her face. The physician stood to the side most uncomfortably. Killian turned and stalked down the lengthy corridor.

  “Killian where are you off to? You should rest, for that wound on your head might still cause you grave concern.”

  “ ’Tis not my head wound that has caused this night’s unpleasantness!”

  “But where is it you intend to go?”

  “I am off to the dungeon and to find the ale-wife. But, not necessarily in that order.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Killian’s head throbbed painfully, and this time not from a knock on the head. He and Riley had spent the better part of the last two days and nights drinking to a staggering drunk. When they’d slept off the drink, they began again. After Killian learned Alainn had not been taken to the dungeon but was safe and staying with Cook and his family, he had found the ale wife and procured as much liquor as he could carry.

  He’d run into Riley, looking as grim as he, and they found a place to drown their sorrows. Though Killian had not spoken of what had him so upset, Riley knew well enough it concerned Alainn. Riley was most displeased with the woman his father had chosen for him.

  And so, they drank.

  It was fortunate for them the skies had opened up and rained steadily for two days. It had poured so hard the tournament was postponed until the rain stopped and the ground dried. The rain continued to tap on the roof. Killian wondered if the storm was Alainn’s doing. When he thought of her, he reached for another jug of whiskey and heartily drank the pungent liquid.

  He knew he should go to her, speak with her about all that had happened, about what his uncle had said, but he did not want to be near her at the moment. She had lied to him.

  “I trusted her completely,” he grumbled and put the jug to his lips again, enjoying the burning sensation as the ale slid down his throat. It left his throat as raw and irritated as his heart. He rubbed his jaw; it was covered with stubble. He wet his lips. His breath was sour, and his hair and clothes were unkempt.

  Riley moaned from his position on the floor. “Christ, my head thumps as though there were thunder inside it.”

  “Aye, you’re not lookin’ altogether well, either, cousin.” Killian squinted at the man beside him as he lit the small lantern.

  “Nor are you, Killian. Your Mary will not recognize you, I think, when you finally decide to go see her. Whenever that might be!” he barked.

  “Your mother was not pleased when we refused to attend the banquet last evening.”

  “No, she looked more than displeased. In truth, I think she wanted to throttle the two of us. At least Rory seems agreeable about his intended. And yours is at least a pleasant girl. I have never met a woman as entirely abrasive as that wench I am to wed. She has a voice that would make one’s ears protest. I’m sure she frightens animals and small children with the whining. Iona has not one kind or pleasant word to say about anyone or anything, and she will scarcely leave her mother’s side.

  “I dearly hope she’ll run off with another and save me the unpleasantness of wedding her. I’ve a grand notion, Killian. What say we trade women? You’ll not be happy, regardless of whom you wed, unless it is Alainn. So you wed the carrot-top, and I’ll take the Scot. Your Mary is quite lovely. A happy sort. Sure she must wonder why you are avoiding her.”

  “Aye, wed her if you like, for I’ve no intention of it.”

  “You cannot disobey my father, Killian. He will have his way in the end, so you might as well just go along with it. He’s a shrewd and cunning man who’ll do most anything to achieve what he wants.”

  “I’ve no desire to speak of your father. And you speak as though this is as minor as him assigning us to a bout. This is to be for a lifetime, Riley. We are to be wed to these women for the rest of our lives. I cannot fathom the finality of it. I cannot be saddled with a woman I barely know! In truth, I may choose to join the McKenna clan.”

  “Killian, you must be drunk, he’d have your head if you joined our enemies.”

  “Perhaps, but it might be worth it to make him see how it feels to be betrayed by someone you trust.”

  “Curiosity has got the best of me, Killian. What in hell happened between you and Alainn?”

  “I’ll not discuss it with you or anyone else, Riley,” he warned.

  “Then drink another few jugs of brew and tell me if you feel any better for it. Maybe I’ll just sit here and join you. Though, if the sun begins to shine, I suspect we’ll be in less than fine shape to begin the challenges.”

  “Aye well, ’tis not a likelihood. It is sure to remain dismal for a time.”

  “So you’ve developed Alainn’s talent for foreseeing the future, have you?”

  The door to the windowless tower chamber opened and light from the hall flooded the room. The men cried out in pain and covered their eyes.

  “Christ, but there is a horrid stink in here.” When they saw it was only Rory, Riley flopped back down on the stone floor. Killian held the jug up in a welcoming gesture, taking another swig himself.

  “You smell like you’ve bathed in that whiskey instead of drinking it.”

  “Would you care to join us, Rory?” his twin asked.

  “I can barely stand to be near you, the reek is so unpleasant. You might want to wash and shave, for if you don’t attend the banquet this evening, mother will be fit to be tied. She thinks you are being entirely rude to the women you are promised to, and their kin are displeased as well. Your absence was difficult for our parents to explain. The only saving grace is this gloomy weather. With no challenges to watch, half the guests are in a drunken state themselves. But, when the ale wife runs out of brew, which is sure to be soon if the two of you keep up the way you have been, it will be more difficult to explain. You’re not lads anymore, hiding out to escape a whipping. ’Tis time you face your responsibilities like men. For our mother’s sake, if nothin’ else.”

  “Always attempting to make peace, brother. And how is your intended? Have you taken her to your bed yet?”

  Killian snorted.

  “Riley, you’re completely irredeemable,” he said, scowling. “Just because I do not despise the girl as you do her sister, does not mean I have bedded her. That will surely wait till after the wedding. And if you’d happened to have attended the banquet last night, you would have learned our father has announced that all of our weddings will take place at the conclusion of the celebrations.”

  “What!” Both men sat up at this proclamation, moaning loudly as their heads protested.

  “He should get used to the idea that I do not intend to wed the Scot this week or any othe
r!” Killian shouted, sinking back down to lean weakly against the wall.

  “Killian, you’re being unusually difficult. If you don’t intend to wed her, then I think you might at least tell the girl and her family. In all fairness, that would be the gentlemanly thing to do. If you’re not wedding her simply to defy my father, I think it’s not the best strategy. But, if you’re not wedding Mary because you truly love Alainn, then you’d best get off your arse and get yourself sober, for she’s scheduled to wed the farmer, Liam O’Hara, in three days’ time.”

  Rory shook his head in disgust and headed back out the door. There was silence for a time as each man contemplated his own fate.

  “So what is it you plan to do then, Killian?”

  “I haven’t the slightest notion.”

  “Well, I’m heading out to see if I can’t find Alainn, for she has a surefire remedy to deal with the effects of too much drink. Are you coming with me, cousin?”

  “Not just yet. I’ve still a lot of thinkin’ to do.”

  “Well don’t think on it too long, Killian, for you’ll never forgive yourself, if you allow her to slip away. Sure, she’s all you’ve ever wanted since you were just a lad. Can you truly bear to see her wedded to another?”

  “What I want and what I can bear are apparently of little consequence at the moment, Riley.”

  “Aye, I know well what you mean, cousin.”

  The door closed and Killian welcomed the darkness once more to match his gloomy thoughts.

  Washed and shaven, Killian stared into the looking glass in his bedchamber. His eyes looked as if some wee fairy with sharp heels had done a dance upon them. And they felt no better. Gravelly and irritated, like his heart and soul. He sat down upon the bed, still unsure what to do. He knew he must find Alainn and speak to her, but every time he tried to rehearse what he might say, he became enraged. Could he allow her to be wed to another? Did he have a choice? He didn’t know Liam O’Hara well, but he seemed an honorable man. He’d make a good husband. She would have a home, and though not a castle, it was a good deal better than what she had now. But, could he live with the knowledge that the woman he loved belonged to another?