Warrior of Fire

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘You may see the soldier if you wish,’ Isabel said slowly. ‘But take slow steps. And promise me you’ll let our healer look at you afterwards.’

  She braved a smile at the queen, who seemed to understand her reasons. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I suppose if it were me, I would not let anything stop me from seeing Patrick.’ Isabel walked beside her, keeping the pace slow. Liam squirmed in her arms, but she bent to him and kissed his cheeks. ‘You did not mention this man before. And I don’t think Killian knew of him either, did he?’

  Because her brother would have been overprotective and angry with her for taking such a risk. It was better if he knew nothing.

  ‘No, I didn’t tell him about Raine.’ She didn’t miss Isabel’s curious look, but she saw no reason to elaborate. ‘If it weren’t for him granting me shelter, I wouldn’t have survived my escape.’

  Carice leaned against the wall as she made her way towards the hall. Isabel was leading the way, but Genevieve had stayed behind to finish nursing Duncan. Dizziness washed over Carice when she reached the stairs, but she forced herself to continue.

  When she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she paused a moment to catch her breath. Isabel guided her into the Great Chamber, but there was no sign of Raine anywhere. The din of conversation within the space was a roar within her ears. Carice chose a seat on one of the low chairs near the wall, trying to remain out of the way while she mustered her remaining strength. Most of the trestle tables had been pushed aside, but many people had gathered within the space. Soon enough, several MacEgan guards emerged, and behind them, she saw Raine.

  When he removed his iron helm, his dark blond hair was dampened with snow. He wore the same chain mail armour and tunic she had seen earlier. He kept his posture rigid as he entered the chamber, and a broadsword hung at his side. From the linen bandage on his forearm, she realised that he’d suffered a minor wound, but it was the only injury she could see. And for now, she was so relieved to see him alive.

  She wished she could run towards him, to embrace him and thank him for all that he’d done. But if she dared to leave this seat, she would drop to the floor in a faint. A slight smile played at her lips at the thought of collapsing before him. It wasn’t exactly the way she wanted to welcome the man.

  Two of the MacEgan men shadowed Raine as he strode towards the dais. Queen Isabel had joined her husband, and although she was Norman herself, her expression held wariness. Carice didn’t understand the tension between Isabel and the king. Why would Raine’s presence bother the queen? He had not come with an army, intending an attack—he’d come for her.

  She stood, and a tunnelling rush of air made her dizzy. Don’t faint, she warned herself. Slowly, she pushed her way through the crowd of people who had gathered. Trahern had joined his brother at the dais, and at the sight of him, she breathed a little easier. He could attest that Raine had saved their lives.

  ‘Who are you and why have you come to Laochre?’ the king asked. He spoke in the Irish tongue, and when Raine didn’t answer at first, the queen translated for him in the Norman language.

  ‘I am Raine de Garenne.’ He sent a direct look towards Trahern. ‘And your brother knows why I am here.’

  The Irish warrior took a step forward, but there was wariness in his expression. ‘I found him with the Lady Carice. We were attacked by the High King’s men, and he stayed behind so that I could bring the lady to Laochre. I invited him to join us, and I presume he wanted to see if the lady was safe. Unless he came for another reason?’ He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

  A rushing sound filled Carice’s ears, and she took a shaky breath, moving closer to Raine. Then he saw her, and his green eyes turned possessive. He looked upon her as if she belonged to no one but him. ‘I have come at the Lady Carice’s request.’ His eyes held warmth, reminding her of the days they’d spent together.

  She wanted to speak to Raine, to tell him how glad she was to see him once more. But his voice seemed to come from far away, the words echoing within her ringing ears. Her knees were weak, hardly supporting her steps at all. And suddenly, her sight grew fuzzy and the room tipped. Though she fought to remain conscious, darkness closed over her.

  And then, there was nothing.

  * * *

  Raine rushed towards Carice, but two men held him back. Dieu, she’d been so pale. He didn’t know why she’d fainted, but it was clear her illness hadn’t abated. Instead, she seemed to be getting worse.

  ‘Let go of me,’ he demanded. The primal need to protect her overrode all else. He elbowed his way free of one guard, and then smashed the face of another. He heard the crunch of bone and raised his arm to ward off a blow. Two of the MacEgan brothers seized him, but he wrenched his way free. Before he could reach Carice, Trahern hauled him back.

  ‘Leave her be.’ The Irishman spoke in the Norman tongue and tightened his grip on Raine’s forearm. ‘Our healer will look after her.’

  Though he knew they were right, fury roared through him with the possessive need to guard Carice. He knew it was irrational, but he didn’t like seeing her in such a state.

  The king intervened, stepping forward as he spoke the Norman tongue. ‘Lady Carice will be well enough in the care of our healer. But I have questions for you about your involvement with King Rory.’ The sharp tone within the man’s voice held suspicion and a silent threat.

  Raine fell silent, his attention fixed upon Carice as the healer took her away. He wasn’t surprised that the MacEgans didn’t trust him. They had good reasons not to.

  A moment later, they switched into Irish, speaking quietly in front of him. He understood most of what they were saying, but decided to keep that knowledge to himself. Though he could speak a few Irish words, his listening skills were far stronger.

  Patrick turned to his brother Trahern and asked, ‘Why do you think the Normans are gathering at Tara? Henry is not visiting, and there is no reason for an army.’

  Raine was careful to keep his expression fixed, making it seem as if he didn’t understand a single word. But their suspicions were raised by his very presence.

  ‘He knows something,’ Trahern remarked. Raine could feel the man’s searching gaze upon him. ‘But he’ll never tell us.’ To the younger blond warrior, he asked, ‘What do you want to do, Connor?’

  The young man’s face grew serious. ‘Question him further.’

  The king seemed to agree. ‘We cannot allow the Normans to attack Tara. We’ve fought too hard for this peace.’ He exchanged a look with his wife, who came forward and took his hand.

  Raine continued to behave as if he understood none of their words. But he knew that more questioning could lead to imprisonment or worse, torture. The MacEgans had allies among both the Irish and the Normans, and they would do whatever was necessary to keep the High King alive.

  Which put them at cross purposes. Rory Ó Connor could not remain alive if Raine intended to gain his sisters’ freedom.

  ‘Come,’ Trahern spoke in the Norman language once more, leading him towards the back of the Hall. ‘My brothers and I want to speak with you in private.’

  Raine said nothing, knowing that if he dared to protest, it might reveal that he understood their language. ‘I came to see Lady Carice.’

  ‘And so you will, when she is feeling better.’

  All of his instincts flared up, for he knew not where they would bring him. If he broke free now, they would never let him near Carice. But if he agreed to go with them in private, the ‘questioning’ might take a darker turn.

  They had already taken her above stairs, and it was killing him not to follow her. Not only because he needed to take her with him to Tara, but also because she was unwell. He vowed to himself that after he had answered their questions, nothing would stop him from finding Carice.

  The men led him to a smaller cham
ber in the very back of the donjon. King Patrick faced him, while his brothers, Trahern and Connor, stood on either side of him. ‘My wife was a Norman before she married me. I have kept my peace with them, but only for her sake. My loyalty lies with my kinsmen and with the kings who battle for the good of Éireann.’

  Raine straightened and faced the king openly. ‘Why am I here?’

  Patrick took a step forward, meeting him eye to eye. ‘Because you slaughtered the High King’s men instead of giving Lady Carice back into their care.’

  ‘She did not want to wed the High King. I defended her from becoming their captive.’

  ‘A woman you’ve only known two days?’ The king’s mouth tightened. ‘I believe you had another purpose in mind.’

  Before Raine could counter the man’s prediction, Patrick continued. ‘According to Lady Carice, you intended to return to your army at Tara. I want to know why. Why are the Normans gathering around the High King?’

  ‘I am a soldier, and I obey orders,’ Raine answered. ‘I know not why they are travelling there.’ He kept his voice quiet, as if he cared nothing about the Norman army.

  ‘A lie,’ Trahern said. ‘If you were obedient, you would have been with your commander instead of alone.’

  ‘I was granted a short leave to bury the holy men who died in a fire,’ he said.

  Trahern exchanged a glance with his brothers. Connor seemed to read his distrust and came to stand behind Raine. It was a not so subtle reminder that he was surrounded by men who could easily kill him where he stood.

  ‘Instead of returning to the Normans, you came back for the lady,’ Trahern said. ‘Those are not the actions of a loyal soldier.’

  Raine gave no response at all, knowing that silence was the best answer.

  ‘You were planning to use her, weren’t you? Because then you would be close to the High King.’ Trahern moved even closer, using his height as intimidation. ‘For what purpose?’

  Raine pretended as if he’d heard nothing. Over and over, they questioned him, but he let their words fall upon deaf ears. Instead, he envisioned Carice’s beautiful face and the long brown hair that hung below her shoulders to her breasts. He remembered her smile and the light blue eyes that held worry for him.

  When they realised that he would answer no further questions, Patrick switched into the Irish language. ‘Do you think he’s dangerous?’

  Trahern gave a slight nod. ‘To King Rory, yes. Not to us or to Lady Carice.’

  The king thought a moment. ‘We cannot let him stay within the castle. He might try to take the lady during the night.’

  Which was exactly what Raine had planned. It took an effort not to reveal that he understood every word of their conversation. But these men were far too astute about his intentions.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Connor asked.

  The king only pointed towards the door. ‘Take him.’ His brothers seemed to understand Patrick’s orders, and they guided Raine back through the Great Chamber and outside. Connor kept his weapon unsheathed, and it was clear that they were treating him as a prisoner instead of a guest.

  As they approached a smaller tower, Raine studied the number of MacEgan soldiers in the courtyard. There were at least two dozen men, half of them patrolling the inner bailey, and others stood at intervals at their posts along the top of the outer wall.

  He could try to escape—and might even succeed if he moved quickly—but they would only believe him guilty. At the moment, he had simply refused to answer questions. Even if they imprisoned him, there was no cause for punishment.

  At least, not yet.

  They had guessed his intent to bring Carice to Tara, but they knew nothing about his role in killing the High King. If they did, they would slit his throat where he stood.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ he demanded, as they guided him across the inner bailey. Their silence was an answer he should have anticipated, as a subtle retribution for his own refusal to speak.

  When they reached the stone outbuilding, he didn’t miss the solid wooden door leading inside the guard tower. Raine halted his steps and stared at the men. ‘Is this how you treat all strangers who visit Laochre?’

  ‘It’s how we treat Norman strangers,’ Trahern countered. ‘At least, those who keep the truth from us.’ He narrowed his gaze at Raine and said, ‘Unless you have answers you’d prefer to give now?’

  ‘I have done nothing to threaten you,’ he reminded them.

  ‘No. But your army threatens the Ard-Righ.’

  Raine stood before them and said, ‘We have only a small group of soldiers. And there is no threat in men travelling to Tara. What their reasons are, I know not.’ He kept every trace of untruth from his expression, masking all emotion.

  ‘If you answer our questions openly, there is no need to remain here for long.’ Trahern nodded to his brother. ‘Connor, show him inside.’

  The man pushed open a wooden door, but it was so dark, Raine could see nothing within the space. There were no windows, no torches to light the interior. Before his eyes could adjust, they guided him to stand at the back wall. Iron manacles were shackled to his wrists, and Raine struggled against their grip as the pins were hammered into place. Damn them all. He hadn’t expected it to come to this. ‘There is no need to imprison me,’ he accused. ‘I have done nothing wrong.’

  A moment later, a torch flared, and they closed the door. Although he saw no weapons of torture, he didn’t delude himself into believing he was safe.

  ‘Tell us the reason why the Norman army is gathered at Tara, and we will free you now,’ Trahern offered.

  ‘I have told you. I don’t know their purpose.’ Which was a lie, and all knew it. Raine realised he never should have come within the gates as a guest. It would have been far better to slip inside and steal Carice away before anyone knew what had happened. The MacEgan men were far too shrewd, for they were the best-trained warriors in Ireland.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Patrick asked in the Irish tongue.

  ‘Leave him here overnight,’ Trahern answered. ‘He may speak more, once he’s spent a few hours here.’

  ‘And what if he is telling the truth?’ The king crossed his arms. ‘What if he means no harm?’

  Connor glanced back at his brother. ‘If the Norman army is planning to attack Tara, the men we sent with Lady Taryn will be in danger. We need to know why they are gathering.’

  The men stepped back, still discussing his fate. Then Patrick switched back into the Norman tongue. ‘Have you anything else to say? What are your orders at Tara?’

  Raine gave them no reply at all, for anything he said would condemn him. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, steeling himself for an uncomfortable night. Although the enclosure was sheltered, it wasn’t warm.

  ‘Leave him here,’ Patrick commanded. ‘He may give us answers on the morrow.’

  Raine held his silence as they left him in darkness. There was nothing he could tell them, and he wasn’t certain how he would gain his freedom.

  The utter absence of light was unsettling, but he was able to sit down on the dirt floor.

  The stone walls did nothing to keep out the chill. He would survive the night, but it was unlikely he would find any sleep—not locked away in this place.

  Raine ignored the physical discomfort, for he supposed it was a just punishment for the killing he had done. But as he waited, he could not stop thinking of Carice. Had the healer been able to ease her pain? Or was she still suffering?

  As the hours crept onward, his only solace lay in his thoughts of her.

  * * *

  Carice awakened in the middle of the night, unaware of what had happened. Her mouth tasted like it had been stuffed with wool. She realised that the healer had given her a tea to help her sleep. Slowly, she sat up and tried to
gather her thoughts.

  Raine. She remembered that Raine had been here yesterday. Where was he now?

  When she tried to recall the memories of the last evening, she could not seem to make sense of them. It was a blur of visions, mingled with the desire to sleep longer.

  She slid her feet over to the side of the bed and reached for a cloak. Her stomach had calmed, and she put on her shoes, returning to the Great Chamber. The MacEgans might have given Raine a place to sleep among their guards, and she wanted to speak with him.

  She rested her hand against the stone wall as she walked down the spiral stairs. The Great Chamber was quiet, and men were sprawled on the floor, sleeping among the dogs. But there was no sign of Raine. The MacEgans had retired to their own chambers, and she had no idea where to look for him.

  She spied the king’s youngest brother sleeping against the wall. Ewan—that was his name. Carice leaned down to the young man, shaking his shoulder. The boy swatted her away, but she persisted in waking him up. When Ewan opened sleepy eyes at last, she whispered, ‘Where did they take Raine? I know you must have seen it.’

  Ewan yawned. ‘They took him to the guard’s tower.’ Then he closed his eyes and rolled over to go back to sleep. A moment later, he was snoring.

  The guard’s tower? Now why would he be there? Carice frowned at the thought. When she reached the outer doors, a servant slid back the heavy bolt upon the doors. She walked outside and down the stairs, pulling her cloak tighter. The sky was black, but torches lined the walls at even intervals.

  The guards noticed her presence immediately, and one came forward. ‘Is aught amiss, my lady?’

  ‘I want to speak with Raine de Garenne,’ she explained. ‘Can you bring me to him?’

  The man’s expression tightened. ‘He is being held in the tower over there.’

  ‘As a captive?’ Carice was incredulous at the idea. ‘But why? What has he done?’

  ‘He refused to answer our king’s questions.’ The guard started to escort her back inside, but Carice would have none of it.