Warrior of Ice

by Michelle Willingham

  She took his hand, and he squeezed it lightly in a veiled command to remain silent. She decided that this was her best chance to save her father’s life. All she needed was to maintain the deception long enough to gain their cooperation. Just a little longer.

  But the wind tore at her woollen brat, whipping free the dark locks of her hair. She seized the edges of the wool, trying to hide her scarred face.

  For a moment, she held her breath, afraid that they had seen her. But instead, the commander gave a nod, as if her identity had been confirmed. ‘What have you to say, Lady Carice?’ He eyed her and remarked, ‘I presume you were trying to flee and realised your mistake.’

  She sent another questioning look towards the dark-haired warrior. But this time, he gave no indication of what he wanted her to say. Instead, he seemed to be waiting for her response.

  Taryn needed help from the Faoilin clan. Her best means of gaining an army was to offer them assistance in her own way.

  ‘You are right,’ she told the commander, trying to sound sheepish. ‘I was trying to flee. But then I realised how foolish it would be to do so.’

  She lifted her chin, keeping the wool firmly in place to reveal nothing but her eyes. ‘I am Lady Carice. And I suppose you’ve come to escort me to Tara for my wedding.’

  Chapter Two

  Who in the name of the gods was this woman? And why was she here?

  Killian had never seen her before, but her presence had been the answer to a dilemma. He had left the fortress, intending to speak with the armed men, and the woman had appeared out of nowhere. The pleading look in her blue eyes was a silent cry for help, and he’d acted on impulse, letting the commander believe what he wanted to.

  Because Carice’s freedom depended on the decisions he made now.

  These men had come to seize his sister, and it would have ended her chance of escaping. But now, there was a fragment of hope.

  The woman had kept her face hidden, and the effect had magnified those beautiful eyes. Her hair was wet from the rain and snow, like a length of black silk. Every man there had been unable to take his eyes from her, and that was why the High King’s men had believed she was Carice.

  Fate had delivered a way of saving his sister into Killian’s hands, and he had acted on that instinct. The woman clearly wanted help, and he would give it—at his own price.

  Carice wanted to leave, to have her freedom, and this young woman was offering herself as part of the deception. He didn’t know how he would use her—perhaps they could switch places. But for now, he would take her inside, and find out what she wanted later.

  His breath became mist in the frigid air, and he kept his gaze fixed upon her. She was terrified and with good reason. Everything rested upon the decision he made now.

  ‘My men have travelled far,’ the commander said. ‘They need food, wine, and a place to sleep before we depart on the morrow.’ His gaze narrowed upon the young woman. ‘Open the gates, and we will give her this night to ready her possessions.’

  Killian had no wish to bring the soldiers inside the castle, but neither could he raise their suspicions. To deny them hospitality might make them question their motives. He inclined his head once. To the woman, he said, ‘You should return to your chamber. I will escort you there.’

  And then he would have the answers to his questions. Though he doubted if she posed any threat, he would find out before he allowed her to dwell among the women. He kept her gloved hand in his, noting the slight tremor in her palm. But even so, she carried herself with a quiet grace that was different from the other women he’d known. And he knew, without her revealing her true identity, that this woman had noble blood.

  Before they could walk further than a few paces, the commander stepped forward to intercede. ‘We go with her, lad.’

  ‘I am Killian MacDubh. Not your lad,’ he said. But he motioned the commander to follow. When they reached the entrance, he ordered the men to open the gates.

  ‘They are here at the High King’s command,’ Killian told the guards. ‘They have come to escort Carice to her wedding.’ Which was the truth, and none here would deny it. He deliberately said nothing about the strange woman, for once the gates were open, he intended to have words with her and learn her reasons for the deception.

  While the soldiers rode inside, Killian moved back to wait for them. The young woman drew away from the horses, gripping his palm as if she was trying to gain strength from him. Her fear had not diminished at all, and he wondered if she had been fleeing from someone in pursuit of her.

  Not once had she let go of the woollen brat, and he now was beginning to think she was trying to hide her true identity. For what purpose?

  Against her ear, he murmured, ‘Do exactly as I command and say nothing.’

  She nodded, and Killian brought her forward while the men gave over their horses to the stable boys. His friend Seorse was watching, and Killian kept his voice low, saying, ‘Take the High King’s men to dine with our chieftain while I escort the Lady to the solar.’

  Seorse looked as if he wanted to ask more, but Killian shook his head slightly, denying him that. There would be time for answers later.

  Thankfully, the High King’s men followed Seorse into the Great Chamber. His friend welcomed the men, and Killian kept the young woman back so that she was hidden from Brian Faoilin’s view. Once the men were speaking to the chieftain, he seized the opportunity to escape. He took the young woman towards the spiral stairs leading towards Carice’s chamber. For a moment, he paused, waiting to see if any of the High King’s men would follow. When no one did, he pulled her into the shadows and covered her mouth with his hand.

  In a low voice, he murmured, ‘I’m going to take my hand from your mouth, and we’re going to talk. You’re going to tell me who you are and why you’re here.’

  Although she had offered herself in Carice’s place, that didn’t make her worthy of trust. If anything, her lie made him more suspicious. She was here for reasons of her own, and he knew not what threat she posed.

  Killian removed his hand from her mouth, but the young woman kept the brat over her face, hiding her features. She met his gaze evenly. ‘I am Taryn Connelly of Ossoria. My father, King Devlin, is a prisoner of the High King and will be executed on the eve of Imbolc. I came here to seek help from your chieftain.’

  For a moment, Killian studied her. Of royal blood, was she? He could almost believe it, given her demeanour and the way she held her posture. But no king’s daughter would travel alone.

  ‘Where are your escorts?’ he demanded.

  She glanced behind her and shrugged. ‘I...brought only a single guard. I sent him here before me, but I have not seen him. I do not know where he is now.’

  The worry in her voice did nothing to dispel his distrust. She was hiding the truth from him, as well as her face. Though he knew why she had veiled herself among the soldiers, he wondered why she would not uncover her features.

  ‘Lower the brat,’ he ordered. ‘I want to see your face.’

  Her blue eyes held wariness, and she shook her head. ‘No. Not now.’ She gripped the wool as if it could make her invisible from his gaze.

  The stricken expression in her eyes warned that she did not want him to see her.

  He couldn’t imagine why. With her midnight-black hair and spellbinding eyes, she captivated his attention.

  Killian ignored her refusal and took the edges of the wool, forcing her to remain still. He lowered the brat from her head, revealing her face. It was then that he saw the jagged red scars upon her right cheek. It looked as if someone had tried to tear her face open, and he could only imagine the pain she’d endured. There was a matching scar upon the left side, though it was whiter in colour.

  This was why she had wanted to shield herself. If the men had seen the scars, they would
have known she was not Carice.

  He was at a loss for words. Not because the scars and reddened skin made her unattractive—it was because they revealed a suffering that no one should endure. And this beautiful woman would bear the marks of this attack forever.

  Her hair hung down in waving locks against her shoulders, and it was still soaked from the rain. When she pulled the wet strands against her cheeks, the scars were barely visible. Like Carice, Taryn had blue eyes, but they held a stronger resemblance to the sea. Worry creased her expression, as if she did not want him to see her true appearance.

  ‘And now you see why I hide myself,’ she admitted. ‘I am ugly. No one would ever want to look upon me.’

  Killian supposed that men did avoid her—and yet, the scars revealed a woman who had been through the worst and survived it. It didn’t bother him at all; instead, it intrigued him.

  ‘Do not hide yourself from me,’ he told her. ‘You have nothing to fear.’

  She gave him a half-hearted smile, as if she didn’t believe him. And still she held the silken strands to her face, like a shield. ‘I don’t know why the men possibly believed I was Lady Carice,’ she said. ‘I look nothing like her.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But the men have never seen her before.’ Carice had brown hair with hints of red and gold. Her blue eyes were lighter than Taryn’s, similar to a bright summer sky. His sister had lacked no shortage of suitors, but Brian had no intention of letting any man have his only daughter, save the High King.

  ‘Why was your father taken prisoner by the High King?’ he asked Taryn.

  She shook her head, admitting, ‘I don’t know. Whenever I ask why, my mother will not give me an answer.’ At last, she released the strands of hair, letting him glimpse the reddened scars. ‘I want to plead for his life, but she refused to allow it. It is why I travelled alone. I thought I could ask your chieftain for help, and I would offer compensation to the warriors in return.’

  He said nothing, for he doubted if Brian would want to be involved. The chieftain would do nothing to threaten his close alliance with the High King.

  Taryn paused a moment and added, ‘Or if Lady Carice is travelling to her wedding, I could accompany her and speak with King Rory while I am there.’

  ‘You may ask Carice,’ he offered at last, ‘but Brian would never bring soldiers against the High King. Not when he hopes his daughter will be Queen.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘I know you are right. I did not mean to suggest that his men would fight against the King. Only that...perhaps someone could help my father escape in secret.’ She raised hopeful eyes in his direction, and he knew she was referring to him.

  ‘No.’ Killian wasn’t about to go anywhere near the High King. This wasn’t his fight.

  But she wasn’t so easily deterred. ‘Your men are stronger and better-trained than ours were. They could easily—’

  ‘Were?’ he interrupted. At the guilty flush on her face, he suspected the worst. ‘Are they dead, then?’

  Her hesitation only confirmed his belief. Her men had failed, and it had cost them their lives.

  ‘I was not there to know exactly what happened. But yes, they died.’ She rubbed her shoulders as if to fight off a chill. ‘Perhaps it would be different with stronger men, like you. And you already have a reason to travel to Tara.’

  ‘You want me to risk my life for your father?’ he prompted. ‘My loyalty does not lie with Ossoria.’ Only with Carice, whom he would protect with his life. But he had no desire to lay eyes upon the father who had refused to acknowledge him.

  ‘Would you intercede with the chieftain for me?’ she asked at last. ‘I presume you are his son or...one of his commanders?’

  Killian folded his arms across his chest. ‘I am little more than a slave here, Lady Taryn. But Carice is like a sister to me.’

  Confusion crossed over her face. ‘Then why did you—’ She stopped speaking and chose different words. ‘That is, if you are only a slave, why did you speak to the High King’s men on Brian Faoilin’s behalf?’

  ‘Because if the soldiers killed me, my life would be no loss to the chieftain.’ He spoke the words matter-of-factly, though the real answer was because he’d recognised the High King’s banner. There was no question that the King’s men posed a threat to Carice, and he’d gone to protect her.

  The Lady straightened and regarded him. ‘I don’t believe a man like you would ever willingly go to die.’

  ‘You don’t know what sort of man I am.’ He lived each day with the knowledge that he was nothing to Brian Faoilin, beyond his fighting skills. And Taryn was wrong—he would die to save Carice’s life. She was the only person who cared anything for him. The only woman who had given him kindness after his mother had died. He traced the outline of the silver ring upon his smallest finger that Iona had given him before her death.

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t know you at all. But I suspect you might be someone who could help me. For a price,’ she added.

  Though it was true that he did need gold or silver to raise his status, he was wary of trusting a stranger. He knew nothing of this woman, aside from her claims.

  ‘My only concern is in protecting Lady Carice,’ he told her. ‘She does not wish to wed the High King.’ And she is dying, he thought, but didn’t say it. The journey to Tara might weaken her even faster. He would do whatever was necessary to prolong whatever life she had remaining.

  The Lady gave a nod. ‘I understand.’

  Killian didn’t miss the slight shiver when she spoke, as if she feared the High King. And likely she had reason to, for few women wanted to wed a man so ruthless. His own mother had fled from Rory Ó Connor, remaining in hiding for the rest of her life.

  ‘I don’t think you do,’ he countered. ‘Carice wants to slip away and escape the marriage altogether. She was planning to flee before the soldiers came.’

  ‘Perhaps I could help her,’ she offered. ‘That is, if she will let me travel with her.’ Taryn gripped her brat, drawing it closer.

  ‘You will have to ask.’ Killian stared at her, wondering exactly what she intended to do, once she reached Tara. Travelling alone was a disastrous idea, one more dangerous than she could imagine.

  And yet...she could help his sister slip away at nightfall. Or Taryn could help to deceive the King’s men by disguising herself at night, letting them believe she was Carice and thereby granting his sister more time.

  He wasn’t a man to make a decision lightly, especially when there was so much at stake. If he refused to let Taryn get involved, Carice would be taken against her will in the morning. It would be far too difficult to help his sister escape.

  But a deception at night could work, especially if Taryn remained behind in Carice’s place. The soldiers might believe it for a few hours, if she kept her face shielded.

  He couldn’t fathom why he was even considering this. It would never work.

  ‘May I warm myself by your fire?’ Taryn asked quietly.

  He decided it was best to consult Carice in this, for it was her decision to make. ‘I will take you to my sister’s chamber, and you may warm yourself there,’ he told her, ‘but she has been ill and is resting. If she awakens, you may ask her what she wants to do.’

  ‘I would think she’d be relieved and eager to help me.’ Taryn’s mouth twisted. ‘Especially if she can somehow avoid the marriage.’ There was a faint trace of unrest in her eyes. For all her bravado, this woman was afraid of Rory Ó Connor.

  He led her up the stone staircase and when they reached the top, he blocked her way. ‘I will let you meet my sister. But if Carice refuses to let you travel with us, you’re going to leave.’ He would find another way of helping his sister escape the marriage—even if it meant carrying her out of the fortress in the middle of the night.

  Taryn nodd
ed slowly in agreement, though he suspected she would not give up that easily. Killian knocked upon his sister’s chamber and heard her weak reply, ‘Come in.’

  He pushed the door open and found Carice curled up on her side, her strained expression revealing her pain. The room smelled of sickness, and it was clear that she hadn’t managed to eat the bread that her maid had brought.

  ‘Leave us,’ Killian told the serving girl. She obeyed, glancing at Taryn as she did. After the girl was gone, he went to Carice’s bedside. ‘I’ve brought someone to meet you. There has been a change in our plans since we last spoke.’

  Taryn remained on the far side of the room, but he beckoned for her to draw nearer. When she did, she held her hair against her cheeks, hiding the scars. Though he understood why she did it, it bothered him. His sister was not the sort of person who would judge someone by her appearance.

  Upon the foot of the bed, a smoke-grey cat arched his back and stretched, clawing at the coverlet. Harold began purring and jumped down, rubbing against Killian’s legs. He scratched the cat’s ears and lifted Harold up, giving the animal affection before he sat beside his sister. By the Rood, she looked weary and frail.

  Carice opened her eyes and looked first at Killian and then at Taryn. ‘I have seen you before,’ she said to Taryn, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers dug into the sheets as if another stomach cramp plagued her. ‘You are Lady Taryn of Ossoria.’

  Taryn nodded. ‘I am, yes.’ Even with her hair shielding her face, she held herself back, keeping a goodly distance from both of them. Killian sensed that she was nervous.

  ‘Why have you come?’ His sister struggled to sit up, and Killian assisted her, propping up a pillow behind her shoulders.

  Taryn glanced back at him, as if questioning whether or not she should tell Carice everything. He nodded for her to continue. ‘Tell her.’

  ‘I know you are betrothed to the High King,’ Taryn said. ‘My father is the High King’s captive, and I cannot let him die as a prisoner. I must get close in order to save him, and I...I wanted to accompany you to Tara.’