Warrior of Ice

by Michelle Willingham

  Killian straightened. ‘Her name was Iona.’

  A strange smile spread over the High King’s face, and he shook his head. ‘No. Her name was not Iona. It was Liona MacPherson.’

  Killian didn’t move. There was a low buzzing sound in his ears, and he didn’t know what to believe. He’d expected the High King to dismiss him, to brush him aside. But instead, Rory’s face had turned hard.

  ‘She disappeared, a very long time ago. I suppose she altered her name to remain in hiding.’

  It was indeed possible, for his mother had never once travelled to visit her family. She had named him MacDubh, refusing to even grant him the knowledge of her tribe’s name. The MacPhersons lived far to the northeast, and he had never been there before.

  ‘Describe what she looked like,’ Killian demanded. He wanted to know if Rory was telling the truth.

  ‘She had dark hair, like yours, but her eyes were green. She stood as tall as my shoulder, and she had a small freckle near the corner of her mouth. I was the King of Connacht when I first saw her.’

  So it was true. The details were precise, and he was certain the High King was telling the truth. But there came an icy chill over Killian’s spine. ‘If you remember her so well, then why did she change her name and flee?’

  The High King shrugged. ‘Because I forced her to wed me.’

  Married. His mother had married Rory Ó Connor. The blood seemed to rush from Killian’s body, and he stared into Rory’s eyes. There was no denying that he was this man’s son. Their hair, their height—every feature was the same, save the beard and the slight tinge of grey at the man’s temples. His emotions tangled up in a turmoil of fury and shock.

  ‘What is your name?’ the High King asked. ‘What did she call you?’

  ‘Killian MacDubh,’ he answered. For a long moment, he couldn’t speak, could hardly grasp what had happened. He wanted to demand answers, to know why Rory had refused to foster him—why he had never searched for them. In the end, he twisted off the silver ring his mother had given him long ago.

  Rory accepted the ring and let out a slow breath. ‘I gave her this ring when I wed her. Which means you are my son and heir.’

  * * *

  ‘Get up,’ a guard commanded. Taryn’s back was aching, but she moved to her knees. Her hands were bound in front of her, and she struggled to rise. She had not been taken to the mound of hostages, as the High King had commanded. There were only men there, and instead, the captain had confined her below the ground, in a chamber used for slaughtering sheep and cattle. There was still blood in the trench before her, and the frigid stone wall at her back.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked the guard. Her hands were freezing, and she stumbled as he pushed her forward.

  ‘You will be imprisoned elsewhere,’ was all he said.

  Elsewhere? She was terrified to think of why. Did it have something to do with her father, or was this still about Carice?

  Taryn trudged along the dirt pathway, lowering her head again. She was beginning to realise why her mother had wanted to keep her from Tara. A fresh wave of fear passed over her at the realisation that Maeve had likely entered the gates with her soldiers, once she learned that Taryn wasn’t there. And though she was not on good terms with her mother, she could not fault Maeve for trying to protect her.

  The guard led her back towards another outbuilding that stood high above the others. From its placement near the banqueting hall, it was well guarded. She searched again for a glimpse of Killian or her father but saw neither one. She trudged up a narrow staircase, before the guard opened the door to a tiny chamber and shoved her inside. Taryn struck the wall, barely catching her balance. ‘You’ll wait here until he comes for you.’

  He? Was he referring to Rory Ó Connor? Dear God, she hoped not. But there was one defence she had remaining. With her bound hands, she pulled her hair over one shoulder, revealing the hideous scars on her cheeks. Then she straightened, well aware of the guard’s sudden wince. Good. Perhaps that would be her protection against rape.

  He slammed the door shut behind him, leaving her alone. Inside the narrow room, a thin slit served as a window. She moved towards it, trying to see her surroundings. There were soldiers everywhere, leaving nothing unguarded.

  Where was Killian? She had not seen a trace of him, and she worried that he was being held prisoner somewhere. Or worse, tortured. Her spirits sank, as she was beginning to grasp the hopelessness of her situation. The High King was furious with her for Carice’s disappearance, and he would surely punish her if he believed she was responsible for helping the young woman flee.

  Taryn closed her eyes, the unknown fears washing over her. Why had she dared to come here? It had indeed been her own naïveté, believing that she could somehow change the High King’s mind.

  The door opened, and she spun, her heart beating wildly when she saw Killian standing there. He lowered the latch, and she ran forward, letting him crush her in his arms. He used a blade to slice through her ropes, and she was free to hold him close.

  ‘What has happened to you?’ she demanded. ‘Have you seen my father? Does the High King know you are here?’

  Killian ignored her queries and leaned in to kiss her. ‘So many questions.’ He kept his nose touched to hers. ‘And you didn’t listen to me, did you, a mhuírnín? Else, you’d not be confined.’

  ‘I only thought to have a look at the ring fort,’ she admitted. ‘I never imagined there would be so many soldiers here.’

  ‘Rory is raising an army, gathered from all the tribes. He wants them to fight against the Norman invaders.’

  She noticed then that his clothing was different. Instead of the rough, dark wool and chain mail, he wore a tunic of fine woven silk and trews befitting a king’s son. Taryn stepped back, noting that he had shaved, and his black hair was combed back.

  He had received a welcome from Rory Ó Connor, whereas she had been taken prisoner. She didn’t know what to think of that.

  ‘Tell me what has happened to you,’ she urged. ‘I suppose the King was glad to see you, if your new clothes are a means of judgement.’

  There was a trace of unrest upon Killian’s face, but he nodded. ‘Rory did not know what had become of me. My mother fled when she was with child and remained in hiding for the rest of her life.’

  Taryn sensed that there was more he wasn’t telling her. His expression was unsettled, and he was clearly keeping information from her. Though the King might be glad to see his bastard son again, she rather doubted that he would treat Killian so well. Certainly, he would not clothe him in finery or treat him as a lost son. Unless...

  Understanding dawned within her, and Taryn straightened. ‘You are his legitimate son, aren’t you?’

  He made no denial. ‘It seems my mother wed Rory when he was King of Connacht. It was an arrangement to ally their lands, but she did not want the marriage. Instead, she turned her back on her family and sought help from Brian Faoilin.’

  It should have been welcome news to learn that Killian had a true birthright now. But instead of being happy for him, she felt a sense of loss. The High King’s son would not be allowed to choose a bride for himself. He would have to make a political marriage, one that furthered the alliances.

  He certainly could never wed a traitor’s daughter.

  She tried to push back the hurt, but it rose up inside her. Somehow, within the past few days, she had seriously begun to consider marrying Killian. Though she’d known their lives were not meant to be joined together, she had been happy with him. He had made her feel beautiful, and her heart had fallen hard.

  Now it seemed he had been raised up to an unreachable place—whereas she had fallen low, because of her father’s misdeeds.

  ‘As the High King’s son, you now have what you always wanted. The land and the chance to be a lea
der of men. I am happy for you.’ She tried to brave a smile, but he seemed to guess her uncertainty.

  ‘Not everything I want,’ he admitted. His hands moved into her hair, and she felt a pang of longing. When he kissed her, she opened to him, feeling as if their last moments were slipping away.

  ‘Rory blames me for Carice’s disappearance,’ she confessed, breaking the kiss. ‘I am being kept prisoner because I would not reveal where she was.’

  ‘So I heard. I was there when you were brought to him.’ Killian drew her close for a moment. It reminded her of the nights they’d spent together and the way he had brought her to pleasure, again and again, and she wound her arms around his neck.

  ‘I will intervene on your behalf,’ he promised.

  She knew not if he was speaking of her fate or her father’s, but she was grateful for it. And yet, the moment he walked away, he would become more deeply entwined in the High King’s affairs.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  His eyes were silver, and though there was very little light within the chamber, she saw the look of longing on his face. She wanted so badly to have a last stolen moment with him.

  ‘You will stay here until I have arranged for your release,’ he told her. ‘It will be safer.’ He stepped back, but before he could walk towards the door, she moved before him.

  ‘Don’t go yet,’ she whispered. She took his hands in hers and brought them to her waist. ‘Please.’

  His eyes darkened, and he leaned against her lips. ‘What are you wanting, a mhuírnín?’

  She didn’t know what to say without sounding desperate. ‘I don’t wish to be a prisoner here. And I know that once you leave me, everything will be different between us.’

  And it already is, she thought to herself. Here, he belonged. He had a father who was grateful to find him alive and a place of his own. Whereas she was seen as only a traitor’s daughter.

  ‘You won’t be a prisoner,’ he promised. ‘But it’s not safe for you outside this chamber.’

  She knew that. And yet, it troubled her to be left behind. ‘After this day, I don’t suppose we can be together any more,’ she admitted.

  His hands moved up her back, and he rested his forehead upon hers. ‘Is that what you’ve decided?’

  ‘You won’t want someone like me any more. Not if you are the High King’s son.’

  ‘As the High King’s son, I can have any woman I desire. And you are the only one I want.’

  ‘Why?’ she whispered.

  ‘Because you never saw a fuidir. Only a man.’

  I love you. She held the thought inside herself as she threaded her hands through his hair and kissed him with the force of her emotion. Though she wanted to believe that he wanted her as well, she knew too well how complicated political alliances could be. It was rare that a man could wed the woman he wanted.

  ‘I will ask Rory to let me take Ossoria in your father’s place,’ he said. He did not mention the execution, but she prayed that there was still hope to save Devlin’s life.

  ‘Imbolc is tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘There’s hardly any time left.’ Not only for her father, but also for them. She rested her cheek against his chest, holding him tight. ‘I don’t know what else we can do.’

  ‘Trust in me,’ he said, framing her face. ‘I will need to spend time with the High King. If I get closer to my father, I may learn what can be done to save Devlin.’

  She understood the unspoken words. He could not be seen with her for a time. He would have to distance himself to uncover the truth. ‘Do what you must, then.’

  He didn’t let go of her. ‘There’s something you should know, Taryn.’ He kissed her mouth again. ‘If it comes down to choosing your life or Devlin’s...I won’t be choosing his.’

  She gave a nod, but inside, her feelings were breaking apart. ‘No matter what happens, I need to see him.’ Surely then, she would see the truth in Devlin’s face. Surely her mother had lied about what had happened. Maeve’s claim, that he had been responsible for her scarring, seemed impossibly untrue.

  ‘I will do what I can,’ Killian promised. ‘But I need time to get close to Rory. He’ll be watching both of us. He may be glad that I am here, but he does not trust me. He’ll be wanting me to prove my loyalty to him.’

  Killian touched her scarred cheek and helped her straighten her gown. ‘I must go now. There are guards posted outside this door. They will tell Rory every time I come to see you.’

  Though it pained her, she whispered, ‘Then you should stay away.’

  He brushed a kiss upon her cheek. ‘I’m not wanting to leave you at all, a mhuírnín.’

  Neither did she, but she understood the game they were playing. One wrong move, and lives could be lost.

  ‘Be safe,’ she whispered, ‘and come to me when you can.’ She suppressed the desire to tell him of her feelings for him. If anything happened to Killian, she didn’t know if she could bear it.

  ‘I won’t fail you in this,’ he swore. He kissed her one last time, and despite his reassurance, she couldn’t help but worry.

  And when he left her at last, she felt the walls closing in, her time slipping away.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Where is she?’ Maeve demanded, when Killian approached their camp. ‘Is my daughter alive?’

  While he understood the woman’s terror at her daughter’s fate, it irked him that she would question his ability to protect Taryn.

  ‘She is,’ he said, ‘and I have arranged a place for her. But I will not risk her safety by bringing in more soldiers. The MacEgans may enter the grounds, for King Patrick sent these men who were willing to join the High King. But were I in your place, I would stay behind.’

  Maeve quieted at that. Then her gaze passed over his new clothing, and she saw the gold ring Rory had given him. ‘I see you were telling the truth about being his son. I hope it means you are able to protect your wife from Rory’s cruelty.’

  He didn’t bother to explain himself, for there was no reason to do so. Instead, he ordered Maeve, ‘You should return to Ossoria. I will keep Taryn safe.’

  ‘No,’ the older woman argued. ‘She will be in danger, with every moment she is here.’ Her gaze fixed upon the banqueting hall, and she looked as if she wanted to speak against Rory. Then she risked a glance back towards the hillside. ‘No matter what my daughter has told you, I beg of you, do not free Devlin,’ she begged. ‘Nothing good can come of it.’

  ‘That is for Taryn to decide. Not you.’ He started to turn back, but Maeve hurried forward.

  ‘My daughter is blind to the truth. If Devlin is freed, he will only hurt her again. I will not let that happen.’

  Killian resented her insinuation that he was powerless to help her. ‘Your daughter is under my protection now. And no man will ever hurt her, so long as I have breath in my lungs.’

  It was clear that Maeve did not trust him to take care of Taryn. But more than that, she was desperate to be rid of her husband. He studied her face, wondering if Devlin had harmed her in any way. It did not seem so. But there were other ways to gain a woman’s fear and loathing.

  The only way to learn those answers was to confront the man himself. Killian turned his back on the Queen, returning inside the gates. He had only recently learned that Rory was keeping Devlin chained in a small underground enclosure.

  Killian crossed through the gathering space, well aware of all the eyes watching him. Although Rory had not formally acknowledged him as his son, the gift of new clothing and his own features had gathered enough attention. Even the women were casting him looks of interest. But their coy smiles revealed that their true interest was in gaining the attention of the High King’s son. They were nothing at all like Taryn of Ossoria.

  He knew Rory’s reasons for keeping Taryn confine
d. So long as she wasn’t in chains, Killian wasn’t going to argue the point. It was safer to hold her away from the others.

  He reached the space where her father was being held and ordered the guard to unlock the iron gate that kept the man imprisoned.

  ‘My orders are not to let the prisoner visit with anyone,’ the man protested.

  ‘He will go nowhere,’ Killian promised. ‘I mean only to speak with him. And if he tries to escape, you have permission to kill him.’

  At that, the man acceded. He opened the gate and allowed Killian inside. ‘For a few moments, then.’

  Inside the underground space, there was hardly any light at all. King Devlin was confined to the opposite wall. That was a torture in and of itself, being kept in constant darkness.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man croaked, clearing his throat.

  ‘I am Killian—’ He started to say MacDubh, but altered it, finishing with, ‘Ó Connor. The High King’s son.’ The words felt strange upon his tongue, but more than that, the name was so very different.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ There was no fear in the man’s voice, only resignation.

  ‘Your daughter, Taryn, is here.’

  He waited for the man’s reaction, but there came only silence. It was as if Killian hadn’t spoken at all.

  At last, the old man said, ‘She should not have come.’

  ‘She pleaded with Rory for your life. She claims you are innocent of treason.’

  Again, the King said nothing, and Killian’s senses went on alert. Most fathers would react in some way if his daughter had come on such a journey. Instead, this man offered nothing at all. He was beginning to wonder if Maeve was right about Devlin. Was he truly the sort of man who could harm his own daughter?

  Instinct told him to walk away and leave the man alone. But then, Devlin had been confined in this place for weeks. It might be that his lack of interest was weakness from imprisonment. ‘Your wife is here as well.’