Rhiannon took the reins of the wagon team. “I’ll take them. Leave them, and the wolves will get them.”
When everything was packed, Rhiannon stamped out the remainder of the fire. They left the wagon. “Leave the bodies,” Rhiannon said. “Food for wolves and crows and worms, they are. Let the earth care for her own.” She walked past Mairead toward her cabin.
Faced with the prospect of leaving, Mairead finally stopped and stared at the dead bodies in the faint moonlight. “I killed those men,” she said. Rhiannon stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. “I killed them. Six of them. How could I do that?”
“He taught you, eh? He’s good. His reputation is well-deserved.”
Mairead shuddered. “How could he be caught so off-guard?”
“Distraction? No man is perfect, even a raven.” She waited. “You want to offer up prayers, eh?”
The question was an honest one, if brusque. Mairead shook her head. “I can pray from your cabin.” And I don’t know if I can offer prayers for these.
They walked in silence, Rhiannon directing them through the forest, her eyes fixed ahead as she walked. Her graceful frame picked over brush, and her pale gray dress stood against the dark of the forest as a faint beacon. The moon cast dim shadows through the trees, and soon, Mairead saw the light of Rhiannon’s small cabin ahead.
Rhiannon stopped and lifted her eyes. “Hmm. Harvest moon soon. Dark creatures rising, yes. They’ll have need of souls.”
Mairead shivered. Whose souls? They tied the horses outside and went in the house.
Maeve still sat at the table twisting her teacup in her hands, her eyes red-rimmed. “They’re still working on him.”
Mairead sat down again. “I was so angry with him. I shouldn’t have been so cruel. If I hadn’t walked away, they might not have . . .” Her voice caught on a sob.
Rhiannon stood. “I’ll check on him. They may need something.” She went behind the curtain.
Maeve cleared her throat. “You and my son. Has he behaved nobly?”
Mairead bit her lip. He taught me to fight and shoot a bow. He bought me suitable clothes and daggers. He told me about constellations and tried to teach me to dance. He’s kind and funny and proud and strong, but he has a soft side. He sang to a baby. He’s kept me warm and kissed me and touched my hair. “Your majesty, he’s a man you can be proud of. He’s noble in every way.”
Maeve sat very still, very quiet. “You’re in love with him.”
Her voice had a strange mix of shock, pity, and maternal protection. Mairead straightened in her chair. She’s his mother, but she stole his will. She keeps him bound. “Would it matter if I were?”
Maeve’s eyebrows lifted in subtle chiding. “Do you realize what you are, child? Your loins are not your own. You belong to Taura.”
“I’m not a child. And your son is noble. He would be an acceptable match for a queen.”
“He has no certificate of nobility in Taura,” Maeve said, and Mairead heard regret and pain under the truth. “He is not recognized as noble. His father gave him the Mac Niall name, but Connor burned the paper that acknowledged even that much. And when Culain died, his name was attainted in the royal court. There is no Taurin law that would recognize Connor as legitimate or noble.” She paused. “Even if he were legitimate and recognized, he is not a man to marry. He’ll ruin you and leave you.”
Mairead thought of the longing in Connor’s eyes the afternoon when he told her of his house in Espara. Could I make him stay? Could I convince him? “Forgive me, majesty, but that’s none of your concern. What is between Connor and me is our business. Not yours.”
Maeve’s eyes narrowed. “You speak as a queen, but you have no crown. I’m not your subject, child.”
“No, and neither are you my queen.”
“You may not be my subject, but he is.”
“And what did that earn him? A binding you’ve forced on him? You expect as much from him as I want—more, perhaps. You wish him to live a life you carve for him. I wish him only to share the life he has with me.”
Maeve’s jaw tightened. “I’ve lived in his head for six years. He is my son and I love him, but I also know more about what he is than you possibly could.” She stopped, abrupt, and shook her head. “He’s not for you. You are the heir to the Taurin throne. You cannot bed a half-Sidh, bastard son of a tainted duke.”
“Did anyone tell you not to bed a Taurin lord before you conceived Connor?”
The magic pinched Mairead’s skin, and she gasped and found herself unable to move. She could only focus ahead as her arms and hands and feet and legs were bound, tight, by violet braids stronger than rope. The braids tightened, cutting into her skin. She resisted the urge to grunt or whimper. I will not give her the satisfaction.
“You will never mention Culain Mac Niall to me again,” Maeve said. Her voice rang with the sharp crack of a northern wind. “I will not be taken to task for my choices by a kirok-raised whelp who thinks only of warming my son’s thighs.”
Mairead could only gasp as Maeve’s icy stare penetrated her. She struggled against the bonds, angry and frustrated but held tight. She binds me like she binds him. Can’t she find any other way to deal with people who disagree with her? “Let . . . me . . . go. My . . . choice,” she said, gulping air between the words.
“Maeve, stop.” Rhiannon’s voice cracked through the cabin. Maeve frowned, and the braids disappeared. Mairead gasped air into her lungs as she could breathe and move again. Rhiannon went to her side and steadied her in the chair. “You will not, Maeve. Not here. You can fight destiny in your own home.”
“Destiny? I’m fighting a child with an insolent mouth.”
“No. You fight destiny.” Rhiannon stared Maeve down until Maeve finally turned away.
The healers stepped out from behind the curtain. The woman in blue—the air talent—curtsied. “Majesty, we’ve done what we can. We’ve repaired the bleeding inside and knitted his bones. The bruises will take some time, but he will live.”
Mairead and Maeve both let out a long breath of relief. “Thank the gods,” Maeve said, her voice cracking again.
Alshada, thank you. “You couldn’t heal the bruises?” Mairead asked.
The stone talent took a step toward Maeve. “Majesty, there’s something different in his blood. Something not right. We could only repair the tissues. His blood wouldn’t cooperate with us.”
Maeve’s lips tightened into a stern line. “Yes. I’m aware.”
How can she seem to love him one moment and care not a whit the second? Alshada save me from becoming this cold. “It doesn’t concern you—this problem in his blood?” Mairead asked.
Maeve raised an eyebrow. “Consider your tone, girl.”
Mairead’s spine stiffened. “Don’t tell me—”
“I know what this problem is. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“But—”
“Mairead.” Maeve fixed her with an expression of regal authority. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
Mairead bristled. “You keep more secrets from him? You and Connor—you and your damn secrets!”
“Girl,” Rhiannon said. She put a soothing hand on Mairead’s shoulder. “As well you fight the tides as fight the Sidh queen. Come, see the boy.”
Mairead and Maeve entered Rhiannon’s small bedroom. Mairead sat and took Connor’s sword hand. It was still swollen, but he could move his fingers again, and he didn’t wince when Mairead lifted it to her lips and kissed it.
He opened his eyes and forced a smile in Mairead’s direction. He lifted a hand to her cheek. “You’re all right?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. But you—”
“I’ll be all right.” He turned to his mother. “Even now you can’t leave me alone?”
She grimaced, but there was relief on her face. She swiped her eyes with an impatient hand. “You should thank the spirits I felt you being beaten. Otherwise, you might not be alive.”
A flicker of a gr
in crossed his mouth. He turned to Mairead. “You stayed with me?”
“As much as they would let me. Connor, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you.”
He smiled. “It’s all right. You just see the good. You always see the good.” He closed his eyes again. “Mairead, will you stay with me?”
He wants me to stay, not her. Mairead kissed his hand again. “Yes. Of course, yes. I’ll stay,” she said, sparing a quick glance for Maeve.
Maeve pursed her lips in a stern, displeased grimace, but she stood. “I’m going to go talk to Rhiannon,” she said in a tight voice. “Call me if he needs anything.” She went to the other side of the curtain.
Mairead stroked Connor’s hand. She edged closer to him, tempted to lie down but afraid of hurting him. I almost lost him. My foolishness almost cost him his life. She put one hand on his chest, and he struggled to lift his other hand to cover hers. She sniffed and stroked his battered eye with two light fingers. “This is what it took for me to find out that you’re the wild Mac Niall son I always heard about?”
“Right now, I’m just the broken Mac Niall son.”
She let out a weak, breathy laugh. “I’m just so glad you’re alive I can’t even be angry that you didn’t tell me.”
“That was my plan all along. Wait until I was abused beyond recognition and then let you find out.” He winced, but he held his arm out for her. “Lie next to me?”
She was too grateful and tired to argue. She removed her boots, weapons, and jerkin and lay down, pulling a thick quilt over them both. “I killed those men. Six of them. I killed six men.”
“You saved my life.”
She closed her eyes. “There was so much screaming. When I slit Gavin’s throat, he screamed and screamed.”
He rolled his head to put his lips against her forehead. “Men scream when they’re dying. Death isn’t pretty.”
She sighed. “Is that what battle is like?”
“No. Battle is worse. You did the right thing. We survived—that’s what counts.”
She watched him drift to sleep. She couldn’t shut out the screams of the men she’d killed, but neither could she conjure any regret. I can’t feel sorry for them. I can’t be sad that I killed them. What am I becoming?
***
Emrys stormed around the clearing, pausing only to kick the dead men several times before he walked into the forest. The heir had shown faith in the kirok over faith in the raven, and it still wasn’t enough to chase the raven from her side. Another man would have turned her over to the kirons and left. If Emrys was right, the raven’s choice had only strengthened their bond, and now he had more work to do.
He sensed them in the old woman’s house. Some in the surrounding farms and villages called her crazy. Others called her healer. Emrys knew she was neither—she was more. Practiced in herb lore and wards, the woman had woven spells around her house that kept him from getting too close. I could get the girl and Maeve if it weren’t for the spells.
The old woman walked outside muttering to herself and cut several sprigs of holly. She arranged them over her door, stopped, and cackled. “You’re here,” she said, turning to face him. “Their bond grows stronger. Her blood draws him closer every day and binds her closer to this land. She rises in her power and strength before she even knows what she is. Your time draws near, forbidden one.”
He knew she could only see his shadow, but her eyes and her words chilled Emrys to the deepest part of whatever soul he still had. There is yet time. Until she conceives, I have time.
She pointed at the house. “That boy has more power in his veins than you do with all of your stolen souls combined. And the girl, she’s the lioness you fear. The sons and daughters that come from this union will bind the three lands and restore peace between the races, yes.”
The words weren’t hers. They came from the One Hand. He shuddered. This isn’t over between us.
“Ha. You think I fear you? Come test me. See how old Rhiannon can hold up under the fires of Namha’s minions. I’m not afraid to see my transgressions, no. I’ll look at them and laugh. I stand firm, yes.” She stood straight and tall, arms folded and her shawl draped around her shoulders.
Emrys wanted to test her. He wanted to flay her skin, show her the transgressions around her soul, and make her cry for the earthspirit. There are so many ways to bring me pleasure and you pain.
She took a step toward him. For a moment, her voice rang with the Voice of the one he feared more than any other. “I fear no man or spirit, demon or god. I am held by the One Hand. You have no power here.” The old woman smiled. “Enjoy your remaining days, forbidden one. When the raven comes into his power, you will have no peace left.”
Emrys clenched his fists. He needed time. He needed to think. He slipped between the elements again and returned to Taura.
***
Mairead woke to voices on the other side of the curtain. “—tell him what he is, then perhaps I will.” Rhiannon’s voice was low, angry, and tense. Outside, night still covered the cabin. Mairead shivered and pulled the blanket tighter over herself. Connor snored softly, the steady rise and fall of his bruised chest reassuring her. She lay very still and listened to the conversation in the main room.
“You swore an oath,” Maeve said, equally tense and angry. “You swore you would not. If you break your word, I will—”
“Do as you will, Maeve. You think I fear Sidh magic? Bah.” The rhythmic creak of her rocking chair and the click of knitting needles gave cadence to her words. “I will not let the boy go from here without knowing what he is.”
“What do you think he is then?” Maeve’s voice rose a bit and then quieted. Mairead had to strain to hear. “I’ve been trying for almost thirty years to figure out what he is. I did what I did to protect him. Can you give him some assurance or guidance that I can’t give him?” The room was silent. “Your visions don’t show you what I’ve seen. I’ve been inside his head for six years. I’ve sensed it every time he’s fought, every time he’s killed, every time he’s been injured.”
“I know more than you think. Your friend, the Syrafi, she speaks to me, too.”
“Bronwyn has been here?” Maeve’s voice sounded confused and surprised. “When?”
“She’s the one who told me to wait here, years ago. She said he would need me.”
Maeve let out a long breath. “She protects him.”
“The One Hand promised, yes?”
Maeve’s voice was barely a whisper. “Yes.” Her voice cracked. “Rhiannon, if he knows everything, how can I protect him?”
“Do you think you’ve protected him this way? Do you think the Morrag has no power over your bond? No. If the Great Mother calls her ravens, the ravens will come. He will follow her, and if you are bonded to him when he does, it could very well kill you. Then where will he be, eh? Who will guide him then?”
There was a long pause filled only with creaking and clicking. At last, Maeve sighed. “This little queen. She thinks she can tame him.”
Rhiannon laughed. “That boy isn’t meant to be tamed, no.”
“At least we agree on that,” Maeve said. “She does seem to care for him, though. Do you think she—”
“I think their destinies are twined. There is much they are meant to do together.”
The silence hovered again. “What do you keep from me, old woman?”
Rhiannon cackled, soft. “Not now. The girl is listening.”
Mairead’s heart thumped against her ribs, and she closed her eyes. Maeve pulled the curtain open, allowing a sharp shaft of firelight to pierce the shadows of the small bedroom. Mairead tried to breathe slow and heavy and deep. I did this a thousand times in the sayada.
Maeve stepped closer to Connor. She bent, kissed his head, and returned to the other side of the curtain. “If she’s awake, she’s very good at feigning sleep,” she told Rhiannon.
Rhiannon laughed again. They fell into conversation o
f old days on Duke Mac Niall’s estate, remembering Connor and his sisters, and Mairead drifted back to sleep.
In the morning, the aroma of baking bread and another, bitter odor woke Mairead. She stirred, rubbed her face, and opened her eyes to see Connor on his side staring at her. He smiled. “Good morning.”
She sat up. “You’re awake.”
He nodded. “Rhiannon is making kaafa. I always wake when I smell it.”
“How do you feel?”
The swelling on his eye had gone down enough that he could open and close the lid now, but the bruise around it was black with purple shades. Even the white of his eye was red from the blood. He tightened his swollen right hand around hers. Along his ribs and sternum, his tattoos were obscured by purple and red mottling. “Awful, but alive.”
Her chest tightened and her voice quivered. “Connor, I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”
He put two fingers on her lips in an echo of what she had done the night before. “No more. It’s over. You’re forgiven.”
She wiped her eyes. “Your mother will want to see you. Can you walk?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” With Mairead’s help and much wincing and grimacing, he stood, and they shuffled to the other side of the curtain.
Maeve sat at the table holding a steaming cup under her chin. “Connor. You look—” She bit off the words.
“Such flattery.”
She pulled out a chair for him. She kissed his head when he sat. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
Rhiannon came in the house with a basket of fresh eggs. She grunted toward Connor. “You look like someone used you for a tribal drum, boy.”
“I feel that way, too.” Rhiannon set a mug of the steaming bitter drink in front of him. “Rhiannon, you jewel. How did you know I drink kaafa?”
“Your father always drank it, yes. I have friends. They bring me things sometimes. I’ll brew something for your pain, too.” She turned to Mairead. “Tea for you?”
“Yes, thank you, Rhiannon.”
Rhiannon returned to her ministrations. She hummed an idle tune as she worked; it reminded Mairead of some forgotten song her mother might have sung.
Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) Page 32