Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles)

by Amy Rose Davis

  The man sucked in a breath and bowed, low. “Forgive me, my lord. The attire—I thought you—”

  “You thought because I wear leathers I’m used to mucking in horse dung or slaving over a forge? Do I smell like a stable?”

  He bowed again. “Of course not, my lord. Please, forgive my assumptions. I will see to your every need personally.”

  “We’ll need a room,” Connor said. He glanced around the common room with disdain. “A good one. With guard quarters.”

  The man nodded. “We have a very nice room in the corner. You’ll have a view of the hills.”

  “Fine. Prepare baths for both of us and send word to Prince Henry that Connor Mac Niall has arrived and would like an audience with him.”

  “Of course, my lord.” He motioned for a boy to bring their packs along and showed them to their room.

  Mairead tried not to gape while she looked around the room. Furs covered the large bed, and scattered rugs warmed the timber floor. The furniture was made of rough-hewn wood polished to a smooth, bright finish. Tapestries woven in the colors of the forest, browns and deep greens and dark reds and oranges, decorated the walls. Thin, snowy light streamed in through the glass windows. “Every place I’ve ever stayed before has had shutters or oiled skin in the windows,” she said, touching the glass.

  The innkeeper sniffed again. “If anything is unsatisfactory, please call me at once, Lord Mac Niall.” He bowed and shut the door.

  Within moments, servants arrived and filled a washtub with steaming water. Connor excused himself to wait for his own bath in the guard quarters. Mairead bathed, dressed in a green linen peasant dress that Aileen had given her, and brushed her hair out until it was nearly dry. When Connor knocked on her door, she smoothed the skirt and the nervous flutter in her stomach with sweating hands.

  Connor smiled down at her. “You look pretty.”

  Her knees went weak at the sight of him. He’d bathed, shaved, and brushed his leathers clean, and he wore a dark blue tunic under his jerkin. “I think you mistake clean for pretty.”

  He laughed. “Henry already sent a reply. He says he’ll expect us at the palace this afternoon, at our convenience.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to meet a prince.”

  He fetched her cloak and fastened it around her. His hands lingered on her shoulders half a breath longer than they needed to. “You’ll be fine.” He offered her his arm. “We’ll have some spiced wine downstairs, and I’ll call for a carriage.”

  “A carriage? Can’t we walk or ride?”

  He shook his head. “Only beggars and servants walk to Henry’s palace. Invited guests are expected to arrive in a carriage.”

  They warmed themselves with spiced wine while they waited for the carriage. Merchants and self-styled nobles passed through the room or sat to eat. More than one cast a disdainful look at Mairead. “I don’t fit in here,” she said in a low tone when one powdered and perfumed lady sniffed and cleared her throat as she walked past.

  “It’s all right. Neither do I.”

  “You do, though. You have that noble air. They know you’re one of them. They must think I’m—” She stopped and bit her lip.

  Connor leaned forward and took her hand. “You’re what?”

  She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him. “Your paramour. Or worse.”

  He tilted his head, his eyes kind as he considered her. “You don’t have the look of a brothel, and if you were my paramour, I’d dress you in silks and jewels befitting the rank of a duchess.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. “Connor, I don’t think I’m made for this world. For what I’ll have to do. I don’t know how to be a queen.”

  “There will be people in Albard who can help you.” Pain hovered in his voice.

  “I don’t want other people.”

  He poured more wine into her cup. He drank again and rested his arms on the table. “What do you want, Mairead?”

  She leaned close to him and lowered her voice again. Stay with me. I want you to stay with me. “Does it matter what I want?”

  His eyes were tight when he spoke. “It matters. It’s just not possible.”

  She was spared from having to respond when the door opened and a footman in a fur-lined cloak entered the common room. He stamped snow off his feet. “Someone called for a carriage?”

  Connor signaled to the man. The footman bowed and offered his arm to Mairead. They walked out into the snow, and Connor helped her into the carriage while the footman put their packs in the wooden trunk. He climbed in next to her, put an arm around her, and leaned down to her ear. “Please don’t worry, Mairead. They will love you.”

  The ride to the palace was a short one, but Mairead’s stomach twisted and flipped with every moment that passed. When they arrived at the gates and the guards ushered them through, she gasped at her first close glimpse of the palace. “It’s beautiful.”

  The castle in Torlach was an ancient, rambling stone structure built over the centuries by monarchs and regents who adapted it to their needs. This prince’s palace was a new structure. Wood and stone combined to create a magnificent building unified in a common style. Broad-beamed accents, glass windows, and spires that rose high above the turrets and peaks gave the building symmetry and elegance. The cobbled courtyard featured a pool and garden, and the carriage rolled through the gates and around the pool to halt at the front door of the palace. The light dusting of snow and random icicles accented the delicate features of the building as if someone had sprinkled a fine coat of sugar across it.

  Connor waited for the footman to open the door, stepped out of the carriage, and helped Mairead out. She suppressed another nervous flutter. He put her hand on his arm and escorted her through the doors into a large open hall.

  A steward wearing dark red livery edged in black piping stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Mac Niall. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “And you, Rhys,” Connor said.

  Rhys led them through the hall to a library where a blond man in a red doublet with a black hawk emblazoned on each shoulder sat behind a desk. “Your highness, Lord Connor Mac Niall,” Rhys said.

  The blond man grinned. He stood and held out an arm, and Connor met him to clasp his arm. “My old friend,” Henry said. “Where have you been? It’s been—what—nearly four years?”

  “Since I took you to Espara. Where’s Lydia?”

  Grief flickered across Henry’s face. “She died last winter. In childbirth. She and the child.”

  “Henry, I’m so sorry.” Connor put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know how much you loved her.”

  Henry gave him a pained smile under his close-trimmed blond beard. “Introduce me to this beautiful woman on your arm. Don’t tell me you’ve finally married?”

  Connor shook his head. “I haven’t. This is my ward, Mairead. Mairead, my friend, Prince Henry Brannon of the northern territories.”

  Henry took her hand and bowed. “A true pleasure, my lady.”

  “Likewise, my lord.” She gave him a clumsy curtsy. Connor steadied her with his hand on her back. “Forgive me, my lord. I fear I’m not used to skirts. We’ve been traveling. I’ve worn breeches for weeks.”

  Henry smiled. “You can grace my court with your presence whenever you wish—in skirts or in breeches.”

  Connor cleared his throat. “Henry, I’ve come to ask you if you can return that favor.”

  Henry frowned. “All right. Please, have a seat. Rhys, see to wine.” The steward bowed and left the room as Henry, Connor, and Mairead all sat. “I’m not sure what you need, Connor, but this isn’t the best time. The Allyns are at the Mac Mahons’ throats right now. I don’t have a lot of extra time or money.”

  “I don’t need much. We just need a place to winter. Mairead has family in Sveklant, but I don’t want to keep traveling this late in the season. I need a place where she’ll be safe until we can leave again. Can we stay with you?”

  Henry blinke
d. “Of course. It’s as good as done. And that’s all you want from me to clear my debt?”

  “That’s it. Keep us sheltered and safe until spring, and we’re even.”

  Henry let out a breath. “You’re a good man, Connor. It would be an honor to host you and your ward for the winter. Where are you staying now?”

  “The Golden Goose.”

  “A lovely inn, but I can do much better for you. I’ll send for your belongings and horses. Might you be able to advise me on some matters while you’re here?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  Henry smiled. “I’ll arrange for a meal and have Rhys send for Elizabeth. I believe she’s in the city somewhere. She’ll enjoy the company of another woman in the palace, I’m sure. Tell me how you ended up escorting such a beautiful young woman.”

  Connor smiled. “I was in Torlach with my mother. Mairead was a member of her household, and she needed someone to take her to her family in Sveklant.”

  Henry blinked in surprise. “She’s a serving girl?”

  “No,” Connor said. “She’s a daughter of merchants my mother knew years ago. Her family sent her to Torlach for a time to live with my mother.”

  “Why send her home now, with winter coming?”

  “The Taurin government is in disarray right now. My mother feared that Mairead might be stuck there indefinitely. She asked me to get her back to her family as quickly as possible, but we’ve run into a few delays.”

  Henry turned to Mairead, his blue eyes curious. “How long has it been since you’ve been home, lady?”

  She licked her lips and tried to calm her breathing. “Six years, I think. I’ve lost track.”

  “You have parents in Sveklant? Or someone you’re betrothed to?”

  She raised her goblet and sipped wine. “My parents are dead,” she said, recalling the story she and Connor had discussed. “I have an aunt and uncle. Cousins.”

  Henry raised his goblet to Mairead. “I look forward to sharing your company this winter, my dear.”

  She raised her goblet. “I look forward to yours as well, your highness.”

  Connor and Henry fell into conversation, and Mairead listened as she sipped her wine and servants tended the fire in the hearth. “Tell me about what’s happening with the Mac Mahons and the Allyns,” Connor asked.

  Henry sighed. “It’s more of the same—just louder and bloodier. One family accuses the other of stealing slaves or ambushing a train or ruining a brothel, so the other family strikes back, and on it goes. Now we heard that Seamus Allyn’s son was killed in a fight in a brothel. Allyn is on the warpath—says he’s going to skewer the balls of the man who did it.”

  Mairead frowned behind her goblet. A fight in a brothel? But there must be hundreds of brothels in Culidar. And these men run most of them. It couldn’t be the same man. Could it?

  “Who does he think did it?” Connor asked.

  “I don’t know. I hired a man to keep an eye on the slavers for me. He’s up there now. I’m hoping he’ll be back soon to tell me what’s going on. I don’t need them bringing this into the city.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tell me again why I fight this?”

  “Because slavery is wrong. You believe that. So do I.”

  “It feels futile. Every step forward is met with resistance and fighting. I free ten slaves to see a hundred more taken. What difference am I making?”

  “You’re making a difference for those ten,” Mairead said.

  The door opened, and a stunning young woman entered the room. The men stood and the woman smiled. “Henry, I’m sorry it took so long. The servants had to find me in the city. I was shopping.” She smiled and approached Connor. “Lord Mac Niall, how lovely to see you again.”

  “Lady Brannon.” Connor stood and swept her hand up to his lips. “You look well.”

  “So perfunctory, Connor. Surely there is room for relaxed formality between us, isn’t there?” She kissed his cheek and stretched up to whisper something in his ear.

  He patted her hand and stepped back. “My lady, let me introduce my ward, Mairead. Mairead, this is Lady Elizabeth, Henry’s sister.”

  Mairead stood and curtsied. “Lady Elizabeth. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  “And you, Mairead.” Elizabeth’s auburn hair was twisted into braids and loops that accentuated her station, and Mairead was conscious of the simple wooden combs that held her hair back from her face. The lady wore an elaborate dark green silk dress trimmed in ermine and gold thread. Mairead’s simple linen seemed plain by comparison.

  Elizabeth surveyed Mairead as if studying a peculiar piece of art that didn’t quite suit her. “How long will you and your ward be with us, Connor?”

  Connor cleared his throat. “Through the winter, I think. Your brother has agreed to house us.”

  Elizabeth smiled coolly. “Then you will need some more appropriate clothing, Mairead. I have a few things that might suit you.” She turned to Connor. “And I expect you dressed appropriately at my table, Connor. No leathers.”

  He chuckled. “If it makes you happy.”

  “Wonderful. Mairead, join me, won’t you? We’ll take tea, and I’ll help you find some appropriate evening wear.”

  “Oh, my lady, really—I don’t—”

  “Nonsense. You will. I have more gowns than I can wear in a year of suppers. Come.”

  She left no room for argument, turning to walk out of the library with the full expectation that Mairead would follow. Connor merely shrugged. Mairead took a deep breath and fell in step behind Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth led her to her chambers and ordered tea and pastries. As the servants poured and served, she opened her wardrobe, and Mairead gasped at the opulence. There were silk and wool gowns and dresses of every color and style, riding clothes, boots and slippers, furs, cloaks, hats, and even lacy, scanty undergarments that made Mairead blush to see. “Let’s get you dressed appropriately, shall we?” Elizabeth said. “And while we do, you must tell me all about your time with Lord Mac Niall.”

  Mairead felt the heat rise in her face, and she turned to look at a dress of white samite trimmed in silver. “There is little to tell, my lady. He’s escorting me to my aunt and uncle in Sveklant.”

  “But surely there’s more to it than that.” Elizabeth pulled a red scarf from a basket and held it to Mairead’s cheek. “Perhaps a deep lilac,” she murmured.

  Mairead stepped back. “Connor is my guard and escort only.”

  Elizabeth lowered her hand. “Connor is never just a guard. He couldn’t keep his hands off a beautiful woman any more easily than I can say no to a new scarf.” She waved the red silk at Mairead to drive home the point.

  Perhaps Connor’s changed. Perhaps I know him better than you do. She forced a smile. “What would you like me to wear to supper?”

  Mairead spent the afternoon trying on gowns and dresses with Elizabeth’s help. When night started to fall, Elizabeth called maids to help her change into a gown of deep blue. She found suitable clothes for Mairead as well, a gown that shimmered from the faintest lavender to the deepest violet depending on the light. The maids piled Mairead’s hair in loops and braids and gave her soft palace slippers and simple gold jewels as well. Mairead was exhausted by the time they joined the men in the dining hall.

  Connor and Henry both stood when the women entered the room. Connor had changed into woolen breeches and a dark blue doublet. When his eyes fell on Mairead, she saw a raw hunger in them that made her shiver. He paused before he said anything. “Elizabeth, you’ve made a very pretty girl into a lovely royal lady. I commend you.” He never took his eyes from Mairead.

  “It wasn’t difficult. Your ward is a beautiful woman,” Elizabeth said, a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

  Connor took Mairead’s hand and seated her next to him. “You are stunning, Mairead,” he whispered next to her ear. She shivered again at the sensation of his breath near her neck.

  They dined on duck and small red potatoes and too many
side dishes for Mairead to recall later. She sampled everything from the first course of a simple broth to the last course of a rich cherry tart. By the time she finished, she feared she’d burst the seams on Elizabeth’s gown.

  Connor leaned over to her when the meal was finished. “Would you like to see your room?”

  She caught a faint scent of wine and cherries on his breath. “Yes, please.”

  A servant led them to a private bedchamber with a sitting room that overlooked the rear garden. Moonlight reflected off the snow on the marble statues in the garden, casting a faint glow up to her room. Her bed was elevated on a dais and covered in linens and furs. Plush chairs in muted hues dotted the room, and to one side, a fire crackled in the hearth. “It’s beautiful,” Mairead said. “It will be nice to be warm again.”

  The servant left the room, and Connor tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m finding it very difficult to keep my promise right now,” he said in a strained voice.

  “What promise?”

  “To be more careful with your affections.”

  Her stomach flipped. She knew she shouldn’t, but she put her hand on his chest. “Was there something between you and Elizabeth?”

  “She’d like to think so, but no. The last time I saw her, she was seventeen. I don’t take advantage of young women.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Besides, as pretty as she is, she pales next to you.”

  She laughed. “This isn’t me. I’m happier in breeches with a bow on my shoulder.”

  “I know. That’s one reason I find you so beautiful.”

  She leaned closer to him. “I don’t want you to go.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Will you stay?”

  The silence pressed on her chest. She ached for his answer, as afraid he’d say yes as no. He bent down and kissed her head, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “Good night, Mairead.” He turned and left the room.

  She sat down on her bed, fighting tears. “Alshada,” she whispered. “If you aren’t going to let us be together, then end this. I can’t stand this. It hurts too much to be close to him and not be able to have him. Please, either take him from me or let us be together.”