Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles)

by Amy Rose Davis

  Connor took the shard. “Animal fat?”

  “Slave fat. He could use pitch.” Faint disgust tinged his voice. Melik put a hand on Connor’s arm and led him away from the crowd. “You were the target. You killed Allyn’s son.”

  “What are you—” Connor’s hands and feet went cold, and his stomach lurched. The brothel. He was the man who raped Kenna. “Gods. The brothel.”

  Melik nodded. “You made an example of Allyn’s son, whether you knew his identity or not. Allyn intends to make an example of you. You need to run. If you stay in the city another day, your head is as good as rotting on a spike.”

  “Did he send you to do it?”

  Melik shook his head. “If he had, you’d already be dead and I’d be gone and there wouldn’t be a fire in the palace district. As I said, this is to be messy work—bloody and brutal. He wants to send a message.”

  “I can’t leave Mairead—”

  “As long as Allyn’s alive, if she’s with you, she’s in danger. Allyn wants the Mac Mahons to know what happens when his blood is shed.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Indeed.”

  Connor threw the shard at the wall and roared in rage. This is your doing, he told the Morrag. He paced, hands on hips, his breathing ragged and quick with anger. You sent me to kill, and now this is the price—Mairead. He pounded the door of the public house and then put his forehead against it and closed his eyes. I will never be free of you, will I?

  You will be my first. My raven.

  Connor’s mind raced. I have to leave her. She has to be able to deny that she knows where I am. She’s safer in the palace than with me. I have to get free of Allyn, and then she’ll be safe. He turned to Melik. “Do you know how they found out it was me? Or how they found out I was here?”

  “Don’t know. You aren’t quiet, though. They caught some of the women who ran, and they described you fairly well. Every time you show off those obscene marks on your arm, you announce yourself.”

  Connor closed his eyes. “If I make a lot of noise and shed more blood, will I call him out? Will he come after me?”

  “Probably. He’ll only tolerate so many losses before he comes after you himself.”

  “You’ve been in his house. You’ve heard his plans. If I travel alone, she’ll be safe?”

  “If you go alone, he’ll follow you.”

  Connor nodded. He ran to the palace, where he found Mairead with Henry and Elizabeth in the prince’s study. Mairead stood and flew into his arms. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away again,” she whispered against his neck. “I was so worried.”

  “I just wanted you safe.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Mairead. I just wanted you safe.” He pulled her away. “Are you all right? You and Elizabeth?”

  “We’re all right.” She wiped her eyes. Blood splattered her sleeves and the front of her dress. “Who was it? What did they want?”

  “Allyn. He’s after me. Turns out I was the one who killed his son.”

  Henry’s face paled. “You?”

  “He was raping and killing women. I made sure he wouldn’t do it again.” He took Mairead’s hand. “I need to talk to you alone.”

  He took her arm and led her toward her room. He tried to think of what to tell her—how he could say goodbye—but he couldn’t think of anything that would make the blow easier to bear. This is your doing, he accused the Morrag and Alshada and his mother all at once. All of you. Her broken heart will be on your heads.

  When they reached her room, he ushered her in and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It was the man in the brothel, wasn’t it?” she said. “The man who raped Kenna—that was Allyn’s son. And now he wants you dead?”

  “Yes.” He closed his eyes. “Mairead, I have to go.”

  She pulled away from him. “Of course—we’ll go right now.”

  He shook his head. “As long as you’re with me, you’re in danger.”

  Her voice dropped. “What are you saying?”

  “I have to go. I have to leave. Now. You have to stay here, with Henry. You’re too valuable to the Taurin throne and the future of this land to risk your life.”

  Her face paled. “Haven’t I proven myself capable of keeping up with you?”

  He forced a smile. “Yes. And you saved my life in more ways than one.”

  “Then don’t leave me. I’ll go wherever you go.”

  He took a deep breath. “Mairead, our paths don’t align. We can’t do this. As much as I care for you, your path leads in another direction. I’m not part of it. This threat only proves it.”

  She folded her arms. “What does it prove? You did what the Morrag demanded. I’m coming with you.”

  “No.” He took her by the arms. “You have to go to Sveklant. Your destiny lies there.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Don’t do this. Connor, don’t do this.”

  “I’ll speak with Henry. He’ll send you to Albard in the spring with a heavy guard. I’ll try to contact my mother, see if she can help guide you to the right people. But I can’t be part of your life. I put you in too much danger.”

  Her voice broke. “Will you find me? Later?”

  The ache of what he had to do welled up and competed with the Morrag for space inside him. “I can’t come back. It’s taking me, Mairead. The Morrag. She’s been rising all day, and I can barely control her. What if the next man I kill is someone with even more power? What if someone comes back from my past when I’m settled with you in Sveklant? I can’t risk your life that way.”

  She put her hands on his cheeks. Tears lined her face. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to say goodbye.”

  “Neither do I.” He pulled her into his arms.

  The Morrag teased him to submit. You can have her if you submit to me.

  This is what happens when I follow you. I won’t submit to you.

  Mairead drew away and wiped her eyes. She lifted her chin. “You promised your mother you’d take me to Albard, and now you got what you wanted when the bond broke, and you’re breaking your word. You promised me you’d stay here through the winter, and you’re breaking your word. You told me you never broke a promise. I guess we found one binding enough, didn’t we?”

  It stung harder than if she’d said she hated him. I’ve become an oathbreaker. I shame my father’s name. He squared his shoulders and put a hand on his sword. “You are the Taurin heir. Act like it.”

  An angry flush rose on her cheeks. “How dare you dictate to me what I should do or be?”

  “You are the last of your line. You owe it to your country and possibly the world to marry and bear children and raise them to take back the Taurin throne.”

  She straightened. “Go back to your life, Connor. Your women and your money and your sword. I’m sure they’ll all welcome you. But when there’s no woman to warm your bed and money doesn’t satisfy and your sword is just a cold piece of steel, remember what you told me this morning—that it’s not enough anymore.”

  I won’t be whole without you. “This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

  She turned away. “You’re wrong.”

  He couldn’t think of what else to say. He reached into the pocket of his jerkin and pulled out the three bear claws that he had strung on a leather lashing. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned back to him. “I made this for you.”

  She took the claws. “Why?”

  “You should have them. You should wear them to remember what you did to earn them.”

  She pulled a dagger out of his boot. She sliced the lashing between two claws and handed one back to him. “You should remember, too.”

  He took the dagger. His fingers brushed hers, and it was almost enough to make him change his mind. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Mairead.”

  “Then let me come with you.”

  He put a hand on her cheek and bent to kiss her. She turned her head away. He inhaled the scent of her hair. “M
airead, I can’t risk you.”

  “Go.”

  He left the room. As the door closed, her sobs broke free, and only the resolute conviction that leaving would save her made him walk down the corridor.

  ***

  Emrys was standing on a rooftop several buildings away when he saw the raven ride south out of the city on a gray horse, galloping as if pursued by death itself. The irony of the thought brought a rare smile to his lips.

  Emrys had waited for the heir to be unprotected. He had sent thieves, slavers, Ferimin, even a bear, and nothing had worked. The raven remained steadfast and loyal to his duty.

  But now—he was riding south, alive still, making enough noise that the slavers would follow and she would be safe. Could it be this good? Could he have left her? Though she was in the palace, there were ways to penetrate that barrier. Now that she was unprotected by their bond, it would be a simple thing to capture her.

  A flash of light, and once again his mistress stood next to him. “You have finally succeeded in breaking their bond?”

  “It appears that way.”

  She turned her cold eyes on him. “We no longer need her. There is another one of her blood, and he is unprotected on Taura.”

  “Another? How?”

  “The father remarried and sired a son before he died. The boy is a young man now, living with his mother on a farm in Taura. He has no idea of his blood. We can let him live in ignorance until we know where the reliquary is and then use him to carry it.”

  “And her? What will we do?”

  She turned her gaze toward the city. “Once the raven is dead, she won’t matter. Alshada still has his hand upon her, though. Find a way to change her course. I don’t want her showing up later when we have the boy in our control.”

  The sneer crossed his face. “I think I know how to get rid of her.”

  “Good.” She paused. “I have work to do on Taura. Contact me when she is put off course.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  She disappeared again, and Emrys slipped between the elements and found Seamus Allyn raging in his study. “You seem angry.”

  Seamus rounded on him, a dagger already in his grip. “Someone warned him. All I did was set a few buildings on fire.” He took three quick steps toward Emrys and reached for him.

  Emrys caught the slaver’s fist in one hand, and the man started to choke and gasp at the touch. The swirl of transgressions around his head tempted Emrys to draw more of Allyn’s soul, but he resisted. Not yet. He let go, and the slaver stumbled back toward his desk. “You can salvage this. He’s riding south alone. He’ll try to lure you away to confront him. Let him tire himself, and then fall on him and do what you will.”

  Seamus drew heavy breaths and reached for his oiska. He took a long drink from the skin and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. “What about the girl?”

  “Use her to set the prince against your rival.”

  It took a moment. He had the brutality to maintain his empire, Emrys thought, but not the intellect. As the idea dawned, a slow smile crept across his face. “Take her and make it look like Mac Mahon did it.”

  “You know a man named Melik?”

  “Yes.”

  “He can be bought. He owes much money in Espara. He’ll deliver her to you for the promise of a fair sum.”

  “How much?”

  “Make up a generous number. You need never pay it. I can take care of Melik.”

  “All right. And the girl?”

  “Keep her for yourself. She’s a pretty thing, and she’s young. Haven’t you earned the right to have more than a ragged whore around your legs? Perhaps she could give you a son to replace the one you lost. Or, sell her. She’d fetch a good price from the Tal’Amuni.”

  Seamus nodded slowly. “It’s as good as done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A woman with power is a two-edged sword.

  — Tribal saying

  Braedan reined in at the crest of the hill above Kiern. Malcolm, the commander of the Taurin forces in Logan’s absence, signaled to the drummers, and they sounded a beat to rein in the entire retinue. As the group halted, Malcolm sidled over to Braedan, his big warhorse pawing the ground in anticipation. “Sire?”

  Braedan gestured. “This is why I love Taura.”

  The hill sloped west into the great expanse of forested tribal territory and east onto the wide pastureland and fields of northern Taura. Shaggy red and black cattle with long, twisting horns dotted the plains in small groupings. Rough fences and stone corrals carved out pastures and property lines. In the distance, the wild hills of the highlands sparkled with scant early snow. In the summer, they would be bright green and purple from the grasses and heather.

  The great forest lay to the west, a solid canopy of fir that stretched as far as Braedan could see. Thousands of tribesmen called the forest home. Braedan didn’t know how many tribes existed or how many people they claimed. For all he knew, there could be tribesmen hovering within the trees just thirty paces away. It’s more than likely, he thought.

  It had taken three weeks to get to Kiern. They ran into foul weather more than once, and traveling with a large retinue proved challenging. The supply wagons slowed them down. When the roads became impassable, they had to beg the hospitality of eager nobles, and he found it hard to extricate himself from their presence once they had his ear. He found the diplomacy it required tedious. He promised nothing and took his leave as soon as the men and wagons could travel.

  Along with the challenges of politics and weather, Braedan had found himself missing Igraine more than he thought he would. When they camped each night, he ached from her absence. He could distract himself during the day, but at night, only Igraine would have satisfied him. Women were plentiful. Anytime the retinue stopped, it attracted a large following from the neighboring towns. He found himself uninterested. One pretty girl was especially eager to say she had been with the king, but she was a pale comparison to his lady in Torlach. It was easy to turn her down, even before he noticed the blue silk scarf and remembered the words “rutting goat.”

  He twisted and untwisted the silk around his hand for a long time that night and fell asleep frustrated, thoughts of Igraine filling his head. It was too soon to be apart from her. Had I known I would have her in my bed, I would have planned to send someone else. But he knew he couldn’t. He needed to fulfill his promises to Hrogarth and the dark man, and if he proceeded carefully, he thought he could accomplish both on this trip.

  He gazed down the slope of the main road. The city of Kiern sprawled across the fields in the haphazard array of many of Taura’s most ancient towns. The manor house and central town had a wall, but beyond that, houses tapered off into small individual farms and cattle pastures. The city presented an easy target for conquest. He wondered if it had been so haphazard and unprotected when Mac Niall was alive.

  He tightened his grip on the reins and shifted in the saddle. He had refused livery for most of the trip, but this day, knowing they would arrive in Kiern, he had dressed in his best green and gold doublet and the finest cloak he owned. He wore leather gauntlets trimmed in ermine, and his squire had polished his boots to a bright black sheen. He had fastened a formal dress sword at his side. All to impress a man I hate. He took a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he said to Malcolm. The captain signaled to the drummer, who struck up a marching beat, and the men started forward again.

  Mac Rian was waiting for them on horseback with his own small guard when Braedan’s men arrived at the front gates of the estate. The slight, graying man fidgeted in his saddle. He put on a practiced smile and bowed from the seat of the regal gray warhorse he sat. “Your majesty. I welcome you to our meager estates.”

  Braedan reined in his horse, irritated that Mac Rian’s mount was finer than his own. The man doesn’t even try to humble himself. He returned the bow with a very slight inclination of his head. “Mac Rian. I trust you have accommodations prepared?”

  “Of course
, majesty. My seneschal awaits your arrival in the great hall. Your men are welcome to encamp on the south field beyond the city wall.” He surveyed the retinue. “I had hoped Princess Igraine would accompany you. Has she remained in Torlach?”

  “She has. She is assisting my uncle and seneschal with the administration of my duties while I am here taking care of your dilemma.”

  Mac Rian’s jaw twitched. “We heard a rumor, majesty,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  Mac Rian nodded. “There is talk that you are negotiating with Princess Igraine’s father for her hand. Is it true?”

  Braedan pulled off his gloves. “The lady has given her consent for me to ask for her hand.” Let him stew on that. He’ll have little hope of getting close to the throne with Olwyn if he knows I’m to wed Igraine.

  Mac Rian seemed to cringe, his face twisting for a moment before he recovered. “Well, your majesty, my daughter will be disappointed. She was much anticipating the lady’s arrival, if only to hear her beautiful voice once again. But let us not tarry here in the cool air. My men will escort you to the great hall. There are stablemen waiting to take your horses.”

  “You won’t mind if my own men escort me, will you, Mac Rian?” Braedan gestured to his personal guard.

  Mac Rian’s thin mouth narrowed, and his fists tightened within the leather gauntlets he wore. “Of course, majesty. But let me assure you, you are safe within our walls.”

  “Of course,” Braedan replied. He nodded toward the buildings in the distance. “Lead the way.”

  In the great hall, Mac Rian’s servants seated Braedan and his men and offered wine, mead, and food. Mac Rian’s thin smirk revealed his satisfaction with the hospitality offered by his estate. Braedan found it lacking. He didn’t expect the castle at Torlach, but the lords who had given him lodging at the last minute had been better prepared for his arrival than this petty duke. Braedan wondered how much of the duchy’s wealth he had squandered.

  As the guards sat at the long table to drink and eat a light meal, Mac Rian gestured to the chairs near the hearth for himself and Braedan. They both sat, and Mac Rian swirled his wine in a silver goblet and held it up to Braedan. “I welcome you again, your majesty. To a long and peaceful reign.”