Braedan raised his own goblet, but he didn’t drink until he saw Mac Rian drink. The wine’s aroma had a bitter cast, and Braedan detected a faint vinegar flavor. I had better wine in exile. He set his cup down next to him on the hearth. “Tell me the latest with the tribes.”
Mac Rian drank again, but before he could answer, they were interrupted by Mac Rian’s seneschal, an older man who shuffled into the room with a gait born of grudging obligation. He cleared his throat. “The lady Olwyn wishes to greet the king.”
Mac Rian nodded. “Of course, Lewis. Send her in.” Lewis bowed as Mac Rian turned to Braedan. “Forgive me, sire, but my daughter has spoken of nothing but her time in your court since we left. She wishes to greet you.”
“I would be delighted to see your daughter once again.”
Mac Rian gave him a thin smile. “I fear I’ve been too indulgent with Olwyn, but then, she has suffered so for such a young woman. My wife died of a wasting illness several years ago. She was always a frail woman. Giving birth to our Olwyn taxed her body near to death’s door. Olwyn has turned into a gracious young woman despite my best efforts to the contrary.” They both turned their heads and stood as the door opened again. “And here is the lady herself to prove me right.”
As much as Braedan adored his fiery Eiryan princess, Olwyn took his breath away. Raven-haired and lithe, Olwyn walked with a smooth, gliding gait, and she wore dark blue and silver that clung to her body as a second skin. Dark skin and dark eyes gave her an exotic appeal. He wondered whose secrets hovered behind that mouth. Keep to yourself. This one would take all of your secrets, gore you with them, and make you thankful for it. He bowed. “Lady Olwyn. How lovely to see you again.”
Olwyn rose from a deep curtsy, and Braedan took her hand to kiss it. “You grace our home, your majesty.” Her voice had a low, even tone. She addressed him eye to eye. “Your Eiryan lady didn’t accompany you?”
Braedan shook his head. “Someone had to stay in Torlach to administer my affairs. The lady Igraine is assisting my lord uncle and my seneschal to ensure that our kingdom doesn’t fall to pieces while I am here.”
She affected a sad tone. “Ah, majesty, I am disappointed.” She offered him a seductive smile. “I hope I can fill some small part of her role for you while you are in our home.”
Be careful. He smiled at her. “I appreciate your consideration, but no one could replace my princess.”
She turned to her father. “I’ve checked with the kitchen. All is prepared for the feast tonight.”
“Feast?” Braedan turned to Mac Rian. “This wasn’t an excuse for a celebration.”
Mac Rian bowed. “We wished to welcome you properly. And, as I mentioned, we had hoped the lady would accompany you so that we might show her northern hospitality.”
You’ll be glad you didn’t catch the sharp side of her tongue. Braedan wished again that Igraine had joined him. As vexing as she could be, it would have been fun to watch her spar with Mac Rian. And it would have been entertaining to flaunt our affections in front of Olwyn. Igraine would have given her much to think about and enjoyed every moment of the game. “Keep it to a minimum, will you?” he said, giving his voice a purposeful edge. “I’m here to help you with the tribes. I have duties in Torlach, and I have no wish to end up wintering in the north because you wish to carouse with the crown.”
Mac Rian inclined his head. “As you wish, sire.”
Braedan turned back to Olwyn and bowed. “My lady Olwyn, if we are to feast tonight, I fear you’ll have to excuse your father and me. We have much to discuss.”
She curtsied again. “Of course, my lords. I will await your pleasure elsewhere.” She left the room with fluid grace, attracting the eye of several Taurin guards. Malcolm rose and followed her from the room.
“Your daughter is a rare beauty,” Braedan said to Mac Rian.
Mac Rian gestured to their chairs. “I do thank you, majesty. I believe that when she heard of your ascension, she had hoped to win your affections.”
I’m sure she did. “You were about to tell me about the tribes.”
“Yes.” Mac Rian drank. Braedan had the impression that it was an act designed to make him appear thoughtful. In truth, he was certain Mac Rian had known what he wanted to say since he left Torlach a month ago. “The tribes. I fear that the difficulties with the tribes have increased since I left Torlach. We have skirmishes every few days now. They continue to encroach on the main road, preventing my men from coming and going, and have even gone so far as to attack a merchant wagon two weeks ago. My men were able to save the man and his goods, but I’ve had to insist that all traders take the eastern road. They aren’t happy, but it’s a choice of dealing with tribesmen on the main road or thieves on the eastern road.”
It’s not as simple as all that, Braedan thought. Before he left Torlach, Braedan sent three of his best men north to gather information on Mac Rian and the tribes in preparation for his arrival. Two days before arriving in Kiern, he had met with one of the guards, and he now knew that Hrogarth’s words were true: Mac Rian had been sending men into the great forest. According to the guard, the tribesmen teased Mac Rian’s men, leading them into traps, down dead ends, and in circles throughout the forest. “They play cat and mouse with the Taurins,” the man said. “It amuses them. They’ve even seen me—you can’t hide from a tribesman—and they just let me watch it all.”
What is he after? Is he looking for the Sidh too? Braedan swirled his wine. “I’m curious. Why is it that your predecessor’s family lived here for generations and amassed great wealth and never had trouble with the tribes? What has changed so much in less than a decade?”
“I do not know, majesty. Of course, Mac Niall was in league with dark forces. His paramour was a sorceress. Perhaps he was in league with the tribes as well.”
Braedan cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Rumor and gossip. I’ve no wish to recount all of that. I just want to know what you’ve done that has angered the tribes so much.”
“I swear to you. I have done nothing to bring this on.”
Braedan set down his goblet and stood. Mac Rian followed suit. “I’d like to see your grounds, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, majesty. I’ll accompany you,” Mac Rian said.
Braedan held up a hand. “No need. My guards will join me.” He inclined his head. “See that my rooms are prepared. I won’t be long. If we’ll be feasting tonight, I’ll need to wash off the dust and mud of the road. I’d like a bath prepared when I return.”
He found the tightening of Mac Rian’s mouth rewarding. The man didn’t appreciate being treated as a servant. He bowed. “Of course, your majesty. Lewis will see to it.”
Malcolm waited outside the doors of the hall and fell in step next to the king. As they walked into the cool afternoon air, Braedan spoke in low tones. “Mac Rian is lying to me. He’s brought this on himself. I need to find out what he’s after. I need evidence, not just hearsay. Eavesdropping won’t be enough.”
“Yes, majesty. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Did you speak with the lady Olwyn when you left the hall?”
Malcolm nodded. “She was happy to speak with the king’s guard. She assured me that your quarters would be prepared to your liking, and she was very insistent on finding out what your liking was.”
Braedan nodded. “It was clear that Olwyn would like to have the ear of the crown.”
“More than just an ear, from the questions she asked.”
Braedan smirked.
“Don’t trust her, majesty. That one has her eyes set higher than you know,” Malcolm said.
“What do you mean?”
“Logan was right. Olwyn wants a crown. I fear for the lady Igraine. Olwyn asked a lot of questions about her, and after the attempt on her life . . .” He shrugged.
“That was just one mad guard’s obsession.”
“Was it?”
Braedan’s mouth tightened. “What did you tell Olwyn?”
“I told her that you and the lady have great affection for each other, and she seemed disappointed. She asked about your wedding plans. I didn’t know what to say. I told her that you were still negotiating with the Eiryan crown, and that such things take time with the autumn rains and the sea weather getting rougher.” He frowned. “She wants a crown, but I think she’d be nearly as happy if you took her back to Torlach to serve Lady Igraine. I think she would make herself available to serve you whenever you wished. If something happened to befall the lady Igraine, why, she would be right there to comfort you.”
Braedan grunted. “I’m sure she would.”
They walked through the gates and past the scattered houses to the west of the estate, stopping when they reached the main road. Both men stared into the trees, hands on the hilts of their swords. “I can feel their eyes on me,” Malcolm said. “How can they be so well-hidden so close to the road?”
Braedan didn’t answer. Even the most elite Taurin soldiers or his own personal guards would be hard-pressed to hide so close to a major road. But Malcolm was right—eyes hovered on them. Predators slavering over a full table, Braedan thought. He suppressed a shudder, but he wanted them all to see him. They should know the king had arrived in Kiern. “Come on. Mac Rian will be expecting us for his feast.”
***
The king’s men certainly make more than their share of noise, Maeve thought. She rubbed her neck and stretched her shoulders in a futile attempt to relieve the tension carried by the Sidh. What had started as a mere twitch of discomfort weeks before had grown nearly unbearable in recent days. First Mac Rian intrudes on the forest, and now the king. Will we ever know peace again? She knuckled her back and sat down to evening tea.
Shouts and curses rang through the air, and Maeve flinched and rubbed her temples. Gods, not more trouble. The strain of so many Taurins near the village put all of the Sidh on edge, and the normally peace-loving people had fallen more and more to fighting among themselves. “Go see what it’s about, will you, Evie?”
But when Evie opened the door, Maeve stood and sucked in a breath at the sight of the slim, well-muscled, graying tribesman before her. He stepped into her hut and spoke in his low rumbling voice. “Maeve. It’s time to talk.”
Before he could react, Maeve summoned the air and wove it into violet braids as strong as steel. She wrapped the braids around him. He shot her a self-assured grin, and she tightened the braids. “You are not welcome here, Edgar.”
“So I was told when the earth guardian I brought revealed the village. I regret I had to hurt a few of your people to get your attention. They didn’t want to let me through.”
“They have been told not to allow any tribesmen access to the village.”
“That might mean something if they were willing to fight.”
She turned to Evie. “I’ll be fine. Go see to those who are injured. Make sure the healers can take care of everyone.” Evie curtsied and left.
Maeve tightened the braids around Edgar again. He grunted, but his eyes twinkled and his grin widened. “Something funny?”
“I was just picturing another time when a fierce young Brae Sidh queen decided that she’d had enough of hunters near her village.”
The memory softened her anger. “You and Culain were taken a bit off-guard, weren’t you?”
He grinned with a wicked edge. “There is nothing more comely than a woman with the kind of power you have.”
“Don’t try to charm me, Edgar.”
“I’m not. I envied him. I still do.”
A smile threatened the corners of her mouth as she remembered the day. “You were cocky beasts—him sputtering about his nobility and connections and you grinning because you knew exactly where you’d chased that stag. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I wanted to meet the woman whose beauty I’d heard so much about. Can you let me go now so we can talk like civilized people?” He sensed the retort that hovered on her lips, and he stopped her. “Or at least, like people who have a common enemy?”
She sighed. She let the magic retreat, and he let out a long breath. She didn’t realize how tight the braids had been until he rubbed his wrists and forearms. “I’m sorry.”
“You bested me fairly.”
“The years have been kind to you,” she said. More than kind. They had been good friends once, thirty years before. She had met Edgar and Culain when they had chased a stag into Sidh territory. Culain was in his late thirties, married, with a family and a duchy to run, and Edgar was in his twenties, a man brimming with confidence and self-assured bravado. Only two years later, Edgar found himself burdened with caring for an entire tribe when the previous traitha died on the hunt. The earthspirit selected the traithas, and though older, wiser men also entered the vision hut with Edgar, the earth had branded Edgar chieftain by the time they all emerged the next day.
The echoes of that young boy still hovered on Edgar’s face beneath the snaking blue lines of his brand. He still brimmed with confidence, but it was wiser—mellowed with age. His face was still handsome, the grace of his bone structure smoothing the edges of age that encroached. She still found his dark green eyes bewitching with their long lashes and mischievous twinkle. He wore a leather jerkin and breeches. Both arms were covered with the tattoos of the many hunts he’d been on, and she wondered if he’d started tattooing his legs yet. His braids were still dark with occasional gray streaks. She found herself reminded of Culain. A pang of loss went through her. In Connor’s absence, Edgar was the one link she had to Culain. This is the man I might have chosen once. How could I have let so many years go by?
Edgar appraised her with a gentle, appreciative gaze. “You are the same as you were thirty years ago. Time stays his hand for you. Even he respects your beauty.”
Despite her bitterness, Maeve’s stomach lurched at his flattery. I won’t be demure before this man. “You still have the eyes of a wolf and the tongue of a bard.”
He stepped closer to her. “Maeve, I should have been more insistent about watching over you when Culain died. After we fought, I was hurt. I shouldn’t have let it stop me. I should have been here. He was a brother to me.”
“I wouldn’t have seen you. I was so angry. I still am. I am struggling with this—with forgiving you for taking Connor.”
“I didn’t take him. He wanted to be a tribesman.”
“You and Culain didn’t have to make it all so appealing.”
His tone matched hers, steel for steel. “Did you never forgive Culain, either? He gave his blessing.”
I tried. “Connor rejected everything about the Sidh once he tasted the life of the warrior. He didn’t want to use his talent. He drank the blood of the animal. He refused to even consider a Sidh girl—”
“He wouldn’t look at a tribal girl either—not for more than a night—if that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not.”
Edgar folded his arms. “Maeve, Connor sought the tribal path, but he has a calling. His purpose is bigger than either of us know. There’s something he’s meant to do or be, and we couldn’t stop it if we tried. His Sidh blood and the tribal training are both part of that calling.” She started to respond, but he held up a hand. “Culain couldn’t have stopped it either, but he wouldn’t have tried.”
Anger dissipated at the thought of Culain, and she lowered her voice. “I know. He was a good father. When I let him be.”
Edgar took a deep breath. “Where is Connor? He didn’t make it back for the hunt this year.”
“I thought he didn’t hunt with you.”
“He doesn’t, but I always hear his name. He’s the best hunter in the nine tribes. Everyone talks about him no matter which tribe has the honor of hosting him.”
Despite her distaste for the hunt, maternal pride swelled in Maeve’s chest. Culain would have been proud, too. “He is on an errand for me. The heir is gone. He is taking her to safety.”
Edgar smirked. “Are you sure you trust
him with that? She needs to remain chaste, doesn’t she? He’s not a wolf for nothing.”
Oh, believe me, I know more about Connor’s indiscretions than I’d care to admit. “Connor knows that if he abuses her he’ll have me to answer to, and I am the only person he still fears.”
“Is he still bound to you?”
She hesitated. The truth of it struck her as she considered how to answer. If I tell him no, he’ll think I let Connor go, and it will soften his heart toward me. And it’s not a lie. But if I tell him the whole truth, he’ll know that the ravenmark is taking Connor. She closed her eyes. “No. He broke the bond.” She pursed her lips. “The Morrag called him. He answered.”
Edgar took a step toward her, and she opened her eyes. He reached out with one hand. “Maeve—”
She stepped back. “Don’t. I won’t have you prowling around me like a desperate cat.”
“What if I were prowling? I’m still unattached. So are you.” He unlaced his jerkin and pulled the left shoulder aside, revealing the unfinished marriage tattoo. He pulled the shoulder back up, but left the jerkin unlaced. “You interested? I’d hate to mar that perfect Sidh skin with a tattoo. We wouldn’t have to make it permanent.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I can see where my son learned all of his bad habits. Why are you here?”
He grew serious. “Mac Rian is in the forest. We’ve been holding his men at bay for weeks now, but today the unbeliever king arrived in Kiern with a retinue that could storm the forest and give us a real battle. And I think Mac Rian has more men than he’s revealed as well. He’s too confident. I came to ask for your help. If we work together, we can send these fools running and rid the world of Mac Rian’s poison.” He paused. “They’ll try to get an earth guardian who can reveal your village. They think if they reveal the Sidh village, they can get the reliquary. They’re counting on our hatred of each other to ensure that a guardian will do their bidding.”
Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) Page 41