“Aye, of course not.” His tone said that he didn’t believe her. “Veda, you may go.”
The girl turned and obediently walked away without question, leaving Nessa alone with the King. “Why did you watch?” He started walking, leading his horse loosely by the reins, and she followed.
“I saw the cloud of dust from the horses. I asked Veda what it was, and she showed me.”
“You are curious.”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Curiosity can be a danger, or an asset. Which is it for you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“If I wanted someone to find something for me, I would choose someone whose curiosity would likely lead them to look harder than anyone else.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m not a spy. I’ve never even met King Ecgfrith.”
“We’ll see.”
They had reached the paddock, and Bridei slipped the simple bridle from the stallion’s nose, opening the gate and giving the horse a light slap on the rump so that he went in to join the other horses who were happily grazing on the fresh spring grasses.
Then he turned to her, arms crossed over his chest, and stared, as if trying to decide his next move. His skin glistened with sweat from the recent sparring, and his muscles were still taught and straining from the effort. He was untamed; an ancient warrior who lived by his sword. Dangerous. Bold and arrogant. Decisive in every word and action. Unafraid to risk everything and confident that he would always prevail. And so far, he had. It was these traits that made him a great leader. He had forced the tribes of Orkney into submission, and routed the forces at Dunnottar. Of course she would be fascinated by him, she told herself; anyone would.
And the way he spoke… it was as if he took the language that to her ears had long been flat and lifeless, and breathed into it another place and time full of possibilities she’d never dreamed of. And if she didn’t have so much to lose—if she knew for certain she could go back at any time—she might have been tempted to stay for a while. She could have listened to the Pictish language for hours on end and never grown tired of the beautiful, melodic sound. Her grandmother had treasured it more than Nessa ever had. Though Gram had tried again and again to pique her interest when she was younger, Nessa had been forever running off to play in the hills and streams. But her grandmother’s words were still there, tucked away in her mind, and even now some of those words floated to the surface.
Imagine a whole language, all those words spoken so many thousands of times in love and anger, hate and joy. To have that disappear as if it never was… Just the language alone is a treasure. It’s like a living, breathing thing. I have always been proud to keep it alive. One day, you will know what I mean.
Now she understood exactly what Gram had meant. But at the moment Bridei himself was staring down at her, filling her with such incongruous thoughts and feelings that she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. Finally he spoke.
“I grow tired of watching you and waiting. But what to do with you?” He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, pensively letting it slide though his fingers. “You don’t have the coloring of a Pict. Your words are strange.” His hand moved to her face, cupping her cheek, his thumb nearly touching her bottom lip. Something began vibrating between them. An energy she could feel dancing across her skin. A magnetic pull that made her want to lean closer. Her head began to swim, and she thought she heard him draw a small, sharp breath.
“You show me little fear, but perhaps you only hide it well. Who wouldn’t be afraid of a man such as I?” His fingers tightened ever so slightly against her face, and his body swayed a tiny bit closer as his lips parted slightly. She looked up into his eyes, and she could have sworn she saw raw hunger there. Had this been any other man, any man at all, Nessa would have known for certain that she was about to be kissed.
She pulled away with a small gasp, stepping back and out of his reach.
His hand dropped to his side and he laughed. “Ah, so you are afraid of me.”
“No”, she said quickly. “I’m not afraid. But I won’t fall for any of your tricks, either.” She already had. She’d downed that drugged wine without a second thought. She would be much more careful from now on.
His lips curled into the semblance of a smile. “Tricks. I don’t need to use tricks. I use force. Tricks are for the weak and powerless.”
“But you drugged me…”
“Come.” Without another word, he took hold of her wrist and marched her back into the village, into the broch, and up the stairs to his chamber. She nearly had to run to keep up with his stride, or else she might have been dragged through the dirt.
He pushed her, not gently, into the room and towards the large wooden pole in the center, then he picked up the ropes and gestured with his chin for her to take up her usual place.
She sighed. Fighting would only waste energy, but this routine was growing old very fast. She needed something to happen, whether it was finding Angus or going to the well herself, and being tied up yet again wasn’t going to help.
“You still don’t trust me enough to leave me untied? Where would I possibly go with an entire army just outside the walls?”
“Of course I don’t trust you. If I gave out my trust so easily, I would have been dead long ago, lass. And you must have come past the walls and the army to be here in the first place. Besides, your travelling companion is missing”, he said pointedly.
Glaring at him, she sat and held out her hands to be bound. If only he knew how she had really come to be here. He knelt in front of her, and she held her breath as he slipped the rope around her wrists, his calloused fingers brushing the tender skin near her pulse point. Her thighs squeezed tighter together of their own accord, and she raised her eyes to catch him looking at her. He swallowed hard, his throat moving with the effort. He quickly finished the knot he’d been working on and then stood up, turning to leave.
“Wait! Has there been any word on my uncle?” she asked yet again, without much hope of the answer she wanted.
He turned back, one hand on the door.
“My men have found no sign of him. I only hope for your sake that he hasn’t compromised us in any way. I would be forced to deal with him harshly. There would be no mercy, lass.”
No mercy. She had seen first-hand what ‘no mercy’ meant. She looked away, uncomfortable and irritated and quickly losing her patience with the whole impossible situation. What she wouldn’t give just to take a shower and stretch out in a comfortable bed. She smelled like dust and sweat and a few other things. She’d been washing herself with a cloth and a bowl of water after she helped Veda in the garden, but she still didn’t feel clean. Thankfully her period had only lasted a couple of days, probably because of all of the stress she was under, or things would have been even worse.
She raised her face to the king. “I want a bath, please”, she demanded with as much force as she could muster. “I’m filthy, and I’m sure I’m starting to smell bad, too.”
Bridei appeared to consider her request for a moment, then tilted his head toward the wooden tub near the fireplace. “I will have someone bring hot water, then.”
Nessa’s mouth dropped open in shock. She hadn’t actually expected him to grant her request.
But then his lips curled into a roguish smile. “And I will watch you bathe.”
“What?” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “No! I’m not bathing with you watching me!” He knew, of course, that she had balked at being naked in front of others on the day she arrived. Now he was testing her resolve.
“This is my chamber, lass.”
“And I didn’t ask to be here.”
He smirked at her. “If you want a bath, I will gladly oblige, but you will have one here, with me watching you. I don’t trust you, remember? Unless you want to bathe with your wrists and ankles bound.”
She wasn’t above bargaining. “One of the women can watch me, if you’re that worried I’ll try som
ething. I’m sure Veda wouldn’t mind.”
“The women are busy.”
He sat down in a chair, leaning back, a smug look on his face. He was asserting his power over her, expecting her to back down. Well, she wasn’t going to let him win. He wanted to watch? Then she’d give him a show. Now that she had it in her mind, she wanted a bath more than anything. She could practically feel the grime on her skin and it was starting to make her itch.
“Fine. Have them bring the water.”
Bridei felt the slightest twinge of panic rising in his chest. He should have known this fierce lass would call his bluff. Apparently either her desire to bathe or her desire to see her demands met was strong enough to overcome the unusual modesty he had witnessed earlier. His budding respect for her rose just a little, but now he’d have to sit and watch while she stripped off her clothing and washed her body. It was going to kill him, he knew. Already he was hard as stone and his blood was throbbing deep in his veins. Had she been any other woman, he would have been fine, but this woman brought out something raw and primal in him that he didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to control. Lack of control over anything angered him, and so he was more determined than ever to overcome this strange sexual obsession he had with her. He would watch her, and soon he would see that she was a woman like any other, with nothing so different or otherworldly under her clothing.
A half an hour later, the tub was filled with hot water and a fire was lit in the hearth to warm the room, and Bridei removed the ropes that held Nessa captive. She stood up, scowling at him as she rubbed her wrists. He gave her a cocky half smile.
“Your bath awaits, Ashta.”
Ashta. The word meant ‘little fierce one’, like a stalking kitten or a stinging wasp. It fit her perfectly, he thought. She was small and looked so fragile and delicate, but she was no timid little thing. She glared at him defiantly as she reached for the hem of her tunic. It slid slowly up her thighs, and he barely resisted the urge to lick his lips in anticipation. Instead he carefully schooled his features into what he hoped was a look of mild boredom. There was no way he was going to let her know she affected him in any way.
Her hips swayed as she pulled the cloth over them, turning her back to him at the same time. His first sight of her behind had his heart stuttering. He gritted his teeth. She lifted the tunic over her head at last, revealing the long, toned muscles of her back, tapering to a tiny waist and full hips. He felt every rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. Had he thought her just another woman? No, she was perfect; made in the very image of his every masculine fantasy, as if the gods had taken the image from his mind and made it flesh.
She stepped into the tub and sank beneath the water with a sigh, taking away his glorious view of her body.
Bridei dug his fingers into the cold, hard, wood of his chair, desperately trying to keep himself from standing up and going to her; that lush and untamed woman whose body called to his in a way that bordered on madness. The way she moved, her exotic beauty, the way she smelled when he got close enough to scent her. It had all become an unwelcome preoccupation. Yet he couldn’t look away. He had to watch her. He could almost feel the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips, muscles flexing as he touched her, nipples hardening as his bare chest slid over them. And then. And then… he could almost feel the close, wet, warmth around his cock as he slowly pushed into her. Her body would grip him tight, and maybe, just maybe, it would be the way he had heard it could be when a man finds his perfect match in a woman. Ecstasy.
Holding back a groan, Bridei stood from the chair where he had been seated and walked to the side of the tub. She looked up at him with wide eyes, waiting to see what he would do. As if he couldn’t stop himself, he took her small hand and placed it firmly on the bulge at the front of his pants. She gasped and looked away, a flush of red rushing up to stain her cheeks.
“A good show, lass.” He gave her a wicked smile to hide his own weakness, then turned and left the room, closing and bolting the door behind him, despite his promise to watch her bathe. He had to leave. He was losing control. His every instinct had been screaming at him to take her, whether she willed it or not, as if there was no other thing more important, now or ever. Every muscle in his body had been tensed from the moment she began lifting her tunic, wanting desperately to leap from his chair and pounce on her. Throw her onto the bed. Claim her with his body. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the strange madness of desire threatening to overtake him.
He leaned against the cool stone wall outside his chamber, pulling air deep into his lungs in an effort to calm his racing heart. He could not be at war with himself over her when he was at war with his enemy. He had had his fun today, but now it was time to call upon all of his strength and put such thoughts out of his mind for good.
His fingers locked around the amulet hanging from his neck. Set within it was a smooth stone Domech had handed him on the day he had become King. It was meant to remind him always of that day, and of the power and responsibility that was his. He used it now to draw strength. My ambitions are all that is important to me. No woman is worth this Kingdom. If I give in, and she is an enemy, I will lose everything I have worked so hard for…
Fortriu 672
He stood on the great ledge of stone, looking down at the thousands of people assembled before him. They, too, were ready for change, and they had put their faith solidly in him. The heavy responsibility sank down into his chest for a moment, before rising like a swift river to the surface and filling him with fire and determination. He had been born for this. He raised a fist in the air and shouted, and his people shouted back, the noise echoing in the small valley and serving only to raise the fever pitch of excitement radiating from the crowd. It was time. Without looking away from the people below, he motioned to the two warriors behind him with an imperious flick of his wrist. They stepped forward, a bound man between them. Bridei pulled a long knife slowly from the sheath at his side and held it up. The crowd roared in approval. The bound man glared down at them, still defiant, determined to die with any dignity still left to him.
“Death to you all! As I die, so shall you!” the doomed man shouted. One of the guards kicked him in the shin.
“Traitor!” came the calls from below. “You are no true king! Kill him! Do it now!” The people wanted blood for the blood of those that had fallen to the Saxons. They would be satisfied with nothing less.
Bridei put his blade to Drest’s throat, and with a firm pressure, pulled it across. He could feel it slice thickly into the flesh until it hit the harder tissue and bone beneath. Blood spurted like a fountain, draining life, anointing him now with the mantle of power. As the guards let go of his arms, the former king fell to his knees, the last of his life flowing out from the gaping wound. The crowd roared once more. A chant began, softly at first, then louder, until at last it became deafening. They called his name. Him. A heady mandate to rule.
“Bri-dye! Bri-dye!”
He waited until all eyes were on him, then he stepped forward, lifting each leg high and making a show of stepping into the footprints carved into the stone of the ledge. His own grandfather, Nechtan, had stood in this same place many years before, but now it was his turn. He would not let his people down. He would be brutal in his campaign to win back their lands and their freedom. He would not stop nor lose focus until it was done. Then, on that day and not one hour before, he would rest. He was very young to be King, only twenty years in a culture that valued age and experience above all else in its leaders. He knew he would have to prove himself again and again. And looking down at the body at his feet, he also knew what would happen if he failed.
That evening, there was a celebration, with fires all around, and music and dancing well into the night.
He spoke to the leaders among his men.
“They understand violence. They follow strength. It’s the only way to unite our people against the Saxons. If we do nothing, Pictland is lo
st. We are lost. We lay siege to Dunnottar, and when the chief bows to his King once more, we go north to Orkney. Without a united front, we will be a Northumbrian slave state forever.”
Nessa twisted herself around the wooden pole until finally she could reach the small blade she had slipped into the pocket of her tunic. After Bridei had left her alone in the bath, she had noticed it just lying there, next to a wooden comb and some strips of leather. It was probably the blade he shaved himself with, but he had apparently forgotten it was there. She had wasted no time hiding it when she dressed in the clean clothing left for her, her heart beating fast and furious. This was the first opportunity she’d had to escape, and now that it had come she was terrified. When Namet came later with her dinner, she could barely swallow it, and when he tied her hands for the night, she was sure her nerves would give her away. But if Namet felt the slight tremble of her hands as he tied them, he didn’t let on.
Now she was alone, and she carefully let the knife slip down her sleeve and into her hand, ready to slice at the ropes. It was a huge risk, of course. Though the hall below was quiet, she might not even get out of the broch before she was caught. Or the door to the room might be locked from the outside, though she hadn’t heard the bolt slide home when Namet left. She could end up far worse off than she was now, but what if she never had another chance? What if someone found the blade tomorrow before she could use it? She was getting desperate to find Angus, and she thought maybe, just maybe, he was frightened and would come out of hiding if she called to him. If he was even hiding. It was a long shot, but what other choice did she have?
Before she could change her mind, she drew the blade across the rope. Luckily the knife was sharp and cut easily, and within a minute or two she was free. After listening for several moments at the door and hearing nothing, she lifted the latch and pushed gently. It wasn’t locked. Holding her breath so that she wouldn’t make the slightest sound, she crept into the hall. If she could make it a little more than halfway down the stairs without being seen, there was a narrow window she could slide out of before anyone in the hall would see her.
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