Warrior's Secret (The Pict Wars Book 2)

by Jayne Castel

  Tea.

  “I’m glad you came back.” The Eagle chieftain’s wife’s gaze swept over them. Indeed, Ailene saw relief in her eyes, although her expression was guarded.

  Seated behind Muin this morning, her arms wrapped around his waist, Ailene felt her lover tense. He had agreed to return to Balintur with her, yet he was not happy about it.

  “I’d like to speak to the chieftains,” Ailene called out.

  Tea nodded, her expression turning resigned now. She had expected this. “They will find you in the meeting tent shortly. Go on ahead.”

  Muin and Ailene rode into the deserted village, Feannag plodding through the soot-blackened paths leading to where a large hide tent rose up amongst the ruins.

  “How long will it take to rebuild the village?” Ailene asked Muin as she took in the devastation.

  “A couple of moons,” Muin replied, his voice a low rumble. Unlike that morning, when they had lain curled together by the fireside, his body was rigid against hers, each nerve on alert. “They torched every last dwelling.”

  Reining the pony up outside the tent, Muin dismounted before helping Ailene down.

  She turned to Muin, noting the strain on his face.

  “Remember what I said last night,” he said, stepping toward Ailene and brushing a lock of stray hair from her face. “If any of them tries to harm you, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  Fear fluttered in Ailene’s belly at this proclamation. Once again she did not doubt him. Muin never made vows he did not mean. However, the thought of him trying to defend her against warriors who were his equal in combat made her feel queasy.

  She could not let him do that.

  If it came to pass, she would not.

  Stepping close to Muin, she reached up and cupped his face with her hands. “Your support means a lot to me, my love,” she murmured, holding his gaze steadily. “But this is my battle, not yours. Whatever happens, please remember that.”

  A lump of peat burned in the fire pit in the center of the tent, glowing gold. Ailene stared at it, forcing down nervousness.

  The four chieftains had arrived, bringing their closest kin with them. Galan had brought not just Tea and Aaron, but his two brothers and their offspring. It seemed this morning’s meeting was to have an audience. However, despite that Donnel and Talor were in attendance, Eithni and Eara were absent.

  Ailene glanced up briefly when Talor entered, although her cousin did not look her way. His face, which was usually relaxed, was stone-hewn this morning.

  Does he blame me for Bonnie’s death?

  Ailene’s belly contracted, nausea rising. She had been relatively calm earlier, yet now that the chieftains were before her, it felt as if a tribe of brownies were trying to twist her gut in knots.

  Drawing in a deep breath, and then another, Ailene raised her chin and surveyed them.

  Next to her, she felt Muin’s solid presence. He sat close, so that their thighs brushed. The heat of his body enveloped her, giving her strength. She did not need to glance his way to know that he was glowering across the fire pit at the four men he was ready to see as his enemies.

  None of the chieftains were smiling.

  Both Galan and Varar were as difficult to read as ever, their faces carefully composed masks. However, beside Varar, Fina was scowling. She kept shooting her husband warning looks, which he was making a point of ignoring.

  Wid sat immovable and silent, his bearded face hard, while next to him, deep grooves furrowed Tadhg’s heavy brow.

  They did not look any more welcoming than they had the day before.

  Fear rose within Ailene, and her breathing quickened. She had hoped that a night to think on things would have made these men soften toward her; yet it seemed reflection had only made The Wolf and Stag chieftains more hostile.

  Silence drew out in the tent, and finally unable to bear the tension any longer, Ailene cleared her throat. “Have you made your decision about my fate?”

  “Aye,” Varar replied. He spoke softly, although the tone of his voice gave nothing away. “We discussed matters at length last night.”

  The Boar chieftain paused here. Beside her, Muin shifted, his thigh pressing hard against hers. Resisting the urge to reach out and take her lover’s hand, Ailene held Varar’s stare.

  “You made a mistake,” Varar continued, “but it was an honest one.” His gaze shifted from her then, flicking to where Wid and Tadhg sat as silent and still as boulders. “In our anger and grief, we have overlooked the good advice that you have given us over the past months.” His attention flicked back to Ailene. “You have not steered any of us wrong. You predicted The Boar and Eagle would be united in marriage and that it was the right time to take back An Teanga … and both those things have come to pass. You also rode after our army when you had a vision of disaster. We changed our plans because of you.” Varar broke off here, his handsome face tightening. “You also warned us that dark times lay ahead for The Eagle. You might not have realized it at the time … but the ‘Death Tide’ was linked to that portent.”

  “You are young and only just gaining confidence in your abilities.” Galan spoke up then. “Already you have been put through much more stress than Ruith ever was during her many years as bandruí. Varar’s right … your error was not made out of malice.”

  Silence fell in the tent.

  Ailene stared at Galan. “You’re not punishing me?” She did not want to ask the question, for she feared she had misunderstood him. However, she had to know. Her pulse started to throb in her ears while Muin’s thigh kept its steady pressure against hers.

  “No, we aren’t,” Galan replied, his face softening. “Enough darkness has fallen upon us all of late, without us turning on each other.” He shot a pointed look across at The Wolf and Stag chieftains. Neither man had yet uttered a word. “So it’s agreed then. We shall let this lie?”

  It took a while for Wid and Tadhg to reply.

  The Stag chieftain’s wife, Erea, cast her husband a censorious look, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Aye,” Tadhg grunted. “You are right. The lass made a mistake … who of us here hasn’t?”

  All gazes turned then to Wid. He wore a thunderous expression now. Unlike Tadhg’s wife, Alana remained still and silent at his side and did not try to catch his eye. However, their surviving son, Calum, cast his father a questioning look, his dark brows knitting together.

  “I don’t like this,” Wid finally replied, his voice a low growl, “but I see I am outnumbered.”

  Watching The Wolf chieftain, Ailene clenched her jaw. She knew Wid had been through much of late. He had not yet recovered from losing his youngest, Bred, in the Battle of Bodach’s Throat. Before his son’s death, Wid had been an even-tempered man who was quick to forgive and even quicker to laugh. But these days there was a bitter edge to him that had dug permanent lines into his face. Yet despite that she sympathized with him, Ailene did not appreciate the thinly veiled animosity he held toward her.

  The other chieftains could see past their own grief, why could not he?

  Holding Wid’s gaze, Ailene drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Wid,” she murmured. “Please remember that we are all on the same side. I have only ever wanted to help our people.”

  The Wolf chieftain stared back at her, and she saw a shadow move in the depths of his dark blue eyes. “Aye,” he rumbled. “I know, lass.”

  Ailene exited the tent on shaky legs.

  Muin had stayed behind to join the discussion about the first stages of the rebuild of Balintur. However, she could leave.

  Tilting her head to the overcast sky, Ailene whispered her thanks. She had not believed she would escape punishment. She wondered which of the chieftains had been instrumental in the decision—instinct told her it was Varar.

  “There you are.” Ailene turned to see that Fina had also left the tent. “I was hoping you hadn’t gone far.”

  Her friend crossed to her and, linking arms, the pair walke
d toward the ruins of the north gate. Ailene cast Fina a glance, but she was not looking her way. Fina still wore her hair in fine braids, which she had pulled up into a high pony-tail; the style suited her, revealing her long neck and regal profile.

  “Do I have you to thank for this?” Ailene asked.

  Fina cut her a look, her gaze widening. “Why do you ask that?”

  Ailene smiled. “You’re a terrible liar. It’s written all over your face. What did you say to Varar?”

  Fina held her gaze a moment before favoring Ailene with an impish grin. “He wasn’t hard to convince. I know the rest of you think Varar mac Urcal is a hard bastard, but that’s just a shield. His heart is really as soft as porridge … just don’t ever tell him I said that.”

  Ailene laughed. The thought of Varar being soft-hearted was ridiculous, and yet she had witnessed how he had led the other chiefs inside that tent; Varar was the youngest of them, and had a blemished history with the other tribes, especially The Eagle. But Ailene would never forget how he had defended her.

  Her smile faded then, when she remembered the grim look on some of the faces inside the tent. “Wid and Tadhg don’t look happy about the decision though.”

  Fina shrugged. “But the peace holds between our tribes, that’s all that matters. They will soften in time.”

  “And Talor? He hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since I returned to Balintur.”

  Fina let out a sigh, her face clouding. “That’s got nothing to do with you … Talor blames himself for Bonnie’s death. He keeps saying he should have gotten to her sooner.”

  Up ahead the north gate loomed, and the aroma of frying oatcakes wafted toward them.

  “Did you know that it was Cathal mac Calum himself who slew Bonnie,” Fina continued, her voice developing a hard edge. “She did well to hold out as long as she did.”

  A lump rose in Ailene’s throat. She remembered Bonnie’s bright hazel eyes, her quick smile, and even quicker wit. It was such a waste. “Bonnie’s death wasn’t Talor’s fault,” Ailene murmured.

  “Just as the attack on Balintur wasn’t yours,” Fina reminded her firmly. “As Varar said back there … it’s because of your warning that the siege of An Teanga was a success. Many of our people have fallen over the past few days, but The Boar territory has now been liberated and The Serpent is licking its wounds back in Dun Ringill.” Fina’s face and voice turned hard then. “Cathal mac Calum’s days on this isle are numbered.”

  The two women walked in silence then, out of the ruined village and into the sea of tents that spread down the hillside beyond. Folk were out tending the fields already, the murmur of subdued voices lifting into the misty air.

  “Varar and I will return to An Teanga tomorrow,” Fina said, stopping and turning to Ailene. “We need to shore up the defenses, just in case the Cruthini get desperate.”

  Ailene nodded. It made sense. They had left a small number of warriors behind to defend the fort, but it was a temporary solution. “I will miss you,” she said softly, meeting Fina’s eye. “It will seem strange to live apart from each other.”

  Fina’s full mouth curved. “I never thought I’d wed a Boar, let alone make An Teanga my home … but it goes to show that we never know what lies ahead. The Gods like to surprise us.” Her smile turned sly then. “I’m glad to see you came to your senses regarding Muin.”

  Ailene’s gaze widened. “Don’t tell me you knew too?”

  “I’d suspected something … I’d occasionally catch him watching you in a way that warned me his feelings went far deeper than friendship. I was disappointed when he admitted to me that you didn’t want him.”

  Ailene ran a hand down her face. “Luckily, I realized what I stood to lose before it was too late.”

  Fina grinned. “So, you love my hulking cousin, then?”

  “Aye … to distraction.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The Path of Vengeance

  “I GIVE YOU my thanks, Varar.”

  The Boar chieftain turned, surprise filtering across his face. Muin had waited till the others had left the tent. He and Varar had been the last to depart when Muin had spoken.

  “No thanks are needed,” Varar replied with a half-smile. “Fina would have gelded me if I’d let Ailene be punished … plus the seer wasn’t going down without a fight.” His expression grew serious then. “Instead, I owe the lass my thanks.”

  The sincerity in the man’s tone took Muin aback. He had not held a high opinion of Varar mac Urcal once. Like the rest of his kin, he had been suspicious of him when he had arrived at the Lochans of the Fair Folk mouthing words of peace.

  And yet, Varar had been true to his word.

  The two men left the tent together, but Muin walked alone back to the encampment outside the walls. There, he found Ailene sharing a morning meal of oatcakes, butter, and honey with Tea, Fina, and Lucrezia. He joined them and ate his fill before leaving the women to talk.

  Usually, Eithni would be with them—she and Tea spent most of their days together—but since they had buried Bonnie, the healer had kept largely to herself.

  He found Eithni sitting by the fire pit in her tent, staring blankly at the flames. She glanced up when Muin entered and attempted a smile. However, the expression was strained. Her eyes remained haunted.

  “I’m not intruding, am I?” Muin asked, hovering at the entrance.

  Eithni shook her head. “I could do with the company … sitting alone with my own thoughts is turning me maudlin.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “Donnel has taken Eara down to the water to fish for flounder … he wanted to distract her.”

  Muin smiled at this news, although the expression was tinged with sadness. Bonnie had loved to go spear fishing with her father.

  “And Talor … have you seen him?”

  A shadow passed over Eithni’s heart-shaped face. She shook her head. “I worry about him, Muin. He’s barely spoken a word to any of us since the attack.”

  “I will talk to him … if you think it will help?”

  Eithni nodded. “Thank you.” She motioned to a stool opposite. “Take a seat.”

  Muin did as bid, lowering himself onto the low stool and warming his hands over the fire.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the meeting earlier,” Eithni said after a brief pause. “But Donnel tells me that all is well … and I am pleased. Ailene has only ever wanted to do good.” She attempted a wan smile then. “I am happy for you both.”

  Muin breathed in deeply in an attempt to ease the pain in the center of his chest. Eithni was a gentle-hearted woman. Even in the midst of her own grief, she found room to care about others. Over the past days she had tended the injured despite her loss. She was truly remarkable.

  Silence fell between them then, and after a long pause, Eithni broke it. “I never really understood Bonnie, you know … she could be wild and reckless.”

  The corners of Muin’s mouth lifted. “Aye … but that was also part of her charm.”

  “I’ve feared for her over the years,” Eithni replied softly. “As I have feared for you all. I know a warrior’s life can be a short one, yet I’m angry with the Gods all the same for taking her from me.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Muin asked, leaning forward. “I hate to see those I love in such pain. I feel so useless.”

  Eithni smiled then, and this time it did warm her eyes, for they crinkled at the corners. “You are far from useless. We are all lucky to have you in our lives,” she replied, wiping her damp eyes. “Your strength will help your cousin keep a steady course … please seek Talor out and watch over him in the days to come. I worry what he might do.”

  Muin found his cousin at the cairns, standing alone by the small stacked-stone mound that was Bonnie’s resting place.

  Approaching slowly, Muin took in the rigid set of Talor’s shoulders. He was dressed in a leather vest and breeches and wore no cloak, despite the chill morning.

>   Muin stopped to the right of his cousin, taking in his profile.

  Talor stared at the entrance to his sister’s tomb, his face stony. His eyes burned.

  Grief swept over Muin as he watched him. He too had loved Bonnie. He had trained her in swordplay, smiling at her good-natured insults as she did her best to get under his guard. The lass had burned as bright as a Gateway fire. It was hard to believe that she was gone.

  Together, the two men stood in silence. Muin did not speak; it was not his way. He had always been more comfortable with silence than Talor.

  Eventually, Talor broke the silence between them. “I told Bonnie to stay on the walls,” he murmured. His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else: low and raspy. “Why could she never do as she was told?”

  Muin did not reply. He got the feeling he was not expected to. Talor simply wanted someone to listen to him.

  “I was too slow,” Talor continued. Muin grew still at the bleakness in his voice. He had never seen Talor like this; his cousin had always been so cocky and cheerful. But it was as if all hope had left him. “I tried to reach her, but there were too many Cruthini.”

  Talor broke off there, and Muin saw that tears now trickled down his cheeks. But still he did not look his way. The pain on Talor’s face felt like a blade to Muin’s heart. He wished he could do something to ease it.

  “She looked tiny down there,” Talor whispered. “She was so fierce, fighting warriors twice her size. But when Cathal went for her, I knew it was over.”

  A lump rose in Muin’s throat. He could imagine the scene. He had seen Cathal mac Calum fight. The man struck fear into most of his opponents’ hearts. As brave and skilled as Bonnie had been, she would never have lasted long against the warrior.

  “She was still breathing when I reached her.” Talor’s words were barely audible now. His cousin bent his head, his shoulders shaking. “She stared up at me with pleading eyes. Her lips moved but no sound escaped … and then … I felt the life drain out of her.”