After that failed attempt, Bleddyn had ridden out himself to rid Seabhac of the threat, but when he had encountered Fiadh, she had not been the deranged woman that he had envisioned her to be. In the end, they had both wanted the same things: respect and power. Drawing a truce with her had been far more valuable to him than simply killing her.
The trees thinned, drawing Bleddyn out of his thoughts when Fiadh’s hut appeared in front of them. He pulled Mawr to a halt, dismounting, while Gwilym did the same. Fiadh waited for them at the front door, her anticipation of their arrival not at all surprising. She had her ways, along with her eccentricities.
“It took you long enough,” she said as she ushered them inside.
“My brother held us up,” Bleddyn replied, throwing back the hood of his cloak.
She snorted under her breath as she closed the door. The disrespect wasn’t something that he would normally allow, but he’d learned a certain level of respect for the power she carried. He wasn’t so much of a fool that he didn’t realize it far exceeded his own—for now. The hut they entered was sparse and Fiadh’s flock of eight ravens roosted in various places throughout the room. A fire kept out the damp cold and Fiadh brushed past them, walking over to tend it.
Her clothing was as plain as her mousy brown hair and brown eyes, entirely unremarkable if one were to see her wandering about. He suspected she was closer to his own age, twenty-eight, though she could easily be a few years older or younger. She had never seemed inclined to divulge such information. The black tattoo on the back of her neck, however, with its swirling lines and hawk’s head motif, marked her as a woman who was far more than her plain looks conveyed.
“Your illustrious brother has arrived then,” Fiadh said, turning away from the fire to face the two men. “What of your cousin?”
“He is due in three days, as planned,” Bleddyn answered.
She studied him, the intensity in her gaze causing him to shift uncomfortably. One of her ravens flew to her shoulder, the bird nuzzling her neck as she stroked its back and pursed her lips.
“You could have sent a messenger with that information,” she said, delivering a brief smirk to Gwilym that caused the other man to swallow hard. “Even delicate Gwilym could have done that job. Why are you here, Bleddyn?”
Bleddyn lifted his chin, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I’ve given thought to your… proposition.”
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “And what have you decided?”
He pushed aside the quiver growing in the pit of his stomach along with the memories of his father’s countless warnings. The power, he told himself. Think of the power. Not to mention how much easier it will make this whole scheme.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
For a moment, it was as if all the ravens in the cottage focused on him at once while Fiadh gave a slow nod.
“You do remember that once a blood bond is made, it cannot be broken without certain… consequences?” she said.
“Yes,” he answered, squaring his shoulders.
“Very well.”
The raven on her shoulder flew off to roost on a nearby table and Fiadh walked over to another table in the corner of the one-room hut. She pulled open a drawer, rummaging through it. Gwilym rubbed his hand on his pant leg, his gaze darting between Fiadh and her birds. Bleddyn tightened his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the other man’s nerves. Fiadh returned to them carrying a small dagger, unsheathing the blade before she came to stand in front of Bleddyn.
“Your hand,” she said, motioning for him to hold it out.
He did so and she turned his right hand palm up, doing the same with her own. She began to speak in Old Pernish. Bleddyn was unable to follow most of it, though he did catch a few words thanks to his father’s ridiculous insistence that he learn the language. Unlike Niall, he’d never taken an interest in becoming fluent in it. It had been yet another reason why Conor had seen Niall as the better son.
Bleddyn pushed the bitter thoughts aside as Fiadh finished her chanting. She sliced the blade across the center of her palm before doing the same to his own. The sharp pain caused him to hiss, but Fiadh spoke again, pressing their palms together as her blood mixed with his. The fire darkened before a sharp gust of wind whipped through the room. With a cold smile, Fiadh removed her hand. He was stunned to see that the bleeding had stopped, the wound replaced by a thin black line.
A wise choice, Ri Bleddyn, Fiadh said, her gaze locking with his.
It was not the first time she had invaded his thoughts, but the clarity of her words and the distinct rush of power that followed them caused him to take in a sharp breath. The blood bond now linked them, both in the Mortal Realm and in the Spirit Realm, and by extension, he had now connected himself to the Dark Spirit that she had sworn her allegiance to: Cigfran. It was a small price to pay for all that he would receive. There would be nothing, not even distance, that would stop them from accessing each other’s minds. It would make the task before him all the easier.
Impressive, Bleddyn told her, studying the mark on his hand.
Gwilym looked between the two of them, his eyes wide.
“You will alert me when your cousin arrives?” Fiadh asked.
“Yes,” Bleddyn replied. “And I will send an escort for you.”
“How kind.” Fiadh’s tone bordered on mocking, her lip curling. “Though I assure you, I hardly need protection from such mere mortals.”
“Consider it a way to make an entrance, then. It will be sure to draw the notice of the men from the mainland.”
“You forget that I would much rather have their fear than their notice.”
“I have no doubt that you will have both and a place at Ciall deserving of one with your abilities.”
I had better. Her gaze hardened as the words drifted into his thoughts and he nodded in acknowledgement. In the end, they both wanted the same thing.
“I have to get back to the castle,” he said. “We cannot risk lingering here.”
“We wouldn’t want your little wife-to-be worrying, now would we?” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
He ignored the remark. She had made it clear she didn’t understand his desire for Ciara. Fiadh saw her as too weak to become his Banrion, though part of him suspected that Fiadh thought the act of tying himself to anyone was foolish. Relationships had no place in Fiadh’s world. He held no illusions that she saw him as nothing more than a means to an end. It was the same way he saw her.
“Three days,” he told her.
“I will be waiting,” she replied.
He motioned for Gwilym to follow him to the door, Fiadh not bothering to see them out. Once outside, Bleddyn threw his hood back over his head before mounting Mawr.
“I know you trust her,” Gwilym said, swinging onto his own mount. “But there’s something about that woman that always frightens me.”
“Good. There should be.”
Bleddyn shot Gwilym a cold smile, watching the other man fight the urge to shrink away before he guided Mawr back into the forest. Soon he would have everything that should have been his.
Chapter 6
Family Ties
For Niall, dinner the night before had been excruciating. He’d been forced to listen to Bleddyn drone on about his long list of accomplishments as Seabhac’s Ri while watching the woman he cared for sit at his brother’s side. The only positive part of the evening had been that outside of a few disgruntled looks, no one had complained about Rhew’s presence during the meal. He slept poorly that night, his vision of Ciara in the Great Hall of Ciall returning to him in the early morning hours. The unwelcome vision had left him unable to get back to sleep and with an insistent, dull ache in his chest.
Once the sun rose, matters hardly improved. He made the choice to dine in his chambers with Rhew as his only company. Neither Aled or Maura pressed him on the decision, the two of them taking breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of his warriors. After breakfast, he left Rhew in t
he care of his warriors and spent four long hours with Aled and Maura, the three of them trying to work with Bleddyn and his advisors to draw up some manner of agreement between the clans. The hours had felt useless, Bleddyn practically demanding that Blaidd be beholden to him in one form or another for his aid for the next five years. Niall knew that his people needed an agreement with their northern neighbors, but he loathed to sign something that, in the end, would not serve them.
When it was finally time for the midday meal, Niall couldn’t hide his relief. Even his looming visit to Bach to visit his aunt and uncle would be less stressful than spending more time arguing with Bleddyn. Against his better judgement, he chose to leave his warriors at the castle, a decision that Maura wasn’t particularly thrilled with, and made his way down to the village on his own. He had Rhew, and it had been far too long since he’d last seen his aunt, Brynn, and his uncle, Macsen.
As Niall guided Gealach down a narrow street, Rhew kept pace beside the stallion. The white wolf had gotten a few odd looks from the people of Bach, but they had at least given them a wide berth. Gealach’s ears pricked, Rhew’s doing the same, and Niall was jerked from his bitter musing about the morning’s failures when they came across a flock of bleating sheep being pushed down the street. Niall pulled Gealach to the side of the road, commanding Rhew to come sit at the stallion’s shoulder.
The wolf’s gaze followed the sheep as they passed, but she sat perfectly still, awaiting Niall’s next command. The shepherd narrowed his eyes at Rhew when he saw her, hurrying his flock along with an air of distrust. Niall couldn’t hold back a sigh. The people of Blaidd were accustomed to seeing his family’s wolves, but most in Seabhac had never quite grown to accept them, even after his parents’ marriage.
And Bleddyn’s disdain for them probably doesn’t help, he thought, guiding Gealach back onto the street as Rhew fell in beside them. Even with the less-than-friendly interaction with the shepherd, the sheep were a reminder of home. Elsewhere in Bach, he saw little that reminded him of the small, quiet villages of Blaidd. Instead, he was confronted by the signs of progress that Bleddyn continually bragged about. The homes were far closer together than those in Blaidd and incessant billows of smoke came from a few of the large buildings. When he had first entered Bach, he had spied a strange contraption that seemed to be drawing water from the river. While he didn’t begrudge those who seemed to enjoy living in such a crowded area, his blood still heated when he thought of Bleddyn’s air of superiority. As if somehow Blaidd, with its smaller villages and large tracts of untouched wilderness, was inferior.
The closer Niall got to the center of the village, the more populated the streets became. For most of his life, he had enjoyed being surrounded by people, but now his gifting left him feeling far too exposed among the crowd. When he finally brought Gealach to a halt outside a modest, two-story home, he couldn’t hold back his sigh of relief. He dismounted, throwing the reins over the stallion’s head before he pulled back the hood of his cloak. The door to the home opened and a young woman with bright red hair raced out to greet him.
“Cousin Niall!” she called.
Niall chuckled at her enthusiasm. He had almost forgotten Quinn’s vivacious energy. At one time, it had matched his own, before he was forced into a crushing life of solitude. Rhew trotted over to Quinn, and his cousin’s grin widened at the sight of the wolf.
“Mother didn’t say you were bringing Rhew.” Quinn bent down, rubbing Rhew on the head, the wolf eating up the attention.
The front door creaked open again and Niall looked up to see an older man, his hair now more grey than black, step out onto the front steps with a welcoming smile.
“Quinn,” his uncle, Macsen, called, “see Niall’s horse to the stable, will you?”
“Yes, Father,” Quinn replied.
She gave Rhew one last scratch before Niall passed her Gealach’s reins. Crooning softly to the stallion, Quinn led him back behind the house. Niall climbed the front steps, Macsen greeting him with a hug and a firm clasp on the shoulder before ushering him inside. Niall heard his aunt’s voice drifting out of the kitchen when he stepped inside the entryway, and his chest hitched. He had been away from those he cared about for far too long.
“Brynn’s had me in the kitchen all day, working on a meal suitable for the Ri of Blaidd,” Macsen said, his tone light as he closed the door and took Niall’s cloak.
“I’m sure whatever you’ve made will be more than adequate,” Niall replied. “Mother and Father always said they never found a cook who could match you after you left the castle.”
Brynn strode out of the kitchen and into the entryway, a broad smile on her face as she wrapped Niall in a hug. “Niall! Oh, it’s so good to see you.”
A pang of longing coursed through him, the brief interaction bringing back memories of his mother. The illness that had taken her had caused her to leave them far too soon. Rhiannon and Brynn had always been close and he clearly recalled the love that both of them had showered on him in his youth. After a moment, Brynn stepped back from him, wiping at tears.
“I know I say this every time,” she said, her voice hoarse, “but you look just like her.”
His throat tightened and he barely managed a nod. Sometimes, in the dark loneliness of the night, he wondered if his resemblance to his mother was part of why his father had left. Life had been so different when she had been alive and he had no doubt that she would have known how to help him navigate the mess that his life had become.
“Thank you for having me,” he said, clearing his throat and seeking to steer the topic of conversation away from his mother before Brynn wasn’t the only one shedding tears.
Rhew let out a low whine and Brynn quietly laughed, leaning down to greet the wolf.
“Yes, Rhew, I’m glad you’re here too,” she said, petting the wolf behind the ears before looking back up at Niall. “I was thrilled to hear that you were coming to Seabhac. You’re always welcome here; I don’t want you to ever forget that. We had best get eating before it all gets cold.”
“Especially after I slaved away over it all morning,” Macsen said, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Brynn swatted at him and Niall couldn’t help but join in on their laughter as they walked into the large dining room. He had missed such interactions so much that it left a physical ache, but he was determined to make the most of his time with his family. Doran, Brynn and Macsen’s middle child, was finishing setting the table as they gathered around it. Niall exchanged a brief greeting with him before Quinn joined them.
Brynn encouraged everyone to take a seat, brushing off Niall’s offer to help with an insistence that he was their guest. Rhew settled at Niall’s feet while Macsen helped Brynn and Doran carry the last of the food from the kitchen, including a sheep bone to keep Rhew occupied while they ate. Niall’s stomach growled at the smell of the delicious food wafting through the room. His breakfast had been light and between arguing with Bleddyn all morning and the ride down to the village, he had worked up an appetite.
“I’m sure you’re supposed to dine at Ciall this evening,” Brynn said as bowls and platters began to be passed around the table. “I hope we don’t spoil your dinner with all this food.”
“The boy’s been traveling for days,” Macsen said, passing Niall a mug of ale. “I’m sure he’s ready for a few good meals.”
“I’ll admit, my breakfast was sparse,” Niall replied, taking a platter of roasted venison from Quinn. “I spent most of my morning meeting with Bleddyn.”
“I’m only sorry Odran couldn’t be here.” Brynn paused, her frown so brief when she mentioned her oldest son that Niall almost missed it. “But Bleddyn has been keeping him busy up at the castle.”
“Running him ragged, you mean,” Doran muttered.
Brynn shot Doran a sharp look. Niall didn’t miss the tension that crept into the room at the mention of Bleddyn. He had often wondered how difficult it had been for his aunt and her family to watch Seabhac und
er Bleddyn’s rule after the many years that Brynn had served as the clan’s steward for Rhiannon.
“I’m sure I’ll see Odran at some point during my stay,” Niall said before turning his attention to the food in front of him.
The conversation around the table stayed light as they ate, largely led by Quinn as she regaled them all with tales of her small goat herd. It felt good to laugh and tease. He could remember this part of his life, and the pain of having it all stolen from him ran deep. As the meal wound down, Brynn’s expression became mournful, her gaze falling on her empty plate.
“Have you heard anything from your father?” she asked.
Niall didn’t miss the hurt in her voice, the question only furthering his frustration with Conor. Not that he cares who he hurt by leaving. Not even the pain he caused his own sister.
“No,” he said with a sigh.
Macsen stabbed at a piece of meat on his plate. “I suppose at the end of the day, Conor never changes, does he? Always avoiding his problems.”
Brynn narrowed her eyes. “You know what she meant to him.”
“Do you know when Ciara arrived?” Niall asked. Discussing his father did no good these days. “I suppose I should have known that she was Bleddyn’s betrothed, but I wasn’t expecting to see her.”
“She’s been here for almost a month, I believe,” Brynn answered.
“No one ever sees her,” Quinn said, wrinkling her brow. “Everyone in the village says she thinks she’s too good for the rest of us.”
Niall almost jumped to Ciara’s defense out of sheer habit, never mind that he hadn’t seen her in almost a year, but Macsen beat him to it.
“Quinn, you know better than to involve yourself with the village gossip.” Macsen frowned at his daughter, his face lined with disapproval.
The Betrayer: Tales of Pern Coen (Legacy Book 1) Page 5
