The King's Warrior (Pict King Series Book 2)

by Donna Fletcher

  She wanted to shout at him that it was no tale, but part of it was a tale and so she remained silent as he grabbed his fur-lined cloak. When he finally closed the door behind him, she let her shoulders slump from the burden she carried.

  Wrath was her only hope in finding Hemera and once found what they would do she did not know.

  Verity let the blanket fall off her. She refused to glance down at her body. She would be reminded of the past moon cycle, and it had not been an easy one. The Northmen wanted her dead for what she knew or what they thought she knew. She would have continued to starve to death if the escape had not gone so well, but she feared what the Northmen would do once they discovered that she and Hemera were gone.

  Not wanting to think on her problem, she got busy unbraiding her hair. The golden strands were still a bit damp and some spots were knotted, but Verity kept at it until every strand ran easily through her fingers. She dropped her head forward to run her fingers through her hair again. She tossed the long strands back as she snapped her head up and her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, over her chest, to cover her breasts like a gentle blanket.

  Verity yanked the blanket up against her chest when she heard the door about to open.

  Wrath stopped abruptly when he entered to stare at her. Her golden hair, falling loose around her face and onto her shoulders, stunned the eye like the bright sun when it warmed the soil. When she shivered, he realized the cold wind was whipping past the door he had yet to close, and he shut it firmly.

  He placed a bundle, beside her, on the sleeping pallet.

  She reached with one hand to examine the bundle while her other hand kept the blanket firmly in place.

  “There is no reason to hide yourself from me. I have seen all of you,” Wrath said.

  “Without my consent.”

  He caught the touch of sorrow in her eyes. Slaves obeyed, consent was not theirs to give. He wondered how often she had been stripped naked without her consent and the thought angered him.

  “Don your garments and we will go eat,” he said and turned his back on her, giving her what little privacy he could.

  Surprised that he turned away from her, she hurried into a dark long sleeved, ankle length shift much softer than any she was accustomed to wearing and a pale-colored wool tunic to slip over it. They were a bit big for her slim frame, but warm and for that she was grateful. The foot coverings fit a bit snug once slipped on and tied, but again she was grateful for the warmth.

  “I am appreciative for your generosity,” she said as she draped the dark hooded, wool cloak, the items had been bundled in, over her shoulders.

  Wrath turned, ignoring the tug at his insides when he looked upon her. The faster he saw this matter settled the better off he would be.

  “We will go to the feasting house to eat,” Wrath said and walked out of the dwelling, waiting outside for her to join him.

  Verity hurried after him, eager to eat, since she could not recall the last time that she did. She pulled her hood up over her head, snow still falling, though not as heavily and glanced around as she followed his hasty steps.

  They passed many well-structured dwellings as they followed a trampled path through the snow. Children, bundled well against the cold, ran about playing in the snowdrifts. A few men and women saw to essential chores and warriors roamed the area, their eyes on all that went on.

  Verity stared amazed when they reached the feasting house. It looked as if one dwelling sat on top of another. Never had she seen anything like it before and, once inside the feasting hall, she could not stop glancing about. A huge fire pit sat off to a corner and kept the room comfortably warm. Stairs, combined of wood and stone curved up to the dwelling above. She marveled at the skill it must have taken to fashion such a mighty structure.

  A delicious scent soon had her turning her attention to food the servants carried into the room in baskets, without handles, that they placed on a table close to the fire pit. She hurried to take a seat on the bench, but stopped, waiting for Wrath to sit and eat. She only hoped he would leave her enough to fill what felt like a large hole in her insides.

  “Why do you wait? Sit and eat,” Wrath said.

  “You have yet to eat?”

  “You are no slave here and need not wait for your master to leave you scraps. Sit and eat your fill.”

  Verity did not hesitate. As soon as she sat, she reached for a small egg and hurried it into her mouth. She wanted to sigh with delight at the taste, but was too busy reaching for a piece of the warm bread nestled in a basket.

  Wrath joined her, realizing it had been too long since last he had eaten. He watched her reach for piece after a piece as if she feared it would disappear in front of her or that she might suddenly be deprived of it. It made him wonder and finally he asked, “Were you starved on purpose?”

  Verity stopped from taking a bite of the meat she held in her hand, the delicious scent teasing her nose.

  “Eat, then you will answer me,” Wrath said, seeing the hunger in her eyes and not wanting to deprive her as he suspected others had done.

  When she finished the piece of meat, Wrath handed her another one and she smiled as she took it and spoke before taking a bite. “Aye, I was starved.”

  “Why?” Wrath asked, hating the Northmen even more for treating her so badly.

  “The King wishes to see you, Wrath.”

  Verity jumped and hurried off the bench to rush around behind Wrath. A man with white hair and a look of not only superiority but authority stood a short distance from the table.

  “He will see you now in the High Counsel Chambers.”

  There were times Wrath wished he could squash the irritating man, not that it would take much, since he was not very tall or thick in shape. But the King would not take kindly to him harming Gelhard, his High Counselor.

  Wrath stood, slipped his arm around Verity and she quickly pressed against him as if seeking his protection. He eased her down to sit on the bench where he had been sitting, though she seemed reluctant to leave his side. “You will remain here and eat until I return. No one will harm or bother you.” He raised his head to look directly at Gelhard. “Is that not right, Gelhard?”

  “The King informed me that the woman you found is under your protection. I will make it known,” Gelhard said with a slow nod. “King Talon is impatient to speak with you.” Without further acknowledgement, Gelhard walked off.

  Wrath leaned down. “Worry not, you are safe here.”

  “You will not be long?” Verity asked, suddenly fearful of being separated from him.

  “That depends on the King. Let no troubles disturb your repast. I will not be far.” He pointed to a door to the left of where they had entered. Two warriors, wearing dark garments similar to his stood guard to either side of the closed door.

  Her nod may have shown she understood, but the uncertainty in her eyes spoke differently. He walked away reluctantly, for some reason thinking he needed to stay and keep her safe. But from what?

  One of the warriors who stood guard opened the door for Wrath as he approached. Wrath acknowledged both guards with a nod. He was their leader. He had trained them to protect the King and give their lives, if necessary, to save him.

  “Tell me what you have learned about this woman you brought home with you,” King Talon said, pointing to a seat to the right of where he sat at the long and narrow High Counsel table.

  Wrath sat, knowing the King expected answers. He was not always a patient man, but he was a wise one. Wrath had recognized that in Talon when they had first met, long before he had become King. It had been obvious the man had been born to lead. “Her name is Verity and she has been a slave to the Northmen until she and her sister escaped.”

  “Sister? Where is this sister?”

  “Verity searches for her and seeks a safe home for them. I told her that she is safe here.”

  “And was it a good poke that had you promising her sanctuary here?”

  “I d
id not join with her, nor did she offer herself to me. She and her sister are Pict taken from this land before you were King and forced to serve the Northmen.”

  “If that is true, then she and her sister will be protected and offered a home here. Her body drawings will tell us the tribe she belongs to.”

  “She has no body drawings. She and her sister were taken well before they could earn their markings.”

  “The Northmen left her parents behind? How many others besides her and her sister were taken in the raid?”

  “She did not say?”

  “What of the mark around her neck? Was it a noose or had her owner kept her tethered and if so, why?”

  “From what she has said, she did not always do what pleased the Northmen and so was tethered as punishment.”

  “The mark is raw, so the punishment had to be recent. Does her neck show remnants of previous punishments?”

  Wrath frowned as he thought about Verity’s smooth, soft neck and grew annoyed with himself for not having considered it. He grew even more annoyed when he had to admit it. “None that I saw.”

  “Why after so long did she and her sister finally attempt an escape?’

  “I believe it has something to do with the Northmen trying to starve her to death.”

  King Talon titled his head, his brow narrowing. “A slave would have to have done something offensive to suffer such a punishment. If that is so, then the Northmen may pay me a visit and demand her return.”

  Wrath found it difficult to believe that Verity was capable of anything offensive, but what did he truly know of her? Everything she had told him could be a lie. If that was so, then who was she?

  “You are aware of how long it has taken me to stop the Northmen from pillaging our northern tribes. We have finally established an agreement—tenuous that it may be—that allows trade between our northern tribes and the Northmen, with limited journey further into Pict territory. Some of the Northmen have even joined with our people in marriage to live among the Picts.

  “If this woman has done something terribly offensive to the Northmen, they may demand her return, and I may have no choice but to return her to them in order to keep peace. The truth of her situation would be of great help to me if the Northmen do demand her return. You must find out the truth and not trust her until you do.”

  “The truth will not be easy to find when I have only her telling of the tale.”

  “That is why you will go find her sister and see what story she has to tell.”

  ~~~

  Verity kept steady eyes on the door as she ate, though she had felt full after the last two chunks of meat and bread she had eaten. She had thought she would eat more, having eaten so sparingly of late. Hemera had managed to scavenge and store some food before their escape and they had eaten before the angry sea had struck. Verity had also managed to steal some food from tribes she had passed while in search of Hemera that had helped sustain her, but then the snowstorm had hit and food became difficult to find.

  She jumped when a servant leaned over from behind her to fill her vessel with wine. She had heard how the King of the Picts traded often with foreign merchants besides the Northmen, so she was not surprised that there was wine to be had here. Though, she had never expected it to be served to her or to be eating in the King’s feasting house.

  Verity had always been the one to serve and having never been acknowledged kindly by those she had served, she did not want to do the same to another. She went to turn around to face the servant just as the woman stepped around the table.

  Verity almost gasped when she looked upon the woman. A single scar ran across her face from high on her cheek to down across her mouth, ending at her jaw. You could see that she was once beautiful, though no longer, her face distorted by the scar.

  “You are a fine looking one. It will not be long before the King takes you to his private chambers. I served him once and see what it got me,” she said with stinging bitterness.

  “I have no wont to mate with the King,” Verity assured her, certain the King would find no interest in her. Despite the ugly scar, the woman had a full and lush body whereas Verity was far too thin to please any man.

  “Tell me that again after you lay eyes on him and he speaks to you.”

  “My words will ring true then as they do now. I am sorry for your misfortune. No one deserves what has been done to you. Perhaps someday you will find a man who will take kindly to you and—”

  The woman snorted. “Kindly? Men only come to me for a poke when they are too drunk to see who it is they poke. Then there are those who are eager to poke me, but insist on covering my hideous face. I deny them all.”

  “And so you should. You deserve better.”

  “I have had the best. I have had the King. There is no man whose skills can compare to the King when it comes to pleasing a woman. I joined with him day and night, his thirst for coupling unquenchable, though I kept him appeased more often than not.” Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped. “Now I am nothing more than a servant that everyone avoids looking upon.”

  “Stop blaming others, Atas,” Gelhard snapped. “You got what you deserved for betraying the King and lying with another man, a man who proved to be an enemy of the King. You are lucky the King did not condemn you to live out your life with a tribe far removed from Pictland, which can still be arranged if you continue to complain to anyone who will listen to your foolish whining.”

  Atas retreated quickly after leaving the container of wine on the table.

  If Verity had not been sitting, she would have retreated as quickly as Atas had done. He obviously was a man of some power, since Atas had paid heed to his threat and said no more.

  “Do not think of giving yourself to the King. He will soon take a wife and she will see to pleasing him.”

  A snort came from the shadows and Atas emerged. “No one woman will ever be able to keep the King satisfied. It is good his seed is not strong enough to take root or his bastard bairns would be running wild around Pictland.”

  “What is that you say, Atas?”

  Verity saw Atas pale so badly that it made her scar look as red as the day she had received it and knew it could only be King Talon who had spoken and put such fear in her. And while Verity was in no hurry to face the King, Atas was quick to apologize.

  “My King, I am truly sorry, I meant—”

  “Every word you spoke,” King Talon finished, “Gelhard, see that Atas is escorted to a tribe as far north as possible.”

  Atas stepped forward. “Please, my King, please do not send me away. This is my home.”

  “You do not treat your home or those who have been good to you with respect. Perhaps a new home will teach what you have failed to learn.” King Talon turned to Gelhard. “See her made ready to leave as soon as the snow stops. Have some warriors take her to the nearest tribe with instructions that she is to be sent north from tribe to tribe, when the weather permits, until she reaches the first outer isle where she will make her new home.”

  “Is this hideous scar I must bear not enough for you?” Atas cried. “Must you torture me more?”

  “That scar is of your own foolish doing and how you carry it, with pride or regret, is up to you,” King Talon said.

  Verity did not hear a hint of concern in his powerful voice. He cared nothing for Atas or what would happen to her. She stayed as she was, her eyes lowered to the table, too fearful to look upon such an unmerciful man.

  “Please, my King, I have served you well. I beg you to take pity on me,” Atas pleaded, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

  “I did, and how do you repay my kindness? You say disparaging things my enemies hope to hear and use against me. Be glad I do not send you to the executioner. Now be gone out of my sight.” He flicked his hand, summoning two of his personal guard that remained close by him and they stepped forward and took hold of her.

  “Your enemy is right,” Atas screamed as she fought the guards as soon as their h
ands took hold of her. “You are no man. No matter what woman you plant your seed in, it will never take root. Your seed is barren.”

  “For that, you may just lose your head,” King Talon said, his icy tone sending a shiver through almost everyone in the room.

  Atas fought the guards and Verity had no choice but to move or be caught up in her struggle. She hurried off the bench, away from the three and reluctantly turned when she reached the far end of the table.

  Her breath caught when her eyes settled on the King. He was taller than many Northmen and solid in body. His features were exceptional, far finer than Verity had ever seen and it was easy to understand why women would find him appealing. But just as there had been coldness in his voice, there was also coldness in his eyes.

  The guards got Atas under control, though she swore as they led her from the room.

  The King looked her way and spoke, but Verity did not hear him. Sound had stilled and she felt darkness begin to creep over her. She silently begged for it to stop, a useless plea for it never stopped once it started. The darkness spread around her, encasing her like a shroud. Her eyes fluttered and her limbs turned weak. Soon she would no longer be able to stand. Wishing she could do something to stop it, yet knowing that was not possible, she waited for the inevitable.

  Wrath did not hesitate when he saw Verity’s eyes flutter closed and her body sway. He ran past the King and caught her before she could hit the floor.

  Chapter Four

  Atas gasped. “The stranger has brought illness to Pictland. Soon it will strike us all.”

  Wrath heard several servants begin to whisper and with good reason. It was known that one ill person could devastate a whole tribe within a moon cycle. He was quick to take charge before fear and foolishness could take hold. “Hush your mouth, Atas, this woman suffers no illness. Her long journey has weakened her.”

  “Take her out of here!” the King ordered sharply with a nod at Atas. “The rest of you get to your chores.”

  Once everyone hurried to obey, the King turned to Wrath. “Have the healer look over her and pray she has spoken the truth to you and that the Northmen have not sent a sickness to spread amongst us.”