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

by Donna Fletcher

  Closing her eyes, she begged for sleep. She did not want to think or feel. She wanted the blessed escape of sleep.

  ~~~

  Wrath’s anger pounded the earth with every step he took. When he reached where his warriors camped, those not sleeping quickly gave him a wide berth. He sat by one of the fire pits, an angry scowl darkening his handsome features.

  He sat there staring at the flames that seemed to draw back away from him in fright. He was trying to comprehend what his wife had just done. He had told her the decision was hers when they would join and what had she done? She turned the decision on him with a demand he had never expected.

  Touch her, join with her, but only if he cared deeply for her.

  He was commander of the King’s personal guard. He had no time to give to a woman. He was dedicated to keeping the King safe. It would not be right of him to care deeply for a woman. It was why he had kept the company of women who felt the same as he did.

  He could not fault her for being honest with him. She was letting him know what she expected from him and if he could not fulfill that expectation, then she asked that he leave her be so that she may find it with someone else.

  The thought that another man would touch her sent a wave of fury washing over him and his one hand pushed so hard against the fist he had made that his knuckles popped, sending the sound echoing through the camp. He would kill anyone who touched her.

  He shook his head. Verity was looking for something he could never give a woman. She was looking for tuahna, a caring so deep that it bound a couple forever. Some believed that when it was found that the two hearts became one and one could not live without the other. It was a rare find and not found or seen often. Paine and Anin had found it and it suited them. It was as if fate had fashioned them just for each other.

  Fate had fashioned him a fierce warrior. He would fight to protect the King, to protect Picts, and the land that belonged to them, and one day he would die in battle with pride. It had never been difficult for him to enter battle. If death thought to claim him, then so be it. As long as he fought a good fight, then death could have him. Having a woman he cared for would change that. He would fight not only for the King, but to return home to the woman who had his heart.

  He found himself feeling empty when Verity was not with him. Like now, sitting alone in front of the fire when he preferred to be wrapped around her in their sleeping pallet. He looked forward each night to sleeping with her, feeling her warm body coiled around him.

  It was where she belonged.

  He shook his head again. Was he trying to ignore the truth or was he afraid of it? He gave a harsh laugh, causing the men to glance his way and seeing the scowl still heavy on his face, they turned away.

  Fear avoided him. He refused to let it reside anywhere near him and he expected the same of the warriors that protected the King. They had to be fearless, for they had to give their lives for the King if necessary just as he would.

  Verity had to understand his position. He cared enough for her that they could do well together. He could give her no more.

  He stood and left the camp to the relief of the warriors. He returned to their dwelling, feeling the matter settled. He shut the door and, seeing her huddled beneath the blanket, he added more wood to the fire pit and slipped out of his garments.

  He pulled the blanket back to join her and saw that she wore her garments. She made it clear that he was not welcome to touch her unless her demand was met. His anger flared and he had all he could do to stop himself from ripping her garments off her.

  He climbed in beside her and she turned to cuddle against him as soon as his body brushed hers. She snuggled her head against his chest and settled there with a soft sigh.

  His arms went around her as they always did when they slept together. He was annoyed, though his body showed no signs of it, wrapped comfortably around her. He was where he wanted to be whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  He would talk with her on the morn and see this settled—his way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Verity sat listening to the women talk, her thoughts more on her husband than what the women were chatting about. He had been gone when she woke along with the sun that surprisingly had risen and shined for a while before clouds settled in once again. She knew he had returned and slept beside her, his scent fresh on her and on the sleeping pallet. She had thought she would find him in the feasting hall, but he was not there and neither was Egot.

  “Is it true, Verity?” Wilda asked.

  Verity turned to the woman. “Is what true?”

  “She pays no mind to gossip as should you,” Ethra scolded.

  “We should know who our King will wed,” Wilda argued.

  “I know nothing of the woman who is to be Queen,” Verity admitted and nor did she care. Her heart went out to the woman. It would not be easy for any woman to be wed to King Talon.

  “If he does not get this one with child, there is a chance he will be King no more.”

  “Hush your foolish mouth, Wilda,” Ethra warned. “We are loyal to the King.”

  Wilda threw her shoulders back and her chin went up. “I only say what others have said.”

  “What others?” Verity asked, knowing Wrath would be interested in finding out who spoke unfavorably of the King.

  Wilda’s eyes turned wide and she looked from Verity to Ethra back to Verity.

  Verity caught the slight shake of Ethra’s head, a clear warning for Wilda to remember who she spoke to—wife to Wrath, the commander of the King’s personal guard—and to mark her words well.

  Wilda rubbed her arms as if a sudden chill had settled over her and she avoided looking directly at Verity. “I do not remember. Maybe it was someone passing through our land.”

  “That is odd. Ethra told me that no travelers have stopped here recently,” Verity said, casting a smile at Ethra.

  “I heard it a while ago,” Wilda was quick to say and jumped up off the bench. “I have chores to see to.”

  The other women quickly joined her, leaving Verity alone with Ethra.

  “Should King Talon be concerned with the loyalty of the Ancrum Tribe?” Verity asked, thinking Wrath would have asked the same himself.

  “It goes without question that the Ancrum Tribe is loyal to King Talon and always will be. Before Talon became King, my husband fought in endless battles alongside him and shed much of his own blood for him. My husband will forever be loyal to King Talon and will forever fight beside him to make certain he keeps the throne.”

  “You think King Talon will lose the throne?”

  “We are Pict and proud of it and we want to make certain that descendants of our King always rule this land.”

  “Surely if the King does not father a child, another Pict King of King Talon’s choosing can be appointed.”

  Ethra shook her head. “Not a King with the noble bloodline of King Talon. His lineage goes back to the first Pict who watched over these lands. His ancestors’ blood runs pure and deep in these hills, lochs, mountains, and rivers. He is more Pict than any of us who walk this land.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Ethra smiled. “King Talon’s mother was Egot’s sister.”

  ~~~

  Wrath stood with Vard in the woods, bow and arrows ready to catch an animal foolish enough to make an appearance in the stark white snow. Egot had suggested a hunt for the three of them, insisting it would be good for Wrath to become better acquainted with Vard. Wrath had been in full agreement.

  “Look at him,” Vard said with a nod to Egot. “His enthusiasm for the hunt has deserted him and so has his hunger for battle. He prefers to eat, drink, and argue with his wife. He is not the strong warrior he once was.”

  Wrath saw that Egot’s once broad shoulders were now slumped and where he once stood proud and tall, his stance now was tired as though he had difficulty supporting his own bulky body. He was surprised, since Egot had once had such strong stamina that he had p
ut the young warriors to shame.

  “He has grown lazy,” Wrath said.

  “We all have without battles to fight. Battles keep a man strong.”

  “It takes more strength and courage to keep peace than to battle,” Wrath said and seeing that Vard looked as though he intended to argue, Wrath continued, “but if it is a battle you look for, then tell me why Ancrum warriors attacked the Raban Tribe?”

  Vard glared at him. “You speak falsely. No Ancrum warriors would attack the Raban Tribe. They are our friends. We trade with them often. They are fine farmers and fair people. The Ancrum would never harm them. Besides, it is forbidden for Pict Tribes to attack one another. Any disputes between tribes are settled by King Talon.”

  “I speak the truth,” Wrath said as if he dared the man to say he spoke falsely again. “I was there and joined in the fight. I killed the Ancrum who dared to break the rules the King has made clear and set forth. No Pict tribe will raise their hands against another Pict tribe to do them harm.”

  “That is not possible,” Vard said, shaking his head. “Ancrum warriors would not go against the King. We are a loyal tribe.”

  “There are some Ancrum warriors who do not agree with you. Are any of your warriors missing? And I warn you, I will hear only the truth spill from your lips, for I will make certain to confirm, with others, what you tell me.”

  Vard did not hesitate. “A hunting party goes out every few days. One party is out now. There is no telling when they will return. It could be two sunrises or several, depending on how successful the hunt.”

  “How many went?”

  “Six.”

  “You told me you sent five,” Egot said, joining them.

  Vard’s brow narrowed, then widened. “That is right. One of the warriors who was to go on the hunt took ill the night before and could not go. Five went on the hunting party.”

  “You will go to the Raban Tribe to see if the warriors Wrath killed are from our tribe,” Egot ordered. “If they are, you will offer my apologies and explain that I did not sanction the attack and that we will send men to help them repair any damage done.”

  Vard nodded and went to speak and Egot raised his hand, silencing him.

  “First, though, you will answer any questions that Wrath has for you, and then you will take your leave and see to this matter without delay.”

  Vard gave another nod. “I will take a small troop of warriors with me.”

  “You will go alone,” Egot ordered. “I will not see a battle mistakenly started because the Raban think that I have sent more warriors to attack them. You will be humble, helpful, and respectful to the Raban people.”

  Wrath kept silent about the King’s warriors being with the Raban. It was obvious Vard was not pleased with Egot’s leadership. He could very well ignore Egot’s orders and take a troop with him that could do just as Egot said... mistakenly ignite a battle. Or could that be what someone in the Ancrum Tribe wanted?

  Egot turned to Wrath. “When you are done, join me in the feasting house. There are things for us to discuss.” He walked off, his gait slow and his shoulders slumped a bit more than before.

  Wrath looked to Vard. “I will not keep you long from your task. The sooner you see it done, the better. Tell me, have any strangers passed this way recently? Egot told me you see to those who seek brief shelter here.”

  “The cold and snow claims the sleeping land, who would be so foolish to travel now?”

  “Those who have no choice.”

  “Who would that be?” Vard asked. “The Picts are settled in their tribes. They war no more with one another and trade is seen to through the King. It is the Tribal Gathering that brings out travelers and that is not until the land is ready for planting.”

  “Then it has been quiet here.”

  “Except for the women’s gossiping tongues,” Vard said. “They talk endlessly about the King and who is to be Queen and if she will bear the King a child. Has a decision been made on who is to be Queen?”

  “That is Gelhard’s domain and he has everything in hand,” Wrath said.

  “That is good since there has been talk that some are not pleased that after having two wives the King has yet to produce an heir to the throne.”

  “Who dares to say this?” Wrath demanded, anger sparking in his voice.

  Vard quickly defended himself. “I heard the women talking. They talk endlessly about the King.”

  “Spreading lies you mean,” Wrath snapped.

  “They repeat what they hear.”

  Wrath took a quick step toward him and Vard jumped back. “Then who did they hear say it?”

  “I do not know. Their tongues are always clucking when around one another.”

  “I will see that it stops,” Wrath said, leaving no doubt he would do just that.

  ~~~

  Verity walked with Ethra through the village. She had been disappointed when Ethra would say no more about Egot being brother to the King’s mother. She would have liked to have learned more, but Ethra had said that it was not for her to say. It was her husband’s story to tell. She simply wanted Verity to know why Egot would always be faithful to the King... they were family.

  Verity had learned that being family did not always assure faithfulness, but she kept silent.

  Ethra stopped now and again to introduce her to some of the women and they would all chat for a while before walking on. Verity took great pleasure in what was common place for the women. She had toiled for others most of her life and had little chance to talk freely with women as these women did.

  Verity talked, smiled, and laughed with several women and held a crying bairn for a mum while she saw to another bairn. The little lass had quieted in Verity’s arms and the mum encouraged her to keep the bairn contented.

  She had tended bairns for the Northmen women and cared for each one of them and they for her. She had never thought she would have bairns of her own, but then she had never thought she would return home and be free.

  She and Ethra moved on, having left the little bairn sleeping. After a few more stops where Verity was only too pleased to be greeted and accepted as an equal with the women, Ethra suggested they return to the feasting house for a hot brew. Verity agreed, the cold having started to seep into her.

  Verity was about to glance up at the heavy cloud covering that had suddenly darkened an already heavily gray sky when she realized too late that it was not the heavens that darkened. It was a vision that was quickly swallowing her whole and there was little time for Verity to do anything but turn to Ethra before collapsing to the snow-covered ground.

  Ethra reached out, but Verity dropped so suddenly that she had no time to prevent her fall. She did not, however, hesitate to scream out, “Someone fetch Wrath!”

  ~~~

  Wrath had caught sight of Verity walking through the village with Ethra as he and Egot had approached the feasting house. She had slept through the knock on the door this morn when a message came for him that Egot wished to see him. He had hoped to speak with her about last night when she woke, but it had not turned out as he had planned. Later he would make sure they talked and he would make sure Verity saw things his way... the way it had to be.

  “Have you told me everything?” Egot asked when they settled at the table.

  Egot may have gotten lazy when it came to battle, but his senses had remained sharp.

  “Or has Talon a secret he wishes to keep?” Egot asked.

  “Northmen have landed on our shores and have requested to speak with the King,” Wrath said. “The King is spreading word about it now, so tribes can prepare in case it is necessary.”

  Egot shook his head. “That makes no sense. Why would they sail here now when the sea is not friendly?”

  “A question the King has asked himself,” Wrath said. He would make no mention of Verity’s plight. That was not for Egot to know.

  “Talon knows my warriors stand ready for him.”

  “What of you, Egot?”

>   “I grow old and slow,” Egot said with a brief laugh, “though I will fight to the death for the King with whatever strength I have left in me. I hope it does not come to that. I enjoy this peace that Talon has bestowed on us. I have had enough of battle and bloodshed.”

  “It is a shame others do not agree with you.”

  “I do not like to think that any of my warriors did as you said, but I have felt the unrest growing among some Picts. And I think they use any excuse to hurt King Talon’s favor with the people. That is why so much is being made of Talon having failed to sire an heir with his last two wives.”

  “Gelhard believes he has found a suitable woman to be Queen.”

  Egot shook his head. “What Talon needs is what Paine and you have found—tuahna.” He gave a hardy laugh when Wrath’s eyes rounded. “Do not tell me that you do not realize you have lost your heart to your wife and that she has lost her heart to you?” When Wrath continued to stare at him, Egot slapped him on the back and laughed again. “This is one battle you should be glad to have lost. There is nothing like losing your heart to someone special. I do not know what I would do without my Ethra.”

  Here was something Wrath could respond to. “You two argue all the time.”

  Egot grinned. “Aye, we do, and glad I am for it. She stirs my blood and keeps me feeling alive with every biting word. And when we are alone,” —his grin grew— “her passion fires my heart and my,” —he laughed— “I cannot get enough of her.”

  The way Egot’s face lighted with such joy made Wrath realize that Egot was not as slow and old as he claimed to be, though he might have been wrong about his senses with Egot thinking he and Verity has lost their hearts to each other. Or was it something Wrath stubbornly refused to give thought to?

  Egot cupped his vessel and his head drooped. “I want that for Talon. I want him to lose his heart to a woman. Then fate will see that he sires an heir worthy of the throne.”