Warrior of Fire

by Michelle Willingham

  Raine helped Carice dismount and walked forward with her hand in his. Her demeanour was stiff, her expression holding resignation. He didn’t like the way she was staring into the fire as if her entire body had gone numb.

  ‘Are you feeling all right?’ he murmured against her ear.

  ‘I am feeling betrayed.’ Her answer was dull, like she didn’t care if she lived or died.

  He could say nothing to her, for it was the truth. But he squeezed her hand in silent apology.

  When they stood before her father, she said, ‘Raine de Garenne, this is my father, Brian Faoilin, chief of our clan.’

  Raine met the man’s gaze evenly and gave a nod of acknowledgment. He offered no fealty, and perhaps it was best if he did not speak at all.

  But Brian Faolin moved forward to embrace his daughter. A smile broke through his expression, for a moment, before he said, ‘I am glad you are safe, Carice. Go to the litter and lie down while I speak with this man.’

  Her father addressed her as if she were a dog, which Raine didn’t like at all. To Carice, he said, ‘It is your choice whether you wish to stay or go.’

  ‘I’ll stay.’ She drew in the edges of her cloak and regarded her father. ‘I suppose I deserve to know the plans for my future.’

  ‘The plans have not changed. You already know that the High King’s men came to escort you to your wedding. And this man slaughtered half of them.’ Brian’s face turned thunderous when he turned to Raine, speaking in the Norman tongue. ‘What right have you to interfere? I should have you slain, here and now.’

  Raine stood his ground, taking Carice’s hand. ‘I would not try it, were I you.’ He rested his hand upon his own sword in a silent warning.

  The Normans closed in around them, and his commander signalled for him to come forward. Raine didn’t want to leave Carice, but he saw no alternative. He squeezed her palm again and in a low voice asked, ‘Will you be all right?’

  Her expression held sadness. ‘I would have been all right if you’d kept your promise. What does it matter now?’

  He deserved that, he knew. But after he left her side, he glanced back to ensure that she was protected by her father. When he reached Sir Darren’s side, the knight ordered, ‘Walk with me.’

  The man’s expression was unreadable, and Raine couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Darren led him to the outskirts of the camp, and then dismissed the sentries at the boundaries. ‘I am glad you kept your word.’

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  His commander stared out into the darkness. ‘You have been too eager to give your own orders instead of following mine.’

  ‘I brought her here, as you commanded. And now, we must bring her to Tara.’

  ‘You could have brought her to us sooner, had you taken her as a prisoner.’

  Raine shook his head. ‘She was far weaker than I thought. I managed to help her rebuild her strength enough to make it this far. But she is still unwell.’

  His commander didn’t disagree. ‘Nonetheless, the High King wants his bride. And you will accompany her father to Tara, to ensure that she arrives there.’

  Raine made no argument, for he fully intended to accompany Carice to Tara. Although she was upset and angry with him, he intended to make matters right between them.

  Yet, now that their arrival was imminent, he couldn’t stop thinking of Carice’s prediction, that King Henry would never let his sisters go. The man had a violent temper, and anything might set him off.

  What if Elise and Nicole were already dead? His mood darkened at the thought. Was it right to murder the High King, for a sovereign he no longer respected?

  Sir Darren paused a moment and said, ‘Do not forget your task, Raine. You seem to be wavering in your orders.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten.’ But he was trying to decide whether or not to go through with it. Carice had made him realise that the Normans were indeed expecting blind obedience. And the truth was, he wasn’t like the other soldiers. He held no true loyalty to King Henry—not any more.

  ‘I saw the way you were looking at Lady Carice. I warned you not to get too close to her.’ Darren turned to face him. He studied Raine a moment, his eyes narrowed. ‘You swived her, didn’t you?’

  The crude words ignited a rage within him. His hands clenched and he turned on the man. ‘Don’t speak about her in that way.’

  ‘You did.’ A smile curled across the Norman’s mouth. ‘What do you suppose her father will say when he learns what you’ve done?’

  Raine seized Darren’s tunic and twisted the fabric. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what? Tell the High King that you’ve defiled his bride? Tell her father that his daughter is no longer a virgin?’

  Raine swung his fist at the man’s jaw and sent Darren staggering. Blood trickled from his commander’s lip, and his thin smile stretched. ‘Perhaps I’ll sample her for myself. Or I’ll let our men have her. Unless you do as you’re told.’

  ‘I will slit your throat if you touch her.’

  Darren unsheathed his own blade. ‘I could have you killed right now for such a threat.’ In the firelight, the iron gleamed. ‘Your life belongs to me, de Garenne. You have no freedom, no will of your own. I own you.’

  Raine gritted his teeth, knowing that the knight was trying to provoke him. And he’d already fallen into the trap, admitting how much Carice meant to him. They would use that against him now.

  From behind him, two soldiers seized him. He could have fought them off, but when he saw the look in his commander’s eyes, he knew that Carice would suffer if he dared to disobey. It didn’t matter that her father was here with his men. Brian Faoilin could not protect her from the Norman soldiers.

  ‘Take him to the centre of the camp,’ Sir Darren commanded. ‘He will receive fifteen lashes for defiance.’ He moved in closer, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘I would have thought you’d learned to hold your temper, Raine.’

  He said nothing, but let the men lead him away. He knew the whipping was meant to punish him for striking his commander, to remind him of his place. To break him.

  But no amount of physical punishment could eradicate the fires of rebellion brewing inside.

  * * *

  They bound him to a post at the centre of the camp, baring his back before Normans and Irish alike. In the firelight, Carice saw the reddened flesh that had healed from the night he’d been trapped in the fire.

  ‘What is happening to Raine?’ She turned to her father, but Brian gave no answer. It seemed that he was glad of the punishment. She approached a soldier nearby and asked, ‘Why is he being whipped?’

  ‘He disobeyed our commander,’ the man answered. And when Carice searched for a glimpse of Sir Darren, she saw that the man’s face was bruised and bleeding. Why had they fought?

  Her questions died away when the first lash struck Raine’s back. A line of red marred his flesh, and she bit her lip hard, to prevent herself from crying out. A few of her father’s men roared with approval, but the Normans remained silent.

  The look on her father’s face revealed his own satisfaction. Brian was revelling in the whipping, as if he blamed the man for her abduction. And she knew that she could show no emotion at all. No one could know that it felt as if she were the one enduring each lash. It took every last bit of inner strength to watch the leather bite into his skin, knowing the pain he was suffering.

  Not a sound did he make throughout the whipping. Were it not for the blood dripping down to the snow, no one would think the lashing had any effect.

  ‘Disobedience will not be tolerated from any soldier,’ the commander said, when it was finished. ‘We will uphold our laws from every man.’ With a silent gesture, he ordered Raine to be cut down.

  His hands fell to his sides, but he did not lower his head with
subservience. Instead, he turned in a slow circle, his gaze searching until he found her. And when he met her stricken gaze, she saw the apology in his eyes.

  I am sorry for what I did to you.

  He had accepted this punishment as his due, not only because he had disobeyed orders, but because it was his penance for delivering her to them. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, hating the thought of his suffering. But she forced herself to look at him, even though it tore her apart to see his wounds.

  He cared. She knew that now, and he held regret for all that he had done. She only wished that he would change it somehow.

  ‘I am glad to know that the Normans mete out justice where it is due,’ Brian continued. ‘Though I still believe de Garenne should be held accountable for the men he killed.’ He led Carice away from the crowd, towards his own tent. She allowed it, because she knew she could not reveal any sympathy towards Raine. It would only cause greater retribution against him.

  ‘He was escorting me to Laochre,’ she told her father. ‘We were attacked, and he defended me from the High King’s men.’

  ‘They were with my men,’ Brian corrected. ‘You had no right to leave King Rory’s men or our travelling party. I know you were trying to escape the marriage by taking sanctuary with the MacEgans.’

  ‘I was, yes. But none of that matters anymore, does it?’ She saw no point in trying to hide it. He had captured her now, and Raine had aided them. The thought wounded her, and she wondered if he regretted what he had done. Or if he would find a way to help her escape.

  ‘I don’t understand why you ever wanted to avoid the marriage,’ her father insisted. ‘How could you not wish to be High Queen of Éireann?’

  Carice met his gaze and admitted, ‘Because I am dying, Father. What kind of a High Queen could I ever be?’

  ‘You’ve been ill, yes. But you look better.’ Her father guided her inside his tent. There were furs set up to serve for bedding, and he brought her a thick crust of bread. ‘Try to eat more. You must be hungry.’

  She thought of Raine’s suggestion, that it might be bread causing her illness. And though it was unusual, she didn’t want to spend the night in pain if that were true. ‘I will take meat if you have it. No bread.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘No. The healer said you should eat only bread until you’ve regained your strength.’

  ‘I only felt worse when he was treating me. Let me eat what I want, Father.’

  But Brian would not yield. He set the bread down upon a cloth and said, ‘When you grow hungry enough, you’ll eat.’

  That wasn’t true. Whether or not bread had anything to do with her illness, she needed her strength now. ‘I am tired,’ she told him. ‘I would rest now.’

  Her father’s stern expression softened. ‘I must speak with the commander, but I agree. You should sleep.’ He paused a moment and added, ‘And you should welcome the idea of this marriage, Carice. You will have every comfort, everything you’ve ever desired. More wealth than you could dream of.’

  ‘That was never what I wanted,’ she whispered. But he hadn’t heard her. Already he was leaving the tent, and she overheard his promise to return after he’d spoken to Sir Darren.

  She sat up, holding her knees against her chest. In the solitude of the tent, she released her tears, wishing she had not let her heart lead her astray. She had given everything to him, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind. And although she knew Raine regretted lying with her, his punishment had brought the memory of that night to the forefront.

  He had never wanted to take her innocence, but she had driven him to it. Any guilt from that night was hers to bear, not his. She didn’t know what had prompted the fight between his commander and him, but she didn’t doubt it involved her.

  Her eyes burned with grief as she wondered what to do now. They would force her to travel to Tara, where she would have to wed the High King. She would endure a wedding night and an existence that would surely kill her.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw the bread lying before her. Although she was hungry, the thought of food sickened her. Or perhaps it was grief at the thought of facing a torturous future without Raine. When she was with him, he had made her want so much more. He’d made her want to live.

  And now that he had delivered her back into this prison, she felt so foolish for wanting to believe him.

  ‘Carice.’ A low voice came from outside the tent, and she saw the shadowed form of a man. It was Raine. He sat near to her but did not enter. His shoulders were hunched over as if he were holding back the pain of the whipping. Her heart bled for what he had endured, but she didn’t want to see him now. If she did, her resolution would crumble into dust. Did he know how much power he held over her?

  ‘What is it?’ she asked dully.

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but words would not heal the bruised feelings.

  ‘I was ordered to kill the High King.’ His words hung in the space like a blade poised to strike. Before she could speak, he continued. ‘That was why I came to you. My commander thought that escorting you to Tara would grant me a way to get close to him.’

  She could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘And you agreed to this?’

  ‘For my sisters’ sake, oui.’

  There were no words she could say that would make this right. ‘Is that who you are, then? A murderer?’

  ‘My soul is damned, Carice. There is no redemption for me. Not after all that I’ve done.’ His voice was rough and emotionless. ‘But the night in your arms was more than ever deserved. I am sorry that I hurt you.’

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks, searching for an answer. ‘It didn’t have to be that way between us.’

  ‘You gave me a priceless gift, one I will never forget. And I swear to you that, despite this journey, I will guard you with my life.’

  ‘But you’re still going to bring me to him, aren’t you?’

  He fell silent for a moment and admitted, ‘I have no choice, Carice.’

  And with that, he left her alone.

  * * *

  They arrived at Tara the following night, a day after the Feast of Imbolc. Sir Darren gave orders for his men to make camp half a mile away from the High King’s lands while he ordered Raine to accompany him to the gates. They walked in silence through the darkness, but with each step, Raine felt as if it were a pathway to Hades.

  The lash marks upon his back burned with the reminder that he was a slave to these orders. He had no freedom at all, and his commander would tolerate no disobedience. But he refused to apologise for striking at Sir Darren. He wasn’t sorry at all for defending Carice’s honour, and the knight knew it.

  But he was sorry for having to use her to get close to the High King. With every hour that passed, he found himself questioning his orders. Even if he did bring down the Ard-Righ, he would likely be caught and killed. And then what would happen to his sisters? He hardly trusted the king to free them.

  When they were close enough to see the torches surrounding Tara, it was clear that the number of guards had been doubled. Every man was on alert, and Darren turned grim. ‘Something must have happened before we arrived. We were supposed to be here at Imbolc. I didn’t think one day would matter, but I was wrong.’ His commander’s mood had darkened, and he appeared on edge.

  ‘Why? What was meant to happen at Imbolc?’ Raine didn’t understand why the delay had any bearing upon their plans, but Darren appeared furious.

  ‘We had men hidden among the High King’s soldiers. One of the Irish kings was our ally, and he was going to help us infiltrate the fortress. If the Ard-Righ has increased his forces, then our allies must be dead or imprisoned.’

  The knight began pacing, and he glared at Raine. ‘We cannot take our soldiers anyw
here near the fortress. They would be accused of plotting with the others. You must go alone with Lady Carice and her father’s men. I will join you later, but you must pretend to be Irish.’

  Which meant that his beliefs were indeed accurate—the Norman army would give Raine no support at all. He would have to kill the High King and escape captivity on his own.

  Or he could attempt to get Carice out and disappear with her. His mind seized upon that hope, and he wondered if it was even possible. For so long, he had obeyed orders that had accomplished nothing. Was it not better to escape this life and go in search of his sisters?

  ‘Well?’ his commander prompted. ‘Can you disguise yourself among them?’

  Raine shrugged. ‘It’s possible. But what if Brian Faoilin will not allow me to accompany them inside?’

  ‘That choice is not his to make,’ Darren answered. ‘You brought his daughter back to her rightful place. I already spoke with him at length last night. He knows that there is unrest between both sides, but so long as his daughter becomes queen, he cares not what happens to Rory Ó Connor.’

  ‘And is that your intention? That Lady Carice will become High Queen through her marriage?’

  Sir Darren didn’t answer. The stoic look on his face made it clear that he had little interest in Carice’s welfare. ‘The marriage will take place, as planned. You will attend the festivities in secret and kill the High King during the feast. Do it quickly and get out.’

  ‘What about her?’

  Darren sent him a sly look. ‘If you move swiftly, they might accuse her of killing her husband. And then you’ll be free.’

  The man’s utter lack of emotion revealed that all he cared about was ending the life of Rory Ó Connor. Nothing else mattered to him, and it didn’t concern him if Carice was harmed in the attempt.

  Raine held fast to his silence, for if he dared to voice his true feelings, he would strike Darren down. And if he laid a hand upon his commander, the man would try to kill him. He forced himself to remain cold as frost, to hold back his temper and concentrate on protecting Carice from this marriage.