She had accused him of becoming a murderer.
It’s what you are, his inner voice reminded him. You will never be forgiven for your past sins. But do this, and your sisters will be free.
Would they? He was beginning to have his doubts. Darren had said it was possible, but that meant nothing without the king’s approval.
They began the walk back towards the camp, but Raine wasn’t listening to his commander’s instructions. Something about him hiding among Brian Faoilin’s men and then separating himself after the wedding.
His mind sharpened as he thought of stealing the bride from her own wedding and running away with her. Carice didn’t want to wed the High King, and he’d shattered her hopes when he’d brought her here. But it wasn’t over yet. He could change everything. The only remaining question was the fate of his sisters. He didn’t know where they were now, but he intended to find out.
They reached the Norman camp, and he stopped Darren, needing those answers. ‘Where are Nicole and Elise now?’
Impatience crossed over the knight’s face. ‘They are not my concern. Your orders are to end Rory Ó Connor’s reign. If you succeed in this, you may gain King Henry’s favour, and ask him yourself.’
‘Are they even alive?’ he prompted.
Darren moved forward swiftly, unsheathing his dagger. ‘You have your orders, and you must obey them if you want to live.’ The man’s voice grew agitated, filled with distrust.
‘The High King’s men may kill me during the attempt,’ he pointed out.
‘Have you changed your mind?’ Sir Darren demanded. ‘Tell me now if you intend to disobey orders, and I promise you, your sisters will pay the price for your cowardice. I can easily find someone else to complete the task. Rory Ó Connor will not live beyond another night.’
Raine gave no reaction, and no longer did he care. It was becoming more and more clear that he was meant to be nothing more than a killer. The Normans would do naught to protect him, and even if he succeeded, the king might punish him as an example.
He believed that with all his being. Instead of killing Rory Ó Connor, his time was better spent in trying to help Carice escape. He should have listened to her when she’d pleaded with him to take her west. But it wasn’t too late—at least, not yet.
All he had to do was keep her from the wedding.
* * *
They rode through the gates of Tara the next morning. Her father led the way, and Carice followed behind him. She wore an emerald gown heavily embroidered with gold thread, and her father had given her golden rings and a ruby-studded torque for her throat. The tangible signs of wealth proclaimed her status, but the heavy jewellery only felt like chains to bind her to an unwanted marriage.
She could not run any longer. Instead, she planned to speak privately with the High King and seek an end to the betrothal. Perhaps he would listen, if she could make him see reason.
Raine had disguised himself as one of her father’s men, and the Norman commander had done the same. Though she kept her posture straight, inwardly, she was terrified. She knew his true purpose here, and it bothered her deeply that he intended to go through with this. When she glanced behind at him, his face was masked like stone.
Inside the grounds of Tara, she searched for a glimpse of her brother Killian or Lady Taryn. Surely if they were here, they would come to greet her, but there was no sign of either of them. A grain of worry took hold inside her, and she hoped that they were all right.
The Rath-na-Rígh was a large fortification with two walls surrounding the structure and a deep ditch running between them. Several outbuildings were set up within the space, with hearth fires and armed soldiers everywhere. Carice didn’t understand what had happened, but the tension within the Ard-Righ’s fortress was palpable. The men were pacing, some with their hands resting upon the hilts of their weapons, while others stared at her with open suspicion.
‘Why are they staring at us?’ she murmured to her father.
‘I don’t know. But I suspect there was an attack. Perhaps it involved Lady Taryn’s father.’
She hoped not. But the absence of Killian and Lady Taryn only heightened her anxiety. Carice continued riding through the grounds until they reached the banqueting hall. Raine helped her dismount from her horse, his touch gentle upon her waist. He squeezed her hands slightly, as if to reassure her, but she could not stop her fears. He kept back a slight distance and gave her horse over to one of the other men while he walked behind her. He was to act as her personal guard, it seemed.
Brian led her inside while Raine continued to shadow her. She felt his presence, and with every step, Carice worried for his sake. She wanted to beg Raine to abandon this task and leave Tara. But he wouldn’t. He had sworn to do anything to free his sisters, and that meant obeying his orders. And God help her, she didn’t want him to die.
The Ard-Righ was waiting for them at the far end of the banqueting hall. The High King was nearly the same age as her father, with dark hair tinted grey, a beard edging his jaw line, and silver eyes that were the same as Killian’s. Rory Ó Connor didn’t rise from his place, nor did he seem interested in her at all. Instead, he appeared annoyed with her father. ‘I see you found my lost bride.’
The High King’s gaze flickered over Carice for a moment, but there was no welcome in his eyes—only a cold resentment. She resisted the urge to take a step backwards.
‘I am glad to present you with my daughter, Carice Faoilin,’ Brian said, holding her hand and nudging her forward. ‘She has been ill as of late, but now she is prepared to become your bride as we agreed.’
Carice wanted to argue, but knew that a public disagreement would not serve her purpose. It was better not to draw any attention yet.
The king’s expression didn’t shift at all. ‘That is not what Killian told me.’ He turned back to Brian. ‘He claimed that Carice wanted no part of this marriage.’
She felt a sudden thread of hope. So her brother had intervened on her behalf.
Her father blanched. ‘That isn’t true at all. She was simply unable to travel. Why you would believe his lies is simply—’
‘You dare to call my son a liar?’ The High King moved forward, his gaze sharpened upon Brian. ‘I understand that you treated Killian like a slave, all these years.’
Carice resisted the urge to smile. For the first time, she found herself approving of the High King. At least he honoured her brother in the manner he deserved.
Her father’s face turned crimson, and blurted out, ‘Killian was one of your bastard sons, yes, but I never mistreated him.’
Carice crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at her father. Now those were the true lies. He’d forced her brother to sleep in the stables among the dogs.
‘Killian is not a bastard,’ Rory corrected. ‘He is my legitimate son.’
Her smile widened, and she beamed at the Ard-Righ, even as she delighted in her father’s discomfort. Brian deserved it for his mistreatment of Killian. But even more wonderful was recognising that her brother now had the High King’s support. ‘Where is Killian now?’
Rory Ó Connor sent her a sharp look. ‘You ought to keep a respectful silence, Lady Carice, about a conversation that does not concern you.’
His response irritated her, for he was treating her like a recalcitrant child. Even so, she bit back her annoyance, since she needed his cooperation in ending the betrothal. Carice murmured, ‘Forgive me, Your Grace.’ She lowered her head in deference and added, ‘I was merely concerned for Killian, since we were friends as children. I thought of him as my brother.’
The Ard-Righ sent her an annoyed look. ‘Killian has returned to Ossoria with the Lady Taryn, to bury her father.’
Carice touched her fingertips to her lips. Taryn had hoped to save her father’s life, and she didn’t dare ask what had happen
ed. But clearly something had gone very wrong.
‘Killian will return to Tara within a few days,’ the High King finished. ‘You may see him then.’
If I am still here, she thought. But Carice inclined her head in a nod of acknowledgment. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’
The Ard-Righ signalled for one of his servants to come forward. ‘Take my bride back to our chambers. I will speak to her there later.’
‘And what of the wedding, Your Grace?’ Brian asked. ‘Should I send Carice’s ladies to help prepare her?’
‘I have not yet decided whether she will become my queen. That is for me to determine, after I speak with her. But you may send her belongings.’
Carice breathed a little easier, for it did not seem that Rory was eager to wed her either. It might be her saving grace, a means of avoiding this union.
She picked up the hem of her gown, walking towards the waiting servant. And when she took one last look at Raine, his expression was unreadable. For all she knew, he might be ready to bury his sword in the Ard-Righ’s heart.
Don’t do this, she pleaded in silence. But he would not meet her gaze.
* * *
When the servant led her inside the king’s private chambers, Carice sat down and stared at the wall. God help her, she didn’t know what to do now. The Ard-Righ would decide whether or not to move forward with the marriage. She prayed he would change his mind.
If not, she could make herself physically ill, but it would only delay the inevitable. Publicly refusing the High King was unthinkable—he would never tolerate such defiance. She knew the stories of Rory’s cruelty. He had ordered his own brother blinded in order to seize the throne of Connacht—she couldn’t imagine what he would do to her if she denied him.
Her hands were shaking, and she heard the sound of movement behind her. Undoubtedly it was her ladies and a few servants who were bringing her belongings. But then she noticed the heavier sound of a man’s footsteps. When she turned around, she saw the Norman commander, Sir Darren.
Though he was not wearing the chain mail and conical helm she was accustomed to seeing, he still moved like a soldier instead of a servant. He set down the tray he’d been holding, that contained wine and two silver goblets. The hardened glint in his eyes warned her to be careful of what she said.
‘You think to dissuade Raine from his duty, but it will not happen.’ He crossed his arms and regarded her. ‘You might have been a diversion for him, but he cannot forget where his loyalties lie.’
‘If that were true, you would not waste time speaking with me,’ Carice countered. ‘And I hope that he is reconsidering this task. It isn’t right.’
‘I would think you’d be grateful for our interference,’ the knight said. ‘Especially since you stand to benefit the most.’
He was wrong in that. Though she didn’t want to wed the Ard-Righ, there were many ways to avoid her wedding without Raine becoming a murderer. ‘I would not wish death upon any man. And I do not believe Raine would do such a thing.’
Darren smiled slowly. ‘Do you remember the MacEgans who gave you shelter at Laochre?’ She gave a nod before he continued. ‘Raine was there when we attacked them on the peninsula. He killed their kinsmen in that battle, years ago.’ At that revelation, he turned serious. ‘Believe me when I say that Raine cares about nothing except his orders. He will fulfil them without question.’
Her heart grew cold at that, for Raine had never mentioned such a thing. He had accepted help from the MacEgans, and not once had he mentioned the battle. Unless that was another reason why he’d accepted the imprisonment—out of remorse?
Carice pushed back the questions, knowing that Sir Darren was planting doubts within her mind. ‘I don’t want to hear any more,’ she whispered. ‘Please leave.’
He didn’t move. ‘You should know that the Norman army attacked the High King, only a day ago. They failed in the attempt, and the Irish traitor, King Devlin of Ossoria, was killed.’
Her blood ran cold at the mention of Lady Taryn’s father. ‘You had men already here, didn’t you?’ She was beginning to realise that the Normans would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
‘We did. And while they might be dead now, nothing has changed. Raine has his orders, and he must obey.’ He crossed towards her and fingered a lock of her hair. ‘Despite what you believe, he never intended to turn away from his duty.’
‘Do not touch me,’ she whispered, rising to her feet.
But Sir Darren only smiled. ‘Interfere with Raine’s orders, and you will get him killed. I came only to warn you.’ He grazed his knuckles across her cheek, and the caress made her skin crawl.
Then he stepped back and walked towards a pitcher of wine and two goblets. He poured two cups of wine and sent her a faint smile. Lifting the silver goblet, he offered a mock salute. ‘To your wedding, Lady Carice. You may want to offer wine to the High King when you speak with him. It will grant you courage.’
She closed her eyes and waited until he left. Her ladies came in afterwards, and from their expressions, she suspected that Darren had warned them to stay outside.
‘Are you well, my lady?’ one asked.
Carice gave a faint nod, though she was so afraid of what would happen now. Rory Ó Connor was coming to speak with her, and she wanted to be truthful with him. Were he any other man, she would simply admit that she had never wanted the marriage. Yet, it was not that easy.
Her ladies busied themselves with combing her hair and helping her wash off the dust of travelling. A few moments later, Raine entered her chamber. He was carrying one of her trunks, and he set it down in one corner. But instead of leaving, he remained standing.
The conversation of her ladies died down, and they waited for her to give orders. Carice couldn’t bring herself to speak, for the sight of Raine filled her with such grief. She had given this man her heart, and yet she felt as if she didn’t know him at all. He was a warrior, a man who struck down his enemies without mercy.
But he was also a man who had taken such care of her, holding her at night and warming her body with his own. She didn’t want to believe that he could be a murderer.
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ she said. ‘The Ard-Righ will be here soon.’
‘I know.’ He sent a look towards her ladies, and they retreated to the far end of the room. A sudden tremor of apprehension crossed over her when she thought of the true reason why he might have come.
‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Don’t even think of it.’ She was so afraid he would kill Rory Ó Connor, the moment the High King entered her chamber.
Raine closed the distance between them. ‘I’ve made many mistakes, Carice. But I will make this right again. I will free you from this marriage, I swear it.’
‘No.’ She took a step back from him. If she allowed him to interfere, he would try to fight this battle for her—and he would lose his life in the attempt. ‘I will face the Ard-Righ myself and tell him. It’s time for me to stop running.’
‘He won’t let you go.’
She knew that, but she was tired of behaving like a coward. ‘I will be honest with him when we are alone and ask him to release me from the betrothal agreement.’ The more she thought of it, the more she realised that this was the only solution. If she was forthright with the High King and gave him the chance to spurn her first, he might agree to end their arrangement. And if he insisted upon the marriage, she would have no choice but to face that battle when it came.
She was weary of living her life being afraid. It was time to stand up for what she wanted, no matter the consequences.
‘And if he refuses to end it?’ Raine asked. ‘Do you think I’ll allow him to force you into a wedding you don’t want?’ He dropped his voice low so that the maids would not overhear. ‘Or a wedding night?’
A knot formed with
in her throat, but she met his green eyes with sadness. ‘You gave me up when you brought me here, Raine. You already showed me that you believe in duty more than anything you might feel for me.’
There was no expression on his face at all, no sign of emotion. She wanted him to deny it, to say that he did love her. But his silence was the answer that hurt the most.
And though her pride was shattering into pieces, Carice moved across the room and opened the door. ‘I will face my own demons without you.’
He didn’t protest, but he stared into her eyes. ‘Is that what you want? For me to let you go?’
With a heavy heart, she nodded. ‘It is.’
Although her eyes burned from unshed tears, she forced herself to close the door behind him. Her fingers were shaking, and she reached for the silver goblet of wine to steady her nerves. The High King would be here soon, and she had to remain strong in her refusal. Even if he grew enraged, she would not waver.
Carice tasted the sweet wine, and took a swallow to fortify herself. Then another.
Her heartbeat seemed to quicken, and there was a rushing sound in her ears. She closed her eyes when the outside sunlight seemed to bother her. A strange sensation ran over her senses, and her throat grew dry, her stomach twisting with pain. But this was a very different pain, one she had never felt before. Her skin grew sensitive, prickling with the slightest touch. It was not the familiar illness at all.
And when the sharp stabbing pains caught her stomach, she realised the truth. This was poison.
The silver goblet fell from her fingertips, the wine spilling everywhere as she fought to remain conscious.
I don’t want to die. She’d mistakenly believed that she was prepared for the worst, that she could face the end with dignity when it came. But it wasn’t true at all.
She gasped for air, terrified of the darkness that beckoned.
Her last thought was of Raine and how she wished she could have told him the feelings she’d held in her heart. But now, he would never know.
Warrior of Fire Page 18
