Warrior of Fire

by Michelle Willingham

  Chapter Ten

  Raine heard the sound of women screaming, and he hurried back to the chamber. A dark premonition passed over him, that something had happened to Carice. One of her maids bolted from the room and confirmed his fears, ‘We need a healer. My lady is ill.’

  But an ordinary illness wouldn’t cause the women to scream. Something was terribly wrong.

  ‘Go and fetch someone,’ Raine commanded the maid. ‘I will stay with Lady Carice.’

  When he entered the bedchamber, he found the other maid sitting on the floor beside Carice’s fallen body. She was so still, she looked as if death had already claimed her. His blood numbed within his veins, and Raine could hardly grasp what had happened.

  ‘The wine,’ the maid wept. ‘I think the wine made her sick.’

  He saw the silver goblet then, along with the pool of red wine. Outwardly, it didn’t appear any different from other wine, but he couldn’t know what was in it.

  ‘Where did this wine come from?’ he demanded.

  The maid shrugged. ‘One of the men who joined our travelling party this morning. He brought in the wine and the goblets. I thought he was your companion.’

  The numbness turned from ice into hot rage. She had to be speaking of Sir Darren. And now their earlier conversation made sense. Somehow, the Norman commander had tampered with the wine, knowing that the High King would come to visit Carice. It was a means of ensuring the man’s death if Raine failed in his duties.

  And Darren wouldn’t care if Carice drank it, too. The knight wanted Rory Ó Connor dead above all else.

  Raine knelt beside Carice and lifted her into his arms. Her complexion was grey, and when he touched her throat, her pulse beat swiftly. ‘Don’t give up,’ he pleaded. ‘Stay with me, Carice.’

  When the maid continued weeping loudly, Raine ordered her to go and find someone to help them. Crying wasn’t going to save anyone, and he wasn’t about to leave Carice’s side.

  He cradled her limp form in his arms, feeling as though someone were tearing his heart out of his chest. He didn’t care that she had ordered him to go. Earlier, he had been so troubled about how to get her away from Tara, he’d not known how to answer her questions. Words weren’t his strength—he far preferred actions. And regardless of what Carice had demanded, he would never leave her again.

  Her breathing was laboured, and he stroked back her hair. For a brief moment, her eyelids flickered open, and her pupils were dilated. ‘Fight for me, chérie. Don’t leave.’ Though he couldn’t know if she understood his words, he pressed his face against hers. ‘Would that I could take your place.’

  It was true. If he had the choice to surrender his life and give hers back, he would do it without hesitation. Her eyes closed, and his chest constricted. If God was punishing him for his past sins, there could be no greater penance than to lose this woman. She had made him realise what it meant to live.

  As he held her in his arms, he prayed that somehow she could be saved. He continued talking to her, stroking her hair and begging for her to keep breathing.

  The chamber door opened, and he was dimly aware that the healer had arrived. ‘Step back so I may look at her,’ the old woman demanded.

  But Raine couldn’t bring himself to let go of Carice. It felt as if she were clinging to a fragile thread of life, and if he abandoned her now, she might surrender to death.

  ‘We believe someone poisoned the wine,’ the maid said.

  The healer peered into the ewer and poured some of the liquid into another goblet. She held up a few crushed berries, and her face turned serious. ‘Someone put deadly nightshade into the wine. I cannot tell if it was a root infusion or merely these crushed berries, but I may not be able to save her.’

  ‘Try,’ Raine insisted. He gently laid Carice upon the bed and held her hand while he urged the healer, ‘Give her medicines or a tea—anything you have to stop the poison.’

  The older woman gave orders for one of the maids to fetch vinegar and boiling water. ‘I will see what I can get her to drink, but she is in God’s hands now.’

  He sat beside Carice on the bed, gripping her hand as if he could hold her to him. His mind and body had gone numb while the healer steeped herbs he didn’t recognise.

  Anger was the only emotion that kept him from breaking down. Whether Sir Darren had intended the poison for the High King or for Carice didn’t matter. If she did not survive, Raine wouldn’t hesitate to kill Darren for what he had done.

  Rage flooded through him, but he could not leave Carice. There would be time to enact vengeance against the Norman knight.

  The healer brought over the tea to Carice, and Raine helped to hold her up. He caught the sharp tang of vinegar, and realised that she had steeped the herbs with vinegar and hot water. Most of it dribbled from Carice’s mouth, but there was nothing else they could do.

  ‘You must save her,’ he commanded the healer. ‘She cannot die.’

  The older woman’s face turned sympathetic. ‘If she drinks this, there is a chance it might stop the poison. But I cannot force her to take it.’

  ‘Give it to me.’ He took the cup and coaxed Carice’s lips open, slowly pouring it into her mouth. The strong potion made his eyes water, and he questioned whether this would work at all. Her colour had gone grey, and she was hardly responsive. But he continued talking to her, trying to get her to drink.

  Never in his life had he felt so helpless. This woman meant everything to him, and if she died, there would be nothing left of his miserable soul.

  ‘Stay with me,’ he whispered to Carice, setting down the cup when it was empty. He pressed his face against hers, cradling her body in his arms.

  Before long, several guards entered, along with the High King. Though Raine was well aware of how compromising it appeared, he wasn’t about to let go of Carice. His pulse tightened within him, and when one of the men seized him, he swung out, his fist colliding with the man’s jaw.

  ‘Let go of the king’s bride,’ another insisted.

  He ignored the command, shielding Carice’s body with his own. Another tried to pull him off, but he twisted, shoving the man away. He fought like a man possessed, and none of the men succeeded in separating him from Carice.

  Rory Ó Connor strode into the room behind them, and his face turned purple as he surveyed Raine holding her. ‘What have you done to my bride?’

  ‘I tried to save her,’ he shot back. He tried to bring out the right Irish words, but despair tangled them up in his mind.

  It was the healer who spoke to the High King and explained, ‘Someone tried to poison both of you.’

  ‘Sir Darren de Carleigh,’ Raine added, hoping they would find the man and imprison him.

  ‘That does not explain why you were holding my bride in such an intimate way,’ the Ard-Righ said quietly. ‘Or were you the reason why she tried to delay our wedding?’

  Before he could answer, Brian Faoilin stormed in. ‘What has happened to my daughter?’ When he spied Carice, his face went white with fear. ‘Let her go.’

  Raine ignored the command, tightening his grip. At his refusal, Brian turned back to the High King. ‘This man is not Irish. He tried to hide himself among my men, but he is one of the Normans.’

  It didn’t surprise him that Brian would cast blame upon him. But right now, Raine’s mind was blurred with his own fear that Carice would not survive. He switched into his own language. ‘I would die before harming your daughter. This was not my doing.’

  The High King’s men closed in on him, and this time, he could not fight them off. They dragged him away from Carice, and the Ard-Righ commanded, ‘Question him. Find out what he knows.’

  If he allowed them to take him captive, they would torture him for information. But if he ran, it would make him appear guilty. He could slip away and
save his own life...but he would never see Carice again.

  He couldn’t leave Tara—not for any reason. Even if she died, he wanted to be the last man who held her. Carice had given him a reason to fight, and in her arms, he’d found the missing piece of himself. No longer would he punish himself, believing himself unworthy of love or happiness. She deserved better than this, and he would do whatever he could to bring her back to freedom. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

  Raine struggled hard against the men who held him, using every last ounce of strength he possessed. He slipped free of their grasp, but at the last moment, one of the soldiers struck a blow across his back. The agonising pain against his lash wounds was enough to bring him to his knees.

  His last thought before they took him was a prayer for Carice: Please, let her live.

  * * *

  They chained him inside a prison built upon a hillside. Surrounded by earth and darkness, it felt like a grave. Every hour, Raine sank deeper into despondency. He wondered if Carice was still alive, and if the healer had managed to save her.

  If she died, he no longer cared. He would not raise weapons against the High King, nor would he obey any orders at all. And if somehow, by the Grace of God, he managed to escape Tara, he would go back to England and find his sisters.

  He had been in Ireland for two years, unable to leave these shores. The only leave he’d ever been granted was when he’d buried the monks. And now he realised that the Norman soldiers had followed him even then. His life had never been his own because he’d been imprisoned by empty promises.

  No longer.

  Raine steeled himself against a future he didn’t want to face, but one truth was stronger than grief—he would break free of the Norman army or die in the effort.

  He leaned against the cold dirt, drawing his knees up as he grieved for Carice. Her beauty haunted him, as did the memory of her smile. He gave himself over to the visions, letting them pull him back from the horrors of the present.

  But then the door swung open, and moonlight filled up the small space. Raine didn’t move, but he stilled at the sight of Sir Darren. Instead of the familiar violent rage, a slow burn of fury filled him up from within. No longer did he feel the frigid cold. An inner fire of hatred filled every part of him, and he had no doubt that Darren would no longer be breathing when this night was over.

  Neither spoke, and Raine waited, like a predator stalking its prey. At last, the knight said, ‘Well? Aren’t you wondering if she’s still alive?’

  If he dared to speak, the man would only taunt him. And so, he held his silence, knowing that it would anger the knight.

  ‘If you’d rather not know, then I will take my leave. You can stay here until they return to question you.’

  Raine didn’t rise to the bait. Come closer, he bade the knight. He clenched the loose chains, willing the man to obey.

  ‘Or am I wrong?’ Darren moved inside the space. ‘Is it tormenting you as you wonder what happened? The way you’ve been tormented about your sisters all these years.’

  The embers of rage burned hotter, but Raine forced himself to wait. ‘They’re dead, aren’t they? Nicole and Elise.’

  ‘You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?’

  The taunt ignited his fury. Raine lunged at the man and bound the chains around Darren’s throat, shutting off the man’s air.

  ‘You’re going to die for what you did,’ he said, tightening his grip while Darren clawed to escape. ‘Not only for poisoning Carice, but for taking my sisters captive.’ He squeezed tighter, shoving the man to the ground. ‘I hope you burn in hell.’

  He felt no remorse, nothing except fiery vengeance. And when the Irish soldiers invaded the space, a blow struck him across the head. Raine dropped to his knees, blood running down into his eyes.

  Dizziness roared through him, and as they dragged Darren’s fallen body, he could only hope that he’d succeeded in killing his commander.

  * * *

  Her entire body ached. Carice couldn’t move, but she managed to open her eyes. The healer was sitting beside her, and the old woman’s face held a warm smile. ‘There now. Drink this, and it will help.’

  She couldn’t even lift her head. When she tried to speak, no words came out, but the healer supported her and helped her sit. ‘You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you? But you survived. It’s lucky you didn’t drink more of the wine. If you’d finished the goblet, you would be dead.’

  She winced as the woman placed a hot cup of tea to her lips. But instead of the horrid brew that had made her retch, this was chamomile, sweetened with honey. It soothed her raw throat, and she sipped it slowly.

  Where is Raine? she wanted to ask, but her voice wouldn’t speak. She tried again but could only mouth the words.

  The old woman’s expression turned serious. ‘I suppose you’re asking about the man who was holding you.’

  She managed a nod. But when the healer answered, there was no only resignation in her tone. ‘I fear they’ve taken him in chains. The High King was very angry to find him in your chamber.’

  Undoubtedly the king blamed Raine for what had happened. And if she didn’t rise from this bed and face the Ard-Righ, he might die.

  ‘Rest now,’ the healer urged her. ‘Sleep will do you the most good in regaining your strength.’

  But there was no time for that. She needed to confront the High King and explain who was truly at fault. They needed to find Sir Darren, though she suspected the man had hidden himself somewhere.

  When she tried to swing her legs to the side of the bed, the weakness in her body overcame her. Even the effort to raise her head was more than she could manage. How was it even possible to help Raine? Walking was beyond her abilities.

  With great effort, she tried again to speak. ‘I need...’

  The words came out more of a rough growl than her natural voice, but she pressed on. ‘I must speak with the Ard-Righ. Will he...come and listen to what I have to say?’

  The older woman’s face turned grim. ‘I fear not. He knows that the poison was meant for him. The brehons will hold a trial and determine if you or the other man are guilty of plotting against him.’

  ‘Guilty of what? I’ve done nothing wrong.’ She had never even considered trying to harm the High King.

  ‘We know you were not responsible for the poison, for you drank it. But as for the other man...’ The healer’s voice trailed off as she shook her head. ‘Too many people saw him embracing you. They might accuse you of infidelity to the Ard-Righ.’

  Carice was about to argue again, but the old woman cut her off. ‘If they were to examine you, would you still be a virgin?’

  The rising fear took hold, and Carice gave no answer. No, she was not. But the healer offered her more tea and reassured her, ‘You may be found innocent, Lady Carice. After all, many could also say that you did not ask to be in the man’s embrace. You were hardly awake while you were suffering from the poisoning.’ She held the cup and added, ‘If you deny knowing him, no one would lay the blame at your feet.’

  But Carice knew that if she denied it, Raine would suffer tenfold. Even if it was proven that he’d played no part in the poison, they had both betrayed the High King. She had broken her betrothal, giving her innocence to a man who was not her husband. For that alone, the Ard-Righ had the right to punish her. A betrothal was nearly a marriage though the vows were not yet given.

  Carice didn’t know if it was possible to save both of their lives, but she had to try. No matter what her body had suffered, she could not lie here and wait for decisions to be made. She took a deep swallow of the honey chamomile tea, finishing the cup. If it would help her voice return, she would continue drinking. The heat seemed to soothe her throat.

  ‘Will you send my father to me?’ she managed.

  The healer n
odded. ‘Of course. He has been keeping vigil outside your door. I will bring him inside now, if you feel you have the strength.’

  Carice lay back against the pillow, wondering if it was possible to ally with Brian. Her father’s ambitions had led him this far, and she knew he would do nothing to help end her betrothal. But perhaps there was a way to save Raine’s life.

  When Brian entered the room, he appeared pale. He crossed over to her bedside and sat down, taking her hand. ‘Thank God you’re alive.’

  In his tone, she heard the relief, and the affection. Despite everything, her father did love her. He squeezed her palm and admitted, ‘I didn’t know if you would survive.’

  ‘Neither did I.’ Carice held his hand and braved a smile. ‘I am glad you are here.’ And she was. Although she and Brian had never been close, she saw a break in his tight composure. His blue eyes held worry and traces of fear.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ He leaned over to stroke her hair. The gentle caress warmed her heart, and in his shadowed sorrow, she found herself wanting to mend the differences between them.

  ‘I think so.’ She caught his hand again and said quietly, ‘But I do need your help. Now, more than ever.’

  At that, Brian’s expression turned guarded. ‘What is it you want?’

  She chose her words carefully. ‘I need to speak with the Ard-Righ. Can you bring me to him? I haven’t the strength to walk.’

  Her father started to refuse. ‘Rory is very angry right now. This is not a good time to interfere.’

  She knew that. But she would face the strongest storm if it meant saving Raine’s life. ‘I know. But I need the High King to know the truth about what happened.’

  ‘Believe me when I say it is best if you remain here. Let them hold their trial and stay away. The Norman will bear whatever punishment you might have had.’

  She knew he was only trying to protect her, but letting Raine take all the blame was unthinkable. ‘No. There should be no punishment, for we did nothing wrong.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ The knowing tone in her father’s voice made her wary. She didn’t want to meet his stare, afraid he would guess the truth.