Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles)

by Amy Rose Davis

  Igraine merely inclined her head. Make me wait, will you? You should learn your place. “Lady. Welcome.”

  Olwyn straightened and lifted her chin. She gestured to the food. “Such a lovely meal, your majesty. I do wish I had a larger appetite. I fear I won’t be able to enjoy everything here as much as some of your guests.” Her eyes flickered over Igraine’s body.

  Braedan turned his head, but not before Igraine saw his grin. “Please, my lord and lady—be seated.” He picked up a goblet and hid his mouth.

  Igraine saw the twinkle in his eyes. Ass. Does he think to play me against Olwyn? “Something funny, my lord?” she whispered when he sat.

  “Not at all,” he said.

  The steward tapped the floor again, and Cormac entered the hall. He walked toward the dais as his name and titles were called, but when he saw Olwyn, he paled. His breath quickened, and his eyes flickered away from Olwyn. He approached Braedan and bent down to whisper something. Braedan frowned. “Are you well?”

  “I-I’m well,” he said, loud enough that Igraine could hear. “I just have work. Will you excuse me, sire?”

  “Of course, Cormac. We will speak on the morrow.” Cormac offered a quick bow and ducked his eyes before scurrying from the hall.

  Braedan frowned, but then turned to the assembled guests and announced the feast begun. He sat and leaned toward Igraine. “Do you know what that was about?” he asked behind his wine goblet.

  She also hid her mouth when she replied. “No, sire. When I spoke with him earlier, he still had plans to attend the banquet. Perhaps something new has arisen that requires his attention?”

  “He didn’t mention anything.”

  She lifted her goblet and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “It began when he saw the Lady Olwyn.”

  Braedan turned to her, his eyes twinkling. He gave her a crooked grin. “Jealous that he had no such reaction for you, my lady?”

  “I have no desire to drive fear into men’s hearts.”

  “No?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’m sure he’s all right. He usually eats in his chambers and doesn’t much care for these kinds of events.”

  “Neither do I, but I’m here, aren’t I?” The servants came with the first course then—a rich beef broth seasoned with leeks. She lifted her bowl and raised her voice again. “Your majesty, in Eirya, it is custom for lords and ladies to share the bowl with those to either side. The bowl offers the warmth of friendship and hospitality and protection. May I?”

  He nodded. “Please.”

  She sipped from her bowl, then lifted it to his lips and tilted it so that he could sip. “Now you.”

  He lifted his bowl and sipped, then offered her a sip. “A lovely custom.” He stood. “We are nothing to our Eiryan cousins if not accommodating.” He gestured to Duke Kerry to stand and repeated the ceremony while Igraine did the same with Duncan. Lords and ladies around the hall repeated the process, murmurs of agreement and praise fluttering throughout the room. Braedan put his hand on her arm. “Thank you for sharing that, my lady.”

  I’m a foolish girl, besotted by sweet words and chaste touches. She smiled and sipped her wine and tried to shake off the sensation of his hand.

  As courses came and went, Igraine spent much time listening to Duncan tell her news of home, her parents, and her brothers and their families. She was worried when he said there had been no word from Ian for several months, but Duncan tried to reassure her. “The lad writes many letters when he’s asea and sends them all at once when he reaches a port,” he said. “Your lady mother will go months without news and then catch up all in one evening when a horse arrives.”

  “You can’t begrudge me my concerns, Duncan. He’s my closest brother and completely guileless. Should he fall into something dangerous—”

  “He won’t. He sails with Robert Dougal now.”

  That was some relief. Captain Robbie, as he was known, had a girth nearly as wide as his ship, a peg leg, and a temper as foul as a winter squall, but he was shrewd and successful and had been sailing trading ships longer than Igraine had been alive. “I hope my father’s anger isn’t so great that he would keep word of Ian from me?”

  “No, of course not.” He drank and picked at the ribs on his plate—leavings from a side of rich grass-fed beef from northern Taura. “Your father worries for you. You are his only daughter. He only wishes the best for you.”

  We have very different opinions of what that may be, Igraine thought.

  When the beef had been cleared and a light salad of bitter greens, sweet apples, and candied walnuts was placed before them, Braedan leaned over to her. His eyes were still alert and bright, and she realized that he had only just started his second cup of wine. Other lords and ladies were well into their cups. Even Duncan and Sean Mac Rian looked flushed and glassy-eyed. “I wish, highness, that I had thought to bring in some entertainment. I fear my haste caused me to overlook such niceties.”

  “You needn’t pay a harper when you have Princess Igraine present,” Duncan said. “The lady is well-practiced and greatly gifted in song.”

  Why did you mention that? “Duke Guinness is too generous with his praise,” she said, giving him a harsh look. He grinned behind his goblet. “He praises me because he has much love for my family. In truth, sire, I sing only slightly better than a braying hound and harp only enough to please my lady mother.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. I must hear this.” He signaled for a steward.

  “Majesty, please. I am out of practice and—”

  “Please, your highness.” It was Duke Kerry’s voice. He lifted his goblet. “Grace us with a song. Let us all hear if you can sing as elegantly as you speak.”

  She gave the duke a cool smile. “My lord, we have a saying in Eirya: ‘The man who wishes for rain sometimes suffers from flood.’”

  Braedan laughed. He whispered to the steward and then turned to Olwyn. “And you, my lady? Do you sing or play?”

  She lifted heavy eyes to his. “I sing, majesty, but only for more intimate audiences.”

  Igraine rolled her eyes. Why doesn’t she just disrobe right here?

  Within a few moments, the steward returned carrying a small harp. Braedan stood and plucked the strings. To Igraine’s surprise, he started to tune it and strummed a chord. “It was my mother’s,” he told Igraine when he passed it to her. His voice was tight and low. “She had a beautiful voice. What I remember of it.”

  “I will attempt to do it justice, majesty.” She stood and descended the dais to stand in the center of the hall. Her hands turned cold and her palms started to sweat, and she feared dropping the harp. A look at Braedan emboldened her. Why does he affect me this way? I haven’t felt this bold since— She shivered. I won’t think of him. She tuned the harp and ran her fingers over the carved willow bark and strings. Voices around the hall hushed as she began to pick out notes and chords. The harp was in excellent condition and well-made, the strings still supple and easy to strum. “’Tis been some time since I had an audience, my lords and ladies. If I offend your ears, rest assured that I will understand if you leave.” There were gentle chuckles at that.

  She tuned for a moment longer and then shot a glance at Ronan Kerry. He met her eyes and lifted his goblet. She began to strum a lively tune, tapping her toe in time. “My lords and ladies, I’m sure you know of the fine sheep of Eirya—those with the red wool flecked with gold. Some poets say Alshada himself gave our sheep the color of sunrise when he saw them on the eastern shore.” She dropped her voice. “But, I know the true story.”

  A Taurin lad with hair of gold,

  Heigh ho, heigh ho,

  Did wash ashore one winter cold,

  Heigh, heigh, ho.

  His eyes fell on a maiden fair—

  Heigh ho, heigh ho,

  With curly locks of copper hair,

  Heigh, heigh ho.

  The audience started to clap.

  The lad gave chase his lass to seek—
<
br />   Heigh ho, heigh ho,

  But she proved timid, mild, and meek—

  Heigh, heigh ho.

  When they found the eastern shore,

  Heigh ho, heigh ho,

  He pled “stay with me evermore!”

  Heigh, heigh ho.

  Everyone was clapping now and cheering her on. The story wound on, and Igraine kept it rising until the young lad caught his maiden in a dark wood, and she finally succumbed to his amorous advances. When he woke in the morning with his arms around her and his face in her hair, he realized it was a sheep he had caught. By then, he so loved the ewe that he stayed with her and gave all Eiryan sheep the golden cast of his hair.

  The lords and ladies laughed and cheered when she finished—all but Ronan Kerry. He clapped politely, but his mouth was drawn into a tight frown. “You sing prettily, my lady, but such a bawdy song.”

  She raised one eyebrow and affected a sweet tone. “You did wonder, my lord, what my mouth was good for.” The lords and ladies laughed, including Braedan. Igraine’s stomach fluttered with pleasure. “But lest you think I can only sing bawd, let me sing you another song—if it please his majesty.”

  Braedan inclined his head and smiled. “It does. Please sing whatever you wish.”

  She smiled at Duncan. “To honor my lord father’s loyal ambassador and my dear friend Duke Duncan Guinness, a song of Eirya.” She slowed the pace and began a melody in a minor key.

  Where sapphire water meets emerald turf

  And rocky shores do rise,

  Where silver waves bring mighty ships

  There will I rest my eyes.

  Eirya, land of songs and dreams

  Land of poets fair

  Let me rest upon your shore

  And free me from all care.

  All Eiryan children learned the song. Eiryan people sang it on feast days to recall why their people left Taura. Eirya was a land of beauty and song, hardship and trial. She closed her eyes and remembered home. When a deep, rich baritone voice joined her alto, she opened her eyes. Duncan had descended the dais to join her in the song, his eyes misty.

  My hopes will rest on emerald hills,

  On silver mountaintops,

  On sapphire waves and northern fields,

  On golden barley crops.

  When low I join my fathers past,

  My soul to heaven flies,

  Rest my body on that isle

  Where emerald hills do rise.

  When the last note died away, she took Duncan’s hand and stretched to kiss his cheek. The entire hall applauded, and Duncan led her back to the dais.

  Braedan stood. She started to give him the harp, but he shook his head. “Keep it, my lady. For now. I wish to hear you play again. You have the voice of one of the fabled fair folk, even when you sing the bawd.”

  She lowered her eyes and inclined her head. “You are too kind, your majesty.”

  “I speak only the truth.” He met her eyes and lifted her hand to his mouth. His lips lingered against her hand.

  She stepped closer to him. “Majesty—”

  “Forgive me. I have duties.” He turned back to the banquet hall and signaled the steward to bring the final course—a tart of pears and apples in a heavy cream.

  When everyone had finished, Braedan stood. “Lords and ladies, I thank you for attending tonight. I promise you that the next feast you are invited to will be held with more notice.” He lifted a goblet to Igraine. “Perhaps there will be reason to celebrate. Please, stay and enjoy your wine and oiska. I must bid you all good night as I have early duties.” He lifted Igraine’s hand and kissed it, said good night to the other men on the dais, and bid Lady Aislinn and Lady Olwyn good night. Olwyn stepped very close to him to whisper in his ear. He grinned and kissed her hand again, but then shook his head and left the dais.

  Duncan and Igraine spoke for a few more moments as some of the lords and ladies began to leave, and then Logan entered the hall. He walked up to Igraine and bent low to her ear. “My lady, may I escort you back to your rooms?”

  “In a moment. I’m speaking with Lord Guinness.”

  Logan hesitated. “Highness, there is pressing business. May we speak in the corridor?”

  She frowned. “Of course. Excuse me, Duncan. I fear I’m needed elsewhere.” She bid farewell to the other lords and Lady Olwyn, took Logan’s arm, and followed him into the back corridor where servants bustled back and forth. “What is it? The sayas—”

  “The kirok people are well. The king requests the pleasure of your company, but he didn’t want everyone to know.”

  A shiver passed through her. Logan held out her cloak, and she let him help her into it and clasp it. “Where is he?”

  “He waits on the north wall. Your maid let me into your room to retrieve your cloak. The king wishes to meet you away from prying eyes and ears.”

  “Of course.” She took Logan’s arm, and he led her through back rooms and corridors to the north wall of the castle.

  Braedan rested his arms on the wall and stared toward the hills in the distance, his profile outlined faintly in the waxing moon. He turned and smiled at her. “Thank you, Logan. You’re dismissed. I’ll see the lady safely back to her chambers.”

  When they were alone, Braedan took her hands. “Forgive my clandestine request, Igraine. Tongues wag at court, as I’m sure you know. I didn’t want anyone to see us leave together.”

  “And yet you asked me to accompany you and sit in the place of your queen.”

  “Did you like that place?”

  “I liked it only as much as I enjoyed the company to either side of me.” She dropped his hands. “Braedan, I’m tired. I’ve had enough of courtly games. If there is something you need to ask of me, please be about it. I’d like to be abed.”

  His mouth curved into a distracted smile, and he lifted one hand to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger. “I spoke at length with my uncle this afternoon,” he said, but she sensed that it wasn’t what he really wanted to say. “We agreed that I would accompany him north to investigate the trouble with the tribes.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. ’Twill serve you well to show your authority in the north.” And it will rid the castle of your uncle and his men while you ensure he’s not scheming behind your back.

  He pulled his hand away from her hair and cleared his throat. “I’ll leave Cormac in charge, but I want you to help him. Your knowledge of Taurin law is admirable. I’d like to appoint you as a legal advisor to the crown.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “A foreign princess in such a position? That’s not what you wanted yesterday.”

  “You’ve given me no reason to doubt your loyalty to me. I read your proposal to change the inheritance laws and found little reason to disagree with your opinion. You have a sharp mind, and your work is flawless. You won’t have the power to make decisions—only to offer legal opinions. Do you want the position?”

  It’s a position I’ve dreamed of. “I’m honored by the trust you’ve placed in me, your majesty, but I don’t want to lose the ambassadorship.”

  “Do you think you can do both?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you accept?”

  Gods, yes. Of course. She kept her voice steady. “I would be pleased to serve your court this way. Do you plan to propose a change to the inheritance laws?”

  “I am considering it.”

  “And the woman from yesterday? What of her?”

  “I told her she could stay in her home for six more months while I review the law.” He hesitated and shifted his feet. He picked up her hand again. “There is a way I could give you more authority.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “If you were queen, you could serve as both an advisor and my regent when I am away.”

  It took every bit of Igraine’s practiced royal training to keep from gaping at the suggestion. Queen. When he said he wanted affection? Does he feel that way, then? She cleared her throat. “I-I doubt your u
ncle would approve.”

  He laughed. “Did you sing that song just to spite him?”

  “Perhaps.”

  He chuckled. “My uncle offers his opinions, but my decisions are mine alone. A marriage would cement an alliance between our countries and give my reign legitimacy. Besides, as valuable as you are to my court as an ambassador and a legal advisor, your beauty, talent, and wit are wasted in any position less than queen.”

  Silence surrounded them as she considered what to say. This wasn’t what I expected. “Are you asking me for permission to approach my father?”

  One side of his mouth tilted into a smile. “I suppose I am.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t want a political marriage.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth. “This is more than politics. I am growing fond of you.”

  The words softened her heart, but she squared her shoulders. “And yet you still find time to carouse with chambermaids. That’s not the behavior of a man who is growing fond of a woman.”

  “You would have me believe you’ve never caroused with Logan?”

  She frowned. “Logan? Why would you say that?”

  “I know he takes you riding out to the lake. And there have been rumors. I’ve not said anything, but I have wondered what is between you two.”

  So much, and yet nothing. He is a friend and a stranger at once. And spirits help me, I betray your trust with him—but not in the way you would think. She pushed the thoughts away. “Logan has never been anything but a perfect gentleman.”