“Strike him in the nose with the heel of my hand.”
“Good. What if he moved his legs?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Remember, Mairead, no mercy. If you have to get free of a man who’s trying to rape you, strike where it will hurt the most.” He paused. “He’d have to loosen his legs if he wanted to rape you. Before he gets your legs apart, what would you do?”
She swallowed again. “Bring my knee up between his legs.”
“As hard as you can, right?”
“Yes. I give up. You win.”
“I know. I’m just trying to decide what the price of your freedom should be.” He tilted his head. “I could demand a kiss, but that seems so predictable. Like a rogue from a story.”
“You are a rogue.”
He laughed. “I could make you fish for our supper, but we’d starve. You can’t catch a fish to save yourself.”
“Hurry up. It’s hard to breathe.”
He dropped the knife and put his arms on either side of her shoulders, boxing her in with his elbows. They both panted with the exertion of the fight. His mouth hovered just above hers. If I stretched up just a bit . . . .
He sat up and pulled a kerchief from his pocket. “I nicked you. I’m sorry.”
The opening presented itself, and she punched him, hard, in the diaphragm. When he tried to catch his breath, she squirmed free from his legs and hit him again, knocking him onto his back. She picked up the knife and turned the blade on him, holding the flat of it at his neck as she boxed him in the same way he’d held her. “I think I just figured out the price of my freedom.”
He choked out a laugh. “You wicked woman. That will teach me to underestimate you. I didn’t see that coming at all.”
“That was the point.”
He laughed harder. “All right. You win. Really.”
She stood, but she held the knife on him. He stood up, caught his breath, and picked up the kerchief. He waved it. “Truce, my lady, please.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I swear. Let me look at your neck. I promise I won’t attack again.” She let him put the kerchief on her neck. Beads of sweat trickled down the edges of his hair. “I’m sorry for this.”
She put her hand over his. “It’s all right. I’m the one who insisted on practicing with bare blades.”
“You were good today. Your strikes to my ribs were well-placed and painful. Another man might not have recovered as quickly, and you would have at least had time to run.”
“If you’d been wearing your jerkin, you wouldn’t have even felt it.”
“But I wasn’t, and many thieves and brigands won’t be wearing one, either.” He rubbed his side and pulled up his tunic. “How does it look?”
She grimaced at the large welt. “Ugly.”
His laugh surprised her. “Good girl. You didn’t give me quarter. I’m proud of you.”
He’s proud of me. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. He removed his tunic to wipe sweat from his face, and she found herself wishing she had stretched up and kissed him when she had a chance. I shouldn’t think of that, she scolded herself, ducking her eyes to avoid looking at his chest. “Thank you for the practice,” she said.
He chuckled. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I’m enjoying it, too.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes, despite the urge to stare at his chest. “You aren’t fighting the way you’d fight a man.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You wouldn’t lunge at a man the way you lunged at me. And you’d never pin a man down like that. You’re going easy on me.”
He stepped closer to her. “I’m not going easy. I’m attacking the way most men would attack a woman. Like it or not, men will look at you and see a pretty pair of legs. If they want you dead, that’s one defense. If they want to rape you, that’s another. If I can just teach you to defend against those two things, you’ll have an edge.”
He thinks my legs are pretty. I shouldn’t think of that. I should just be grateful he’s teaching me. She pulled the kerchief away. “Did it stop bleeding?”
He touched her neck. “I think so. It’s not bad—just a scratch.” His hand lingered against her neck, and his thumb stroked her jaw.
How does he expect me to catch my breath with his hand on my cheek like that? But she didn’t step back. The early morning quiet was broken only by the sound of geese in the distance, and Mairead’s stomach fluttered. Connor shifted his feet and lifted his other hand to her opposite cheek. Heat crept up her face. I could kiss him now. I could.
She dropped the kerchief from shaking fingers. “Oh—”
“I’ll get it.” A note of regret tinged his voice as he took his hands away from her face. He stepped back and picked up the kerchief. “We should get moving—take advantage of decent weather.”
She nodded, reluctant, and went to her blankets to pack her things.
She and Connor had fallen into an easy camaraderie since leaving Leiden weeks before and entering the vast taiga of northern Culidar. The low northern forests went on for leagues, thinning into plains and meadows more often the further east they went. Small villages along Haman’s Road offered meager comforts for travelers. When there was a dry copse of trees, they camped in it, and when they found a farmer willing to exchange shelter for coin, they took the opportunity to get out of the rain and cold.
Connor taught her to live the way he did. Soon she could set up and break down their camp, clean fish, prepare rabbits for cooking, build a fire, identify and find edible roots, find deer trails, and watch for signs of predators. He continued to teach her how to fight with daggers and her fists and hands. After they left Leiden, he found two sticks of similar length and began to teach her the footwork and forms for swordplay.
Mairead discovered that she preferred her bow to blades. When she practiced every morning, they measured her rare misses in fractions of an inch. The first time she referred to the bow as hers, he didn’t argue. The next morning he put the quiver over her horse’s saddle instead of his own.
The landscape of Culidar still bore the scars of the breaking of the Western Lands. Stone ruins fought a losing battle with the forests. Occasional glimpses of ivy-covered spires or mossy towers on the horizons were the only hints of the past. Remnants of cities had faded into villages, and villages had faded into family farms. The people lived with raw determination and an uneasy truce between their livelihoods and the forest.
Mairead grew fonder of the land and people each day. This is my calling, she thought. This is where I’m meant to be, not Taura or Sveklant. But each time she tried to express her thoughts to Connor, the words stuck in her throat. Alshada, how can I betray my duty this way?
She found comfort in caring for people whenever possible. One rare sunny day, she shared bread and cheese with Connor in a small village square. Two small children sat nearby watching them. Mairead broke off a small piece of bread and gave the remainder to the children. She turned away from Connor’s gaze, afraid he would chide her for her generosity again. “They need it more than I do.”
He took the last of the ripe apples they’d found from his pack and gave them to the children, along with a slab of cheese. “I can always hunt for us.”
I wish I could do more. Alshada, care for these babes. “Why are these people so poor?”
“Not enough resources, too many threats. The south is bordered by the Nar Sidhe. There aren’t many merchants who can get through either way to encourage trade. A few hired swords like me can guide some of them through, but we’re in short supply. That’s why we’re so highly paid. The only western harbor in Culidar is the Port of Sorrows, and it’s controlled by slavers. In the east, Culidar and Sveklant blur into a big expanse of prairie and fields, and in the north, there are just mountains.”
“Don’t they have anything?”
“Some do. Declan—he managed to build a ranch with his prairie cattle. There are a few others who have enough mo
ney to hire good men to keep the slavers away. It’s spotty. The wealthiest men are slavers and venom runners.”
She shuddered, and her heart ached for the children she’d fed. “Did I feed them today only to have them taken by slavers tomorrow?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Another day, they crested a hill and saw a train of wagons in the distance. Connor’s face turned grim, his eyes tight with the peculiar pain she’d seen in them before when he fought or they came upon danger. A raven landed near them, its head cocked to one side, and she noticed that Connor studiously avoided looking at the bird. “Let’s go into the trees.”
“Why?”
“Those are slavers.”
A small huddle of people sat near a man with a whip and a sword. Two women held several small children close. Near them, a slaver emerged from a wagon with a young girl who wept as he tied her to the row of captives. Another slave put his arm around her. She flinched, but accepted the comfort.
Mairead put a hand over her mouth. “Is there nothing you can do?”
The raven croaked and hopped closer. Connor flinched. “What do you think I should do, Mairead? Charge in there and risk my life and your safety for people who could be captured again tomorrow?”
Yes. Perhaps. “Where do they take them?”
“Espara, mostly. The empire is huge, and there are many nobles who love having slaves. But there are also nobles in the east who buy them. The Tal’Amuni emperor buys beautiful women for his harem. Sometimes, the slavers keep the prettiest girls and use them in their own brothels here in Culidar. Some of the children, too.”
“Children?”
He met her eyes. “Some men and women cannot be redeemed.”
Mairead’s stomach twisted. “Is there no law here at all?”
“The few nobles who have managed to establish themselves make their own laws, and they control a few cities, but outside of those?” He shrugged. “It’s called the Wilds for a reason.”
That night, she sobbed into her blankets, trying to stay quiet. Within moments Connor was next to her, one strong hand on her shoulder. “I wish there weren’t so many harsh things to show you. But if you will be a queen, you need to know the truth of the world,” he said.
She rolled over and sat up. “Have you ever helped any slavers?”
“No. Not intentionally.”
“Have you ever been able to help any slaves?”
The firelight flickered across his face. “A few times. I have a client in Espara—she’s very wealthy. She had slaves. I convinced her to pay for their freedom.”
“A client. A woman you were able to convince to pay for freedom for her slaves.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I can be very convincing.”
She laughed and wiped her eyes. “I want to make this place better.”
He wound a stray lock of her hair around one finger. “You’ve already made this a better place to live.”
Despite the ever-present poverty and slave trade, Mairead looked forward to each day with Connor. With each mile, she became more reluctant to say goodbye to him. With every sparring session, she sought moments to relish having his body close to hers or his hands on her. The more time they spent together, the more she found herself thinking of things she knew were sinful.
The day brought overcast skies, and they covered a good distance along the main road. When they stopped at a small stream for a midday meal, Connor spread a blanket on the ground while Mairead retrieved flatbread, apples, some leftover pheasant, and their waterskins. He sat next to her, took out his knife, and started slicing apples. “On your back there’s a line of script under the wolf. What does it mean?” she asked.
He kept his eyes focused on his task. “It’s my father’s name in the tribal tongue. I had it put there when he died.”
“What was his name?”
“It’s not important.”
“It was important enough for you to put it on your back.”
“My father’s name is important to me, not to you.” He grinned, but there was pain under his eyes. “If you keep asking about my tattoos, Mairead, I’ll make sure you get one of your own.”
She smiled, but it masked frustration. Who are you under the weapons and blue dye? For weeks, they had traveled together, eaten together, even slept together, and she still knew little about him. He hid his past behind his wit, and every time she asked him about something private, he deflected her question with a roguish answer or a teasing grin. “You know, we’ve been traveling together for weeks now and I still don’t know your father’s name. Or your mother’s.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But I want to know.”
He said nothing.
She sighed. “You have so many secrets.”
He was quiet for some time, focusing on slicing the food and parsing it out. When he spoke, his voice was low and tense. “I don’t like to talk about it—about him. It reminds me of what happened.” He paused. “I was there that day. In Kiern. I saw the fire. I was coming back from the tribal hunt. The duke’s estate was on fire. It was too dangerous to go into the town. We couldn’t save anyone.” He gave her a slice of apple. “I just watched from the road. I stood with my mother and we watched and knew they were gone.”
She reached out to touch his shoulder. “I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry, Connor.”
“You asked me once if I ever wondered what might have happened if Kiern hadn’t been attacked. By then I had already made this life, but I do wonder, sometimes, if I could have made a life there.”
“What kind of life would you have made?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m happy with this life.”
That’s not true. “Are you?”
“More or less.” He ate another slice of apple.
“What about the tribes?”
“A tribal life? Perhaps. I go back for the hunt every year, but I hunt with the southern tribes.”
“Why not with your tribe?”
He sighed. He drank his water and ate a piece of bread. At last, he spoke. “When the attack came, I was enraged. I was ready to ride to Mac Rian’s estates and murder him and his daughter. My mother fastened my will to her own through a spell. Whenever I thought of seeking vengeance on Mac Rian, her will would override my own.” He paused again. “She never removed the spell. Mac Rian had the regent’s ear, and my mother was afraid of Mac Rian’s daughter. I think she was trying to protect me. I left. I haven’t been home since.”
She understood what he had meant when he said the Sidh queen had promised him something. “So that’s why you agreed to do this job. I’m just a means for you to have the bond removed.”
“You were, at first.”
“What am I now?”
“A friend. A woman I respect and admire.” He toyed with his knife. “I thought you would be some pious, sour woman, but you’re not. I enjoy being with you.”
She smiled. “Is that you talking or the bond?”
He grinned. “It’s me. I don’t think my mother has used the bond on me since Kiern. She’s threatened it, but I think if she had her way, I’d be in the Sidh village married to some little Sidh girl who would give her an—” He stopped.
She frowned. “Give her a what?”
“How much do you know about the Sidh?”
“Not much. What you’ve told me and what I’ve read in a few ancient books.”
He nodded. “The queens have all had the last name SilverAir. From the beginning. And all but one of them have had only one girl child who eventually became queen.”
SilverAir. “All but one. The last one. Your mother?”
He nodded. “My mother. Queen Maeve SilverAir. She has no other children. I think she hoped I might give her an heir someday.”
“Can’t you rule the Sidh?”
“No. Only a woman can rule the Sidh. Only a woman can be born with all three talents and the codagha—the magic that binds the Sidh together.”
&nb
sp; “Your mother didn’t want any more children?”
“She couldn’t. She nearly died having me. Most of the Sidh are very small, and my father was a big man. She nearly bled to death when I was born. It took the magic of all the Sidh healers and the skill of a Taurin midwife to save her.”
Mairead smiled. “So I know half of your secret—that you’re royal on your mother’s side. What’s the other half? Are you some distant royal cousin of mine on your father’s side?”
He laughed. “I’ve said enough for now. I’ll tell you the rest another day.” He cleaned his knife and started to pack up their food.
I don’t want to go yet. Mairead thought quickly. “So if you won’t go back to the tribes or Kiern, where would you go?”
“If I wanted a settled life?”
She nodded.
He shrugged and tossed a rock into the stream. “Espara, probably. It’s beautiful there. Warm. The sand is white, and the water is as warm as fresh bathwater and clearer. There are fish in every color. I have a house there.”
“A house?”
He nodded. “On a little island where there’s only a fishing village. It’s right on the water. The balcony off my bedchamber overlooks the sea, and I can swim every morning.”
She smiled. “It sounds lovely. Why don’t you stay there?”
He tossed another rock into the water. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about settling down with a girl from the fishing village, raising a family, having a normal life. I have the money for it.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I think I’m made to wander. I think the Morrag keeps me restless.” His eyes locked on hers. “But if I could settle somewhere, I’d go there.”
She twisted a piece of grass. “I’d like to visit Espara someday, but I think I’m made for the cold and rain. I wouldn’t know what to do with all that sun.”
“So the one who never gets cold wants sun, and the one who shivers constantly wants rain.”
She laughed, but stopped when she saw longing in his eyes. Longing for a woman? For me? Or for permanence? Alshada— She stopped. How could she pray? She couldn’t think what prayer would be honorable. Alshada, give me wisdom.
Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) Page 26
