Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles)

by Amy Rose Davis

  He straightened, drew his sword, and stepped out of the trees. “You can keep the books. I’ll take the holy wine.”

  All five turned and dropped the items in their hands. A big man with a sword stepped forward and swung a few times, and Connor parried easily and stabbed him through the belly. Mairead gasped as the other four rushed forward. She took aim and fired, hitting one thief in the shoulder. He cursed and fell as Connor stabbed another. Connor swung back to finish the man she’d wounded. Her hands shaking, Mairead nocked another arrow and took aim, but by the time she was ready, the final two were dead at Connor’s hand.

  He turned to her. “Nice shooting.”

  She stepped out of the trees. “Not so nice. I hit his shoulder, and I should have had another. I froze.”

  “But you fired when you needed to, and you disabled him. It’s a start.” He knelt.

  Her knees threatened to crumble. “Are they all dead?”

  “Yes.” He sliced one man’s throat. “I like to be sure.”

  She couldn’t look at the bodies. Instead, she approached the bound men and sliced their ropes off. “Thank you, my lady,” the oldest kiron said, bowing. He had wispy gray hair and a stern, lined face, but his voice was deep and soothing. “They were preparing to haul us away to slavers. I feared I’d never see my country again until you and your champion came along.”

  The kiron’s two companions stretched and rubbed their wrists. One was tall, lank, and plain with a dark, pock-marked face, and the other had a muscular build and a charming smile. His eyes skimmed Mairead quickly, and she crossed her arms and cleared her throat. “I’m glad we could help. Are you all well?”

  “Yes, thank Alshada. They hadn’t done more than surprise us and tie us up.”

  Connor joined them then. “What did you have that they could want?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a member of the Order of Sai Johan. I can’t imagine they would want my books. Perhaps they thought I was a merchant.”

  “Perhaps.” Connor sounded doubtful. “If you’re all right, we’ll be on our way.”

  “Connor.” Mairead drew him to one side with a hand on his arm. “We could camp with them one night, couldn’t we? I haven’t spoken to a kiron in so long. It would be nice to pray for those men who died.”

  He frowned and leaned down to her ear. “I don’t trust this, Mairead. There’s something not right. I have a bad feeling.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “How do you know the man who’s been following us didn’t send these to kill or capture us?”

  “They’re just kirons. I’m sure one as vile as the one who’s been tracking us wouldn’t want anything to do with kirons.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “Please?”

  His mouth tightened. “All right. But I want you close tonight—no sleeping across the fire or the clearing. I don’t trust these men.”

  Her heart raced. “They’ll think we’re—” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  “Pretend to be my wife if you must.”

  The men had started to pack up their wagon. If I want to spend time with a kiron, I need to decide now. “All right. I’ll pretend to be your wife, but only until we part with them.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  “If it makes sense.”

  He nodded, grudging. He turned back to them. “Where are you going?”

  “Where Alshada takes me.” The kiron smiled at them. “I don’t have a permanent kirok. Men of my order travel and minister to the needy and the faithful wherever we are led.”

  “It’s nearly night. Why don’t we camp together?” Connor asked.

  The kiron bowed. “We would be grateful for the protection. I’m Gavin.”

  Mairead felt heat rise in her face. “I’m Mairead and my husband is Connor. We’ll be happy for the company.” Lying to a kiron. Alshada, forgive me.

  Connor and Mairead fetched their horses, and Mairead started to pull food out of their packs. Connor put a hand on her arm. “Nothing we have to cook,” he said, low.

  “Why?”

  “I want our supplies to stay packed in case we have to run. Just take out fruit and jerky. And the bread Tarah gave us, if you’d like.” His eyes narrowed. “Keep your daggers on you, too.”

  She scoffed. “You’re being overcautious. They’re just kirons.”

  He frowned. “No, they’re not.”

  The kirons cooked their own supper and offered some to Connor and Mairead, but Connor turned them down. He did offer his oiska, however. All three men turned it down. “Alshada demands our abstinence,” Gavin said.

  Connor shrugged. “As you will. It’s some of the best.”

  Mairead frowned. “You know servants of the kirok don’t drink,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  She grimaced. He wanted to see if they’d drink it because he doesn’t trust them.

  When supper was finished and prayers spoken, Connor spread his blanket on the ground and took off his jerkin, tunic, and boots. “We should get an early start tomorrow,” he said, laying his sword next to him. “This weather is too good to waste.”

  Mairead sat next to him on the blanket and took off her boots and weapons. She stared at his bare chest. I don’t know if I trust myself. I think I trust him more. She worked at unbraiding her hair. “You don’t think you can leave your tunic on tonight?”

  He laughed. “You should be happy I’ve kept my breeches on at night since we started this journey. People were meant to sleep naked.”

  “Don’t you ever get cold?”

  “Not really. I get warm and I sweat, but I don’t get cold like other people do.”

  “Does it have something to do with your blood?”

  “Some Sidh have the same resistance to cold, but they’re all stone talents.”

  “Is it the ravenmark?”

  “Perhaps.” He grinned. “You’re stalling.”

  Yes, I am. She swallowed, ran her fingers through her hair, and lay on her side facing him. “I think these kirons are honest enough. Don’t you?”

  “No. Something isn’t right with them. I can’t place it.”

  She sighed. “You just don’t want to be around kirok people.”

  “Have I made a secret of that?”

  “No. I just thought—”

  “That you could change me? Save me?”

  She couldn’t answer. She rolled to her back and pulled another blanket over her. “Good night, Connor.”

  He inched closer and propped his head on his hand. “This will never do.”

  “What?”

  “You just lying over here, ready for sleep, without so much as a good night kiss for your husband.”

  “You’re such a rogue.”

  He laughed. “I’m serious. Do you want them to think we aren’t really wed?”

  She rolled away from him. “Let them think we’re fighting.”

  Silence, and then his breath next to her ear and his hand on her hip. She closed her eyes and shivered. “Do I make you nervous, Mairead?”

  “Yes.” She rolled to her back again to look up into his eyes. His hand slid across her belly, and he hooked his thumb into the top of her breeches. “Connor . . .”

  “Just one good night kiss. Just to make it look real.” His face hovered over hers with a teasing smile. “You still owe me a kiss for that bruise.”

  She sighed. She raised her head and kissed his cheek. “Will that do?”

  “It was a much bigger bruise than that.” He lowered his head, and she drew a sharp breath in as his mouth met hers.

  His lips were soft and practiced; she tasted the oiska on his mouth. He kissed her first with a lingering flutter, drew back to look at her, and leaned in to kiss her a second time. His hand slid down to her thigh and tightened. She lifted her hand to his head and ran her fingers through his coarse hair as he pulled her closer. Without her permission, her body pressed itself against his. His t
ongue teased the inside of her mouth, and his teeth pressed with gentle, insistent pressure on her bottom lip before he drew away.

  His voice was rough and low when he spoke. “That’s how I would say good night to my wife. If you were my wife.”

  She pursed her lips. “Is that all?”

  He kissed her once more, quickly, his lips fluttering away just when she wanted more of them. “No.”

  “What—”

  He leaned down. The scent of him—leather and sweat and steel and oiska and magic all together—made her head reel. He bit her earlobe as if he were savoring a very sweet, ripe plum. “Do you want me to tell you? Or would you rather I show you?” His leg slid up her thigh and between her legs.

  Yes, show me. She hated that her voice shook when she spoke. “C-Connor, you sh-shouldn’t—”

  He put his lips on hers again. She whimpered. Her arms felt weak, but she forced them around his neck. Keep doing this! He pulled her close, one hand holding her firmly against him. She felt a warm ache between her legs. This is what Sayana Muriel warned me about. He makes me want to sin. How can he—?

  He finally drew away, a wicked grin planted firmly on his mouth. “Good night, Mairead.” He rolled to his back next to her.

  There are no words . . . She lay staring at the stars for some time, unable to sleep, her heart racing. She prayed he couldn’t hear it. She finally rolled to her side and propped her head up. In the dim light of the fire the tattoos on his arm wove together in a sensuous dance. “Do you . . . How do you . . . I mean, what makes you pursue a woman?”

  He rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. “Why do you ask?”

  Because I want you to pursue me. How can I say that? “I’m curious.”

  “I’m not a book for you to study, Mairead. It’s not something I can put into an equation or a map or formula.” He grinned. “I think you want to know if I’d take you to bed.”

  “What if I did?” Where did that come from? When did I become so bold? She clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking as heat rose in her face.

  He laughed. “I don’t know. Ask me and we’ll find out.”

  She closed her eyes. “If I were some other woman, would you?”

  “A woman like you? Beautiful, educated, kind? It would be a great privilege to have you in my bed.” He leaned closer and his mouth hovered near hers again. “If you were some other woman, of course.”

  Some other woman . . . “How can you go from woman to woman—”

  “It’s only with their understanding and consent.” He chuckled. “Don’t feel sorry for the women I’ve been with, Mairead. I assure you they have no regrets.”

  Even Aine? He wouldn’t say what happened with Donal and Aileen’s daughter. She didn’t want to think him capable of siring a child and leaving, but he said he didn’t want a wife or children. Still, Donal and Aileen were grateful to him. If I knew what he did, if he’d tell me, maybe I could . . . Gods, how can I think of that? But he feels so good. Did he feel good to Aine, too? Why won’t he tell me what happened?

  He put a hand on her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”

  “You. This. I can’t—shouldn’t—”

  “There’s no sin in a kiss.” His lips found hers again.

  Mairead’s stomach lurched, and Muriel’s cautions tumbled through her thoughts. Men think only of bedding a pretty girl. Men think of satisfying their basest desires. Alshada has given women the greater strength for the greater duty—to remain chaste until marriage. You, Mairead—you are the last of your line. You must remain chaste until you wed.

  She bolted upright and put her hand over her mouth. “This isn’t right. This isn’t—”

  He sat up next to her. “Mairead—”

  “No.” She turned to him. “This is wrong. This is sinful.”

  He laughed softly. “This isn’t sinful. I’ve hardly touched you.”

  “But you would if I let you.”

  He shrugged. “Most likely, yes.”

  This man! “You really don’t have any respect for anything do you?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Respect?”

  “Yes, respect. For me, for the kirok, for Alshada. Why do you hate the kirok so much?”

  “I don’t hate the kirok.”

  “You do. You hate everything it stands for.” She paused. “It makes me wonder what you really think of me.”

  The kirons stirred on the other side of the fire. Connor lowered his voice. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

  She stood. “I think we should talk about it here. I don’t mind if they hear. Are you trying to hide something?”

  He cursed, and she flinched. “I’ve not hidden a thing about my feelings toward the kirok since we started this journey,” he said. “You’re the one who keeps trying to change me.”

  “Perhaps you need changing,” she said. “You don’t follow kirok teachings. You drink, you kill, you bed any woman you want. You say Alshada doesn’t care what you do.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about this in front of them,” Connor whispered, one hand on her arm and his mouth close to her ear. “Can we go somewhere else?”

  Heat rose in her face. This is what you do—you hide yourself from the truth so you can have what you want. And right now you want me, but what about in the morning? She shook her head. “No. I won’t let you distract me and try to cajole me into your bed.” She stepped back when he reached for her. “I’m a fool. To think what I almost gave you—” She bit off the words as Gavin stepped closer. “I need to walk away. Don’t follow me.”

  He put a hand on her arm again. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She pulled away. “You don’t have a choice.” She stalked into the trees, brushing away angry tears as she walked deeper into the forest. Foolish, foolish girl. To think I wanted to go to bed with him! He’s nothing but a rogue, and he’d bring nothing but tears. She shook her head. I’m better off keeping my distance. No more sparring, no more training. He can deliver me where I’m supposed to go, and then I’ll say goodbye.

  ***

  Connor watched Mairead walk away, his jaw hanging open. Where did all of that come from? But he knew. Her kisses weren’t as chaste as she wished, and he’d been surprised and aroused by the passion in them. I didn’t intend any of this. I just wanted to tease you. I didn’t expect to enjoy it that much.

  He paced, watching the trees. He knew it was unsafe to let her go into the forest alone, with the other men not asleep yet, but he couldn’t follow her. A raven landed in a tree at the edge of the clearing and cawed. Connor grimaced. You could help me. He directed his thoughts to the Morrag. You could give me some clue how to deal with this woman. Or at least tell me why I distrust these men so much. A raven croaking at me? That’s as likely coincidence as anything.

  Gavin put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Let me talk with her.”

  No, not you. “She just needs some time alone.”

  “Connor, I was married once. I remember.” He smiled. “I’ll speak with her.”

  Connor clenched and unclenched his fists. She’d rather talk to him than me. She trusts him more than she trusts me, all because of a brown robe and a smattering of kirok language. “Good luck. She’s strong-willed, and she doesn’t much care for advice.”

  Gavin chuckled. “Just like my wife was.” He followed Mairead.

  Connor pulled out his skin of oiska and sat near the fire. His hands shook with anger, and he took a long drink to calm himself. He wiped his mouth. What was I thinking? A pretty girl smiles at me, I do what she asks, and then she thinks she can change me? I’m a fool, too.

  One of the other men, Kef, gestured from across the fire. “Aye, boyo. Will ye still share?”

  Connor passed the skin over. “You aren’t so abstinent after all?”

  “No.” The man took a long drink. He passed it to the other man, Owen. “We’re not kirons, either. He has us pretend—makes him look better, seem more important.” />
  “Do you really do as he says? Minister to the downtrodden all over Culidar?”

  The men laughed. “Aye, that’s it. Minister to the downtrodden.” He drank and set the skin down. “No, lad. We’ve better ways to pass the time.”

  Connor saw the fist coming just before it hit his jaw. It knocked him backward. He staggered to his feet and drew a dagger from his boot. “What—”

  “There be some things we need to know about your lady and your mother.”

  “My mother?” He shook his head. “My mother’s dead.”

  The men laughed. “No, lad. We know who ye are. And we know your mother isn’t dead.”

  Three men came out of the trees. They’ve been tracking us. Panic set in—Mairead. Kef lunged at him with a dagger. Connor deflected the blade, but the edge sliced his forearm. He hissed in pain, and the raven took flight near him, cawing and flapping around the scene. Connor drew his other dagger. Focus on the fight. Don’t let the anger draw you into her grasp.

  A big, greasy, bearded man in black leathers approached swinging a flail, and another man crept up behind Connor. Blades glinted in the firelight on either side of him, and Kef struck toward him again. Connor focused on defense, strategy—he pictured his battle training, the armory at Kiern, the sparring sessions with Edgar, previous fights—anything that would keep him alive. He parried, spun, sliced. One man fell screaming, blood spurting from a wide gash in his neck. Another swore and stepped back, cradling a fingerless hand.

  But there were too many, too close. The man with the flail swung as Connor spun back toward him. Connor’s hand connected with the flail and turned to porridge with a crunch. He roared. Pain blinded him long enough for two men to grab his elbows from behind. He went to his knees. No defense—Mairead—gods, they’ll kill her. Fighting to stay conscious, Connor tried to form braids of air, but the big man drew up his own talent and flicked the air braids away. Connor gasped in pain and disbelief. Damn it—how did I miss it? “You’re Nar Sidhe,” Connor said. That’s what I sensed. They were far enough away to keep me off-balance. They must be shielding their magic—animstones?