Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles)

by Amy Rose Davis

  Olwyn controls her father. She wants it. What is that woman? “But the heir is gone. How would they carry it? Only one of Brenna and Aiden’s line can even touch it.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps they want to reveal it and guard it until they find a way to carry it. It doesn’t matter, does it? Your home is still in danger whether they can accomplish what they want or not.”

  She thought carefully before she responded. It’s time to let the anger go. “If I do this, this is not a new alliance. This is not peace or forgiveness between our people. I will not pursue a formal treaty with anyone but Hrogarth.”

  A muscle twitched in Edgar’s jaw. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s two old friends protecting their homes. Two leaders protecting their villages.”

  “Mac Rian killed Culain. I want him gone.”

  “I want to taste vengeance, too. I have no love for Mac Rian. But, I will not risk my people more than necessary. With the king here, I will be cautious. I don’t want him to know any more about us than he already does.”

  “Then we’ll do this? We’ll get rid of Mac Rian and give the Mac Corin whelp a good drubbing?”

  Maeve took a deep breath. “What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Forbidden then joined the field of battle, and the Syrafi could not stand against them. Cuhail and his ravenmarked warriors heard the call of the earth, and they answered it.

  — Legend of the Syrafi

  Minerva folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips. Edgar sat across the fire from her, his legs crossed, his hands folded in imitation of hers. The earth guardian called Nedra stirred the fire into life again and settled on her knees, the brand across her face snaking and twisting in the faint light. “This is no small request,” Nedra said. “She is an outlander and an oathbreaker. And she’s part Sidh. If they realize—”

  “They won’t,” Edgar said. He pulled a small murky stone from the pocket of his jerkin and gave it to Minerva. “The Sidh queen offers this animstone to shield your Sidh talent. Should you choose to do this, that is. It won’t shield the power of the guardian.”

  Minerva took the stone and turned it over and over in her palm. The light of her wisdommark shone through the gray and lent it a faint blue hue. “If Braedan finds out I was a saya, he will kill me,” she whispered.

  “That is possible,” Edgar said. “And I will not force you to do this. It is your choice.”

  “Let me do it,” Nedra said. She gave Edgar a feral grin. “I’ll take a few of the thief’s men to the grave before they take me.”

  “You’re too valuable to the village,” Edgar said. “And your power can reveal the Sidh. Minerva’s power isn’t strong enough, but it might be enough to fool Mac Rian and the king.” He watched Minerva and waited.

  Minerva shifted her gaze from Edgar to Nedra and back to the stone on her palm. The weeks with the wolf tribe had been more tolerable than she expected. As the head earth guardian in the tribe, Nedra gave Minerva the privilege of serving the earth guardians as an apprentice—a position usually reserved for young girls who wanted to become guardians. Minerva went about her duties silently, busy and grateful to be alive. Still, guilt nagged at her. I forsake my vows again, she thought daily. Alshada, forgive me. Forgive me for serving the earthspirit again. I will return to the kirok as soon as I can. This was the safest place. Her palm itched and burned almost constantly, and at night, she sometimes cried silently into her sleeping mat in Nedra’s tent. Nedra never mentioned whether she heard or not.

  Now, Edgar sat before her, waiting. I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to face this king, this duke. I can quietly wait out the winter here and then go to Lord Dylan’s estate. She scratched her palm and cringed. If I were to die doing this, it would free me from this magic—from the pull of the earthspirit. And perhaps this is why Alshada brought me here—to give me freedom from pain through sacrifice. If I help the Sidh and protect the relics by doing this, it will be worth it to die.

  She closed her hand around the animstone. “Tell me what to do.”

  ***

  Braedan found cleansing comfort in the autumn chill that filled his room after the feast. The flattering and fawning of eager nobles and merchants made him feel sullied, and he now lay on his bed undressed, covered from the waist down with a thin linen sheet.

  The feast had been less than he expected, but more than he wanted. Mac Rian had invited anyone with any kind of money or position in the town to meet him. He’d managed to excuse himself early in the evening, and the others dispersed soon afterward. They had come to meet the new king. No one wished to share Mac Rian’s company any longer than necessary. He could be gracious and courtly, but if someone said something he didn’t care for, he grew brooding, waspish, and unreasonable.

  The door creaked open, and he reached under his pillow for the sacred dagger Hrogarth had given him. He had thought at the last minute that the sacred blade might be useful in treating with the tribes and had slipped it into his belongings almost as an afterthought, but there was something comforting about holding the bone hilt. His grip tightened on it. “Yes?”

  “Sire.” Malcolm’s voice greeted him from the bedchamber door. “Lady Olwyn begs a word.”

  Braedan stood and pulled on breeches. “Send her in.”

  Olwyn entered without Malcolm and shut the door behind her. The moonlight streaming in through oiled-skin window coverings illuminated her dark features. “Majesty. I thought perhaps you might like some company in the absence of your foreign princess.”

  “Company,” he said, unhappy to hear his own voice hoarse with desire. “That’s the sort of thing that happens over afternoon tea, my lady.”

  She gave him a tilted, exotic smile and approached him. One elegant hand traced his chest and belly and hooked the top of his breeches. “What would you prefer to call it?”

  You promised Igraine. This woman can please you for a night, but you promised faithfulness. And this woman is no Igraine. He put his hands on Olwyn’s arms. He couldn’t decide whether to push her away or pull her closer. “I’d call it an ambitious woman who sees a crown on her head trying to seduce her king.”

  “Your princess is ambitious, too.” She put her mouth against his neck, raising gooseflesh. “I merely use different means to power. More pleasant means, I believe.” Her hand loosened his breeches.

  He turned his head and saw the blue scarf on the table next to the bed. He pushed her away. “I’m sorry, Olwyn. I am faithful to Igraine.” He stepped back. “Unless you had something else to discuss, you should go.”

  “Majesty,” she said, an air of gentle chiding in her voice. “If you have not yet wed your princess, what harm is there?” She tipped her head. “Does your princess please you?”

  “Igraine pleases me in more ways than you could imagine.”

  “I doubt that.” She closed the gap between them and put her arms around him, pressing herself up against him. “Your princess need never know.”

  He pulled her hands off him and pushed her arms down to her sides. “I think you should go, Olwyn.” He opened the door for her.

  She paused next to him before walking through the door. “This is not over,” she whispered against his ear.

  He grabbed her arm. “Do you threaten your king, my lady?”

  Her mouth curved in a languid smile. “You misunderstand, majesty. I would never threaten my king.” She tipped her head in the smallest nod proper and walked past Malcolm with her head held high.

  Braedan waited until she was out of earshot to motion Malcolm into his room. He shut the door. “Have you found out anything more about her?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “The servants are either bewitched by her or afraid of her. I haven’t had time to go into the town yet, but perhaps someone there will say something.” He nodded toward the bed. “The princess will appreciate your devotion.”

  Braedan turned away. “You can go.” He picked up the blue silk and lay
down in his bed. I’ll marry her the moment I’m back if she’ll let me—alliance or no.

  In the morning, Braedan woke from a fitful sleep and dressed in simple breeches and tunic. He pulled on his boots and splashed cold water on his face, then strapped on his sword and slipped the dagger that Hrogarth had given him into his belt. He took a deep breath and strode to the door.

  Malcolm bowed. “Sire.”

  Braedan noted the lines under Malcolm’s eyes. “Did you sleep?”

  “A few hours. I just relieved Ewan a short time ago.”

  “Do you know where Mac Rian is this morning?”

  “He’s waiting for you in his study.”

  Malcolm led him through the long corridors of the estate to a small room at the far end of the house where Mac Rian waited near a table laden with food. He greeted Braedan with a smooth bow. “Your majesty. I thought we could break our fast while we discuss the problem of the tribes.”

  Braedan sat. “An excellent suggestion.” The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner I can go home. A servant poured mead for Braedan and portioned food onto a trencher. “I don’t want mead. Bring water,” Braedan said.

  “I was pleased to see how many men you brought with you, sire,” Mac Rian said. “We should be able to dispatch the problem with ease.”

  Braedan leaned forward. “Is that what you thought—that I came to slaughter some tribesmen for you? I have no intention of drawing the tribes into a battle unless I must. I don’t intend to lose my men in the forest because you refuse to obey the treaty.”

  Mac Rian’s face paled. “What do you mean, majesty?”

  “I know you have violated the ancient treaty between Taura and the tribes,” Braedan said. “I just don’t know why. If you have a good reason, please tell me. I will defend you as your liege lord if the cause is just. But Mac Rian, if you are making trouble or seeking something that isn’t yours, tell me now. I will not humiliate myself or the crown before the tribes.”

  The man’s face was ashen, and his hands shook. “Seeking something? I don’t know what you mean.”

  He’s dug himself into a hole that he wasn’t prepared to be in. “Who are you in league with, Mac Rian?”

  “I am in league with no one other than my king.”

  Braedan opened his mouth, but a breathless servant burst into the room. “Majesty, my lord, you’re needed right away.”

  Both men stood and followed the young man to the great hall. Two of Mac Rian’s men stood in the hall holding a woman between them. She was dressed in furs and leather; one cheek bore a fresh bruise, and blood dripped from a cut on one arm. Her hands were bound behind her back. She stood still and calm, her head bowed in demure acceptance of her captivity.

  Mac Rian stepped toward the woman. “Who are you? Why did you venture across the road?”

  She lifted her head, and when she saw Braedan, she flinched. She seemed to force herself to straighten. “I didn’t. Your men found me performing an earth ritual in the forest. They brought me here.”

  Mac Rian’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Is she an earth guardian?”

  One of his men nodded and turned her around. He forced open her right hand. Braedan saw a brand in the shape of a circle with a cross through it. Faint silver light glowed under the mark. “We found her performing an earth ritual on this side of the great road.”

  Mac Rian stepped closer to her as his men turned her back around. “What were you doing? Cursing my estates?”

  “I cursed nothing.”

  Braedan frowned. This isn’t right. This isn’t the kind of woman I’d expect in the tribes. This woman fears me—I saw it on her face—and she seems to have already accepted defeat.

  Mac Rian motioned to his men. “Take her to the prison. Chain her and put a heavy guard around her.” He turned to Braedan. “I trust, sire, that we can use some of your men to guard her as well?”

  “You don’t speak for me, Mac Rian. And you won’t order my men,” Braedan said.

  Mac Rian stared at him, his lips tight. Malcolm and another guard flanked Braedan. “Do you see? The wolf tribe has nothing but hatred for me. They wish to ruin my holdings, and now they are even sending their earth guardians across the road to curse me with their magic.”

  Braedan folded his arms. “I saw a woman kidnapped from the forest where she was doing what is her right to do on her land. You’re a fool, Mac Rian. Don’t you see what they’ve done? They put one of their women out for you to capture to draw you into a fight. Do you really think you would hold her if she didn’t want to be held? She could have escaped your men in the forest. She was bait. They will thrash you and send you back here limping, if you’re lucky. If you’re not, they will kill you.”

  A muscle twitched in Mac Rian’s jaw. “This is an act of aggression against my holdings. I am within my rights to defend myself. I will ready my men to attack the wolf tribe at dawn tomorrow. If you care to join us, your majesty, we will welcome you.”

  He can’t see past whatever bargain he’s made. “Before I commit to anything, I will speak with the woman alone. Leave us.”

  A shocked silence pressed in on them. Mac Rian’s lips had gone nearly white. He finally bowed. “As you wish, sire.” He motioned his men from the hall.

  Malcolm stepped forward to take hold of the guardian, but Braedan motioned him away. “If I make him leave, will you speak with me peaceably?” he asked the woman.

  She gave him a slow nod. “Yes, your majesty.” She flinched again.

  She calls me majesty. She’s not tribal, and she knows she made a mistake. “Leave us,” Braedan told his guards. Malcolm hesitated. “I’ll be fine, Malcolm. She has promised a peaceful conversation. The tribes do not break faith.” He dropped his voice. “You can keep Mac Rian’s men away from the door, though. I’d rather he not hear any of this.” Malcolm nodded and left the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.

  “You know something of the tribes?” the woman asked.

  “Just a bit.” He gestured to her hands. “If you wish, I will remove the ropes.”

  She eyed him, still distrustful.

  “You promised me a peaceful conversation. I have no reason to doubt you.”

  She turned and offered her hands. He drew his dagger and sliced through the ropes. She motioned to the dagger when he stepped back. “You have a sacred blade.”

  “Hrogarth gave it to me. What is your name?”

  “Esma.”

  “And you are an earth guardian?”

  She swallowed hard. “I-I am.”

  “Were you on this side of the boundary?”

  “No. I was in the forest, in a sacred grove, and Mac Rian’s men surprised me. They brought me back here.”

  Braedan put the dagger back in his belt. “What were you doing?”

  “I was performing a sacrifice that is required of us. It is a sacred ritual.”

  He stepped closer to her. She tensed. He dropped his voice. “What does Mac Rian want?”

  She hesitated, her eyes steady on his.

  “You must know. You were left there, weren’t you? You baited Mac Rian’s men. Why?”

  “He seeks the Brae Sidh. He wants an earth guardian to reveal the Brae Sidh village.”

  That bastard. His belly clenched. He’s after the same thing I am. “Is he working with someone else? Do you know?”

  “I don’t know. I only know what we have heard his men say as they’ve trampled through our holy places.”

  “Do you know why he seeks the Sidh?”

  “For a treasure he cannot touch or use. It’s a fool’s quest. Our prophecies say that a god must wield it and a man with the blood of Aiden and Brenna must carry it. I don’t know why he seeks it.” She paused. “I don’t know why you seek it, either.”

  His heartbeat quickened, and he fought to maintain composure and resolve. “I don’t know what—”

  “You seek Cuhail’s Reliquary, but you must know—it holds only death for you. Abandon your search and re
turn to Torlach. You are not the rightful heir, but if you return now, before you do more damage to Taura, you might yet be a good king.”

  The rightful heir. Pieces clicked into place. This is why the dark man said he would find the heir. He never said he would kill her. He believes she exists, and he wants her to carry this reliquary for him. He shuddered. I destroyed the sayada and imprisoned servants of the kirok for him—for a promise of help in gaining my throne. I am no better than he. “What is this reliquary?”

  “It is the key to healing the earth. It holds the relics of sacrifice from the great battle between Alshada and Namha—Cuhail’s sword, the tears of the Syrafi chieftain, and the animstone of the first Brae Sidh queen. In the wrong hands, it is chaos and death.”

  Gods. I thought it was a fool’s quest. I thought I’d never find it. I thought I could make a show of looking for it and eventually he’d give up. “Who would want this reliquary?”

  “The Forbidden,” she said. “The creatures who live off human transgressions. If they control the relics, they can release Namha and enslave all humanity.” She tsked. “How does a man become king of Taura without knowing these things? These are all written in the kirok scriptures and the tribal wisdom books.”

  He crossed his arms and turned away. I’m no better than my father. I’ve betrayed the tribes for ambition and greed. I’ve put the very existence of the Sidh at risk. And if this woman is right, I’ve put my country, my people, even the world in danger. All for a throne. “Esma, I have to leave you here, but I’ll get you out. And I will leave my own men to guard you to ensure that the Mac Rian men don’t abuse you. Will you promise me you will stay here? Don’t try to escape?”

  “Because you carry Hrogarth’s blade, I will trust you.”

  He went to the door. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Malcolm waited outside. Braedan drew him aside. “I want my own guards on her door. No one goes in or out of there without my permission, and we’ll feed her with food from our stores. Nothing of Mac Rian’s goes in there.”