The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  “To us,” Brath corrected.

  She dipped her head in wordless acknowledgment and popped a berry into her mouth.

  He advised her of his plan to move her, Sigel, Silas and Cailleach into rooms inside the great hall. She told him she and Cailleach had commandeered a seamstress.

  He nodded. “I’m glad you felt comfortable making those decisions, Briana. How do you feel about accepting other responsibilities for the household servants? They will be asking questions about your role here soon enough.”

  She sighed. “Lady Isabella tried to prepare me for this. As soon as I understand your expectations, I’ll do what’s required.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly and he gave her a quizzical look. “Hmm… rather subservient for a woman who just told me she didn’t take orders well.”

  “Not at all. I realize there will be things expected of me, and I will rise to the occasion. I didn’t say I would like it,” she said.

  Again he laughed, the warm timbre pleasing enough to bring a half-smile to her face. She flushed as she accepted another serving of eggs.

  They talked for a couple of hours about how duties would be divided and when she should consult with him. He provided background history on the staff, people whose names meant nothing to her yet, but for whom she would soon be responsible.

  “Well, you’re probably overwhelmed with information,” said Brath. “Perhaps we should stop here. Unless you’d like a fourth serving of eggs, maybe we could make a visit to Artanin.”

  Blushing seemed to be a new habit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a glutton, but we haven’t eaten much in the last few days, and this was so good and…”

  “Briana, I’m only teasing you. But we do have an adversary to interrogate, if you still feel the need to be there.”

  She nodded vigorously, wiping her mouth and setting the napkin beside her empty plate. He was at her side before she could think of getting up and took her hand. A brief knock and the door opened, admitting Sigel, completely outfitted and weaponed, looking fierce and anxious.

  “Are the two of you going to sip tea all day or can we get down to business?”

  Briana patted his shoulder. “We’re ready Sigel.”

  He led the way out of the hall, where they joined Cailleach, coming from the keep with Silas. Briana and Silas exchanged a smile as Brath invited Cailleach to come with them to the interrogation. When Silas asked if the king wished him there, Brath shook his head.

  “Not necessary, Silas. I suspect this is going to be fairly cut-and-dried.”

  “Very well, Your Majesty,” he replied, with a deferential bow. “I’ll work on getting things ready for the banquet tonight.”

  “Thank you, Silas.”

  Silas should bow to no man, she thought, gritting her teeth, but knew sadly that this was his lot in life. Beside the keep, Sigel opened a door leading down a dark staircase. Lighting two rushes, he handed one to Brath.

  “I don’t like the fact that she,” he looked at Briana, “is staying so close to Artanin.”

  “She’ll be moved today. As will you, Cailleach and Silas.”

  Both men moved in front of the women and Dara padded behind, the stone steps too narrow to walk side by side. Macabre shadows danced around her. A silken finger grabbed her face and she jumped back, swiping at the cobweb that had attached itself to her hair and down her nose. Only a pinprick of light far below indicated there was an end to the steep stairs. Briana tripped on a rough slab and fell into Brath’s back. He turned to help her, and she found herself against his chest. He made a sound she couldn’t interpret. They exchanged a glance. She quickly looked away.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “It’s okay.”

  Bottomless pit? The bowels of hell? The prick of light grew larger until the staircase emptied into a cavernous, musty room. The room was lit with rushes. At least they aren’t keeping him in the dark, Briana thought. Across the far end was a heavy gate constructed from thick wood stakes. Brath merely nodded at the posted guard who stepped back to let the king confront a disheveled and weary-looking Artanin, who sat curled up behind the bars. To his credit, when Brath entered, he rose immediately to his feet and bowed to his king.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Artanin. You have some explaining to do,” Brath said.

  “I do, but first I want to express my gratitude to Lady Briana for not allowing the lord marshall to execute me before hearing the explanation.”

  Sigel harrumphed and brought his sword to his chest, where Artanin could see it more clearly.

  Briana frowned at the lack of food. It didn’t seem like a good time to bring up the point.

  “Start talking,” Brath commanded, his tone neutral.

  The man licked his lips. He started to speak but the slapping sound of a dry mouth challenged his efforts.

  “Your Majesty,” Briana said, quietly, “Maybe he would be better equipped to tell us what’s happened if he had some water.”

  “He’s a prisoner, not a guest,” Brath responded.

  “He’s a human being.” She held his gaze.

  After a short pause, he said, “Very well. Guard, bring a pitcher of water for the prisoner.”

  Artanin attempted to speak again. “You think I tried to kill you, but the truth is, I saved your life.”

  “Really? By putting me into a decade-long sleep? That was bloody merciful of you.”

  “I could’ve killed you at that banquet. Those were my orders. I chose to disobey them, to allow the Mouse to come and fulfill the prophecy. I…” he stopped, accepting the water from the guard. When the cup was empty, he faced the king.

  “I have spent the last ten years trying to convince Lord Shamwa that there was no way to change the spell and hasten your death. I did everything I could to remain loyal to you and still save my own life.” Seeing he had the king’s attention he continued. “Lord Shamwa believed you were about to legitimize the faeries. He convinced me this was a bad idea. But I never would’ve been a part of any coup.”

  “And yet, you were.”

  “He had an army of Moherians,” said Artanin. “I feared that without the Mouse, we wouldn’t overcome them. I believed the best thing I could do was play his treacherous game, so I could keep you alive until the prophecy was fulfilled.”

  “You’re a druid, Artanin,” Sigel spat out. “You expect us to believe you couldn’t use magic to stop him?”

  “There is power that is more powerful than magic, my 1ord,” Artanin said.

  “How did you know about the prophecy?” asked Briana.

  “Likely my sister told him,” Cailleach said, her voice bitter. “We were the only ones who knew about the prophecy.”

  “But why?” asked Briana.

  “Probably because magic ruined her life, and she wants to see it destroyed as much as Shamwa does.”

  “That’s right, Cailleach,” Artanin confirmed. “She has no love for you and would do whatever Shamwa suggested, if it would hurt you.”

  “That’s not fair,” Briana said. “After all…”

  “Never mind, Briana,” said Cailleach. “It’s not important now. Please, Artanin, continue.”

  He continued to reveal Shamwa’s plan, until he came to the abduction of Briana. “That was the moment I feared I’d made a mistake. I had no choice but to carry out his orders. The men he sent on the mission with me would’ve killed us all if I failed to bring Lady Briana to Aurum Castle. I was afraid he meant to kill her, and was desperately trying to work out a way to prevent that. But you charmed him,” Artanin said, looking at Briana, “and he changed his mind and began to improvise. He has a weakness for a pretty face.”

  Briana stole a glance at Brath, wondering if he knew that Shamwa had been in love with his mother.

  “Did you weaken the seal on the balcony door to help me escape?”

  He nodded. ““Then I lured Shamwa out of the room by telling him that Uisneach troops were nearby, which was true.”
r />   “So how did you get to Ard Darach? What were you really trying to do on the hill?” Sigel asked.

  “I came with Shamwa’s forces as far as the battle and slipped away, hoping you’d be successful and get here yourselves. I thought I’d be able to release the spell on my own, but it didn’t work. Perhaps once Shamwa was alerted to my defection, he had Ealga block me.”

  “How did he know you defected?” Brath asked.

  “There’s a tight network of Gray Military that alerts him to every movement within Uisneach. I suggest you make destroying that network your first priority. I would bet he knew I was gone minutes after I left.”

  “Does he ever leave the castle?” Briana asked.

  “No. He has no magic of his own, and feels vulnerable outside of his protected home. He controls others through fear. Your lack of fear, milady, was one of the things that both intrigued and challenged him. However,” he said, apparently reading Sigel’s expression, “getting to him is not easy. You need powerful magic to break through the barrier that Ealga created for him.”

  “Let me handle that,” said Cailleach.

  “In due time, Cailleach,” Brath said. “Artanin’s right. We need to break up his army first.”

  Quiet settled over the room. Questioning looks passed between Brath and his team. Words were unnecessary to communicate an accord about Brath’s response.

  “Well, Artanin. I believe you. However, you’ll remain a prisoner here until we kill Lord Shamwa and secure the kingdom.”

  “Fine with me,” the druid said. “I’d be a dead man outside the walls of this castle.”

  Part of Briana wanted to argue against the killing of Shamwa, but she’d had already questioned whether there was evil that just had to be destroyed. Shamwa might just be a good case in point.

  The king and his advisors turned to leave. “Bring food for the druid,” Brath ordered.

  Briana followed him for a few steps before she remembered something. Turning back, she asked Artanin, “Who was the little person in his salon?”

  A wide grin split the druid’s face, making him almost handsome. “That, milady, was a faerie. You had more than just me helping you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “But you said…”

  “Aye, he hates faeries. But he’s not the only one who has spies. I wish we could’ve done more, and sooner, but perhaps part of the prophecy is that you learn to do for yourself.”

  “I’ll be damned,” she said, earning her a raised eyebrow from Brath.

  Cailleach went to her room in the keep and Sigel to the stables, which left Brath to walk her back to the great hall.

  “You must have things to do,” she said to him, as they approached the door.

  “I do, but they can wait until after lunch.” He slowed his pace and stopped just short of the door. “Before we go in, there’s one thing.”

  “What?”

  He fiddled with the hilt of his sword, looked at the ground and kicked at a clod of dirt. “I, um, you never actually answered the question about your willingness to marry me. Will you? Marry me?” He lifted hopeful eyes.

  His vulnerability tugged at newly strung heart strings. Regret and guilt warred with unexpected new emotions, and she felt a tiny crack start in her chest. Who am I to argue with destiny? “Yes, Brath, I will marry you.” And that is that. A royal engagement, fait accompli.

  Lunch was a simple affair in the great hall with more reflecting than talking. “I should get busy,” Brath said, wiping crumbs from his mouth. “What will you do, Briana?”

  “I think I’ll go to the stables. I want to check on Banrion.”

  Emmett Ryan walked in at that moment, accompanied by Jonathan.

  “Mr. Stark!” The tense lines that had made his face seem older than his actual years, were gone now. He looked relaxed and happy.

  “Milady,” he said. “I’m ready to assume my responsibilities as your squire. Thank you, Your Majesty,” he addressed the king with natural confidence, “for allowing me the opportunity to serve your wife.”

  “Well, she’s not my wife… yet,” he said, his warm expression rousing the horde of butterflies in her belly, “but she will be the queen soon enough, and will need the best protection possible. I hope you are up to the task, sir.”

  “I am,” said Jonathan, standing tall.

  “Mr. Stark, you’ve barely had any time with your father,” Briana said.

  “We’re both anxious to get on with our work. We’ll find time to catch up.”

  “Well, then, you can begin by accompanying me to the stables. Ready?”

  He handed Nua to her and nodded. Dara, sensing the opportunity for play, pranced about. Jonathan patted him. “Come on Dara. We’ve important work to do today.” He bowed respectfully.

  Brath and Briana smiled at each other. She followed her young squire out of the king’s chambers.

  The stable was nowhere near as sophisticated as the one at Winge Mansion, but more than adequate to house the horses of Ard Darach. The first stall housed a magnificent bay stallion, his long black mane and tail falling nearly to the ground. He was well over sixteen hands and solid muscle.

  “My word, you are a beauty, sir.”

  His thick neck arched and he snorted in response, but pushed his nose toward her. Slowly, she brought her hand to his muzzle, which he nuzzled without any attempt to nip. “And well-mannered, too. How about that?” She made her way down the aisle, stopping to speak to a little chestnut lady, tossing her head about and snorting prettily. “Yes, milady, you are beautiful as well, anyone can see that.” Banrion, hearing her mistress’s voice, leaned her head over the rails of her box and whinnied. “Hello, darling. How are you? They treating you well?”

  “We treat all the horses here well, milady,” a man with a deep voice asserted coolly, from behind her.

  Briana stood a little taller and turned toward him. “I’m sure you do, sir. They appear to be exceptionally well cared for. Hello, I’m Lady Briana.” She extended her hand to greet the man, and he reluctantly took it. His dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot at the back of his neck, opening a face squarely strong and tough, with hard edges. There truly is no such thing as a homely man in Uisneach, she thought. Dark, stormy eyes stared back, assessing her. An intense man who might be easily angered. Tread carefully, she advised herself.

  “I’m Riordan, Master of the Horse.”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. I came down to see how Banrion was making out in her new home.”

  “She appears well enough. Nice mare.”

  “Yes, she is,” Briana agreed, caressing the horse’s satiny neck.

  “From the Winge stable.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered, anyway. “Yes, Sir Thomas was generous with the mounts he provided.”

  Male voices blocked his response.

  “Himself will want to move out straight away and go after Shamwa. We need to be ready.”

  “Naw, he’s distracted by the pretty little hen who’s to become his wife.”

  “She’s a hen I’d like to…”

  Riordan stopped them gruffly. “Enough, men.”

  His tone stopped the banter of the men who now realized they weren’t alone. Five faces stared sheepishly at the woman standing before them.

  “My apologies, milady,” said the red-haired man who’d been prevented from saying what he’d like to do with the “pretty little hen.”

  “No worries.”

  Sir Jameson walked in behind his comrades and broke through them to take her hand. “Lady Briana, a pleasure to see you again. Come down to see your mare?”

  She nodded. “She’s settled in quite well, thanks to Riordan.” She smiled at the Master of Horse, hoping to charm him into a friendly relationship.

  “Have you met these fools?” he asked, nodding his head toward the others.

  “I believe we were about to be introduced. I’m Lady Briana, but perhaps you already know that.” She laughed, and off
ered them a cocky smile.

  They went around with introductions. The redhead was Sir Fergal – no last name, it seemed. He was tall and thin, reminding her of the scarecrow on the Wizard of Oz. The man who was bent on going after Shamwa was Sir Niall Harkin. Plain of face, his most remarkable feature was his blonde hair, hanging halfway down his back in a shimmering wave. When Sir Cruahan stepped forward to take her hand, she recalled his near-death experience at the hands of Sir Jameson. He was a large, muscular man with a fierce face, cropped dark hair and a rough beard. Sir Glendon Cavanaugh was the opposite of Cruahan, athletically trim and elegant with strawberry-blonde hair, long but perfectly coiffed. She thought he looked the most knightly of all the men. The last man was the one she was most eager to greet. She took Sir Faolan McPhee’s hand and told him she’d met his parents, and how happy they would be to learn he was well.

  “Thank you, lady. I plan to go home soon and relieve them of their worry.” The short, stocky man had a gentle crofter’s face, not unpleasant, with one eye that wandered occasionally, keeping her guessing about the direction of his gaze.

  “Maybe we could send someone to Moiria and relay the message sooner rather than later?” she offered, not knowing if this was possible, but hoping it was.

  “Most kind of you, milady.”

  They chatted amiably for a few minutes, recounting what things had been like for them when the curse was lifted. The genial ambiance shifted when King Brath and Sigel walked in. The knights promptly adopted an attitude of respect and servility.

  “Hello gentleman. Lady Briana,” Brath said, walking through the circle of men to stand next to her. “You found the stables.”

  The ease she’d found with the horses and men fell away, leaving her once again tense. She forced a smile. “I did. I met Riordan and,” she flashed a brilliant smile to the knights, “and these gallant gentleman.” Her eyes found Sigel’s.

  “How’s the mare, Briana?” He was the only one, other than Brath, who could get away with not using a more formal title.

  “Riordan’s taken excellent care of her and she seems quite content.”

  The exchange was short, as the men turned to doing a full inspection of the stable. Brath took her hand, sending a jolt through her.