Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (27 page)

She wrapped one leg around his. His legs were lithe and muscular and smooth against hers. “And somewhere along the way, you grew up.”

“I hope so. I want to be a good leader. I don’t want to be the man my father was, but I don’t want to be the man my uncle wants me to be, either.”

“Who does he want you to be, then?”

“Someone merciless. Ruthless.”

She wove her fingers into his hair. “That’s not you. I thought it was, but you’re not your uncle. Or your father. You’re Braedan, and you can make this throne what you wish.” She kissed him. “I wouldn’t be in your bed if I didn’t believe you’d be a good king.”

He said nothing for some time, his expression serious and thoughtful. “I can be. With you next to me.” He traced her lips. “I love your lips. I’ve wanted to taste these lips from the first night I saw you.” He kissed her neck and belly and worked his way down.

“And yet you still bedded my maid.”

His lips paused at the top of her leg. “That was not what you thought it was.”

“Oh?”

He lifted his face back to hers. “My uncle bedded her. I found her crying in the corridor. She didn’t want to go back to her room. She feared facing you. I don’t know why—she confessed that you are the kindest mistress she’s ever served. I think she didn’t want to disappoint you. I let her sleep in my bed, and I slept in the antechamber.”

Igraine sat up. “You took the blame for your uncle? Why?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Because I like it when you’re angry with me.”

She hit him with a pillow. “You ass.”

He laughed.

“You mean you let me scold you just because it tightens your groin?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

She hit him again; he took the pillow and put it behind his head. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner?”

“Would you have believed me? Or would you have thought I only said it to get you into bed?”

She picked up another pillow, but he tackled her and kissed her. She slapped his shoulder even as she surrendered to the kiss. “You great ass.” She bit his earlobe.

He bit her shoulder in return. “I love your accent.”

She grinned. “You want me to curse you with an Eiryan accent, then? You like my lilt, is it? Aye, and you’re an evil, foul, prick, son of a sheep, m’lord.” She shivered as his kisses grew more insistent.

He gave her a kiss that awakened desire again. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t think I could ever want another woman.”

Igraine shivered. “Nor would I want another man.” Decorum and propriety disappeared, and passion was all that mattered.

***

Braedan propped his head on one hand and watched Igraine brush her hair. The early light streaming in through the broken window hovered around her as a halo. “That sight might be enough to turn me into an early riser.”

She turned and smiled. “Good morning, love.” She put down her brush and sat next to him. Her dressing gown fell open to reveal her legs. She leaned down to kiss him, her lips lingering on his a moment longer than he expected. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I have in months. What sleep I got, that is.” He stroked her hair. “Regrets?”

“None. You?”

“No.” He sat up.
Can I be worthy of a woman like this?
“Is this how it will always be? You’ll be up for hours before I’m awake, running the country and making councilors flee with tails between their legs until I smooth things over?”

“Perhaps.”

He pulled her into another kiss. “Come back to bed.”

“I have duties. So do you.”

“I’d rather stay in bed.” He brushed her hair back from her neck. “The cut—it’s already healing.”

“I’ve always healed quickly.” She showed him her wrists. “The rope burns are nearly gone.”

He kissed her wrists and buried his face in her hair. “Do you think our sons will have this copper hair? And your green eyes? Or your temper?”

“My brothers don’t. All three have brown hair and blue eyes, and none of them have my temper.” She smiled. “I’ll not be a broodmare, my lord. You may as well sire a son first if you want one. I’ll not spend my life carrying children in the hopes that I might give you a son. And I’ll not stop taking the herbs until we’re wed. I’ll not be with child until I have your name.”

The way she talks to me—my father would never have tolerated this.
He grinned. “As long as we’re bargaining, give me two sons. One for the throne and one for the ducal seat. Fair?”

She laughed. “All right. Unless I convince you to change the inheritance laws and give your daughters an equal chance.”

Daughters just like her. Could I be so lucky?
“One argument at a time.” Her lilt aroused him. He untied her dressing gown and slipped one hand inside. She didn’t push it away. “Half an hour. I’ll make it worthwhile.”

“Such a high opinion of yourself,” she said, but her voice wavered. “Perhaps I should school you a bit, then?”

He grinned. “Please do.”

“Braedan.” The whisper was silk over steel. “If you’ll swear to keep to me always, I’ll not leave you. Not for Eirya, not for another man. I’ll never leave your bed.”

“I swear it. I do.” He pulled her down to the bed with him.
How could I want another woman?

They were talking quietly of Taurin politics, when Logan knocked on Igraine’s bedchamber door. “Highness?”

Braedan pulled her close. “Don’t answer. I don’t want to be king just yet.”

She kissed him. “You are king, love. And he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.” She stood and pulled on her dressing gown. “One moment, Logan.”

“Is the king with you, my lady?”

She smiled at Braedan. “He is.”

“He should hear this as well.”

Braedan frowned and pulled on breeches. “Do you think they found Matthias?”

“So quickly?”

He put a hand on her arm. “Wear your hair this way.” He pulled it over her shoulder to cover a mark he’d left on her neck, and her face turned red. It satisfied him that, despite her boldness, she was discomforted by their passion.

They left her bedchamber to find Logan and Cormac in her study, both of them wearing grim expressions. Igraine sat down behind her desk, and Braedan took a seat across from her. “Well?” Braedan asked.

“There’s been an attack, majesty,” Logan said. “On Lord Guinness. He was on his way to his house this morning to inspect it. We had the extra guards around him as you requested, and he had his own guards, but they were assassins.”

Igraine gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Gods—Duncan—”

Braedan thought the earth might as well have dropped from beneath his feet. He let out a long breath. “Dead?”

“Yes, your majesty. And his guards, and several of our guards as well.”

Igraine put her face in her hands and sobbed. Braedan stood and put his hands on her shoulders.
Guinness, dead. This will surely mean war if Igraine was right about his relationship to Cedric.

Cormac cleared his throat. His face was pale and his hands shook, but he spoke clearly. “Most of the assassins escaped. Those we killed had no marks to identify them.”

“What would lead someone to do this?” Braedan asked. “Do we have any idea?”

“None, your majesty, but—” Logan hesitated.

“Tell me.”

“The men who survived can’t agree on the number of assassins,” Logan explained. “I wouldn’t think anything of that, except that one of them says one of the men among the assassins disappeared. The man who saw him said he stabbed Guinness, then vanished.”

A cold chill ran down Braedan’s back.
He’s returned.
The man had told him not to marry Igraine—he had said Braedan’s desire would be his downfall. Now, he was trying to ensure that his words came true. “Thank you, Logan.” He waved them away.

Braedan knelt next to Igraine as she wept into her hands. He turned her to face him and took her hands in his. “I am so sorry, Igraine. I swear I will do everything I can to find out who did this and bring down the king’s justice on his head.”

She sat very still, very quiet, tears spilling onto his hands where he gripped hers. “Go. I wish to be alone.”

“Igraine—”

“I don’t want to say something I will regret. Please, leave before I do.”

“I didn’t do this.”

“If you hadn’t taken this throne, Duncan might be alive.”

That truth twisted his stomach.
I can’t deny that.
“I am going to sort this business out as much as I can, and then I have to go north. I will leave Logan and Cormac to work with you to find out what happened. I will trust that you can try to smooth things over with your father.”

Her tears stopped. “Duncan was my father’s best friend. This will require more than a smoothing over. Do you trust me to deal with my father over this? Without you here?”

“Yes. I do. If you will be my queen, you will need to govern when I am absent.”

“You give me the power of a queen already? Even without a formal alliance?”

He nodded. “I trust you. I love you.”

The room was still, silent. She fixed her gaze on his. “Thank you, Braedan. I will not disappoint you.”

“Igraine.” He stopped and let out a breath. “I am sorry for this. I will do whatever I can to make amends. I swear to you.”

She nodded. “I meant everything last night. But now, I need to think. I need time.”

“Can I come see you later?”

“I will come to you. When I’m ready.”

He nodded again. He stood and kissed her forehead before he left the room. As the guard closed her door, Braedan heard Igraine’s sobs break free, and a lump formed in his throat.
I have to rid myself of the dark man.

Chapter Seventeen

We began as two. We end as one.

— Queen Brenna’s diary

Mairead’s lungs ached. She tried to catch her breath as she fought the hands that pinned her. His legs between hers, he stared down at her with a confident gleam in his eye that said he knew he’d bested her. “Give up, my lady. You’re as good as taken.”

She gritted her teeth.
I won’t let you beat me.
She mustered strength, shifted her weight, and kneed him in his side. The force of the blow knocked him off-balance. One hand let go of her wrist, and she brought her elbow across her body to slam it into his forearm. He yelped and released the other wrist.

She squirmed free and stood. He lunged for her. When he grabbed her wrist, she slammed the heel of her other hand into his ribs. He choked out another yelp. She gripped her hands together, elbowed him in the ribs, kneed him in the stomach, and pushed him over.

Connor held his hands up in surrender. “All right, you win. Damn it, Mairead. I need those ribs.”

She wiped her forehead. “So that was better?”

“Yes. I’d say you’re getting much better.” He rolled to his side, one hand clutching his ribs.

She stepped closer. “Did it really hurt so much?”

He snatched her leg and pulled her down. The air rushed from her body again. Before she could react, he straddled her, his knees holding her legs together. One arm held her down across the chest, and he held a dagger at her throat. He hovered above her with a wicked grin, his face just inches from hers. “No quarter. No mercy.”

The flat of the blade felt cool against her skin, but she knew how sharp he kept his daggers, and she wouldn’t risk moving more than a swallow. His arm pressed her shoulders tight against the ground. “No mercy,” she said with effort.

“How would you get out of this?”

“Don’t know. Can’t move.”

He loosened his arm enough for her to draw a breath. “If he wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. But if he doesn’t, he has to loosen his grip somewhere. It’s probably going to be his arm. What would you do?”

“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 money 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.