Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (43 page)

Emrys had waited for the heir to be unprotected. He had sent thieves, slavers, Ferimin, even a bear, and nothing had worked. The raven remained steadfast and loyal to his duty.

But now—he was riding south, alive still, making enough noise that the slavers would follow and she would be safe.
Could it be this good? Could he have left her?
Though she was in the palace, there were ways to penetrate that barrier. Now that she was unprotected by their bond, it would be a simple thing to capture her.

A flash of light, and once again his mistress stood next to him. “You have finally succeeded in breaking their bond?”

“It appears that way.”

She turned her cold eyes on him. “We no longer need her. There is another one of her blood, and he is unprotected on Taura.”

“Another? How?”

“The father remarried and sired a son before he died. The boy is a young man now, living with his mother on a farm in Taura. He has no idea of his blood. We can let him live in ignorance until we know where the reliquary is and then use him to carry it.”

“And her? What will we do?”

She turned her gaze toward the city. “Once the raven is dead, she won’t matter. Alshada still has his hand upon her, though. Find a way to change her course. I don’t want her showing up later when we have the boy in our control.”

The sneer crossed his face. “I think I know how to get rid of her.”

“Good.” She paused. “I have work to do on Taura. Contact me when she is put off course.”

“Yes, mistress.”

She disappeared again, and Emrys slipped between the elements and found Seamus Allyn raging in his study. “You seem angry.”

Seamus rounded on him, a dagger already in his grip. “Someone warned him. All I did was set a few buildings on fire.” He took three quick steps toward Emrys and reached for him.

Emrys caught the slaver’s fist in one hand, and the man started to choke and gasp at the touch. The swirl of transgressions around his head tempted Emrys to draw more of Allyn’s soul, but he resisted.
Not yet.
He let go, and the slaver stumbled back toward his desk. “You can salvage this. He’s riding south alone. He’ll try to lure you away to confront him. Let him tire himself, and then fall on him and do what you will.”

Seamus drew heavy breaths and reached for his oiska. He took a long drink from the skin and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. “What about the girl?”

“Use her to set the prince against your rival.”

It took a moment. He had the brutality to maintain his empire, Emrys thought, but not the intellect. As the idea dawned, a slow smile crept across his face. “Take her and make it look like Mac Mahon did it.”

“You know a man named Melik?”

“Yes.”

“He can be bought. He owes much money in Espara. He’ll deliver her to you for the promise of a fair sum.”

“How much?”

“Make up a generous number. You need never pay it. I can take care of Melik.”

“All right. And the girl?”

“Keep her for yourself. She’s a pretty thing, and she’s young. Haven’t you earned the right to have more than a ragged whore around your legs? Perhaps she could give you a son to replace the one you lost. Or, sell her. She’d fetch a good price from the Tal’Amuni.”

Seamus nodded slowly. “It’s as good as done.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

A woman with power is a two-edged sword.

— Tribal saying

Braedan reined in at the crest of the hill above Kiern. Malcolm, the commander of the Taurin forces in Logan’s absence, signaled to the drummers, and they sounded a beat to rein in the entire retinue. As the group halted, Malcolm sidled over to Braedan, his big warhorse pawing the ground in anticipation. “Sire?”

Braedan gestured. “This is why I love Taura.”

The hill sloped west into the great expanse of forested tribal territory and east onto the wide pastureland and fields of northern Taura. Shaggy red and black cattle with long, twisting horns dotted the plains in small groupings. Rough fences and stone corrals carved out pastures and property lines. In the distance, the wild hills of the highlands sparkled with scant early snow. In the summer, they would be bright green and purple from the grasses and heather.

The great forest lay to the west, a solid canopy of fir that stretched as far as Braedan could see. Thousands of tribesmen called the forest home. Braedan didn’t know how many tribes existed or how many people they claimed. For all he knew, there could be tribesmen hovering within the trees just thirty paces away.
It’s more than likely,
he thought.

It had taken three weeks to get to Kiern. They ran into foul weather more than once, and traveling with a large retinue proved challenging. The supply wagons slowed them down. When the roads became impassable, they had to beg the hospitality of eager nobles, and he found it hard to extricate himself from their presence once they had his ear. He found the diplomacy it required tedious. He promised nothing and took his leave as soon as the men and wagons could travel.

Along with the challenges of politics and weather, Braedan had found himself missing Igraine more than he thought he would. When they camped each night, he ached from her absence. He could distract himself during the day, but at night, only Igraine would have satisfied him. Women were plentiful. Anytime the retinue stopped, it attracted a large following from the neighboring towns. He found himself uninterested. One pretty girl was especially eager to say she had been with the king, but she was a pale comparison to his lady in Torlach. It was easy to turn her down, even before he noticed the blue silk scarf and remembered the words “rutting goat.”

He twisted and untwisted the silk around his hand for a long time that night and fell asleep frustrated, thoughts of Igraine filling his head.
It was too soon to be apart from her. Had I known I would have her in my bed, I would have planned to send someone else.
But he knew he couldn’t. He needed to fulfill his promises to Hrogarth and the dark man, and if he proceeded carefully, he thought he could accomplish both on this trip.

He gazed down the slope of the main road. The city of Kiern sprawled across the fields in the haphazard array of many of Taura’s most ancient towns. The manor house and central town had a wall, but beyond that, houses tapered off into small individual farms and cattle pastures. The city presented an easy target for conquest. He wondered if it had been so haphazard and unprotected when Mac Niall was alive.

He tightened his grip on the reins and shifted in the saddle. He had refused livery for most of the trip, but this day, knowing they would arrive in Kiern, he had dressed in his best green and gold doublet and the finest cloak he owned. He wore leather gauntlets trimmed in ermine, and his squire had polished his boots to a bright black sheen. He had fastened a formal dress sword at his side.
All to impress a man I hate.
He took a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he said to Malcolm. The captain signaled to the drummer, who struck up a marching beat, and the men started forward again.

Mac Rian was waiting for them on horseback with his own small guard when Braedan’s men arrived at the front gates of the estate. The slight, graying man fidgeted in his saddle. He put on a practiced smile and bowed from the seat of the regal gray warhorse he sat. “Your majesty. I welcome you to our meager estates.”

Braedan reined in his horse, irritated that Mac Rian’s mount was finer than his own.
The man doesn’t even try to humble himself.
He returned the bow with a very slight inclination of his head. “Mac Rian. I trust you have accommodations prepared?”

“Of course, majesty. My seneschal awaits your arrival in the great hall. Your men are welcome to encamp on the south field beyond the city wall.” He surveyed the retinue. “I had hoped Princess Igraine would accompany you. Has she remained in Torlach?”

“She has. She is assisting my uncle and seneschal with the administration of my duties while I am here taking care of your dilemma.”

Mac Rian’s jaw twitched. “We heard a rumor, majesty,” he said.

“Oh?”

Mac Rian nodded. “There is talk that you are negotiating with Princess Igraine’s father for her hand. Is it true?”

Braedan pulled off his gloves. “The lady has given her consent for me to ask for her hand.”
Let him stew on that. He’ll have little hope of getting close to the throne with Olwyn if he knows I’m to wed Igraine.

Mac Rian seemed to cringe, his face twisting for a moment before he recovered. “Well, your majesty, my daughter will be disappointed. She was much anticipating the lady’s arrival, if only to hear her beautiful voice once again. But let us not tarry here in the cool air. My men will escort you to the great hall. There are stablemen waiting to take your horses.”

“You won’t mind if my own men escort me, will you, Mac Rian?” Braedan gestured to his personal guard.

Mac Rian’s thin mouth narrowed, and his fists tightened within the leather gauntlets he wore. “Of course, majesty. But let me assure you, you are safe within our walls.”

“Of course,” Braedan replied. He nodded toward the buildings in the distance. “Lead the way.”

In the great hall, Mac Rian’s servants seated Braedan and his men and offered wine, mead, and food. Mac Rian’s thin smirk revealed his satisfaction with the hospitality offered by his estate. Braedan found it lacking. He didn’t expect the castle at Torlach, but the lords who had given him lodging at the last minute had been better prepared for his arrival than this petty duke. Braedan wondered how much of the duchy’s wealth he had squandered.

As the guards sat at the long table to drink and eat a light meal, Mac Rian gestured to the chairs near the hearth for himself and Braedan. They both sat, and Mac Rian swirled his wine in a silver goblet and held it up to Braedan. “I welcome you again, your majesty. To a long and peaceful reign.”

Braedan raised his own goblet, but he didn’t drink until he saw Mac Rian drink. The wine’s aroma had a bitter cast, and Braedan detected a faint vinegar flavor.
I had better wine in exile.
He set his cup down next to him on the hearth. “Tell me the latest with the tribes.”

Mac Rian drank again, but before he could answer, they were interrupted by Mac Rian’s seneschal, an older man who shuffled into the room with a gait born of grudging obligation. He cleared his throat. “The lady Olwyn wishes to greet the king.”

Mac Rian nodded. “Of course, Lewis. Send her in.” Lewis bowed as Mac Rian turned to Braedan. “Forgive me, sire, but my daughter has spoken of nothing but her time in your court since we left. She wishes to greet you.”

“I would be delighted to see your daughter once again.”

Mac Rian gave him a thin smile. “I fear I’ve been too indulgent with Olwyn, but then, she has suffered so for such a young woman. My wife died of a wasting illness several years ago. She was always a frail woman. Giving birth to our Olwyn taxed her body near to death’s door. Olwyn has turned into a gracious young woman despite my best efforts to the contrary.” They both turned their heads and stood as the door opened again. “And here is the lady herself to prove me right.”

As much as Braedan adored his fiery Eiryan princess, Olwyn took his breath away. Raven-haired and lithe, Olwyn walked with a smooth, gliding gait, and she wore dark blue and silver that clung to her body as a second skin. Dark skin and dark eyes gave her an exotic appeal. He wondered whose secrets hovered behind that mouth.
Keep to yourself. This one would take all of your secrets, gore you with them, and make you thankful for it.
He bowed. “Lady Olwyn. How lovely to see you again.”

Olwyn rose from a deep curtsy, and Braedan took her hand to kiss it. “You grace our home, your majesty.” Her voice had a low, even tone. She addressed him eye to eye. “Your Eiryan lady didn’t accompany you?”

Braedan shook his head. “Someone had to stay in Torlach to administer my affairs. The lady Igraine is assisting my lord uncle and my seneschal to ensure that our kingdom doesn’t fall to pieces while I am here.”

She affected a sad tone. “Ah, majesty, I am disappointed.” She offered him a seductive smile. “I hope I can fill some small part of her role for you while you are in our home.”

Be careful.
He smiled at her. “I appreciate your consideration, but no one could replace my princess.”

She turned to her father. “I’ve checked with the kitchen. All is prepared for the feast tonight.”

“Feast?” Braedan turned to Mac Rian. “This wasn’t an excuse for a celebration.”

Mac Rian bowed. “We wished to welcome you properly. And, as I mentioned, we had hoped the lady would accompany you so that we might show her northern hospitality.”

You’ll be glad you didn’t catch the sharp side of her tongue.
Braedan wished again that Igraine had joined him. As vexing as she could be, it would have been fun to watch her spar with Mac Rian.
And it would have been entertaining to flaunt our affections in front of Olwyn. Igraine would have given her much to think about and enjoyed every moment of the game.
“Keep it to a minimum, will you?” he said, giving his voice a purposeful edge. “I’m here to help you with the tribes. I have duties in Torlach, and I have no wish to end up wintering in the north because you wish to carouse with the crown.”

Mac Rian inclined his head. “As you wish, sire.”

Braedan turned back to Olwyn and bowed. “My lady Olwyn, if we are to feast tonight, I fear you’ll have to excuse your father and me. We have much to discuss.”

She curtsied again. “Of course, my lords. I will await your pleasure elsewhere.” She left the room with fluid grace, attracting the eye of several Taurin guards.
 
Malcolm rose and followed her from the room.

“Your daughter is a rare beauty,” Braedan said to Mac Rian.

Mac Rian gestured to their chairs. “I do thank you, majesty. I believe that when she heard of your ascension, she had hoped to win your affections.”

I’m sure she did.
“You were about to tell me about the tribes.”

“Yes.” Mac Rian drank. Braedan had the impression that it was an act designed to make him appear thoughtful. In truth, he was certain Mac Rian had known what he wanted to say since he left Torlach a month ago. “The tribes. I fear that the difficulties with the tribes have increased since I left Torlach. We have skirmishes every few days now. They continue to encroach on the main road, preventing my men from coming and going, and have even gone so far as to attack a merchant wagon two weeks ago. My men were able to save the man and his goods, but I’ve had to insist that all traders take the eastern road. They aren’t happy, but it’s a choice of dealing with tribesmen on the main road or thieves on the eastern road.”

It’s not as simple as all that,
Braedan thought. Before he left Torlach, Braedan sent three of his best men north to gather information on Mac Rian and the tribes in preparation for his arrival. Two days before arriving in Kiern, he had met with one of the guards, and he now knew that Hrogarth’s words were true: Mac Rian had been sending men into the great forest. According to the guard, the tribesmen teased Mac Rian’s men, leading them into traps, down dead ends, and in circles throughout the forest. “They play cat and mouse with the Taurins,” the man said. “It amuses them. They’ve even seen me—you can’t hide from a tribesman—and they just let me watch it all.”

What is he after? Is he looking for the Sidh too?
Braedan swirled his wine. “I’m curious. Why is it that your predecessor’s family lived here for generations and amassed great wealth and never had trouble with the tribes? What has changed so much in less than a decade?”

“I do not know, majesty. Of course, Mac Niall was in league with dark forces. His paramour was a sorceress. Perhaps he was in league with the tribes as well.”

Braedan cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Rumor and gossip. I’ve no wish to recount all of that. I just want to know what you’ve done that has angered the tribes so much.”

“I swear to you. I have done nothing to bring this on.”

Braedan set down his goblet and stood. Mac Rian followed suit. “I’d like to see your grounds, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, majesty. I’ll accompany you,” Mac Rian said.

Braedan held up a hand. “No need. My guards will join me.” He inclined his head. “See that my rooms are prepared. I won’t be long. If we’ll be feasting tonight, I’ll need to wash off the dust and mud of the road. I’d like a bath prepared when I return.”

He found the tightening of Mac Rian’s mouth rewarding. The man didn’t appreciate being treated as a servant. He bowed. “Of course, your majesty. Lewis will see to it.”