Warrior of Ice. Michelle Willingham
their lives.
‘I was not there to know exactly what happened. But yes, they died.’ She rubbed her shoulders as if to fight off a chill. ‘Perhaps it would be different with stronger men, like you. And you already have a reason to travel to Tara.’
‘You want me to risk my life for your father?’ he prompted. ‘My loyalty does not lie with Ossoria.’ Only with Carice, whom he would protect with his life. But he had no desire to lay eyes upon the father who had refused to acknowledge him.
‘Would you intercede with the chieftain for me?’ she asked at last. ‘I presume you are his son or...one of his commanders?’
Killian folded his arms across his chest. ‘I am little more than a slave here, Lady Taryn. But Carice is like a sister to me.’
Confusion crossed over her face. ‘Then why did you—’ She stopped speaking and chose different words. ‘That is, if you are only a slave, why did you speak to the High King’s men on Brian Faoilin’s behalf?’
‘Because if the soldiers killed me, my life would be no loss to the chieftain.’ He spoke the words matter-of-factly, though the real answer was because he’d recognised the High King’s banner. There was no question that the King’s men posed a threat to Carice, and he’d gone to protect her.
The Lady straightened and regarded him. ‘I don’t believe a man like you would ever willingly go to die.’
‘You don’t know what sort of man I am.’ He lived each day with the knowledge that he was nothing to Brian Faoilin, beyond his fighting skills. And Taryn was wrong—he would die to save Carice’s life. She was the only person who cared anything for him. The only woman who had given him kindness after his mother had died. He traced the outline of the silver ring upon his smallest finger that Iona had given him before her death.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t know you at all. But I suspect you might be someone who could help me. For a price,’ she added.
Though it was true that he did need gold or silver to raise his status, he was wary of trusting a stranger. He knew nothing of this woman, aside from her claims.
‘My only concern is in protecting Lady Carice,’ he told her. ‘She does not wish to wed the High King.’ And she is dying, he thought, but didn’t say it. The journey to Tara might weaken her even faster. He would do whatever was necessary to prolong whatever life she had remaining.
The Lady gave a nod. ‘I understand.’
Killian didn’t miss the slight shiver when she spoke, as if she feared the High King. And likely she had reason to, for few women wanted to wed a man so ruthless. His own mother had fled from Rory Ó Connor, remaining in hiding for the rest of her life.
‘I don’t think you do,’ he countered. ‘Carice wants to slip away and escape the marriage altogether. She was planning to flee before the soldiers came.’
‘Perhaps I could help her,’ she offered. ‘That is, if she will let me travel with her.’ Taryn gripped her brat, drawing it closer.
‘You will have to ask.’ Killian stared at her, wondering exactly what she intended to do, once she reached Tara. Travelling alone was a disastrous idea, one more dangerous than she could imagine.
And yet...she could help his sister slip away at nightfall. Or Taryn could help to deceive the King’s men by disguising herself at night, letting them believe she was Carice and thereby granting his sister more time.
He wasn’t a man to make a decision lightly, especially when there was so much at stake. If he refused to let Taryn get involved, Carice would be taken against her will in the morning. It would be far too difficult to help his sister escape.
But a deception at night could work, especially if Taryn remained behind in Carice’s place. The soldiers might believe it for a few hours, if she kept her face shielded.
He couldn’t fathom why he was even considering this. It would never work.
‘May I warm myself by your fire?’ Taryn asked quietly.
He decided it was best to consult Carice in this, for it was her decision to make. ‘I will take you to my sister’s chamber, and you may warm yourself there,’ he told her, ‘but she has been ill and is resting. If she awakens, you may ask her what she wants to do.’
‘I would think she’d be relieved and eager to help me.’ Taryn’s mouth twisted. ‘Especially if she can somehow avoid the marriage.’ There was a faint trace of unrest in her eyes. For all her bravado, this woman was afraid of Rory Ó Connor.
He led her up the stone staircase and when they reached the top, he blocked her way. ‘I will let you meet my sister. But if Carice refuses to let you travel with us, you’re going to leave.’ He would find another way of helping his sister escape the marriage—even if it meant carrying her out of the fortress in the middle of the night.
Taryn nodded slowly in agreement, though he suspected she would not give up that easily. Killian knocked upon his sister’s chamber and heard her weak reply, ‘Come in.’
He pushed the door open and found Carice curled up on her side, her strained expression revealing her pain. The room smelled of sickness, and it was clear that she hadn’t managed to eat the bread that her maid had brought.
‘Leave us,’ Killian told the serving girl. She obeyed, glancing at Taryn as she did. After the girl was gone, he went to Carice’s bedside. ‘I’ve brought someone to meet you. There has been a change in our plans since we last spoke.’
Taryn remained on the far side of the room, but he beckoned for her to draw nearer. When she did, she held her hair against her cheeks, hiding the scars. Though he understood why she did it, it bothered him. His sister was not the sort of person who would judge someone by her appearance.
Upon the foot of the bed, a smoke-grey cat arched his back and stretched, clawing at the coverlet. Harold began purring and jumped down, rubbing against Killian’s legs. He scratched the cat’s ears and lifted Harold up, giving the animal affection before he sat beside his sister. By the Rood, she looked weary and frail.
Carice opened her eyes and looked first at Killian and then at Taryn. ‘I have seen you before,’ she said to Taryn, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers dug into the sheets as if another stomach cramp plagued her. ‘You are Lady Taryn of Ossoria.’
Taryn nodded. ‘I am, yes.’ Even with her hair shielding her face, she held herself back, keeping a goodly distance from both of them. Killian sensed that she was nervous.
‘Why have you come?’ His sister struggled to sit up, and Killian assisted her, propping up a pillow behind her shoulders.
Taryn glanced back at him, as if questioning whether or not she should tell Carice everything. He nodded for her to continue. ‘Tell her.’
‘I know you are betrothed to the High King,’ Taryn said. ‘My father is the High King’s captive, and I cannot let him die as a prisoner. I must get close in order to save him, and I...I wanted to accompany you to Tara.’
Carice stared at the young woman as if uncertain what to say. The cat jumped down from the bed again, padding towards Taryn. The moment he approached, she tensed and moved aside to avoid him. Harold responded by purring and nudging her legs, but Taryn wouldn’t even look at the animal.
‘King Rory’s men arrived less than an hour ago,’ Killian told his sister. ‘They want you to journey to Tara in the morning.’
‘They what?’ Horror came over his sister’s face. She glanced towards the door as if trying to think of an escape. ‘So soon?’
He squeezed her hand in quiet reassurance. ‘I haven’t forgotten my promise, Carice. Trust in me.’
Taryn came closer. ‘I will help you to avoid the marriage,’ she told the other woman. ‘I could disguise myself in your clothing until you’ve managed to leave.