Chapter 7 | Cora

Chapter 7

Cora

I t hadn’t even been a day since she’d seen her home, but when Cora caught sight of it over the crest of a hill, it was as though she was seeing it for the first time. It seemed impossible that so much could have happened since she’d left, and yet everything still looked exactly as it had before. She stared at the stone walls she’d known since birth and wondered if she’d gone mad.

Wolf skin wearers were real. The luchthonn were more than the wild men of stories. She’d seen a man change into a nightmarish creature and then back again, and yet the sky was just as blue as it had always been. The birds circled the village in the distance just as they always had. Their farmers bent low in the fields just as they did every day.

How was it possible for the world to continue when the very ground beneath her feet had shifted?

She stared at the road ahead, somehow seeing everything and nothing all at once. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she half expected the flowers on the side of the road to sprout wings and fly away. As a child, she’d imagined that the flowers of the field could sing. It had been one of her favorite games, and suddenly, she wondered if it could be true. After all, the idea had to have come from somewhere. If men could become wolves, why couldn’t flowers sing?

Ahead of her, Fane surveyed the land from the top of his great black stallion. A small, rebellious voice in her heart wanted to ask him if the horse could change too—a cat, maybe? No, perhaps a fish!

Fane and his men rode through her homeland as though they had every right to be there. There was no caution—no hands clutched around weapons or eyes watchful for her father’s guard. They laughed and joked with each other the whole way, talking around her as though she wasn’t there at all. She’d liked it at first, content to plan what she’d say when she saw her father. Now that they were nearly there, she wanted someone to tell her what would happen. Did they intend to just ride through the gates without so much as a by-your-leave? Would they attack the nearby village if they were denied? What would happen if her father wouldn’t let them in?

People watched their passing with expressions that ranged from surprise to terror. Mothers ran for their children, pushing them towards their homes like frantic hens while men clutched their pitchforks and scythes to their chests. Several crossed themselves when they caught sight of Cora in the midst of the wildling band, their mouths moving in silent prayers. Cora fought the urge to scoff when one woman fell to her knees, hands clasped at her chest as she pleaded loudly to God for deliverance of their lady from the evil men who’d kidnapped her. God had not saved her last night. God had not struck the beast Fane had become down in his tracks. It stood to reason that if God had any interest in her current predicament at all, he’d decided not to interfere. The priests claimed that God would smite wicked men who displeased him. If that were true, how could such a man as Cillian Fane exist? Was he a demon? Could that be the answer to his unbelievable abilities?

She’d never considered herself to be particularly religious before this. She’d spent most mornings in mass trying not to fall asleep in her chair, and though her father paid lip service to the priests of the church, religion had never been a defining part of their home. Still, with no other explanation, Cora latched onto any idea that might make sense out of what she’d seen.

When the company finally approached the gate of her home, they were met by the head of her father’s personal guard. éogan had served her father long before her birth and, until meeting Cillian Fane, had been the most frightening man she knew.

“What business do you have here, Fane? These are peaceful lands—nothing here for the likes of you and your wildlings.” éogan held his great broadsword in front of him, a silent threat to Fane and his men.

Fane leaned back in his saddle, clearly unbothered by the old warrior. “Put that toothpick away, old man. I have business with your master; if you’d be so kind as to fetch him—there’s a good lad.”

éogan bared his teeth, digging the point of his sword into the ground. “I’m no lad, boy. And My Lord Kilkenny asked for your aid—against my suggestion, I might add. You refused, so as I see it, you’ve no business here at all. Go back to your woods, Wildling. You’re not welcome here.”

Before Fane could open his mouth to antagonize éogan more, Cora nudged Epona out from the middle of the company. The old guard gasped, his eyes wide, when she brought her horse to a stop next to Fane’s stallion. “éogan, he speaks the truth. Please, let us pass and inform my father that I must speak with him immediately.”

“My Lady Cora—Blessed Virgin be praised! Where have you been, lass? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” éogan glared at Fane, curling his lip in disgust. “And what are you doing with these scoundrels?”

Cora straightened in her saddle and hoped she’d sound more in control than she felt. “I’m afraid that’s information for my lord father and no one else. I ask you again, let us pass and fetch him. We—that is, I have matters to discuss with him.”

éogan stared at them for a long moment before calling to the gate guards, “Open the gate! Lady Cora has returned to us!”

The gate creaked and groaned as it opened, a testament to how rarely it was actually closed. More often than not, her father left it open to make himself more available to his people. The fact that it had been shut was a sign that something wasn’t right.

With the gate fully opened, she guided Epona inside. Once in the courtyard, they dismounted. Cora thanked the stable hand who helped her down. The poor lad who approached Fane withered under his stern expression. “You’ll treat that horse like he’s the king of all Ireland, you hear?”

The boy nodded, trembling under the weight of Fane’s glare. His company followed behind as they walked to the main hall. Though her father wasn’t as wealthy as some of the other lords, it was startling to see the men’s muddy trousers, worn animal skins, and ragged beards next to the well-kept finery of her father’s household.

A moment later, éogan returned. “I’ve summoned Lord Kilkenny. He’ll receive you in the main hall shortly.” He swept disapproving eyes over the small company. “Your men are to wait in the courtyard until your business is concluded, and...” he paused to look them up and down. “Should there be any trouble at all, you’ll be escorted from the castle grounds faster than you can blink.”

Cora expected an argument—something about how the company would stay right where they were so that he could look sufficiently menacing surrounded by his wildlings. To her surprise, Fane nodded in agreement.

He gestured to his second in command, a man she’d learned was called Cathall, and calmly instructed, “Keep the lads away from the kitchen girls—we won’t be long. And best take this.”

He unbuckled his sword belt and handed his large arming sword to Cathall. He smiled charmingly at éogan and said, “Wouldn’t want our dear hosts to worry about our intentions, now would we?”

Cora realized Fane’s voluntary surrender of his only weapon must have seemed strange. It wasn’t uncommon for men to wear a sword or dagger in the house of a friend, let alone somewhere where they weren’t trusted or wanted. éogan watched the exchange suspiciously as though trying to puzzle out what trick Fane must be playing.

éogan didn’t know what Cora knew—that Cillian Fane had no need of a sword when he could become a beast with sharp teeth and claws at a moment’s notice.

The men were led from the main hall, leaving Cora alone with the infamous Wolf King. He wandered the hall, eyeing the tapestries and decorations as though they were of great interest. He seemed completely at ease, and it made her nervous. At the gate, éogan had made it sound as though she’d run away from home like a child. Fane had questioned her offer last night, and she’d assured him of its validity. What if he doubted it now?

Thankfully, her father didn’t keep them waiting. Only minutes after éogan had escorted Fane’s men out, her father and Daniel ran into the room. “Cora! By all the saints, girl, where have you been? I’ve had men out looking everywhere for you!”

Her father took her into his arms, running a hand up her back as though to make sure she was real. Tears pricked the corners of Cora’s eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to stop them from falling. “I’m sorry to worry you, Father,” she said, fighting to speak clearly past the sudden burn in her throat. “I wanted to help, and I—”

“Your daughter came to my camp last evening with a proposition. I accepted and have come to negotiate in good faith.” Fane’s voice cut off whatever explanation Cora might have given. He approached them, still totally at ease despite the heated glare from her father.

“What’s the meaning of this? What proposition?”

Fane looked at Cora expectantly, and she realized that he meant for her to explain. Of course, he did. He probably found it amusing to make her squirm. He probably hoped she’d stutter and stumble and sob her way through her story like a frightened little girl. Well, he’d be disappointed.

She wiped her eyes and stepped away from her father. “I heard what you said to Daniel in your study—that a marriage might provide safety for our people if the English invade. I cannot fight in that battle, Father, but I can help by forging an alliance. You reached out to Master Fane for help...”

“For help! For protection in exchange for coin! Not for my only daughter’s hand! Christ Almighty, what have you done, Cora?”

Cora dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palm. “I did what needed to be done. Fane and his men can save our people, Father. You said it yourself! What else was there to offer but myself? What else do we have to offer?”

It was an opening—one she hoped that her father would notice. Perhaps if he offered Fane more money, or land, or anything else, she could still get out of her disastrous agreement. It was a fine line to walk, trying to defend her decision while praying that her father might be able to help undo it.

Her father’s shoulders slumped just as they had when she’d hidden in his study the day before. He stared at her, anguish etched into every corner of his face. All hope she had of his help disappeared in an instant. There would be no rescue from the Wolf King.

Fane chose that moment to speak. She’d almost forgotten that he was in the room, listening to everything they said. She’d been so focused on her father that he hadn’t mattered. Now that she understood there would be no way out of her bargain, he mattered quite a bit.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way. Shall we discuss the terms of this arrangement, then? Preferably before we’re old and gray.”

Cora frowned. “What terms? We’ve already agreed on the terms.”

Fane continued as though she hadn’t spoken at all, completely ignoring her question. “Now, your daughter has offered her hand in exchange for protection for your people and lands in the likely event of Edwin and forces dropping by for a bit more than a cup of tea. If I were a man without honor—as you and yours seem to think—I wouldn’t point out that she failed to mention the terms of that protection. If I were the villainous sort, I’d leave a handful of men behind with strict orders to scarper off if the tides of battle changed. Then I’d ride off into the sunset with my swooning bride, safe in the knowledge that I’d met my part of the bargain.”

“ Swooning ? How dare—”

Her father’s hand at her wrist stopped the scathing words before they could leave her mouth. Shame fanned the flames of her anger as the realization of just how foolish she’d been. She’d been so naive. She’d had such grand, vainglorious plans of solving all of their problems, but the awful truth was that Fane was right. She’d gone in so blinded by her own pride and desperation that she’d made mistakes that she might now be unable to amend. After all was said and done, she might have to marry the man—the monster—in front of her and still leave her people unprotected.

Her father squeezed her wrist as though he could hear her thoughts. He’d gone pale but showed no other outward sign that he’d been bothered by Fane’s words. “What is it you want, Fane?” he asked. “You’re already taking my daughter—my blood. What more could you want? Money? I offered you that. Land? Precious jewels?”

Fane casually crossed his arms and smiled. “I want to bargain for an arrangement that benefits us both. You need my help to keep your lands safe. It’s Edwin now, but what about next time? Think he’s the only eedjit with eyes on this land? You’ve not got the trained manpower to protect yourself, and it’s only a matter of time until some knob with half a brain takes notice. Hell, Fergus, my men and I could take the lot by force if the fancy struck us. Lucky for you, I’ve never had a yearning to lead peasants and rot away in a castle.”

Her father didn’t so much as twitch at Fane’s stark appraisal of their circumstances, but hearing him speak so candidly about taking their home sent shards of icy fear running up Cora’s spine.

Her father wrinkled his nose as though he’d smelled something bad. “Oh aye, lucky indeed. And what is it you’ve a yearning for, then?”

Fane turned his stare on Cora. “Land. Our own land, separate from any ruling or oversight from your lordship. My people enjoy a fair bit of freedom and access to the wilds, but no lord or king has ever allowed the luchthonn to settle on their lands. We’ve roamed like wolves for eons, but a man wants a den to call his own. Especially when he’s got a lovely wife to come home to.”

Fane’s playful wink in her direction nearly sent Cora into a screaming rage. It wasn’t enough that he’d frightened her out of her mind by revealing the truth of his... curse, or whatever it was. Wasn’t enough that he’d allowed her to make an absolute fool of herself without any of this ‘good faith’ he’d shown her father. Now he’d antagonize her in front of her father and use her mistakes to gain Kilkenny lands for himself. If her father hadn’t been holding her wrist, she might have lobbed one of her shoes at his head. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it’d feel fantastic just to see his cheeky smirk wiped off his face for a moment. She’d show him a swooning bride!

Her father scoffed. “And I’m meant to believe that if I give your people land to call their own, you’ll show up anytime there’s a need and protect us like your own? And that after your remark of leaving a few lads to—what was it—scarper off in the midst of a battle if the tide turns?”

“Believe what you like, Kilkenny. I’ve not deceived you in any way in our dealings—I made no promises and was clear in my rejection of the previous offer. I’ve come in good faith to see an agreement made that gives us both what we need. You need protection, and the luchthonn are the best. I need land for my people and a marriage to secure the alliance between our two peoples.”

Her father released her wrist and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What need have you of this marriage if you get your lands? Is that not enough to lend us your sword arms when there is need?”

Fane’s expression turned sly and decidedly wolfish. “Now, now, Fergus. You’ll be getting more than a few lads with spears and swords, and you know it.”

Cora glanced at her father curiously as she rubbed where he’d gripped her so tightly. Did he...was it possible that he knew about Fane and his men? About the monsters? And if he did, why in heaven’s name would he have tried to employ the man rather than send all the knights of Ireland after him? Surely the priests would declare it witchcraft or the work of demons. How could her father know and still want Fane’s help?

“A subject best spoken of in private,” her father said stiffly.

Fane rolled his eyes and lazily gestured toward her. “Christ, Fergus, she already knows. No need to play stupid for her sake.”

Her father’s eyes widened as his calm demeanor disappeared in an instant. “How? What did you do to her?”

“I let her walk into my camp and then out again. More than I usually grant people who show up without manners or sense.”

Her indignant huff seemed to amuse him. Cora fought the urge to pull her dagger and stab him in his smirking face, allowing herself to imagine the satisfaction she’d feel as he tried to fend her off.

Her father grabbed her shoulder, shaking her roughly. “Tell me what he did, lass. Did he hurt you? How did you see...the beast?”

Her murderous thoughts came to a screeching halt at her father’s question. “He... after I’d made my offer. He asked me what I knew of him, and I told him the stories I’d heard from others. He showed me—quite clearly—that they were not simply stories.”

“Did he harm you, lass? Did the beast harm you?”

“No. He showed me his true form, and I...I didn’t take it well.” Fane’s snort annoyed her, but she ignored him just as he’d ignored her. “But no, he didn’t harm me. I was taken somewhere safe to rest, and by morning, I was well again.”

Her father was silent for several minutes. When he spoke again, it was with barely restrained hostility. “Your word that she’ll be safe and treated well?”

Fane straightened, his serious expression mirroring her father’s. “Aye, Fergus. She’ll be safe. Won’t have a castle and all that anymore, but she’ll be cared for.”

Her father nodded, and Cora’s stomach sank with every second that passed. Somewhere in her heart, she’d hoped that her father would refuse. She’d gone to Fane of her own will, but after seeing the monster that hid below his skin, she’d held onto a small, selfish bit of hope that she could take it all back.

But she couldn’t. And with that realization, any argument or protest she might have made slipped through her fingers like sand. One look at her father told her what he’d do. He was the lord of the lands. It was his responsibility to care for all its people. And if he could do that—not just now, but anytime—in exchange for a bit of land and a lowly daughter? All the better.

She wasn’t surprised when he met her eyes, the anguish and regret back in place. “Cora, you know what you must do. What is needed. Can you forgive me, lass?”

No.

Yes.

Before she’d gone off and tried to save the day, she might have blamed him for using her marriage to meet his ends. But she’d done this to herself. She’d never forgive herself . She’d be old and on her deathbed, still cursing the day she rode into Cillian Fane’s camp.

Fane stepped forward, a large hand extended in front of him. “So, do we have an agreement, Fergus?”

Her father stared at the hand for several long moments before he placed his hand in Fane’s. “Aye,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “We do.”