Chapter Four

I t took longer than he'd anticipated before he reached Colford Abbey. Robert's uncle had been the abbot there, and Brian hadn't seen him in years. He'd been grateful when Father Oswold had offered him food and shelter.

He'd joined the monks at prayers and then sat across from the abbot while he ate a simple meal of bread, cheese, and roasted vegetables. ‘It's good to see you again, Father Oswold.'

‘You're very welcome,' the abbot answered. ‘I must admit, I didn't expect to see you again after you left with the crusaders.'

‘By the time I arrived at Constantinople, the battle was already over,' Brian admitted. He didn't share the news of his captivity, though he saw the abbot eyeing the red scar that ran from his neck to his shoulder. ‘I was hoping you could help me find Morwenna.' The last time he'd seen his sister, the abbot had spoken of sending her to the nunnery at Saint Michael's Well.

‘Morwenna?' The abbot paused a moment and said, ‘Do you mean to say that you've not seen her since you left?'

‘I've heard nothing.' He straightened and said, ‘I would have returned sooner, if I could have.'

‘She's at Castle Dunbough in Ireland,' Father Oswold answered. ‘With my nephew Robert, whom you remember. They were married a few years ago.'

Robert was alive? For a moment, he could hardly believe the abbot's words. For so long, Brian had grieved for his friend, despising himself for his role in Robert's death. His reason for journeying across the world had been penance.

But now? It was as if he'd received the gift of absolution. The knowledge lifted the invisible burden of guilt, and thankfulness flooded through him. Even more, there was a sense of joy at the thought of his sister's happiness. She had married the man she'd loved for so long.

‘How did this happen?'

The abbot bade him to sit down. ‘It's a long story. But I heard their marriage vows myself. Morwenna truly wished you could have been there.' Father Oswold's face softened at the memory. ‘She was a lovely bride. I've heard they have a son now.'

‘I'm so glad to hear it.' He tried to keep his voice even, but inwardly, he was in shock. In the time he'd spent fighting and trying to escape, his sister had brought a child into the world. It hardly seemed possible. ‘Why do they live in Ireland and not at Penrith?' Robert had been the heir to the lands until the king had deposed his father. His friend had been fighting to win his lands back, despite his half brother Piers's claim.

‘Robert gave up Penrith to Piers,' the abbot answered. ‘Piers married the new earl's daughter, and the two of them live there now.

‘As for Ireland—' The abbot paused a moment. ‘Robert saved King John's life and earned his favour. His estate at Dunbough was his reward for it.' Father Oswold looked as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. ‘Will you travel to join them?'

‘I'll need to earn enough silver for the journey, but yes.' He needed to apologise to Robert and find a way to make up for what he'd done. Perhaps his friend would allow him to join the ranks of his guards or let him help train the men. That is, if Brian ever regained his fighting skills.

For a moment, it felt as if the ground had shifted beneath him. For so long, he'd lived each day with the desire to atone for his sins. And now, he could finally let go of the past.

What did that mean now? He couldn't imagine returning to the life he had known as a serf. After the years in captivity, he craved freedom and the chance to make his own choices. He intended to forge a different life, one where he could provide for a wife and family. And he was no longer willing to settle for less.

The problem was, he couldn't get Velaria out of his mind. It was a useless dream, one entirely out of his reach.

Had Velaria's parents welcomed her home? Was she content and cared for? Though he'd believed it was the right course of action to leave, he regretted not staying one more night at her side. She had been with him for so long, it felt strange and lonely without her.

‘I agree that you should go to Ireland, Brian. Find your sister and Robert.' The abbot's face grew concerned and he added, ‘But...there is...something you should know about your parents. And especially your father.'

He turned back to the abbot, who seemed uncomfortable. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Your father was not the miller. Nor was his wife your mother.'

A tightness caught his chest. Years ago, when Morwenna had returned to the ruins of the mill, she'd brought back a gown and a golden chain that had once belonged to their mother. But despite his sister's belief that Eldreth had secretly been from a noble family, it seemed more likely that the woman had stolen the gown and chain.

He pushed back the uneasiness and tensed, for the abbot had the answers he sought. ‘Who were my parents?'

Father Oswold paused. ‘You'd better sit down.'

Lady Katherine stood upon the parapet of Ardennes, watching over her daughter in the courtyard below. Her husband, Sir Ademar, came up behind her and rested his palms upon her shoulders.

‘Are you all right?' he asked gently.

She rested her hand upon his. ‘I am, yes. But Velaria is not.' During the past fortnight, she'd watched as her daughter picked at her food. There was a sense that the young woman was barely aware of her surroundings. She had a hollow look in her eyes that belied her sun-warmed skin. Although she went outside often and spent most of her days sitting on the stairs, Katherine had the sense that her daughter was waiting on something. Or someone.

‘She's home safe. Eventually, she'll g-get better.'

‘I'm not so certain about that.' Katherine turned back to her husband. ‘She used to watch the men training for hours, don't you remember? She reminded me so much of Honora.' Her older sister had been highly skilled with a sword, and Velaria had learned her own fighting skills from her aunt. ‘But now she seems to avoid the practice field. I haven't seen her touch a sword even once.'

Ademar gave a nod. ‘I asked her if she wanted to train w-with me, but she refused.'

‘She won't talk about Constantinople,' Katherine said. ‘I don't want to think of what she must have endured.' She squeezed his hand in hers. ‘We have to help her somehow. But I don't know what to do.'

‘What if we send her to Laochre...f-for a time?' Ademar suggested. ‘She c-could visit with her cousins and the MacEgans.'

Katherine shook her head. ‘I only just got our daughter back. Don't ask me to send her away again.'

Her husband pulled her into his strong arms, and she rested her face against his heart. ‘We could go with her to visit your s-sister. You needn't be apart.'

She breathed a little easier at that and nodded.

‘Do we know anything about her travelling c-companion?' Ademar asked.

Katherine hadn't heard anything. ‘Velaria said she had an escort, but she told us nothing about the man except that he returned to Colford Abbey.' But the more she thought of it, the more it seemed that Velaria often looked towards the hills. Katherine was fairly certain she remembered seeing a single rider who had waited in the distance before he'd left.

Ademar kept her in his embrace and stroked her back, offering comfort. ‘Perhaps I should travel to Colford and s-speak with him. Her escort might know more about wh-what happened.'

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before she pulled back. ‘I'm not certain I want to know what she endured. I just want her to be well and whole again, Ademar. She barely eats, and I see the sadness in her eyes.'

‘I'll m-make the arrangements,' he promised. ‘If he was her f-friend, he may know what to do. We c-cannot help her unless we know the truth.'

He was right. And Katherine sensed that if she pressed too hard, Velaria would only lock herself away even more. ‘I'll try to find out his name.'

Ademar kissed her lightly, and she rested her forehead against his. Though they had been married for a long time, and the years had turned their hair grey, she still found him as handsome as ever.

‘Have faith,' he said gently. ‘And I'll make p-plans to leave on the morrow.'

Velaria sat at the top of the stairs that led to the parapets, breathing in the cool spring air. A few trees had begun to bud, and she drank in the sight of her surroundings. After being imprisoned in the darkness and forced to kill in the arena for so long, she was grateful for every moment of her freedom.

And still she watched the hills, wondering if Savas would ever return. She told herself that eventually, she would forget the horrors of Constantinople, and the memory of him would fade. Did he feel as lost as she did?

She felt like a ship tossing on the waves, travelling but going nowhere. Somehow during the past year, she'd gone from being a warrior to becoming a shadow. And she hated the feeling of helplessness.

Part of it was because of Savas, if she were honest with herself. During their imprisonment, she'd always believed there was something more between them. She'd held fast to the hope that they would remain together. But now, just as before, a man she cared about had left her behind.

And it hurt so much to know it.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see her mother. Katherine smiled and came to sit beside her. ‘How are you, Velaria?'

‘I am well,' she answered, though they both knew it was a lie.

Her mother gave a nod and stared off at the horizon. Velaria knew she wanted to talk with her about something, but she had no idea what it was.

‘When you returned to Ardennes, who brought you here?' Katherine asked. ‘You weren't truly alone, were you?'

She shook her head. ‘Lord Alexander Berys of Staunton helped us escape Constantinople. He travelled with us for a time, and Brian of Penrith escorted me here.'

Her mother inclined her head, acknowledging their names. ‘Your father and I thought we should reward them for bringing you home safely. Do you know how we could find them?'

A sudden tightness filled her, but Velaria answered, ‘Brian left to find his sister. He thought she might be at the nunnery at Saint Michael's Well.'

‘He wasn't planning to return to Penrith?' Katherine asked.

‘I don't know. He said he would stop at Colford Abbey while he looked for his sister. I'm not certain beyond that.' She gripped her hands together, trying to ignore the tangle of feelings inside her.

‘Was he a captive, like you?' Her mother's voice was soft but all too knowing.

‘He was.' She stood from the stairs and started to walk down them. The need to abandon the conversation was too strong. ‘That's all I know, I'm sorry.' She hurried towards the bottom of the stairs, only to find her father's soldiers training. The ringing of swords brought a thin sweat upon her skin, and she felt her throat closing up with the terrible memories.

Ever since she'd returned, she was far too sensitive to the sound of fighting. There had been a time when she'd been fascinated by the soldiers—and truthfully part of it had been their muscular, hewn bodies that had attracted her adolescent feelings. But now she could hardly bear to watch them. It only evoked memories of the arena.

She'd abandoned the trews and tunics she'd worn years ago, in favour of long gowns. She wore her hair unbraided, around her shoulders and covered by a veil, as if doing so would eradicate the woman she'd been only a year ago.

It seemed like an entire lifetime had passed, and she had barely managed to reach the castle gates before her mother caught up to her.

‘There's no need to run from me,' Katherine said. ‘I only wanted to talk.'

Velaria glanced behind her, waiting for her mother to catch up, before she walked through the gates and over the wooden bridge to the grounds outside the castle. ‘I just...need to take a walk. I need to escape these walls.'

‘We could walk through the woods like we used to,' Katherine offered.

She shrugged, walking down the familiar pathway. Guilt caused her to slow her pace when her mother struggled to keep up.

‘Velaria, your father and I have been talking about your future,' Katherine began.

Invisible ice flooded through her skin as she realised what they meant. They intended to arrange a marriage for her. The thought brought a surge of panic, and she choked back her protests.

Breathe , she told herself. They cannot force you to do anything.

When she said nothing, Katherine continued, ‘Your brother plans to take a wife soon, and when he does, your father and I intend to move back to Ademar's lands at Dolwyth Phillip will begin learning how to govern Ardennes. And I know...you'll want a home of your own. Have you given thought to it?'

And there it was—the true reason for the conversation. Though Katherine meant well, the very thought of marriage seemed impossible.

‘I was held captive for two years, Mother,' she murmured. ‘I have no wish to marry. I could not be a wife to any man after what I endured.' The thought of surrendering to a man's touch or submitting to his will was another form of captivity. Velaria gripped her arms, staring at the forest that lay before them.

Katherine stepped forward and took her hand. Tears gleamed in her eyes. ‘Would that I could have spared you that suffering.'

‘It was my own fault. If I had not run away with Sir Drogan—'

‘Your father could have stopped it,' Katherine admitted. ‘I was the one who convinced him to wait. I wanted to believe that you were right, that he loved you. I thought perhaps—' Her words broke off, and she wiped her eyes.

‘He took my virtue and abandoned me,' Velaria said. ‘He was exactly the sort of man you thought he was. I was too young and foolish to recognise it.' Her voice came out harsher than she'd intended, but she raised her chin. ‘But I am old enough to know that I don't want to marry, nor do I wish to be a bride of the Church. I don't think I can be obedient to anyone. Not now.'

More than anything, she needed control over her life, over everything she did. It was the only thing that kept her from shattering inside.

‘Tell me about Brian of Penrith,' her mother interjected. ‘Did he protect you on the journey?'

The tightness locked up within her again, and she faced her mother. ‘He did, yes.' But he'd also made it clear that he didn't want to see her again. Not when he had nothing to give. She understood his pride, and perhaps by leaving her behind, it was his own way of healing from the captivity they'd endured.

‘It must have been difficult travelling alone with men,' Katherine said. ‘I hope Brian never made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.'

‘Oh, no, he would never—' she started to say and then realised she'd fallen neatly into her mother's trap. ‘We were friends,' Velaria amended.

‘I am glad to hear it.' But there was a gleam in her mother's eye that she didn't like.

To her credit, Katherine didn't push but instead offered, ‘I am glad you are home again.' She reached out and squeezed Velaria's hand. ‘And your father and I both want you to find happiness.'

‘I will,' she insisted. ‘I just need time.'

But from the expression on her mother's face, she suspected that her parents were up to something. ‘Velaria, we made a mistake the last time you wanted to choose a husband.'

‘No, I was the one who made a mistake,' she corrected. ‘You saw the sort of man Sir Drogan was, but I was too young to know it.' With a shrug, she said, ‘If I do not marry anyone, it won't happen again.'

‘That isn't a choice,' Katherine said softly. ‘Your father intends that you should marry. And I agree with him.'

Velaria grew incredulous that they would even consider such a thing. She had hardly been home for more than a fortnight, and already they were trying to make decisions for her.

‘I will not,' she insisted.

‘You will have a choice,' Katherine said gently. ‘There are several noblemen from good families who would make you an excellent husband. We will send word, and—'

‘No,' she repeated.

At that, her mother lifted her chin. Velaria recognised that look in her eyes, of a mother who did not appreciate disobedience. But then, too, her mother had married the man she'd always wanted, and Ademar adored her. To Katherine, marriage was joyful, and the sacrament had given her everything.

‘We can grant you a little more time,' Katherine said. ‘But do not ask me to stand aside and watch you wither away.' Her mother squeezed her hand. ‘I see the way you don't eat. I see the shadows under your eyes, and I know you do not sleep.' Tears filled Katherine's eyes, and she brought Velaria's hand to her heart. ‘Don't ask me to step aside and watch you slowly die. I will not do it. Your father and I love you, and if that means making difficult decisions to save you from your grief, then we will not hesitate to intervene. Even if you despise us for it.'

She had no answer to give her mother, for anything she said would only make her sound childish and defiant. Then, too, her own weariness cloaked her with the pain of loss. She didn't know how to go on or how to put the pieces of her life back together.

Her mother paused a moment and then said, ‘Your aunt Honora invited us to share Bealtaine with them in a few weeks in Ireland. We will travel together, and it will give you the chance to meet other noblemen, if you wish. There will be other Normans there, as well, including the families of Queen Isabel and Lady Genevieve. And you'll see your cousins.' Katherine offered a warm smile, as if the journey would offer consolation.

Velaria gave a shrug, hardly caring one way or the other. But inwardly, she vowed that no matter what her parents wanted, she would never marry any man.

Ireland, one month later

In the distance, Laochre Castle towered high above the vivid green lands. Herds of sheep grazed within enclosures beside freshly ploughed fields while beyond it, the blue sea gleamed like a bold sapphire. Brian was weary of the time he'd spent sailing from England—and yet, now, he felt an air of anticipation.

Within a matter of weeks, his fate had shifted. Velaria's father had come to see him at Colford Abbey, demanding answers about Constantinople.

‘I need to know what h-happened to my daughter,' Sir Ademar had said. ‘I w-want answers.'

Brian had faced the knight squarely and stared back. ‘Ask Velaria. She will tell you what she wants you to know.' He had no intention of betraying her confidence, even if her father was trying to help.

Sir Ademar's expression had held fury before he'd taken a breath and calmed himself. ‘She's suffering, and I d-don't know how to help her.'

Although Brian had recognised the worry on the man's face, he'd wanted to know more. ‘Tell me.'

The knight had hesitated. After a pause, he'd said, ‘She hardly eats. She doesn't s-sleep well. It's like she's b-become a shadow.'

Brian understood exactly what Velaria was feeling. They'd gone hungry for so long, it was difficult to imagine always having enough food to eat. And the nightmares haunted him, just as they did her.

‘I'll come with you to Ardennes,' he'd told her father.

He needed to see her again—especially now. Not only for her sake, but because his own life had shifted since he'd learned about his father.

The abbot's story had shocked him, and Brian still didn't know how to feel about it. All his life, he'd been nothing but a serf, whereas Robert and his half brother, Piers, had been strong warriors and the sons of an earl. And although the two men had treated him like an equal brother, he'd always remained in their shadow.

Until now.

He could still hardly believe Father Oswold's revelation, for it seemed impossible. And even if it were true, that his bloodline was more than that of a miller's son, it didn't change the fact that he was still a bastard.

If he dared approach his true father, the man was likely to deny Brian as his son. He wouldn't want anything to do with him or might believe he'd only come with the intent of demanding an inheritance.

But there was a chance of living a different life. He couldn't deny that, if he had the opportunity, he wanted Velaria at his side. And now, he had the chance to change their fate.

‘I don't think y-you should see my daughter again,' the knight had admitted. ‘It will only bring bad m-memories.'

‘You came to me because I have the answers you seek,' Brian had pressed. ‘I can help if you take me to her.'

The knight hadn't answered at first. Then, ‘Tell me what you c-can.'

Brian had met his gaze evenly. He could share the challenges both of them had faced without betraying her confidence.

‘We were forced to fight every three days,' he admitted. ‘Kadir chose our opponents, and we fought in the arena.' He'd raised his eyes to her father. ‘We fought to the death.'

The knight's expression had tightened. ‘And you did nothing to s-stop it?'

‘We survived and escaped. No one else did.' He'd lowered his voice and added, ‘Not a day goes by that we don't remember those we were forced to kill.'

For a long time, Sir Ademar had stared back at him, waiting for him to say more.

Brian had straightened and said, ‘Anything else is her story to tell. Not mine.'

The knight had studied him once again, as if to assess his honour. Then he'd asked, ‘Do you still w-wish to help her?'

Brian hadn't hesitated. ‘I do, yes.'

Sir Ademar had continued, ‘Your sister lives in Ireland, doesn't she?'

He must have spoken with Father Oswold, Brian had realised.

‘She lives in the north with her husband.'

The knight had given a nod. From the resolute expression on his face, he had made his own plans.

‘We plan to take Velaria to Ireland for a c-celebration at Bealtaine. My wife has family there, and while we are at Laochre, it is our w-wish that Velaria choose a husband and be married. If you can convince her to w-wed a suitable nobleman, I will provide you with a horse and travelling supplies. You will also be p-paid in silver.'

The thought of Velaria marrying another man had sent a flare of jealousy within him. Although he had nothing to offer yet, Brian couldn't stand aside and watch her wed someone else.

‘And what i f I offer for her hand in marriage?'

Her father's expression had grown guarded. ‘I will not give her hand in m-marriage to just any man. You must have l-lands and a means of supporting her.' He'd paused and asked, ‘Who is your father?'

Brian held back the truth, for the knight likely wouldn't believe him. ‘I never knew my father. I was raised by a miller and his wife.'

The knight had sent him a knowing look. ‘Then you cannot provide the life she deserves.'

Not yet. But one day, Brian vowed. He would confront his father, though he didn't know if the man would acknowledge or help him. He might not want another son or worse, he might not believe him.

He suppressed the thought. For now, he would seek help from Morwenna and Robert.

‘Your task is to c-convince Velaria to agree to wed a suitable man,' Ademar had offered, ‘though she has already said she will not marry.' He'd stared hard at Brian. ‘I understand that she suffered in Constantinople. But we will no longer stand b-back and watch her fade into nothing. If an arranged marriage will bring back Velaria's h-happiness, then that is what we will do.'

Brian hadn't argued, though he would never allow Velaria to be forced into anything.

And so, he had made the journey here, for her sake and for his. Whether she wanted it or not, he intended to protect Velaria.

He'd been given a second chance to forge a different life. He intended to seize it and build his own fortune, even if that meant changing himself in whatever way was necessary. He simply had to convince her father that he was an honourable man of worth—and Velaria needed to know that any marriage between them would offer freedom, with no demands.

As he rode closer, he realised that Laochre was one of the largest castles he'd ever seen. Made of limestone, the outer curtain wall appeared to be twelve feet high, and guards patrolled the parapets. Four square towers stood on every corner of the castle.

Brian had heard the stories of the legendary MacEgan King Patrick and his Norman bride, Queen Isabel. They had built one of the strongest fortresses along the southern coast of Ireland, and they still controlled most of the region since several of the MacEgan brothers dwelled nearby.

It seemed strange to be invited to a place such as this. The last time he'd seen a castle was at Penrith, and even there, he'd been nothing but a serf. The familiar doubts intruded, and for a moment, he questioned what he was doing. He knew no one here, save Velaria and her father. It felt like trespassing, and he hardly knew what to say to the guards. The voices of doubt taunted him with his past, despite his warrior training.

But he straightened his posture and rode towards the gates, telling himself that he did possess noble blood—even if he was a bastard. He had to become someone else and act like a nobleman's son, even if it felt like a lie.

He hoped Sir Ademar and Lady Katherine had made arrangements for a place for him to stay. Possibly he could sleep on the floor of the Great Chamber or even in the stables. But as he stared at the vast holdings, it reminded him of how little he had in comparison.

When he reached the gate, he gave his name, and the taller guard gave a nod before he spoke in Irish to the other soldier. He led Brian inside and motioned for him to wait. Within moments, an older man with a long white beard came forward to greet him while a stable lad took his horse.

‘It's welcome you are,' the man greeted him, speaking his language. ‘I am Brendan MacEgan, steward of Laochre Castle. Follow me, and I will show you to your chamber. Lady Katherine and Sir Ademar told us to expect you.'

‘My chamber?' He'd never imagined he would have a place of his own to sleep.

The man nodded. ‘We have a wing of the castle devoted to guests. The rooms are quite small, but I hope you'll find it comfortable.'

Brian walked behind the steward, studying the inner bailey. There were training grounds on one side, while women worked on dyeing cloth, laying out blue and green lengths of wool to dry in the sun on the opposite side.

‘You may join the king and queen for a meal within the hour,' the steward said. ‘Choose a place at one of the lower tables. Sir Ademar and Lady Katherine bade me to tell you that they will not acknowledge your presence. They do not wish for Velaria to be aware that they brought you here.'

‘I understand.'

The steward led him up the stairs and down a narrow hallway. He opened up the last door, and inside the chamber stood a single bed and a low chair. A narrow slit in the stone wall served as a window that looked down on the inner bailey. Although the room was tiny, Brian was grateful for their hospitality.

He set down his belongings, and the steward added, ‘You may explore the castle and the grounds as you wish. King Patrick and Queen Isabel will be wanting to meet you during the noontide meal.'

He thanked the man, and when he was alone, he walked over to the window. For a time, he studied the MacEgan soldiers, surprised to see a group of women training alongside them. An older woman stopped to correct a few of the younger girls and then observed as they practised their fighting.

Brian wondered if she was one of Velaria's relatives. Perhaps this was the woman who had trained her to fight. He recognised a few of the motions Velaria had used in battle.

His gaze moved across the inner bailey, and when Brian could not see much farther, he decided to venture out on the parapets for a better view. He left his quarters and once he was outside, he saw another staircase leading above. He found a spot to observe the others, and after studying the courtyard, he finally saw her.

For a moment, he hardly recognised Velaria. She sat atop the opposite staircase, her brown hair covered with a veil while she wore a gown with a long green overdress. Around her shoulders, she wore a loose wrap. But her face and shoulders were painfully thin, as if she were still in prison.

A full moon had passed since he'd left her at Ardennes—and he was starting to realise that it had been a mistake to leave her behind. She hadn't healed any more than he had.

No one would guess this beautiful woman had wielded a sword and killed to survive. Brian recognised the emptiness in her eyes, the sense that she was here—but not really here. He'd experienced the sensation himself while they were on their voyage home.

There was a sense of being disconnected from the world, and he remembered feeling as if he didn't belong anywhere. He'd been unable to fight while his body healed, and the only person who'd understood the helplessness and isolation had been Velaria. It was she who had kept him steady during those months of endless sailing, and he owed her the same.

His earlier thoughts of remaining hidden weren't possible any more. He didn't care what her parents had asked of him—he couldn't let her fade away any longer.

Slowly, Brian walked along the narrow pathway, making his way towards her. As he drew closer, he saw that Velaria kept her gaze away from the fighting but stared over at the women who were busy dyeing cloth and directing the children to help.

He continued walking until he drew near, and then he moved silently behind her. For a moment, he considered what to say. She would demand to know why he was here, and he already had reasons prepared.

‘I'm surprised you aren't fighting among the soldiers,' he said at last. Within seconds, she spun around with her dagger aimed at his throat.

There she was, the girl who knew how to defend herself from anyone and anything. ‘It's good to see you haven't forgotten how to wield a blade.'

‘By the gods. I could have—' Her voice broke off. Before Velaria could say another word, he crushed her into an embrace, pulling her back into the shadows. She gripped him hard, her body trembling. And when he pulled back, emotions flooded her eyes.

‘What are you doing here, Savas?' she asked. The nickname was a reminder of the fighter he'd been, and he held her waist for a moment.

‘My sister is in Ireland,' he answered. ‘I learned that your family was coming to visit the MacEgan tribe, and I wanted to see how you are.' It was one of many half-truths he'd invented. He kept his hands at her waist while he eyed her gown. ‘I'm not used to seeing you dressed like a knight's daughter.'

Her face flushed, and she took a step back from him. It was as if she'd suddenly realised she'd thrown herself into his arms. ‘How are you? And your shoulder, is it continuing to heal?'

‘It's better than it was.' But he had no intention of telling her the full truth about his injury. ‘Will you walk with me?'

Velaria nodded. ‘Of course. We have a little time until the meal.'

She led him down the stairs, and they crossed through the inner bailey, past the fighters, until they came to the barbican gate. She greeted the guards, and Brian remained at her side while they left the castle grounds, crossing over a bridge. A small village stood a short distance beyond it.

‘The MacEgans will celebrate Bealtaine on the morrow, but the competitions will begin tonight,' she remarked. ‘My family and I were invited to share in their celebration.' With a glance behind her, she added, ‘I haven't seen so many preparations since I was younger. There will be games and feasting for days afterward.'

He slowed his pace and reached for her wrist. ‘You don't look as if you've been feasting.'

Her face paled, and she shrugged. ‘I've tried. But sometimes—I'm just not hungry. Or it hurts to eat.' She pulled her hand back and stared ahead at the dirt path before she looked back at him. ‘You look good, Savas.' Her cheeks grew flushed when she gave the compliment.

He gave a nod to acknowledge her words and then said, ‘You're still having the nightmares, aren't you?'

She flinched but lowered her head. ‘Most nights, yes. I try to sleep, but—' She shook her head. ‘I still see the faces of the people I killed. I despise myself for the woman I had to become, but I can't change what happened.'

‘We did what we had to do,' he said quietly.

‘I know that. But it's hard.' She shielded her eyes against the sun and looked back at Laochre Castle. The limestone walls were shadowed against the horizon.

‘I don't feel as if I deserve to live a life like this,' she admitted. ‘They were innocent men and women, and I slaughtered them.'

‘You're alive,' he said quietly. ‘And no, you won't ever forget what happened. All you can do is move forward.'

Velaria exhaled a shuddering breath. ‘My parents want me to marry and start over.'

He hid his own reaction, though he knew her father's intentions already. ‘What do you want, Velaria?'

She met his gaze and thought a moment. ‘I want to be the girl I used to be. The one who was happy.'

Although he understood her wish, there was a darkness in her voice—almost as if she didn't believe it could ever happen.

They reached the edge of the village, and Velaria started walking up one of the trails up a hillside. The pathway was steep, and he could see that stacks of peat and wood had been arranged at the top of the hill for a large bonfire.

She sat down on the hillside near the unlit fire and stared off at the horizon. He joined her, his shoulder pressed against hers. For a moment, it reminded him of the nights after their battles, when they would sit against one another in the darkness. In moments like those, they'd simply been glad to be alive.

The afternoon sun rose high above them, and she lifted her face to it. Velaria was beautiful, just as she'd always been. But beneath the surface, the shadows and darkness loomed, threatening to pull her down. He'd fought them back himself, time and again. It was easier to shut it all out, to bury it deep.

There wasn't enough time to heal these wounds. And although he wanted to find his sister—and perhaps even his true father if he dared—he also knew he couldn't leave Velaria behind.

‘What if you helped train the women fighters here?' he asked. ‘You could teach them how to defend themselves. I saw an older woman working with them.'

She ventured a smile. ‘You saw my aunt Honora. She is visiting for Bealtaine, along with her husband, Ewan MacEgan.' Then her smile faded. ‘I don't want to fight any more, Savas. I can't.'

He understood the memories she didn't want to face. ‘You know a great deal more than they do about fighting.'

She shook her head. ‘God willing, I'll never touch a sword again.'

He didn't want her to descend back into the darkness of their past, so he offered his hand as they sat on the hillside. ‘Tell me about your family's Irish customs at Bealtaine.'

At that, her mood shifted, and she said, ‘I've only seen it once or twice, when I was a girl. The men and women will light the fires at night. They drive the cattle between the fires to bless them as they go into the summer pastures.'

He kept her hand in his, and her face grew wistful as she imagined it. ‘My cousin Alanna believes in fairy lore. She will tell fortunes and there will be games and feasting. Then later—' Her voice broke off, and she flushed.

‘Later what?' he questioned. When she didn't answer at first, he guessed, ‘Men and women pair off, don't they?'

Velaria nodded. ‘There used to be an older festival where a maiden was chosen to represent the goddess. She would lie with a chosen man, and it would bless the fertility of the land.' She gripped his hand and stared off into the distance. ‘We still choose a man and a woman, but I don't think they lie together any more. My aunt Aileen spoke of it once.'

Below them, Brian saw people starting to walk towards the castle keep. ‘I was told that King Patrick and Queen Isabel wanted me to say hello. Will you introduce me to them?'

‘Of course.' She pulled her hand away and lifted her skirts as they began to walk down the hillside. The wind slid against her veil, pushing it back. In the afternoon sunlight, her brown hair gleamed.

On impulse, he lifted her veil away. ‘Why do you wear this, Velaria?'

‘Because ladies are supposed to cover their hair.' She tried to take it back, but he held it out of her way.

‘You're in Ireland now. Why not be like the other young women? Take down your hair and be free.'

‘I spent many years rebelling against my mother's rules. She despaired because I was always taking my brother's armour and coming home with blood and bruises.' A hint of a smile crossed her face. ‘Perhaps I want to wear the gowns and veils now.'

Because wearing the clothing of a noblewoman was far removed from the young woman she'd been in Constantinople. Brian supposed it made sense, and he gave back the veil.

‘I always liked your hair, even though you kept it braided,' he admitted.

‘If it hadn't been, it could have been used against me.' She covered her hair and secured the veil with a narrow band.

‘I am glad you didn't cut it.' For a moment, he wondered how long it was. She'd only kept it down past her shoulders in Constantinople, but it seemed to be down to the middle of her back now.

‘And I am glad you shaved off your beard,' she teased, reaching out to touch his face. ‘I know you hated how long it grew in our prison.'

The moment her hand cupped his cheek, something stirred within him. Though she hadn't meant anything by it, he couldn't deny the rise of interest as he remembered her hands massaging his shoulders at night, after a battle. He met her gaze and covered her hand with his own. He gripped it lightly, waiting to see what she would do.

Embarrassment coloured her face, and she pulled her hand away. ‘We should hurry. The meal will be starting soon, and I'll introduce you to the king and queen.'

‘And your own family,' he suggested. ‘I would like to meet them.'

‘I—' She seemed unsettled by the idea and offered, ‘I suppose you could.'

She quickened her pace to walk down the hillside, and he caught her elbow gently. ‘Velaria, wait.' She turned back, and he continued, ‘I don't want to remember the past or speak of Constantinople again. Not while I'm here. Let us simply enjoy the festival.'

She nodded in agreement. ‘As friends.' Something shifted within her then, and it did seem that she was willing to push back the shadows for a time.

‘Aye. As friends.' He took her hand and looped it in his arm.

But as he walked alongside her, he sensed that she would have to confront her nightmares and her worst fears before she could heal.

And so would he.