Chapter Five

A lthough she was glad Savas had come to see her, Velaria was entirely too aware of the knowing looks that passed among the people as they walked to one of the lower tables. Her father, in particular, tensed at the sight of him, though Ademar didn't approach them.

She didn't understand what had changed. Savas had refused to spend one more night at her side after he'd escorted her to Ardennes. He'd sworn that he couldn't.

And yet now he'd discovered that her family was at Laochre and had decided to visit? His sister lived in the north, so why had he come so far south? Something didn't make sense, for she'd heard nothing from him in all these weeks. What had changed?

Part of her didn't want to question it. He would only be here for a little while, so what did it matter? He could share Bealtaine with her, and then he would leave again.

Her smile grew strained at the thought. Although Savas sat beside her and offered her portions of food, she still couldn't tolerate very much of it. He must have noticed her lack of appetite, but thankfully, he didn't remark on it.

In contrast, it was as if Savas couldn't get enough to eat. He had started to regain more strength, and his face was fuller. She couldn't deny her own fascination with the transformation. His skin held the deep colour of the sun, the same as hers. But his face held a strength and intensity that stole her breath. A sudden flare of interest caught her at the memory of his fleeting kiss in the arena.

She told herself it had only been a gesture for the crowd during their last fight. It had meant nothing to him, for he hadn't kissed her since. Better to lock the memory away and remember that he did not think of her beyond friendship and never had.

And still, she wondered why he had journeyed here.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the king and queen left the dais and came over to speak with them. Queen Isabel's face held the soft lines of time, creasing wrinkles against her eyes and mouth as she smiled warmly. She leaned against her husband as they drew close and said, ‘We are so glad to see you safely returned to us, Velaria.'

‘I am happy to be back with my family,' she answered, accepting the queen's embrace. ‘May I introduce you to Brian of Penrith? His sister lives at Dunbough with her husband, and he will travel there soon.'

Then Queen Isabel turned and said, ‘I bid you welcome, Brian.' Then she turned and said, ‘And this is Patrick, my husband.'

‘Your Grace,' he started to say, but the king only laughed and shook his head.

‘Neither Isabel nor I care much for titles. Patrick will do.'

Even so, Brian bowed his head.

‘I know Velaria's parents are grateful that you brought her home safely,' the king said. ‘As are we.'

Isabel smiled and added, ‘I hope you will stay with us throughout our Bealtaine celebration.'

‘For a time,' he agreed. ‘And then I will travel north to find my sister.'

It was a reminder that Velaria needed to hear. He wasn't going to stay. She'd accepted that already. And yet, her wayward heart couldn't stop thinking of Savas as she imagined a future that would never be.

You're behaving like a coward , her brain reminded her.

But then, that was what she'd become, wasn't it? A shadow with no life at all, no reason to fight. Something stirred within her that felt like shame. This wasn't the woman she'd been before. She didn't like this person, not at all.

There had been a time when men and women feared her, when she had been one of their greatest fighters. And not a single person here, except Savas, knew it.

It was as if something shifted inside her, with the realisation that Kadir and his men had broken her. They had turned her from a warrior into a maiden.

Her hands clenched in her skirts with restlessness, for she had no idea what to do now.

‘You are welcome at Laochre,' Queen Isabel was saying to Savas. ‘If you need anything at all, you've only to ask.'

He bowed again, and after they'd gone, he turned back to her. Before he could speak, her parents approached. Although her mother's face held warmth, her father appeared uneasy.

‘You must be Brian of Penrith,' Katherine said with a smile, reaching for his hands. ‘I am so glad to meet you at last.'

‘Lady Katherine.' He bowed before her, and Velaria didn't miss her mother's knowing smile.

‘You should have stayed with us for a few days,' Katherine chided. ‘At the very least, we wanted to thank you for bringing our daughter home.' She smiled and added, ‘This is my husband, Sir Ademar.'

Her father gave a curt nod and then offered to Brian, ‘Would you walk with m-me a moment? I would like to hear more about C-Constantinople.'

From the look in his eyes, it appeared that her father fully intended to interrogate Savas. ‘Another time, Father,' she started to say. ‘He's only just arrived.'

But Brian relented and said, ‘I would be glad to tell you more.' He followed Ademar away from the tables of food towards the large doors at the end of the Great Chamber.

‘Why is Father wanting to speak with Brian alone?' she demanded of her mother. ‘They've only just met.'

Katherine only smiled. ‘I'm certain he has his reasons. But Brian is rather handsome, isn't he?'

It made her wonder if her mother was attempting to bring them together. Although part of her did care for Savas, she couldn't forget that he had refused her on the ship. ‘Mother, he is not my suitor, so do not interfere.'

But her mother sent her a sidelong look. ‘Would you want him to be?'

Her face turned crimson, and she shook her head.

Not like this. Not out of pity.

‘I've already told you, I don't intend to marry anyone.'

‘We will see.' Her mother clearly wasn't listening, likely because she had a romantic heart. ‘There will be many visitors for Bealtaine,' Katherine continued. ‘My sister tells me that you will have your choice of suitors.' She reached out and took Velaria's hand. ‘Honora has invited many noblemen, both Irish and Norman. At least consider each of them.'

Her expression shifted from gentleness to one of determination. ‘But if you do not choose someone soon, your father will choose. And I agree with him. A new beginning with a home of your own is the best thing for you.'

No. She would never allow herself to be forced into marriage. But even if she protested again, her mother wouldn't listen. Instead, she told Katherine, ‘I am going to return to my chamber.'

She passed through the Great Chamber and up the winding stairs to the room she shared with her cousin. Thankfully, Mairead wasn't there, but she saw something else that made her stop short. It was a colc sword that someone had left behind.

Though it conjured memories of the fighter she'd been, the very sight of the weapon made her breath catch. It was a physical reminder of the past, and for a moment, Velaria faltered. Why would anyone leave it here for her?

Carefully, she picked it up by the hilt. The balance of the weapon was excellent, and it felt like another part of herself. Which was a dangerous thought, she decided as she placed it atop a wooden chest.

She glanced outside the window and saw men and women bringing more wood and peat to the hills for the fires. An ache caught within her heart, a restless questioning of who she was now. She wished she knew where to go or what to do.

The door burst open, and out of sheer instinct, she seized the weapon and held it in a fighting stance.

But it was only her cousin. ‘Look at you.' Mairead beamed with pride. ‘You terrify me, Velaria.'

She laid the weapon against the window again. ‘Who left this sword here?'

‘Most likely Aunt Honora. There will be competitions tonight. She probably wants you to show off your skills.'

Mairead was only a year younger than herself, and she crossed her arms, sending her a pointed look. ‘Who is that man who just arrived? I saw you introducing him to your family.'

‘Brian of Penrith,' she answered. ‘He and I were captives in Constantinople together.'

‘He's yours then?' There was a hint of interest in Mairead's voice.

‘We are friends,' was all she said. In truth, she didn't know what Savas was to her any more. But an ache caught within her body, a yearning that she couldn't quite push away.

It was clear that her cousin was quite fascinated with him. ‘So, you won't mind if I...talk to him during Bealtaine?'

There was a slight prickle within her, which was ridiculous. Instead, Velaria said, ‘No, it's all right.' She forced herself to say the words, although inwardly, her feelings about it were tangled up.

Mairead smiled warmly. ‘Oh, good. Father has been asking me to consider possible suitors.'

‘Mine, too.' Velaria sighed. ‘It's one of the reasons why they brought me here.'

Her cousin's eyes turned interested. ‘You don't look happy about it. Don't you want to be married?'

Velaria thought back to the night she'd shared with Drogan and shuddered. ‘No, I don't.'

‘Well, I do,' Mairead said, ‘I want to be in love.' She let out a sigh of her own. ‘But my father and brother are impossible. No man is good enough for them.' She cast another look at Velaria. ‘But your friend is quite handsome.'

A fiercely protective urge came over her, and Velaria bit back the desire to tell her cousin no. Instead, she told her, ‘You should know that Brian does not have a title or lands.'

It felt petty to say it, and yet Mairead was the daughter of the king and queen. She would be expected to marry another king or, at the very least, a high-ranking nobleman.

‘My father has enough land for us, if need be,' she answered. ‘And I need not make a decision so soon.' Her cousin sat down in a chair, smiling brightly. ‘I do love Bealtaine. It's one of my favourite festivals.'

‘And why is that?' Velaria said.

‘Oh, I think you already know,' Mairead teased. ‘I want to know who will become the Horned One and who will be the goddess.'

‘The competitions,' Velaria guessed. Tonight, the men would fight for the honour of becoming the Horned One. On the morrow would be the women's competition and the bonfires.

Mairead winked at Velaria. ‘The first night is still my favourite. Is there anything more fun than to watch the handsome men?'

Once, she would have agreed with her cousin. But now Velaria didn't think she could watch them for fear of the memories.

‘I don't think Brian of Penrith will be among the competitors,' she told her cousin.

‘I think you're wrong.' Mairead stood and took her hand. ‘Look outside. They are gathering the men now.'

Velaria rose and went over to the window. Outside, she could see dozens of men in a small crowd while another warrior gave instructions.

‘I cannot see him.'

‘He's there, I promise you,' Mairead insisted. ‘And after our meal this evening, we can watch. Perhaps you'll find the man you're meant to marry.'

‘I have no intention of marrying anyone,' Velaria said.

‘We'll see.' Mairead's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

‘You're late,' Sir Ademar accused Brian. ‘Velaria's best chance to f-find a suitor to wed is during Bealtaine.'

‘She's not ready.' He'd recognised the bleakness in Velaria's eyes, as if she had lost herself in the nightmares of the past. He knew exactly what that was like. For months on their journey here, he'd awakened night after night with his own visions of horror. Only cold discipline had helped him lock the bad dreams away. And he knew she suffered the same.

‘None of you understands what she's endured,' Brian shot back. ‘The last thing she needs is to be forced into marriage.'

‘You agreed to t-talk to her,' Sir Ademar warned. ‘Your task is to c-convince her to wed, and we expect you to keep that bargain.'

He knew her father was only trying to help, but Brian hadn't given up on the idea of a marriage between them, despite his poverty. He couldn't imagine standing aside while Velaria wed someone else. No. He couldn't do it. But earlier, when he'd voiced his own offer to wed her, the knight had dismissed the idea.

He thought of telling Sir Ademar about his bloodline, but until he'd gained his father's acceptance, it meant nothing. They would only think he was lying for his own gain.

‘I will talk with her.' He faced the knight, letting him think what he would.

Her father stared back at him and gave a nod. ‘See that you do.' Then the man added, ‘But you should know—if Velaria does not choose a husband within the next few d-days, I will choose someone for her.'

The thought of one of those men touching her was like an invisible blade to his skin. No one else would understand Velaria the way he did. ‘It's too soon for that,' Brian argued.

Sir Ademar's face was rigid with resolve. ‘I will not stand aside and watch my daughter grow frail and die. Find a way to convince her to live again.'

Brian faced her father and didn't back down. ‘I will. But give her more time and the freedom she deserves.'

From the look on the knight's face, he had no intention of backing down. If anything, he appeared even more resolute.

After Sir Ademar left, Brian tried to find Velaria since she hadn't been among the ladies. When the men gathered for the competitions, he finally saw her. She wore a blue gown with a white veil and stood beside a young woman of a similar age. He learned that the maiden was Mairead MacEgan, the only daughter of Queen Isabel and King Patrick.

An older warrior spoke to him in Irish, before he switched into the Norman tongue. ‘Are you joining in the competitions?' he asked. The man's blond hair was shot with grey, but mischief brewed in his eyes.

‘I hadn't planned on it.'

‘Yes, you are.' The warrior seized him by the arm. ‘It would be an insult to your hosts if you did not.'

Though Brian hadn't considered it in that way, the warrior was right. ‘What sort of competitions are they?'

‘The usual,' he remarked. ‘Wrestling. Archery. Sword fighting.' His gaze moved towards the red scar that ran from Brian's shoulder to the base of his throat. ‘You look as if you've seen battle before.'

‘I fought in Constantinople.' Though he led the man to believe it was during the Crusade, it wasn't entirely a lie. He regarded the warrior and saw that the man's right hand was deeply scarred. ‘It seems you've done some fighting yourself.'

‘Indeed.' The warrior flexed his hand. ‘After this injury, my wife cared for me. I would have lost the hand, were it not for Aileen.' He paused a moment and said, ‘I am Connor MacEgan.'

Brian introduced himself and studied the man. There was no trace of anger or regret in Connor, despite his injury. He'd accepted his fate and had made the most of it.

‘I don't know if I should join the competitions,' Brian admitted. ‘My injury has healed, but my skills are...not the same.'

Connor inclined his head. ‘You should go and see my wife. Aileen's healing skills are legendary. But in the meantime, there's no harm in finding out what you can still do. And what you can't.'

The man's suggestion held merit. It had been over a year since he'd fought an opponent, and Brian didn't know his limitations. But this might be the opportunity to learn whether the injury had caused irreparable damage. None of the MacEgans knew of his skills.

‘I suppose you are right.'

Connor smiled. ‘Of course I am. Strip off your tunic and go join the others.' He gave Brian a slight shove towards the men.

He removed his tunic and set it aside while he joined the fighters. One of the men was speaking Irish, presumable giving the rules of competition. Brian didn't understand a word of it, but when the man had finished, the others gave a cheer of approval.

During the first round of archery, his shoulder wouldn't allow him to pull back the bow as far as he wanted, but he did well enough and at least struck the target each time. Another man bested them all.

Brian searched the crowd for another glimpse of Velaria, but she had disappeared with her cousin. It wasn't surprising, given her aversion to fighting.

He continued on to the next round, which was wrestling. His opponent was lean and muscular, and for a moment, Brian took his measure. He suspected the man would be fast, and sure enough, he barely sidestepped as the man lunged. When he grappled with his opponent, it felt good to push back with the strength he had left.

But in his mind, the past and present overlapped. He remembered an early battle when his opponent had disarmed him, leaving him with nothing but his bare hands and his wits as weapons. Then, just as now, he slipped into a place of calm where the only thing that mattered was survival.

Until the man twisted his arm. Pain knifed through his shoulder, and Brian barely managed to push back. He gritted past the discomfort and used his forearm to cut off his opponent's airway. The man dropped down, and Brian managed to pin him.

Although he'd won the match, the victory meant little, for he was still unable to fight at his full strength. It had only been good fortune that he was able to change positions and win.

If he had been back in the fighting pits, he would have been killed—and the thought was sobering. If he'd been at his full strength, no man here could have bested him. And it was frustrating to know that he wasn't the same champion he'd been before.

He glanced up at the stairs and finally saw Velaria again. Her complexion was pale, and he could see that she wasn't enjoying the competitions at all. When she disappeared back inside the castle keep, he slipped inside to follow her.

She stood on the far side of the Great Chamber, pretending to listen to the music an older woman played on the harp. But he could see the unsettled air about her. She appeared shaken up by what she'd watched, even though it had hardly been more than contests.

Brian wanted to distract her, and so he walked forward and touched her shoulder. When Velaria glanced up at him, her face flushed. Then he remembered he still wasn't wearing a tunic, which might be the reason for her discomfort.

‘Did you need something?' she asked.

‘Will you walk with me?' At her hesitation, he added, ‘To the parapets.'

She gave a nod and joined him. He rested his palm against her spine, guiding her away from the people.

‘I didn't realise you were competing among the other men,' she began.

‘Only as a courtesy to the king and queen.' And to find out what skills he now lacked. He'd already decided to consult with Connor's wife on the morrow. Though he didn't suppose the healer could do anything for an old wound, there was no harm in asking.

‘Are you...going to continue fighting?' She appeared uncertain about it.

‘I might. I still have the sword competition left.' He didn't miss her slight shudder. When she said nothing more, he added, ‘I hope you'll show them your skills on the morrow. Not a woman here could defeat you.'

She said nothing, but her expression had turned grim. Brian reached for her hand and led her up another staircase. Below them, the competitions continued, but she turned her back and stared out at the sea in the distance. ‘It's beautiful here,' she said softly.

‘It is.' He didn't take his gaze from her, even as he questioned what he was even doing. He'd sworn to help Velaria overcome the nightmares that haunted her still. Perhaps he could convince her to join him at his sister's home. But he already knew her father would not abandon the idea of a marriage for her.

‘Why did you come to Ireland?' she asked. Beneath her tone, he heard the edge of suspicion. ‘After you left Ardennes, I thought I would never see you again.'

He gave a nod. ‘I thought it was better to stay away from you.'

Her face turned crimson, and she looked away. ‘I know you don't want more than friendship between us. And truly, I understand that—'

‘That's not why I left.'

He stood beside her, and she startled him when she leaned in close. With the quiet invitation, he drew his arm around her waist, and she rested her cheek against his chest as they both stared out at the darkened horizon. The touch of her skin against his was an invitation he couldn't deny. He removed the veil and let it fall away while he stroked her brown hair.

‘Then why did you?' she whispered.

His skin heated beneath the palm of her hand, and he wished he were wearing a tunic. Though she likely thought nothing of it, he was entirely conscious of her skin against his. His body craved her touch, though he tried to force it back. But it felt good to hold her in his arms again.

‘I left because I'm not the sort of man your family wants you to wed. I have nothing to give.'

In his embrace, he could feel her tension. ‘I'm not going to be married, Savas. Not to anyone.'

Her unspoken words were, Not even to you .

A darkness caught within him, but he understood her reasons. ‘He's going to try to force a marriage if you don't choose someone.'

‘Then I will run away again,' she said softly. ‘I won't be any man's prisoner. Especially not as a wife.'

She wasn't going to change her mind—that much was evident. But he wondered if other reasons haunted her. She had never spoken of the night Kadir had taken her captive. A tightness caught in his chest at the thought of her suffering—not only that night but also when she'd run away with Sir Drogan.

Brian wanted to ease that pain, to show her that touch did not have to be a violation. But he didn't know if she would ever want to face that fear again.

She turned back to the competitions, and he kept her in his embrace, standing behind with his arms encircling her.

Then he leaned his mouth against her throat. ‘No one will ever force you into something you don't want, Velaria. I promise you that.' His lips grazed the side of her neck, and gooseflesh rose upon her skin.

‘I know,' she whispered.

Within his embrace, he felt the tremor of her body. And he realised, then, that it was the fighting that bothered her. He held her slender body against his, and she touched his hands, leaning back. ‘You don't like to watch them, do you?'

She didn't answer. But when he pulled back to look at her, he saw that her eyes were closed.

‘These competitions aren't the same as the battles we fought.'

‘I know,' she repeated. ‘But I still don't want to watch them.' Her voice was the barest whisper as he moved her long braid to the side of her shoulder.

He understood that—and yet, he suspected that overcoming her fears meant facing them. Perhaps even wielding a sword once again.

‘What are you doing?' she asked, as he began to massage her shoulders.

‘Distracting you.' He caressed her arms, and without thinking, he lowered his mouth to her nape. She gripped his arms, a soft sigh escaping. He kissed a path up the column of her throat while he continued kneading her skin.

‘Savas,' she whispered. The single word was enough to make him stop. In his embrace, she turned to face him. He held steady and unmoving, though he craved more from her.

‘That day in the arena,' she said. ‘It was the first and only time you kissed me, until now.'

‘I know.' He pulled her hair aside and rested his hand against her nape. ‘Did it bother you?'

She met his gaze evenly. ‘I don't know why you waited so long.'

Her words flared his interest, and he bent to kiss the opposite side of her neck. ‘It wasn't because I didn't want to.'

Beneath his mouth, he sensed her tension. The thought of exploring the rest of her bare skin with his mouth was arousing, and he tried not to think of what lay beneath her gown.

‘I remember the nights we eased each other's pain after a fight,' she said quietly. ‘I've missed it.'

‘So have I.'

But Velaria surprised him when she pushed his hands away and moved behind him. This time, he watched the fighting while her hands moved upon his shoulders. She knew exactly where the pressure points were, and he groaned in thanks at the massage.

‘This is dangerous, Velaria,' he told her.

‘Why?' Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Because he didn't trust himself not to touch her. He craved her hands upon his skin, and right now, he ached to be with her.

‘Because you're making me want what I can't have.' He turned to face her, bringing her palms back up to his heart.

Her blue eyes stared into his, and she straightened. ‘Good.'

And with that, she took his face between her hands and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

Velaria knew why Savas had brought her here, though she'd already given up on the idea of ever wanting to watch anyone fight again. But the distraction he'd offered had been a taste of forbidden fruit she hadn't known she'd craved. She'd missed his touch and the way he'd massaged the aching tension in her shoulders.

She didn't know why she'd kissed him. Perhaps it had been impulse, or a need to know whether she'd imagined the attraction between them. Or maybe it was a way to push back the memories she'd locked away, the ones she could never face again.

He was gentle with her, cupping her cheek while he took her offering. His mouth was soft, an invitation instead of a claiming.

But right now, she was even more aware that he stood half-naked before her. Though she'd touched his bare shoulders before, she'd forgotten what it was to trace every line of sinewy muscle. He was stronger than she'd ever imagined, and she lost herself for a moment. Her body warmed, and she grew sensitive to his mouth upon hers.

His kiss coaxed her to respond, and she was caught up in the sensations that poured through her. No man had ever kissed her in this way before, as if she were his reason for breathing. For a moment, she savoured his mouth on hers, feeling her body respond.

Until her fingers grazed the ragged edge of the scar she'd given him. Velaria jolted and pulled away, suddenly realising what it was.

She didn't know how he'd survived such a wound. It was a miracle he'd lived at all. The weight of guilt flooded through her, and she took a step back. ‘I'm keeping you from the competitions. You—you should go and join the others.'

His gaze remained steady, revealing none of his thoughts. Was that pity in his eyes? She looked away, and he gave back her veil before he walked down the stairs. Her fingers were shaking as she put her veil and circlet back in place. Only after he was gone did she turn back.

What are you doing? she demanded of herself.

It was as if someone had seized her and shaken her out of the hazy dream she'd been living. She had allowed her fears to take over, changing her into a spineless coward.

These were only training competitions, meant to allow the men to test themselves and for entertainment. Although she couldn't quite push away the fear, she forced herself to walk down the stairs. One step first, then the other. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found Mairead waiting.

‘There you are, Velaria! I've been looking for you.' Her cousin took her hand and led her deeper into the crowd.

‘What is it?' she tried to ask, but Mairead continued guiding her past all the people. She saw Savas standing among the men waiting for the sword competitions, and a lump caught in her throat.

He'll be fine , she reassured herself.

But even now, her mouth was swollen from the kiss she'd taken from him.

‘Where are you taking me?' she asked Mairead as they went up the stairs and into the Great Chamber.

‘Alanna is waiting for us,' her cousin said with a bright smile.

Velaria suppressed a groan. Their older cousin Alanna enjoyed telling fortunes and making love charms. It was harmless fun, she supposed, but Mairead was more than eager to hear her own future.

When they reached the main hearth, Velaria saw a circle of stools. Her cousin Alanna sat before a low table across from another young maiden.

‘Velaria,' Alanna said warmly, rising from her seat. She welcomed her with an embrace. ‘It's so good to see you again.'

Alanna turned back to the young girl. ‘Take the blossoms you've chosen and weave them into a crown. If you rise at dawn, look through the centre, and you may see the face of the man you will marry.'

The maiden stared at her in awe. ‘I—I will. Thank you, Alanna.' She took the flowers she'd chosen and one of the rowan twigs, before she retreated among the other women.

Then Alanna turned back to them. ‘Which of you would like to go first?'

Mairead sent her an encouraging look, but Velaria deferred. ‘Let Mairead go first.'

‘As you wish.'

Her cousin knelt at the low table, and Alanna set several small branches before her—Velaria recognised whitethorn and rowan, but then Alanna named the others as sycamore, elder, and hazel. ‘First, choose the wood for your May crown. Place your hands upon each one and one will call to you.'

Dutifully, Mairead rested her fingers on each of the flexible branches until she stopped at the elder. ‘This one, I think.'

Alanna reached out and rested her hands atop Mairead's. She closed her eyes and said, ‘The elder will protect you from evil, yes. But you will need a strong guardian.'

‘My husband?' Mairead asked quietly.

‘You will meet him soon,' Alanna said. ‘But not here. He is not one of us.' She pulled back her hands, and Velaria saw a trace of unease in the woman's face. Almost as if she saw something she didn't want Mairead to know.

She withdrew several sprigs of dried flowers, a few tree blossoms, and greenery. ‘Now choose what you will weave into your elder crown.'

‘Where will I meet him?' Mairead insisted.

But Alanna's face turned firm. ‘Choose.' Mairead appeared disappointed, but she selected gorse, dried heather, and yellow primrose.

‘Weave them into your May crown,' Alanna said.

‘And look through it at dawn?' Mairead predicted.

Alanna shook her head. ‘You will wear your crown two days' hence, just after sunrise. And stay with Velaria.'

Mairead's expression turned confused. ‘But that's after Bealtaine. And it's not what you told Sinead.'

Alanna offered no explanation, but she nodded to Velaria. ‘It's your turn now.'

Mairead took her branches and flowers, frowning as she took her place upon one of the stools. Velaria saw her mother, Katherine, had joined them and was standing just beyond the circle of women.

Though she didn't truly believe in Alanna's superstitions, she would never insult her cousin by saying so. Instead, she took her place at the low table while Alanna laid out the different branches, just as she'd done before.

But strangely, the woman reached out and took both of her hands, turning them over to study her palms. Though Velaria's calluses had healed during the past year, it almost seemed as if Alanna could still see them.

‘You have journeyed far, but your travels are not over.' The older woman released her hands, but Velaria saw the worry behind her eyes. Then Alanna stared off into the distance, a troubled expression on her face as she fell silent.

Velaria ventured, ‘Should I choose a wood?'

Once again, there was no answer, so she touched each of the different branches. Of course, none of them called to her, but the rowan felt light and springy, so she chose it. It would be easier to weave a May crown from it.

‘What about her husband?' Mairead interrupted. ‘Tell Velaria about how she will meet him.'

Alanna appeared uncomfortable once again. ‘There is darkness around you. Darkness and death.' She shuddered, gripping the edges of her brat as if an invisible wind had made her cold.

A chill rose over Velaria's skin at her cousin's prediction. She sensed that Alanna had reached into her worst secrets, and when her cousin stared at her, there was fear in her expression. ‘You will not find the happiness you seek.'

Velaria faced her and stared back into her cousin's eyes. The prediction seemed as true as she could possibly imagine, and all around her, she heard the sighs of dismay from the other women. But she sensed that Alanna was not finished speaking.

‘Not until you face what you fear most and overcome it,' her cousin finished. ‘You must take your sword into the darkness and accept what you are.'

From behind, a woman's hands touched her shoulders. Her mother interrupted, ‘I think that's enough. Velaria, choose some flowers, and make your crown.' To Alanna, she warned, ‘This is not the time or place to tell such a fortune.'

Though Velaria knew Katherine was only trying to protect her, her cheeks burned with embarrassment that everyone had heard about the death surrounding her. Her cousin's prophecy bothered her deeply, for it was as if Alanna could see the truth inside her. And now several of the young maidens eyed her with fear.

‘Take your rowan branches and weave them,' Alanna finished.

‘What about the flowers?' Mairead started to ask.

But her cousin only shook her head. ‘She will get her own flowers later.'

Velaria took the handful of rowan branches, but she wished she had never agreed to let Alanna tell her fortune. Her mother asked quietly, ‘Are you all right?'

‘You needn't worry. Alanna's predictions don't always come true.' Velaria attempted a weak smile and then pressed the rowan branches into her mother's hands. ‘I don't feel like weaving a wreath any more.'

She started to leave the Great Chamber, but Mairead caught up to her and linked her arm with hers. ‘It's going to be all right, Velaria.'

Her false smile faded at her cousin's kindness. She didn't know what to say, but Mairead guided her back outside.

‘I know what will lift your spirits.' As they passed a servant, she handed Velaria a cup of mead and took one for herself.

‘Where are we going?' she asked Mairead.

Her cousin led her through the crowd. ‘You'll see.'

Velaria took a sip from her cup, and the fermented honey drink was stronger than she'd expected. Still, it was delicious. By the time they reached the small dais, her cousin refilled her mead and guided her to sit down beside her.

Below, the men were still competing in the different games, but Mairead pointed to another group. The men had stripped to their waists, and in the firelight, their bodies gleamed. She realised then that it was a strength contest. Each man would take turns lifting large stones, which made their muscles flex, revealing every carved line and sinew.

‘Now, this is much better,' Mairead said. ‘What a view.'

A laugh caught in her throat as Velaria finished her second cup. She was starting to feel warm, and there was a faint buzzing in her ears when her cousin handed her a third drink.

She was beginning to realise that she should have eaten more food earlier, but the mead was so pleasant, she didn't care any more. What did it matter if she never found love or a husband? She could enjoy the wonderful view before her, could she not?

‘Savas is more handsome,' she remarked to Mairead.

‘Who?'

‘Brian,' she corrected. ‘But I call him Savas. It means "war" in the Byzantine language.' She gestured with her cup, and some of the mead spilled. ‘You should have seen him fight. No one ever defeated him.'

‘Not once?' Mairead asked.

She shook her head. ‘If he'd been defeated, he would be dead. The same as me.'

Her cousin's expression turned fearful, but Velaria gestured with her cup. ‘We fought opponents in an arena to the death. Every three days, I never knew if I would survive by nightfall.'

‘I never knew,' Mairead whispered. ‘I'm so sorry. Thank God you were rescued.'

Darker memories tried to surface, but Velaria drained her cup to push them away. Now she was well and truly dizzy. But despite it all, she found herself asking, ‘Where is Savas?'

‘I think he just finished a sword fight,' Mairead said. She sent a sidelong look towards her. ‘You care for him, don't you?'

‘He is my friend.' But she already knew the boundary between them was slipping. The intimate touch of his mouth against her throat had overwhelmed her, and she couldn't deny that the kiss had kindled more intense feelings. He'd warned her already that it was dangerous to imagine a future. But if he didn't want to be with her, why had he come to Laochre? Was this simply meant to be another farewell?

He is leaving , Velaria reminded herself. He would go north to his sister's home, and she probably wouldn't see him again. It was better to keep her distance.