Chapter Seven

F or a moment, Velaria could only stare at Savas. A thousand emotions roiled within her, and at first, she was convinced that his words were a lie. He would have told her if he were the son of a king. Not once had he mentioned it in the past.

It must have been a falsehood of some kind, just a means of getting her father to agree to...whatever Savas was offering. Not a true marriage, certainly.

But worse than the lie was her father's claim that he had paid Savas to come here. She didn't want to believe it. And yet, it seemed entirely probable that he would have taken her father's offer of horses and supplies. He had no other way to gain passage here.

‘Velaria,' her father interrupted. ‘Is this t-true?' The expression on his face held anger, but it was nothing compared to her own fury.

She had already warned Ademar that she didn't plan to marry anyone. But her father had already dismissed her decision as if he already knew what was best for her. He had no idea what she'd survived already, and it was clear that he would not let this go. Why couldn't he simply accept her answer?

Her own frustration was so tight, she could hardly breathe. ‘I am going to speak with him alone before I make a decision.' Not because she had any intention of agreeing to this marriage, but because she wanted to find out Savas's intentions. It was time for brutal honesty between them. And after that conversation, she didn't know whether she would go through with a false marriage or not. Savas knew of her desire for freedom and had said he would grant it.

He took her hand in his and led her from the dais. She walked alongside him and up the stairs towards the guest chambers. Although she sensed her father's disapproval, her mother's face held worry as well.

But Velaria didn't know how she felt. For so long, she had avoided discussing any sort of future for them—especially after he'd gently pushed her away on the journey home. Even now, it felt like an arrangement, not a desire to be with her. And she dreaded the thought of marrying a man she cared about who didn't feel the same way in return.

Savas took a torch from a sconce and opened a door that led to a tiny, narrow space with a single bed. He lit a brazier and an oil lamp before returning the torch to the sconce outside. After he closed the door behind him, he met her gaze.

‘I want your full honesty,' she began. ‘No lies between us.'

‘All right,' he agreed. ‘But for every question I answer in honesty, you must do the same.'

She nodded. There was no reason to hide anything any more.

Savas leaned against the stone wall and studied her. In the glow of the lamplight, his face was shadowed and lean. Her attention was fixed upon his mouth as she remembered the kiss. His expression narrowed, and there was an intangible heat that rose up between them. She didn't truly understand it, but she remembered how it felt to have his hands upon her skin.

‘Did my father pay you to come to Laochre?' she asked.

He gave a nod. ‘He did. Your parents were worried about you, and I lacked the means of travelling to my sister's home without their help.'

Even though Velaria had guessed as much, it felt like a spike driven within her heart. For Savas never would have come here had it not been for their coins. He truly had left her, with no intent of returning.

Was there ever anything between us? she wondered.

Or had that been a lie?

He took a step closer to her. Then another. She resisted the urge to step away from him, for she didn't want to seem as if she were running away. Yet, his physical presence unnerved her. His blue eyes stared into hers, piercing through her fumbling excuses.

‘Do I frighten you?'

Yes. But not because she thought he would hurt her—it was because of the volatile feelings he conjured within her. And the heart-wrenching truth that he had only come to Ireland because of payment, not because he wanted to see her.

‘No,' she lied.

When Savas took another step forward, he caught her waist with one arm. He held her so lightly—and yet, her body flinched without meaning to.

‘You're trembling.' He cupped her cheek, sliding his warm palm downward to her throat. She could almost imagine his bare skin upon hers, and the image evoked a shuddering response.

‘What is it you want, Velaria?' His voice was the slightest murmur, and her heart began to pound. She was entirely aware of his body so close to hers and the raw expression in his eyes.

Heat and need blazed upon her, and she didn't understand the feelings he conjured within. Why was he doing this to her?

Her body ached, and she felt as if she were standing upon the edge of a vast ocean that threatened to pull her under. With reluctance, she pulled away.

‘I want the freedom to do as I wish,' she answered honestly. ‘I am weary of being told what to do.'

Even in this, she felt like a pawn. Her father wanted her to be married, and she didn't know what Savas wanted from her. She forced herself to face him. ‘Why did you tell my father you are the son of the king?'

He met her gaze. ‘After I went to the abbey, I learned of it from Father Oswold.' He didn't offer anything more, though she wanted answers. He seemed uncomfortable, but when she searched his expression, it didn't seem to be a lie.

‘How is this possible—' she started to ask.

‘My sister knows more than me. But the priest said it was true.'

It occurred to her that if she were to marry him, it would give King John yet another strong alliance with her family. Which might give Savas what he wanted—to be recognised by the king as his son.

She took a step back. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts and make a decision.

He didn't push for more but asked, ‘Is there another reason you don't want to marry anyone, Velaria?' She didn't know what to tell him, but then he continued, ‘Is it because of what happened on the day Kadir took you from our prison cell?' His voice had turned grim, shadowed in darkness.

Velaria's face flamed with embarrassment, for she'd never wanted to remember that day. ‘Why would you ask me this?'

‘Because I need to understand.'

‘I don't want to answer,' she shot back. The memory still haunted her, even now.

‘Is that the reason you're afraid of me?' he pressed again. ‘Because of Kadir's men?'

Hot tears burned in her eyes, and she turned away. It was clear that he already believed the worst, that the men had violated her. And although they had wanted to, she'd fought them off. Kadir's punishment—the severe beating—had likely saved her from rape.

‘Do not ask me about that night again,' she warned. Inwardly, she felt as if the slightest word would cause her courage to shatter.

He came up behind her and drew his arms around her waist. He offered wordless comfort, and it was all she could do not to start crying. ‘Your wounds may be invisible, but they're still bleeding,' he said quietly. ‘Let me help you heal from what you endured.'

The tears did break free then, but she didn't turn around. Nor did she pull away from his embrace.

‘I don't need or want your pity,' she whispered.

His embrace tightened around her. ‘It's not pity, Velaria. You took care of me for nearly a year while I was healing. Let me do the same for you.'

Deep inside, she was aching. She wanted so badly to admit the truth to him, that she already knew he didn't want her. A marriage between them would only hurt more, making her long for something she couldn't have.

She didn't understand the rising feelings of yearning, but she forced herself to break away. If for no other reason than to protect her heart.

‘I don't know what you want from me,' she said, turning her face away.

‘I want to protect you.' He touched her cheek, caressing it with his knuckle. ‘We suffered together in that prison, and I won't let your father force you into a marriage where the same thing happens.

‘If you wed me, I'll grant you the freedom you want,' he swore. ‘I would never hurt you. Not ever.'

He still persisted in this idea of a false marriage, not understanding that she wanted it to be real. She wanted him to look upon her as if she were precious, and she wanted to be loved. But both of them were so broken after Constantinople, it was a foolish dream.

‘I need to travel north to my sister,' he began. ‘Come with me, and you need not worry about your father any more. And I'll get the answers I need about my own father.'

‘And when the king comes to Ireland?' she ventured.

‘I don't know. I need to face him and tell him who I am.'

But she didn't miss the thread of doubt in his voice. There was a chance that the king could deny him or ignore his existence. And then what?

It seemed that the ground between them was shifting, and she was afraid of what that meant. But when she studied him closely, it made her wonder if Savas had his own invisible wounds that would not heal. There were shadows beneath his eyes, as if he struggled in sleep. Though he put up a brave face, like a man who had faced his nightmares and overcome them, she wondered if that was actually true.

‘I need to think,' she said. ‘I can't give you an answer just now.'

‘What about your father?' There was an edge to his voice, one she didn't understand. But he was right—Ademar had already proven his stubbornness, and he wasn't about to let go of this idea.

‘He won't listen,' she admitted. ‘And I don't know if he believes what you said about the king.'

Savas met her gaze. ‘You could leave with me,' he offered. ‘Before he tries to announce your betrothal to someone else.'

Though it was a reasonable offer, she still knew he didn't truly want her. If there was any way out of this mess, any way at all to avoid being trapped into marriage, she had to try.

‘No,' she said softly. ‘I won't be forced into a marriage neither of us wants.'

And with that, she turned and left.

The next morning

‘Are you certain you want to do this, Mairead?' Velaria asked. To be honest, she wasn't disappointed to be leaving Laochre this morn. She'd avoided her parents for the rest of last night, not wanting to give them an answer.

So, when her cousin had asked her to slip out of the castle before dawn, Velaria had been glad to agree. It offered her the time she needed to make her decision about the betrothal. Savas's offer had been made in haste, and though he'd claimed he didn't want a true marriage, she didn't want him to look upon her with distaste or pity.

Mairead had wanted to walk, claiming that it was easier to slip away with no one noticing if they did not ride horses. Which was true enough. Even so, Velaria wasn't certain she agreed with her cousin's desire to go alone. It was never wise for women to travel without a guard, but she could also see Mairead's reasoning that there was no one here as far as the eye could see.

The morning dawned clear, and the air was cool. Velaria trudged up the hillside of Amadán, thankful for the freedom they could enjoy this early in the day.

Mairead had brought her May crown with her, and Velaria sensed this secret journey was somehow connected to Alanna's prophecy. And her cousin desperately wanted something to cling to.

It was a fair distance from the castle, and the journey to the top of the hill wasn't easy. Velaria breathed in the crisp air and drew her brat closer around her shoulders. Her cousin had woven the dried primrose and heather blossoms into the elder crown that she carried in one hand.

‘Alanna said I would meet my future husband in two days,' Mairead announced. ‘And I want to find him before my brother interferes.' She exchanged a glance with Velaria. ‘Liam is the most overprotective man I've ever known. The only person worse is my father.'

‘They want you to be happy,' Velaria reassured her. But she understood her cousin's complaints. Her own brother, Phillip, had been unbearable when they were growing up. The only difference between them was that Mairead wanted a husband, whereas Velaria wanted to avoid marriage.

‘I intend to follow Alanna's suggestion,' her cousin said. ‘It will work. I'm confident that she speaks the truth.' Then Mairead's face fell a moment later when she remembered that Alanna had given a very different prediction to Velaria. ‘I mean, her prophecy for me was probably true. She doesn't know you that well. Mayhap yours was wrong.'

Velaria shook her head and shrugged. ‘I didn't make a crown, so it doesn't matter.'

Mairead let out a sigh. ‘I suppose you're right.' But her cheeks flushed as if she hadn't thought before she'd spoken.

They continued walking uphill until they reached the summit. Mairead turned back to her and smiled.

‘What are you going to do?' Velaria asked. She didn't understand her cousin's superstitions. But her question was answered when Mairead held the circlet of branches up to the sun for a moment. She closed her eyes and murmured in Irish, words that Velaria didn't understand.

Then she slowly lowered the circlet and glanced back at her cousin. ‘It's just a blessing. Now we'll return to the bottom of the hill.' Mairead squared her shoulders as if she fully expected her future husband to be waiting there.

Velaria didn't believe that anything had really happened, but she saw no harm in letting her cousin dream of a future. The morning sunlight was bright, despite the chill.

‘I'm glad you came to visit, Cousin,' Mairead said. Her dark hair hung down to the centre of her back in a long braid, and she placed the May crown upon her head. ‘I pray that you will find your own happiness.'

Velaria murmured words of agreement though she didn't know what her own happiness would look like any more.

Her cousin seemed to notice her sudden silence and prompted, ‘Tell me more about Brian of Penrith.' With a sly smile, Mairead added, ‘Is it true that you're now betrothed?'

In spite of herself, Velaria felt her cheeks burn. ‘I—I haven't decided yet.'

Mairead linked her arm in Velaria's as they trudged downhill. ‘What was it like when you were with him in Constantinople?'

Though she recognised that her cousin was trying to pry out more information, her tone had shifted to one of sympathy.

‘He was all I had when we were held captive together,' Velaria admitted. Those nights seemed so long ago. And yet, she would never forget them.

‘It sounds as if you meant a great deal to him, as well.'

Velaria couldn't find the right words and simply shrugged. She didn't really know how Savas felt about her—especially now.

As they reached the pathway, Velaria heard the sound of men speaking the Norman language. Out of instinct, she put her arm back to push Mairead behind her. She raised her finger to her lips and stared down below.

Mairead's eyes widened. ‘The love charm actually worked,' she whispered. ‘I wanted to believe it, but—'

‘Wait.' Velaria shielded her eyes against the sunlight and inhaled sharply. On the other side of the hill where the sea gleamed, she saw the glint of armour. And she suspected the men below had come to scout the area.

She bit back a curse that they'd come alone. Turning back, she murmured to Mairead, ‘Was your mother expecting guests?'

Mairead shrugged. ‘There are always guests at Bealtaine.' She ventured a soft smile. ‘Velaria, I think Alanna was right. I don't know who these men are, but...what if one of them is the man I'm destined to marry?'

She didn't believe that for a moment. There were nearly a dozen men, fully armed with spears and swords. They were not here to visit—they were invaders.

‘We need to go back to Laochre, Mairead. Before we're seen.' Now she wished that she'd armed herself with the colc sword. Her only weapon was an eating knife, which was worth nothing at all.

Her mind blurred between past and present, as if she were once again in the arena, fighting an enemy. She took a moment to gain her bearings. It was better if they returned to the top of the hill to gain a better view of where it was safe to descend. She held her cousin's arm and ordered, ‘Climb back up. We need to see who these men are and find out how we can safely return to the castle.'

Mairead turned serious then. ‘You think they will harm us? We've done nothing wrong.'

Was her cousin truly that innocent? Velaria nodded. ‘You're the daughter of an Irish king, Mairead,' she pointed out. ‘We should have brought a guard with us.' Already she was regretting the decision to indulge her cousin's romantic dreams of a suitor.

‘No one in this region would dare harm me,' Mairead said. ‘My uncles and aunts own even more land beyond my father's.' She appeared uncertain and confused. ‘But... I feel certain that this is connected to what Alanna told me. It's part of the prophecy.'

‘Those are Norman soldiers, not Irish,' Velaria said. ‘And if they find two women alone with no escort...' She closed her eyes, trying to push back the rise of nausea.

Mairead paled. ‘I—I suppose you're right.'

Velaria took her cousin's arm and commanded, ‘Follow me.' They hurried to climb back up the hillside, but just as they were reaching the top, six men caught up to them. Five wore chainmail armour while the sixth man had armour trimmed with gold. But it was their knowing smiles that stopped her short.

Velaria knew if she didn't protect Mairead, both of them would be at the mercy of these men. Never again.

‘Mairead, stay behind me,' Velaria ordered. She was grateful when her cousin obeyed.

‘What a pleasant diversion,' one of the men said, his eye on Mairead. ‘We didn't expect to find such lovely flowers waiting to be picked.'

‘Velaria.' The panic and warning in her cousin's voice was evident.

‘Stay back,' she murmured again. A strange calm descended over her. She would allow none of these men to lay a hand on her cousin. She had done this before, and she knew the role she had to play.

Strangely, the idea of touching a weapon wasn't so terrible. Not when it meant protecting her cousin.

Just as before, she pretended to be weak and helpless. ‘Please, don't hurt us.' She kept her voice fearful, even as she took a step closer to the man who appeared the weakest among them. He had already set aside his shield, which was his mistake.

All she had to do was seize his sword.

Brian had been careful to give Velaria time to consider the possible betrothal. Though he was aware of her reluctance, he'd decided not to push her for more. If nothing else, he could bring her north with him and give her the chance to avoid a marriage she didn't want. But there was always the chance that she would refuse him—or that her father would try to stop them.

An invisible fist gripped him at the thought of Velaria being forced to wed another man. They had survived this long together, and he couldn't consider leaving her behind. Not this time.

The sound of shouting caught Brian's attention. He heard the guards calling out near the barbican gate, and he walked closer to get a better look. Then he saw Velaria.

Her arms were covered in blood. He started running, not knowing if she was wounded. But he recognised the cool expression of fury on her face and knew the blood was not hers.

Why had she fought? She'd sworn she never wanted to touch a sword again. Yet, he could already see the weapon strapped to her side, a man's broadsword. Someone shouted for a healer as she dismounted.

Brian hurried to her side, and she stared at him. It was then that he saw the shock in her eyes, a blend of terror and victory.

‘What happened?' he demanded. ‘Are you hurt?'

She shook her head, and within moments, Connor, Liam, and King Patrick reached her.

‘Tell me what happened,' the king demanded. From the bleak expression on his face, it was clear he already suspected the worst.

Velaria's mouth tightened, but she faced him. ‘The Normans have taken Mairead. I tried to stop them—but there were too many. I—I couldn't fight them all.'

Patrick expelled a curse and gave orders for soldiers to gather. ‘Why were you out alone together?'

The fury in his voice seemed to startle her. ‘I—'

She had no time to finish answering his question before the king prompted, ‘Where did the soldiers ride, Velaria?'

‘North,' she answered. ‘They went north.'

The king commanded dozens of men to begin a search party. Though it seemed like chaos, the soldiers gathered weapons and armour, until a large force rode outside the gates.

‘I should go with them,' Velaria insisted.

‘You will not,' a man said. When Brian turned, he saw Sir Ademar arming himself among the others. His expression was grim when he regarded his daughter. ‘You're s-staying here with your mother.'

‘Father, I need to help,' she insisted. ‘It's my fault they took her.'

But the knight shook his head before his expression turned quiet and sympathetic. ‘It would b-bring back memories you don't want to face.' He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. ‘We'll find her. I p-promise.'

From the stricken look on Velaria's face, Brian knew if she stayed behind, she would retreat even further into the shadowed woman she'd become. ‘Come with me,' he said. ‘We'll clean off the blood.'

But she glanced back at her father and the other soldiers. ‘There's no time,' she insisted. ‘We have to find her.'

He took her hands in his and leaned in close to murmur, ‘We will hunt them down, Velaria. I promise you that.' Her blue eyes met his, and he gave a slight smile. ‘We'll arm ourselves and travel separately from the others. If the Normans haven't taken her far, the MacEgans will find her. Or we will.'

His words seemed to get through to her, and at last, she nodded. He led her to the small chamber the MacEgans had given to him. Once they were inside, he guided her to put her hands into a basin while he poured water over them. While he did, he noticed that her hands were still shaking.

‘What happened?' he asked quietly while he bathed her hands in the water, washing away the blood.

‘Mairead wanted to go to Amadán,' she began. ‘Our cousin Alanna predicted that she would find her future husband at dawn this morning. She—she believed her.' Velaria closed her eyes, and a shudder crossed over her. ‘I don't really know what happened. It was like the arena again.' She took a deep breath and expelled the air slowly. ‘It doesn't seem real that they took her.'

He dried her hands with a cloth and asked, ‘How many men did you face?'

‘Six.' Her voice sounded dull. ‘I...hardly remember what happened. I attacked before they could make the first move. But two of them took Mairead when I was surrounded. I didn't have a choice but to fight.'

He drew her into a hard embrace, offering what comfort he could. When he released her, he asked, ‘Did you kill the others?'

Slowly, she nodded. ‘It happened so fast.' A flush coloured her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. ‘I never wanted to be that woman or wield a sword again. But if I hadn't—' Her words broke off, as if she struggled to come to terms with her decision.

Brian met her gaze squarely. ‘You did what you had to do to escape. And because of it, both of you survived.'

He fully understood her guilt and knew what it was to feel as if your soul was damned and no one would forgive you for your sins. To ease her, he added, ‘If you hadn't killed them, they would have hurt both of you.'

‘They were scouts, Savas. They weren't travelling to Laochre—they were here for another reason.'

He suspected these men had been sent by King John. But he still didn't know the monarch's intentions or whether his family would be harmed by their forces.

‘Were any of them noblemen?' he asked quietly. ‘Out of those you killed?'

She didn't look at him, but she inclined her head. ‘One had chainmail armour trimmed in gold.'

Which was a yes. He didn't know what to think of that, for there could be consequences for her actions. He could only hope that the nobleman was one of the king's enemies.

He reached out and traced the line of her cheek. ‘We'll find Mairead and bring her back. I swear it.'

She covered his hand with her own and admitted, ‘I told them she was an Irish princess, and I pray to God they believed me.'

He understood why—it was likely the only means of protecting Mairead from being defiled.

‘I'll get the horses and weapons if you'll gather the travelling supplies,' he offered.

She nodded, but before she could pull away, he took her face between his hands and said, ‘It's going to be all right, Velaria.'

She didn't move, and he saw the aching emotion on her face. ‘I never wanted to kill anyone again.'

He understood that. And yet, the world had forged both of them into steel weapons. Whether they wanted to be or not.

They rode swiftly, and both of them were heavily armed. Despite the nightmares of the past, Velaria hadn't protested when Savas had given her a sword. She'd chosen leather armour to wear and braided her hair back in the same way she'd worn it in the arena. Though she felt a sense of cold fear, she straightened her spine and tried to behave as if she had courage and determination.

It was a familiar mask that she wore to push back her fear. And she noticed that Savas had done the same. He wore chainmail armour, and a broadsword hung at his waist. His hair was already cropped short, and on his face she saw the determination of a man who anticipated battle.

It took her aback to see him the way he'd been in Constantinople. And she couldn't deny her own fascination with this warrior. Unlike her father, Savas hadn't hesitated to let her come and fight alongside him. He trusted her skills, even though she hadn't fought in nearly a year. And he accepted that as part of her.

She led him on horseback in the direction the men had gone. At first, it was easy to track the Normans as they passed the hill of Amadán. But as they travelled farther afield, the tracks seemed to separate. She didn't know where they had taken Mairead, and for a moment, she studied the horizon, searching for a glimpse of the soldiers.

Most of the MacEgans had gone in the direction of the larger group, but she wasn't convinced it was the right choice. Her instincts warned that Mairead had been taken by only a few men. Savas drew his horse beside hers and asked, ‘Which way?'

‘It looks like most of the MacEgans went in the other direction, but there are a few who went towards the forest.'

‘What do you want to do?' he asked.

She hesitated. ‘Mairead would leave a trail of some kind.' Her cousin was accustomed to defending herself, and she believed the young woman would find a way to let her father know where she was. ‘I think we should follow the smaller set of tracks. But we'll look along the path for anything unusual.'

They continued riding into the forest, though they were forced to slow their pace because of the trees. Velaria's gaze remained intent upon the ground, but she wasn't certain what they would find. At one point, the horse tracks disappeared, and she guessed they had gone through the stream.

Savas raised his hand and drew his horse to a stop. He pointed towards the opposite side of the stream where a sprig of dried gorse rested on the ground. ‘Look over there.'

The flowers from the May crown, Velaria realised. She crossed the water and let out a breath of relief. They had chosen the correct path. She started to continue through the trees, but Savas stopped her. ‘Wait. Let me alert the others.'

She had no desire to wait, not when Mairead could be anywhere by now. They had already taken enough time as it was. Before she could argue, Savas caught the reins of her horse.

‘I have faith in our fighting skills,' he said. ‘But we need the numbers to win. And I won't risk her life or yours.'

There was an air of possession in his voice that made her heart stumble. ‘I just don't want to lose time. I feel as if I should have followed her instead of coming to Laochre. If we don't find her...'

‘We have most of the MacEgans searching. She will be found.' He released the reins of her horse. ‘Give me just a moment, and I'll bring them this way.'

Without waiting for her agreement, he urged his horse towards the others. Velaria studied the gorse flowers, praying that her cousin had left more of a trail. It was the only trace of her they'd found.

Her own guilt weighed heavily upon her that she hadn't been strong enough or swift enough to conquer all her opponents. It had been a combination of luck, recklessness, and the element of surprise that had helped her defeat four of them.

King Patrick was right—they should have brought guards with them. It had been foolish and arrogant to imagine that no one would harm them.

And now her cousin might be suffering at their hands. Velaria bit her lip as she continued with her horse towards the edge of the forest, but she didn't leave the shelter of the trees. Instead, she shielded her eyes against the morning sunlight and scanned the grasses for any trace of horses. The horse tracks seemed to weave in one direction, then another.

Within moments, she heard more horses approaching behind her. When she glanced around, she saw that Savas had arrived with the others, along with her uncle Ewan and aunt Honora. His expression was grim, though he relaxed somewhat when he realised she'd stopped to consider the direction.

After a moment of studying the tracks, Velaria said, ‘These tracks lead towards the coast. The others go back towards the hill, travelling north.' She glanced back at Savas. ‘What do you think?'

He met her gaze. ‘If I had stolen an Irish princess whose family owns most of the land in this region, I would take her by boat. It's not as easy to track.'

‘It's possible,' Ewan agreed. ‘Patrick has an island fortress, and there are always boats nearby. It wouldn't be hard to steal one.'

‘We should ride towards the coast,' Velaria suggested. ‘If they've gone by boat, we might see them.'

She urged her horse onward, and Savas joined at her side. They galloped hard towards the edge of the land, and soon enough, she spied tracks that continued downhill to the strand.

And there, they saw two horses and a fallen May wreath.