Chapter One #2
While Mairead wove the branches and flowers together, her own guilt magnified.
She was starting to realize just how selfishly she’d behaved.
She’d welcomed her cousin back with open arms, chattering on about Bealtaine and finding husbands.
But the more she studied Velaria, the more she realized there was something in her that was broken.
Mairead’s heart ached, and she found herself wanting to mend it.
She’d been so centered upon her own dreams, she hadn’t stopped to think of her cousin’s suffering. Velaria was brave and bold and had travelled across the world to come home, whereas Mairead was sheltered and spoiled. As the king’s only daughter, she’d never wanted for anything.
She knew nothing of the outside world. Nothing of pain or true suffering beyond heartbreak. And maybe it was time to crack open her shell and become stronger.
‘You have journeyed far,’ Alanna told Velaria, ‘but your travels are not over.’ The older woman released Velaria’s hands, her face troubled.
Velaria ventured, ‘Should I choose a wood?’ She touched each of the different branches and finally selected a rowan branch.
The silence was uncomfortable, so Mairead tried to ease it. ‘What about her husband?’ she asked. ‘Tell Velaria about how she will meet him.’
It was a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, and she hoped Alanna would tell Velaria about Brian.
Instead, her expression turned grim as she studied Velaria.
‘There is darkness around you. Darkness and death.’ She shuddered at her own words, and her tone grew morose.
‘You will not find the happiness you seek. Not until you face what you fear most and overcome it. You must take your sword into the darkness and accept what you are.’
Mairead winced, wishing she’d never brought Velaria to see Alanna. Today was meant to be fun, a way of lifting her cousin’s spirits. And now, she’d made it so much worse.
Her aunt Katherine 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.’
Mairead wholeheartedly agreed. There was something about the woman’s predictions that unsettled her. But sometimes Alanna had a way of seeing things that weren’t quite of this world.
She left Velaria and Katherine to speak alone while she tried to think of a way to mend the damage she’d wrought to her cousin’s mood. Just as Velaria started to leave the Great Chamber, Mairead caught up to her and linked her arm with hers. ‘It’s going to be all right, Velaria.’
Her cousin tried to smile, but it wasn’t real at all. Mairead guided her back outside. ‘I know what will lift your spirits.’ Right now, they both needed a distraction. And she knew exactly where to find it.
As they passed a servant, she handed her cousin a cup of mead and took one for herself. The fermented beverage would help both of them relax.
‘Where are we going?’ Velaria asked.
Mairead led her through the crowd. ‘You’ll see.’
It was now early evening, and all around them, men prepared to compete in the Bealtaine contests for the honour of being crowned the Horned One. Torch flames danced in the iron sconces set throughout the limestone walls.
Velaria took a sip from her cup and winced at the strong mead.
But if the drink would dull the edges of her pain, Mairead intended to help her along.
When they passed a servant with a pitcher, she refilled her cousin’s cup and guided her up the stone stairs so they could observe the events below.
What her cousin needed right now was to forget her troubles.
She guided Velaria to sit on the stairs, and then she moved beside her.
Below them, the men had stripped to their waists, and in the firelight, their bodies gleamed. 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 startled laugh broke from her cousin’s throat as Velaria finished her second cup of mead.
Mairead studied the men and pointed towards one of them, nudging her cousin.
The fighter had dark hair pulled back in a leather thong, and he glanced up at her, his gaze filled with wicked promise.
She wasn’t expecting it, and beneath her gown, her skin tightened.
This man was nothing like the suitors she’d known before.
There was nothing elegant or noble about him.
He appeared wild, almost savage—and yet, somehow familiar.
She couldn’t deny that a part of her was secretly fascinated by him.
But Velaria only remarked, ‘Savas is more handsome.’
‘Who?’ Mairead forced her attention away from the warrior and back to her cousin.
‘Brian,’ Velaria corrected. ‘But I call him Savas. It means war in the Byzantine language.’ She gestured with her cup, and some of the mead spilled, revealing her cousin’s slight inebriation.
Mairead wanted to feel affection again, to know that secret thrill of attraction.
But the problem was, she couldn’t seem to fall in love with the kind of man her father wanted her to wed.
She found herself far more interested in someone who spoke the truth with brutal honesty or a man with a rebellious side.
The fighter below offered a slight nod of his head as he turned back to the feats of strength.
‘You should have seen him fight,’ Velaria continued. ‘No one ever defeated him.’ From the wistful tone in her voice, Mairead suspected Velaria’s feelings for Brian were stronger than she cared to admit.
‘Not once?’
Velaria shook her head. ‘If he’d been defeated, he would be dead. The same as me.’
Her matter-of-fact tone shocked Mairead as Velaria gestured with her cup and continued. ‘We fought opponents in an arena to the death. Every three days, I never knew if I would survive by nightfall.’
Shame slid over Mairead in an invisible cloak of regret. Why had she ever been trying to cheer her cousin up with fortune telling or an evening staring at handsome men? Velaria was lucky to be alive.
Their lives were worlds apart right now, and it felt as if she no longer recognized her own cousin. She admired more than Velaria’s lean strength and fighting skills—her cousin’s courage was undeniable.
And maybe she was starting to wish that she could be more like her.
‘I never knew,’ Mairead whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. Thank God you were rescued.’
She meant it in her heart. But from the way her cousin spoke about Brian, she could hear the yearning in her voice. Mairead suspected Velaria was in love with him, and she couldn’t help but envy her cousin.
She finished her mead, while Velaria began looking for Brian in the crowd. Slowly, Mairead walked up the stone stairs to the parapet. Sometimes, when the wind blew hard enough, she could taste the salt from the nearby sea.
After she reached the top, she rested her hands upon the stone crenellation and stared into the distance.
She saw the lights at Ennisleigh, the tiny island fortress across the inlet.
Although she loved it here at Laochre, sometimes it felt as if her life was suffocating—like she needed to leave this place to find out just who she was.
In two days, she decided. Just as Alanna had predicted. She would bring her May crown to the hill of Amadán, look through it at dawn, and imagine the face of the man she would love.
Oh, she knew it was naught but a foolish superstition. But if she didn’t leave the castle grounds soon, she might lose her wits. At the thought of leaving, a sudden sense of anticipation gathered within her, though she couldn’t quite say why.
And she had the uneasy feeling that her life was about to change in ways she’d never imagined.
* * *
Two days later
Balor ó Phelan had been trailing Lady Mairead and her cousin for the past hour as they walked towards the hill of Amadán.
He’d been among the fighters competing in the Bealtaine games when he’d seen Mairead MacEgan sitting on the stone stairs. She’d openly stared at him, and he’d stared back. Did she even remember him from all those years ago when she’d waved at him? Likely not.
But she’d grown into a stunningly beautiful young woman, innocent and bright-spirited. And so very far out of reach for a man like him.
Today her dark hair was bound back in a single braid, and she wore a rose gown worthy of the king’s daughter she was.
He didn’t know how she and her cousin had managed to sneak out of the castle with the number of soldiers her father had on patrol.
It must have been a secret way out, possibly a souterrain passage.
Why in the name of Danu hadn’t Lady Mairead brought an escort of guards?
Was she truly that foolish to believe no one would harm her?
Balor couldn’t imagine that sort of naiveté.
The king’s daughter walked alongside her cousin Velaria, both chattering as they climbed the hill of Amadán. Mairead carried a May wreath in one hand, and both women seemed entirely oblivious to the danger they were in.
They believe they don’t need protection, he predicted. They were far too confident in their safety.
He both admired their spirit and knew it could be exploited by an enemy. They weren’t safe at all, despite what they believed.
Balor tethered his horse within a nearby grove of trees and continued watching them from his position at the base of the hill.
He waited for a time until the women reached the top of Amadán.
Mairead turned towards the forest and raised the May crown over her face.
Though he couldn’t see her clearly, the sunlight silhouetted her dark hair like a goddess.
She’ll never want someone like you, his brain warned. A tightness caught in his gut, but Balor shoved it down while he continued to watch and wait.