Chapter Eleven #3
He was asking her to refuse the commands of the most powerful men in England and éireann—to find the courage to reach for what she wanted instead of what they demanded of her. She wanted to, more than anything. But fear held her back. She needed more time to think, time to consider.
She reached out to touch his cheek once more. ‘I love you.’
Mairead couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she walked back to her father. It might be the last time she saw Balor, and she didn’t know what to do. The guards took him away, and it felt as if she were the one in chains.
Patrick reached out to touch her hair, but she pulled away. ‘Don’t.’
She strode towards the keep, not wanting to watch the soldiers as they led Balor back to the prison. But a short distance away, she saw Alanna standing alone. Her cousin seemed to sense how badly Mairead needed to leave. Within moments, her cousin crossed the inner bailey.
She took Mairead’s hand in silent support, pretending as if she didn’t see the tears. ‘You must be weary.’ Alanna glanced at Patrick and asked, ‘May I escort my cousin to my chamber where she can rest and refresh herself before the wedding in the morning?’
Mairead suspected it was simply an excuse to let her leave, and she was grateful for it.
Her father gave a nod of assent, and Alanna led her inside the fortress and up a narrow staircase.
‘Are you all right?’ Alanna asked in a low voice.
Mairead followed her up the stairs and into a tiny bedchamber. ‘No. I am not.’ She told her cousin about Balor’s plan to help Liam escape and her fears that he would die.
She wanted to curl into a ball on the bed and sob out her heartache. Just like before, she felt helpless to do anything. And worse, Balor believed she was turning her back on him, that she was giving up.
Alanna put her arm around her, sitting beside her. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
Mairead started to shake her head. She had to find a way to solve this problem herself. But no matter how she thought of ways to help Balor and Liam escape, she couldn’t stop the sense of looming failure.
She understood Balor’s intentions—if he escaped with her brother, then the king held no leverage over her, nothing that would force the marriage. But it was only a temporary solution. King John wanted a marriage alliance and would not stop until he achieved that goal.
Abruptly, she stared at her cousin through her tears and straightened. Alanna had travelled for days, seemingly for no reason. But was there a way her cousin could help?
She tried not to get her hopes up, but she asked, ‘Why did you really come to Blarnan, Alanna?’
Her cousin’s expression softened. ‘Maybe because I wanted to help you. When you were at Rionallís, I saw you with Balor. He was the man you saw through your May crown, wasn’t he?’
Mairead didn’t really understand why Alanna had brought it up. Did she believe that Fate or the gods had decreed that Balor was the man she was meant to be with?
‘I believe he was,’ she answered. He had been there that morn, watching over her. ‘But that doesn’t mean anything.’
And yet…she wondered if there was another reason for the question? She turned to Alanna, sensing something else. Her gaze sharpened. ‘I saw you talking with the earl while I was at Rionallís.’
And there it was—the faint blush on her cousin’s cheeks. ‘What of your own future, Alanna?’ Mairead ventured. ‘Is there something you would wish for? Or someone?’
Her cousin raised her eyes, and Mairead saw the truth within them. And suddenly, the path ahead seemed clearer. She knew what she wanted for her own future—a different life. And maybe her cousin wanted the same thing—a change.
She’d let fear cloud her thinking in the past. She couldn’t live her life based on that. Balor had accused her of having no faith in him. Maybe she needed to consider every path, not just the one that meant surrender.
Her mind started piecing together the choices ahead. And although she’d felt utterly trapped, forced into a marriage she didn’t want, another idea took shape within her mind.
God help her, she seized upon it. It was reckless and dangerous. But maybe it would work.
‘What are you thinking?’ Alanna asked, her expression wary.
‘I’m thinking about other ways to save my brother and Balor. And I no longer care what the English king wants. This is my life. My future.’
She was starting to understand how passive she’d become. She’d let Diarmud go off into battle, even knowing how inexperienced he was. And she’d cloaked herself in blame for his death. She couldn’t stand aside and wait for someone else to make decisions for her.
‘There is…another way,’ Mairead said slowly. ‘But we must speak with the earl first. He might be able to help us.’
Her cousin ventured a slight smile. ‘What did you have in mind?’
* * *
The soldiers escorted Balor below ground, leaving Gerald and Sir Edward to stand guard. After they were alone, Sir Edward leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘You’ll stay here until nightfall when we make our move.’
Balor inclined his head, veiling his own frustration.
He recoiled against the idea of leaving Mairead behind while he saved her brother—especially when they were trying to force her to marry the earl.
He wanted to take Mairead away and damn the consequences—even taking her against her will.
He couldn’t imagine standing aside and doing nothing.
But she had to be the one to decide her fate, not him.
If he tried to steal her away from her wedding, it meant certain death. There were too many guards. Too many kings. He could do nothing without an army to back him up.
She didn’t choose you, his mind warned. You always knew she wouldn’t.
He’d nearly told her about his true father, Lord Beaumont, but something had stopped him. He didn’t want this to be about status or nobility. Mairead had claimed it didn’t matter whether he was a prince or a serf, but he needed to know if she’d meant it.
A darkness settled in his gut as he forced himself to face the inevitable. There was still the chance that he wasn’t enough—that she didn’t want to marry him and leave her family. And he might have to accept that.
Their last embrace haunted him still. She’d said she loved him as she’d wept. The words had resonated inside, filling up the hollow spaces of the lonely years. If she’d truly meant it, how could he walk away from her?
His mind settled upon the undeniable truth. Mairead still had the choice of whether to wed for duty or love. And if he took away that choice, then there was nothing left for them.
He would escape this place with her brother and undermine the kings’ control over her. And when they could not force her to marry, Balor would know the truth of whether she truly wanted to be with him.
‘Don’t do anything reckless,’ Gerald warned. ‘I can see that you’re considering it.’
The soldier wasn’t wrong. But no matter how Balor considered a way to save Mairead, it came down to trust.
A fierce emptiness gripped him, for he had to walk away and hope that she loved him enough to stand firm and refuse the match. It was the greatest risk he’d ever imagined taking. Because he would likely lose her.
‘There are two horses tethered in the woods outside the gate,’ Sir Edward continued.
‘Ride south towards the coast and hire a boat.’ The knight gave him a handful of silver and paused. ‘Unless you’d rather return with us now to Beaumont? You don’t owe the MacEgans your loyalty.’
He’d considered it. But another part of him wanted to hold on to the barest hint of hope, that Mairead might choose to defy her family, unlikely though it might be. ‘No. I’ll bring the tánaiste back to Laochre first.’
The way Balor saw it, there was no other way to gain King Patrick’s favour. If he helped Liam return, then there was the barest hope that he could win Mairead’s hand in marriage. A thin thread, yes, but it was still a chance.
‘I am grateful for your help,’ Balor admitted to the Norman soldiers. ‘Were it not for both of you, I would be dead already.’ Somehow, he would ensure that these men were rewarded.
It seemed strange, leaving éireann to become the bastard son of a man he hardly knew.
He didn’t think Beaumont had any other sons, so likely he could make a place for himself in the earl’s household.
It wasn’t the life he’d anticipated, but it was all he had to offer Mairead if she refused Lord Lowell.
‘We’ll come for you at nightfall,’ Edward said. ‘I’ll help you get outside the gates with Liam.’
Balor straightened, flexing his wrists against the ropes. ‘Leave it to me.’
* * *
‘Do you think this will work?’ Liam asked quietly.
Balor pulled the chainmail shirt over his head. ‘I do.’
Sir Edward and Gerald had removed the manacles and chains earlier.
Then they’d brought armour so Balor and Liam could disguise themselves among the guards.
During the next rotation, the pair of them would stand guard at the castle entrance.
As long as they behaved like the other soldiers and kept their features hidden in the darkness, no one would notice.
The armour was heavy, and Balor grimaced at the weight of it against his wounds. It was the cowl and helm that hurt the most, though he bore the pain.
Liam struggled with his own armour and then glanced at him. ‘We’re a pair, aren’t we? I feel a thousand years old.’
So did Balor, but his weariness was more about his regret for what he’d said to Mairead. He’d let his pride get in the way, and he’d lashed out without meaning to. But the thought of losing her was worse than he could ever have imagined.
Even now, he remembered the softness of her hair, the scent of her skin. He remembered what it was to love her, to hear her soft sighs as he’d touched her. It was killing him to imagine her wedding someone else.
‘Can you ride?’ he asked Liam.