Chapter Twelve
“Where is she?” Maeve demanded, when Killian approached their camp. “Is my daughter alive?”
While he understood the woman’s terror at her daughter’s fate, it irked him that she would question his ability to protect Taryn.
“She is,” he said, “and I have arranged a place for her. But I will not risk her safety by bringing in more soldiers. The MacEgans may enter the grounds, for King Patrick sent these men who were willing to join the High King. But were I in your place, I would stay behind.”
Maeve quieted at that. Then her gaze passed over his new clothing, and she saw the gold ring Rory had given him. “I see you were telling the truth about being his son. I hope it means you are able to protect your wife from Rory’s cruelty.”
He didn’t bother to explain himself, for there was no reason to do so. Instead, he ordered Maeve, “You should return to Ossoria. I will keep Taryn safe.”
“No,” the older woman argued. “She will be in danger, with every moment she is here.” Her gaze fixed upon the banqueting hall, and she looked as if she wanted to speak against Rory.
Then she risked a glance back towards the hillside.
“No matter what my daughter has told you, I beg of you, do not free Devlin,” she begged. “Nothing good can come of it.”
“That is for Taryn to decide. Not you.” He started to turn back, but Maeve hurried forward.
“My daughter is blind to the truth. If Devlin is freed, he will only hurt her again. I will not let that happen.”
Killian resented her insinuation that he was powerless to help her. “Your daughter is under my protection now. And no man will ever hurt her, so long as I have breath in my lungs.”
It was clear that Maeve did not trust him to take care of Taryn. But more than that, she was desperate to be rid of her husband. He studied her face, wondering if Devlin had harmed her in any way. It did not seem so. But there were other ways to gain a woman’s fear and loathing.
The only way to learn those answers was to confront the man himself. Killian turned his back on the Queen, returning inside the gates. He had only recently learned that Rory was keeping Devlin chained in a small underground enclosure.
Killian crossed through the gathering space, well aware of all the eyes watching him.
Although Rory had not formally acknowledged him as his son, the gift of new clothing and his own features had gathered enough attention.
Even the women were casting him looks of interest. But their coy smiles revealed that their true interest was in gaining the attention of the High King’s son.
They were nothing at all like Taryn of Ossoria.
He knew Rory’s reasons for keeping Taryn confined. So long as she wasn’t in chains, Killian wasn’t going to argue the point. It was safer to hold her away from the others.
He reached the space where her father was being held and ordered the guard to unlock the iron gate that kept the man imprisoned.
“My orders are not to let the prisoner visit with anyone,” the man protested.
“He will go nowhere,” Killian promised. “I mean only to speak with him. And if he tries to escape, you have permission to kill him.”
At that, the man acceded. He opened the gate and allowed Killian inside. “For a few moments, then.”
Inside the underground space, there was hardly any light at all. King Devlin was confined to the opposite wall. That was a torture in and of itself, being kept in constant darkness.
“Who are you?” the man croaked, clearing his throat.
“I am Killian—” He started to say MacDubh, but altered it, finishing with, “ó Connor. The High King’s son.” The words felt strange upon his tongue, but more than that, the name was so very different.
“What do you want from me?” There was no fear in the man’s voice, only resignation.
“Your daughter, Taryn, is here.”
He waited for the man’s reaction, but there came only silence. It was as if Killian hadn’t spoken at all.
At last, the old man said, “She should not have come.”
“She pleaded with my father for your life. She claims you are innocent of treason.”
Again, the King said nothing, and Killian’s senses went on alert.
Most fathers would react in some way if his daughter had come on such a journey.
Instead, this man offered nothing at all.
He was beginning to wonder if Maeve was right about Devlin.
Was he truly the sort of man who could harm his own daughter?
Instinct told him to walk away and leave the man alone. But then, Devlin had been confined in this place for weeks. It might be that his lack of interest was weakness from imprisonment. “Your wife is here as well.”
The man’s silence suggested that he didn’t care that anyone had come for him. Or perhaps he believed that Killian was here to torture him or draw out information that could be used against his family.
Taryn had pleaded with him to save this man, while Maeve wanted him to die. Imbolc would begin on the morrow, and this was Devlin’s last day to live.
“Do you want to see them?” Killian asked. He waited for an answer, but Devlin only lowered his head.
“Nay, I’ve no wish for them to see me like this.”
He could understand that—especially if he believed their lives would be in danger. “Your daughter asked me to intervene on your behalf,” he told the King. “She begged me to set you free.” Killian hardened his tone and continued, “Why are you worth saving? Or shall I just let you die?”
“I have no intention of dying.” There was enough arrogance in the man’s voice to make him wonder what the King’s intentions were.
“The High King is trying to use me as an example to other kings. If he executes me, he risks losing the support of his allies. And the Normans will not look upon him with favor.”
The man’s treason was clear enough. He had betrayed his kinsmen, and there was no remorse in his actions.
“Why did you ally with our enemies?” Killian asked.
“Rory will not keep his throne unless he forms an agreement with the Normans. His plan to raise an army against them will cause hundreds of men to die. If we negotiate with them, it will save many lives.”
“I suppose you already have an ‘agreement’ with them.” Now he was starting to gain a stronger understanding. If Devlin intended to overthrow the High King, it would give him a position of power among their enemies.
“The Irish will never come together as one kingdom,” Devlin said.
“They raid against the other tribes, and there are so many kings, they squabble among themselves.” His voice grew quieter, and he added, “Rory is a weak High King. He will never hold his throne against the Normans. Strongbow knows it, and so do I.”
Richard de Clare, a Norman nicknamed Strongbow, had brought his own invasion only a few years ago. His men had remained within éireann, and the Norman King Henry had visited Tara to establish his own dominion.
Killian probed further, wanting to know more about Devlin’s plans. “And what about Queen Maeve? Your wife intends to rule Ossoria without you.”
“Maeve knows nothing of how to rule,” Devlin said quietly.
“Men do not listen to her.” He turned to face Killian at last. “I know you were sent to question me. But ask yourself this. What will happen when the Ard-Righ is stripped of his throne because he did not acknowledge the greater power of our enemies? If you do not carefully consider your loyalties, your head will be beside his. Think upon that. The Normans intend to seize land, while King Henry plans to claim éireann. Unless he already has a man loyal to him who takes command as High King.”
Devlin made it sound as if an attack was imminent. And whether or not it was, there was no doubting that the man held no allegiance toward Rory ó Connor. He was indeed a traitor.
“And what of your daughter? Were you intending to give her in marriage to one of the Normans?” He couldn’t keep the fury from his voice. Taryn did not deserve such a fate.
“I doubt she will ever be able to marry,” Devlin said. “If you have seen her, you know the reason why.”
Anger darkened within Killian. These were not the words of a proud father who loved his daughter. And yet...although Devlin could be lying, pretending as if he didn’t care for her at all, the dull tone in his voice suggested otherwise.
“Was it true what Maeve said, that you were responsible for her scars?”
Devlin remained silent. But his lack of a denial was the answer Killian had anticipated. It seemed that he had set his dogs upon his daughter. What kind of a man would make her suffer in such a way?
His mood was dark when he stepped back towards the gate. Though Taryn would be devastated by Devlin’s death, he could see no reason why the man deserved to live.
“You are commanded to come with me, Lady Taryn,” a young woman bade her. “King Rory wishes to speak with you.”
It was barely past dawn on the morning of Imbolc. Taryn rose from her place on the floor, feeling numb with terror. Killian had not returned last night, and she knew not what decision the High King would make.
The maid led her outside the room, where two guards shadowed them. Although they did not seize her, Taryn was well aware of their weapons. They continued walking down the stairs and outside.
Winds tore at Taryn’s hair, pulling it back from her face and revealing the scars to anyone who stared at her. Though she wanted to lower her head, it made no difference now. Let them look, she thought.
And so she kept her shoulders back, following the maid through the fortress towards a large stone chair. Rows of men stood before the High King, and there was an unnatural silence.
“Why have I been brought here?” she asked the maid. But the young woman only shook her head, offering no answer at all.