“You’re too confident to be a slave,” she continued, “and too arrogant for a woodcarver.” She doubted if he were a king, but possibly a warrior or a chieftain’s son.
“It doesn’t matter what I was before,” he said, setting the board aside. The formidable expression on his face warned her not to ask any more questions. “Only what I am now.”
She reached out to take the bowl and spoon, and a glint of trouble sparked in his eyes. Without realizing it, she found herself studying the lean angles of his face, the harsh jaw that cut lines down to a tight mouth.
He disconcerted her, and yet she could not stop staring at him. Her body shivered, growing cold as he answered the gaze with soulless eyes. Quickly, Iseult changed the subject. “Do you miss your family?”
“I don’t think of them anymore.” The bitterness in his tone voiced another warning. “They have their lives, and I have mine.”
She shivered at the utter bleakness of such a life. Without meaning to, her thoughts went back to Aidan. Ever since he had been stolen away, there was an emptiness inside her that could not be filled. She gripped her arms, as if to force the sadness away.
“How did you end up a slave?”
Kieran stopped drawing and set the board aside. “We’ve finished for tonight.”
He walked past her and lifted the hide flap in a wordless command to leave. Iseult paused before the door. In that fraction of a second, her gaze drew to his. He was staring at her, as though she had cut off the air to his lungs. Her skin warmed, and when she looked at him, it was as though she had become the slave and he the conqueror.
Without looking back, she stumbled into the night.
Chapter Four
“Kieran!“hisbrotherpleaded.The men dragged Egan to the edge of the wooden palisade and bared his neck. With a casual glance to Kieran, they drew the blade across Egan’s throat.
His brother never made another sound. A cry tore from Kieran’s lungs when the boy’s body struck the ground. The raiders never looked back but stepped over Egan as if he were nothing but an inconvenience.
Kieran sat up from the dream, his hands shaking. Sweat poured over his brow, and he buried his face in his hands. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. The early morning light filtered through the crevices below the hide door. He ran his hands through his hair, staggering to his feet.
He went outside, inhaling sharp bursts of air, as if it could expel the nightmare. He’d lived with the memory for several moons now, and he doubted if it would ever leave.
In the cool morning stillness, he saw other slaves and members of the fudir tending the fields. He should have been among them. Hard labor was what he deserved, not a chance to do something he loved.
With the wood, he could transform the fibers into something almost alive. Like a god, he shaped and molded his creations. It wasn’t right that he was interested in the work, even if it did involve a beautiful woman.
In the distance, purple and rose-tinged sunlight emerged from the east. Kieran moved toward an animal trough, dipping his hands in the water and splashing it over his face. Though Davin had kept his word, removing the guards from his doorway, he sensed the others watching him.
One took a few steps forward. With a shaved head and a long red beard, the man had an arrogant swagger to him. “You there. Slave,” he called. “Bring us some water.” The man smirked at his companion, and Kieran’s knuckles curled over the trough.
In the past, no man would have dared to command him. But these tribesmen expected him to jump to their orders, like a dog. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the men and sent them a warning look.
He wasn’t in the habit of obedience.
This is your penance,his mind insisted.Do as they command.
No. These men weren’t his master. They wanted to exert their power over him, demeaning him. Although he would accept whatever tasks Davin gave, he wouldn’t let these men gain the upper hand.
Against his better judgment, Kieran turned his back and returned to his hut. No doubt they would run off to Davin and complain. There would be repercussions, but he didn’t care. He might choose to endure the slavery for a time, but it didn’t mean he would bow down before every man.
He sat down with the door open, allowing the natural light inside. The carving tools rested on the table wrapped in leather, just where he’d laid them. His sketches of Iseult, along with the yew, awaited his attention.
He uncovered the carving tools from the protective leather. His thumb brushed the edge of a knife, judging its sharpness.
The red-bearded man shadowed his doorway, fists clenched. “I ordered you to bring me water, slave.”
“Did you?” Kieran anticipated the rush of a fight and his hand curved over the hilt of a blade. His own height rivaled the other man’s, making him an equal opponent. “I’m not your slave, am I?”
“Davin will hear of your disobedience,” the man asserted. “And I’ve a mind to punish you for it.”
Just try it.
