The healer eased him down to the pallet, to rest upon his stomach. The herbs had begun to steal away the pain, drawing him toward sleep. He closed his eyes, his spirit feeling as bruised and battered as his body. The dark temptation of death cried out to him, for the finality would silence the ghosts that haunted him.
He’d chosen this path, selling himself into slavery. He’d meant to rescue his brother and bring Egan home again. Instead, he had played into his enemy’s hands...and lost.
His father would never forgive him for it. God willing, he’d never set eyes on his family again.
Chapter Two
Iseultdrapedablanketacross the black mare, vaulting atop the animal. She had packed a bag of provisions for the morning and early afternoon. Silently, she murmured a prayer.Please God, let me find him. Let today be different.
She’d been searching for her son Aidan for over a year. And though she hadn’t found him yet, she couldn’t abandon the search.
“Iseult!” Davin called out. He strode towards her, gathering the reins of her horse. “Where are you going?”
She flinched at the sharp inquisition. “I think you know the answer to that.”
Davin hid his frustration, averting his gaze. Though he didn’t speak a word, he believed her search was fruitless. The chances of finding a missing child after a year were small, at best. But she couldn’t give up looking for Aidan. Not yet.
“I know you don’t want to come,” she admitted. “I won’t ask it of you.”
“It isn’t safe for a woman to travel alone.” Lines of worry creased his bearded face.
Iseult reached toward the dagger at her side. “I am armed, Davin. And I’m only going to visit the nearby tribes.”
He took her hand. “I’ll come with you.”
“Really, you don’t have to—“
“It’s important to you.” He kept his face neutral, as though her quest were not an inconvenience. “And perhaps one day you’ll find the answers you seek.”
But Iseult heard the unspoken words:Perhaps one day, you’ll give up.
He might be right. But she didn’t want to believe that Aidan was dead. In her heart, a frail hope continued to beat.
Never could she forget the infant who had grasped her long hair in his tiny palm, pulling the strands toward his mouth. Nor the horrifying moment when she turned to wake him and found him gone.
Davin joined her, riding along in silence while she took the mare along the sands leading up to the Benoskee Mountain. Clouds skimmed high above the rocky surface of the peak, shadowing the face. The deep azure of the lake marked the location of the Sullivan tribe.
She rode to their lands often, asking if messengers had stopped with any news. In the past year, she’d been to every neighboring tribe and clan. Her hands tightened on the horse’s mane, as if she could somehow hold fast to her hope.
Perhaps today she’d find what she sought. Iseult steeled herself for the forthcoming pitying looks. They might think her foolish, but this was her child. She could never give up.
Davin stopped to let the horses drink, and she caught the impatience upon his face. She should have left before dawn. He could never understand this cross that she bore, for Aidan was not his.
Fate seemed to intervene at that moment, for a single rider approached at a rapid speed. The man didn’t bother to dismount, but addressed Davin. “You’re needed back at Lismanagh. Your slave is causing trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?” Davin’s face showed his displeasure at being interrupted.
“Fighting with the others. We’ve bound him, but since he belongs to you . . .” The messenger’s voice trailed off.
“I’ll come.” Davin urged the horse around, a determined look upon his face.
When he glanced at her, Iseult shook her head. “Go with him. I’ll be fine.”
“I want you to come back with me. I don’t like leaving you here.” There was an edge to his voice, almost like an angry parent.
Iseult stared back at him. She hadn’t wanted him to escort her, and now he treated her as though she were incapable of caring for herself. “I make my own decisions. And I’d rather look for my son than bother with a disrespectful, arrogant slave.”
A strange flash took hold in Davin’s eyes. “What do you mean ‘disrespectful?’”
