“Enough,” the king demanded, halting the scrabble. “Sir Aonghus, summon them; we stay the course, hold them at arm’s length, and the rest lies in God’s will.”
The Lord Constable fetched then hid the rope piece beneath his tunic. Lord Kollungr’s eyes blazed into hers as soon as the door opened. After barely crossing the threshold, he raised his palm at her, hissing in accusation: “Why, pray tell, is the Lady Keirah present if her talents as a fate-seer now fail her?”
Her breath held. Did he suspect, even with the signal word?
Aonghus seemed to sense her panic and balled his fists at his sides while approaching the Northman, his expression filled by pent-up rage. “You dare address our lord king before he has given consent?!”He re-directed the topic; thank you, love.
King Alexander spoke to her knight first. “Sir Aonghus, your merit is stellar, however our guests seem to have forgotten themselves; allow my hand to guide them.”
Her knight gave a silent nod before locking eyes with her a mere second, but the look spoke:Cluaran, I’ve got you – secret safe.
The King of Scots’ voice was smooth as ice toward the Northman. “Lady Keirah’s talents continue to be in demand, as a seer in another purpose. She hasseenall your ships, warriors, and many other means you perchance have been less than forthright in disclosing within our discussions. Her presence is to ensure your words only merit truth.”
Ahem.Henry’s throat took the chamber’s attention before he inquired, “Lord King, may I offer on the morrow upon Sir Kolbein’s arrival we re-commence this assembly?”
“Perhaps a restful eve will ease the trails on the path unto peace,” the Lord Constable agreed. “After such a direandunfortunate accident.” The Scotsman was a master in deceit; may she never cross him.
“Aye.” The king grinned. “The longer the path we take in trenching our discussions, hereupon, the greater the outcome shall be for all.”
Keirah lowered her eyes. Lord Kollungr, who stood closer to her than Aonghus, could easily read her thoughts through them, and the king had just given the plan away right in plain sight.He is so bold!Her gaze locked onto the rushes spewed over the floor while a pair of leather soles she recognized approached; the northern falcon swooped in close with his approach headed for the entryway.
The Northman’s tone was for her ears alone. “When your knight claims you this eve, it shall be my eyes admiring your flesh, not his. My hands upon you, just as our first day upon King Håkonsson’s shores, my lady,” he declared, disturbingly.
Her eyes darted toward his. She blinked and was back again upon Bjørgvin’sshoreswith his hand gripping her arm in violent possession. His meaning was as rotted as he was to his core.Raging hell, may the devil take him below!
Chapter 30
“Wee brother,” Aonghus heard Callum mutter beside him in the bailey the next day, “Keirah has missed with seven arrows.”
“Hell, Callum, she almost perished on a breadcrumb in the great hall this mornin’,” Alec defended her. “Show some sympathy upon her technique this day.”
The MacCade brothers stood near the kitchen entrance where a sour scent from burnt cabbage added to the dour proceedings. It was the perfect accompaniment. Steps across stood Keirah under the dreary sky on her eighth attempt, with Sir Brayden patiently showing her the string’s give once again to make the mark, which had been set back as planned given her strong progress the last lesson.
Squawk!A wayward chicken protested, fluttering wildly, when another arrow flew the air and the iron point almost took its feathered arse.
“‘Tis not technique but nerves which hamper her mind,” Aonghus illuminated, darting his eyes toward the reason. Three shite Northmen! Over there, leaning up against a cart on the side of the bailey, were Keirah’s Northern hunters. All that was missing was a bridge over the trolls. They were casually sipping mead from goblets, but there was nothing casual about how they kept their eyes locked on her. Svørn and Torsten had arrivedthis morning to the great hall while Keirah broke her fast with Edina by her side. After spying the two Northern hunters by the entryway, his Cluaran had choked upon a breadcrumb. Had he been alarmed? Aye. Was he just as alarmed last night when she barely spoke a word to him nor looked at him, then came to bed wearing her surcoat, gown, and chemise, claiming to be cold, after they had promised to continue their loving earlier? Aye. The answers to all those worries sat right there, leaning on that damn cart. Fuk!
Sir Brayden said something toward her; she nodded, before the jovial knight went to retrieve the round target and move it closer – away from the flapping flock.
Aonghus’s brows furrowed when the one called Svørn, with a gapped-tooth grin, roared: “Sir Brayden, move the target ten paces closer for the lady. Lest she almost strike another chicken in her efforts!”
“No!” Torsten howled with laughter while raising his goblet. “We will have fowl for supper!” Lord Kollungr smirked while Keirah slumped her shoulders. Triple fuk!
“Sir Brayden, set the target back another five paces,” Aonghus yelled over the clucking chickens underfoot.
Keirah’s eyes doubled meeting his. When he came closer, she whispered, terrified, “MacCade, nae, I cannot make the distance, ’tis too far!”
“You may and shall,” he promised, meeting her panicked gaze. “You have been prepared for more than even that distance days ago with the bow I had commissioned for you.”
“Scotsman,” Svørn hailed him in bawdy tone, “you care to place a wager on your lady matching the distance or…”
Keirah retorted, passionately, “’Tis Sir Aonghus!” Good! There was the spirit that had gone missing since last night in their bedchamber.
He didn’t wait for Svørn to finish but bellowed back, “Name your wager, Northman!”
Lord Kollungr whispered something at Svørn which caused a devious smirk to cross Svørn’s thin lips. “Your stallion is mine if she misses, and if she does not” – the braggart paused while Lord Kollungr removed a huge gold medallion on a long chain from around his neck to place it upon the cart’s edge – “you claim this gold. So, the necklace is yours if she wins; if she loses, the stallion is mine. Do you care to take the wager?”
Perfect! The chain was thick and strong and long enough to strangle Lord Kollungr once Keirah had revealed his treachery.
