Not even for your husband?Taryn wanted to ask, but didn’t.
“I do not intend to take an army,” she told Maeve quietly. “I go only to plead for Father’s life. Surely there is no harm in appealing to King Rory. I am no threat to the High King.”
“You will not leave,” Maeve said. “And that is final.” Her gaze swept over Taryn. “TheArd-Righwill not listen to anything you have to say.“ She reached out to touch Taryn’s scarred cheek.“And unlike other women, you cannot use your looks to win his attention, I fear.” Her mother’s touch burned into her skin like a brand.
Taryn knew she would never be beautiful, and she would bear the disfigurement of her face and hands forever. But to hear it from her mother was a blow she hadn’t expected. She stepped backward, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I do not want King Rory’s attention.”
Far from it. She knew she had a face that made men shudder, and she was too tall. Her hair was black instead of her mother’s fiery color. They shared the same eyes, however. More than once, Taryn had wished that she did not have to see those icy blue eyes staring back at her in a reflection.
Sometimes she wished that her mother had been taken captive instead of her father. Maeve never seemed to care about anyone but herself. And it hurt to imagine Devlin in chains, suffering torture.
Taryn closed the trunk and stood. “I do not understand why I may not take a small escort when I speak with the High King. Two or three men are harmless.” More than that, she could see no reason why her mother would care what risks she took. “If I fail, there is nothing lost.”
“Nothing, save your life,” Maeve countered. She continued staring out the window, and at last she said, “A messenger came this morn. Devlin is to be executed on the eve of Imbolc.” With that, she turned back. “I do not think you want to witness your father’s death. And if you go, theArd-Righwill force you to watch.”
Horror wrenched her stomach at the thought. Taryn gripped her hands together tightly, wishing she could control the trembling. “And you’ll do nothing to stop it.”
“I will not interfere with the High King’s justice, for I value my own life.” Maeve moved closer, cupping Taryn’s chin. “Justas I value yours. Devlin is gone, and there is nothing more to be done.”
The Queen’s face held traces of regret. “I can read your thoughts, my daughter. You plan to slip away and try to save Devlin. But I will not let you endanger yourself or others. Your father is not the man you think he is.” She paused a moment, as if she wanted to say something more but then held her silence.
Taryn said nothing, not at all believing her mother. Devlin was a quiet, wise leader whom the people respected. Her blood ran cold at the thought of her father’s death. Their small province would fall into chaos, for Maeve would rule with an iron hand. Devlin had brought peace and prosperity among them, but it would not last beneath her mother’s commands.
She swallowed hard, her stomach churning at the prospect of facing the High King. But face him she must, if it meant saving Devlin’s life. Imbolc was only a few weeks away.
“May I go now?” she asked her mother. There was little time left, and she wanted to leave Ossoria at dawn. She dared not travel with more than a single guard, and it would be difficult to find anyone who would go with her if she asked it of him.
“To your chamber, yes,” Maeve answered. “But nowhere else. And, Taryn, if you attempt to leave against my orders, my soldiers will bring you back. Be assured of it.”
Taryn said nothing, but curtsied to her mother before leaving. An uneasy fear gathered in her stomach, for she suspected her mother would punish any servants who dared to accompany her.
Once she reached the hallway, she leaned back against the stone wall, terrified of the next few weeks. It would take at least a sennight to reach Tara, and even then, she needed men to defend her. Not an army—but enough fighters to help her rescue Devlin, if King Rory would not listen.
Who would agree to such a task? She didn’t know how to hire mercenaries, and if she asked a neighboring chieftain or king, they would never consider allying against the High King.
She needed leverage, something King Rory wanted.
“You cannot use your looks to win his attention,” her mother had said. And Taryn knew that all too well. The very idea of offering herself was impossible, for men did not want a scarred bride—they only wanted her kingdom. Most behaved as if they didn’t see her, or they turned their backs to avoid her presence. Her stomach twisted at the unwanted memories. Although no one dared to mock her openly, it was easier to hide herself away from others, pretending as if she was unaware of their revulsion.
She forced back her thoughts, still wondering how to save her father’s life. She’d heard Devlin speak of the betrothal between King Rory and Carice Faoilin. The young woman was rumored to be the most beautiful woman in Éireann—a perfect bride for the High King. But Taryn doubted if any woman alive would want to be wedded to such a cruel man.
Then again, it was unlikely that Carice had a choice.
A union between the High King and the Faoilin tribe would be a powerful one, giving the King more influence in the southern territories. Rory Ó Connor needed strong armies and alliances that would protect Éireann, since the Norman invaders were gaining a stronger foothold. War was brewing, and they knew not who would win.
Would the King listen to a plea from his bride? Taryn wondered if she could convince Carice to let her travel with her as a companion. Though she had never met the young woman, perhaps she could visit Carrickmeath and seek help on her father’s behalf.
Inwardly, Taryn worried whether pearls or gold would be enough to gain their assistance. She had little else to offer in exchange for Devlin’s rescue. And now that her mother hadforbidden her to take soldiers as escorts, she could not travel in a wagon. It meant she could only bring wealth she could carry. Even then, she might not gain the help she needed.
An idea began to form as she thought about Carice Faoilin. Perhaps a distraction was what was needed. Carice had not yet married the High King…but what if Taryn accompanied her to the wedding? A celebration would offer the strongest diversion yet, where hundreds of wedding guests would attend, offering the perfect chance to rescue her father in secret.
She didn’t need an army—only a small group of well-trained men to slip past the guards.
And she knew exactly where she would find them.
The overcast sky darkened as the afternoon stretched into evening. Taryn huddled within her fur-lined cloak while the damp conditions turned into frost. Her guard, Pól, accompanied her, carrying the small bundle containing a bag of jewels and silver, as well as a second gown. She’d had to leave almost everything behind, since they hadn’t taken a horse. Pól had protested, saying that it would take far too long to travel on foot.
Taryn had argued back that she wanted to disappear quietly. The truth was, horses terrified her. Her heart sickened at the memory of her older brother’s death, and never would she forget that terrible day when he had died after being thrown from his horse. She had tried to avoid riding ever since.
