“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.
Taryn took slow steps forward, feeling uneasy about what was happening. Only when she reached the chair did she see her father on the ground before the High King. He was dressed in only a raggedléinemade of wool, and his black hair was matted. His beard had grown out below his chin, and manacles hung from his wrists.
“Father,” she whispered, dropping to her knees. Tears blurred her eyes at the sight of him. When she looked upon his features, she did not see the face of a traitor.
Instead, she saw the man who had grieved for the loss of his son...and the man who had spent years treating her as a beloved daughter. They had taken long walks together, and he’d taught her how to lead their people. He had never raised a hand against her, and she wondered if what her mother said was true. Had he set the dogs upon her and caused the attack? Was that why he had spent so much time with her—out of remorse? Or had her mother spoken lies, meant to make her despise her father and leave him to die?
She didn’t know. But it hurt to see him like this, facing his own execution.
God help him, she feared that her mother’s prediction would come true. Maeve had said that the High King intended to execute Devlin...and if Taryn pleaded for his life, Rory would kill him before her eyes.
Killian stood beside the High King, but she saw no mercy in his eyes. His attention was fixed upon Devlin, and though he must have seen her approaching, he did not meet her gaze. It could only mean the worst.
Look at me, she wanted to plead. She wanted to gain strength from Killian’s presence, to know that he would stand by her and help her free Devlin. Instead, she was terrified that he was powerless to do anything.
Her father’sléinewas stained with blood, and she was certain he’d been whipped or tortured. But instead of fear in his eyes, she saw a restlessness. It was as if he were waiting for something to happen.
Taryn turned to look at the crowd of men and women gathered around. She recognized only a few of the High King’s soldiers nearby. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she saw Maeve on horseback in the distance, surrounded by her own escorts. It seemed that her mother fully intended to witness her husband’s death.
Again, Taryn raised her eyes to Killian, praying that he would do something to stop this. If he was Rory’s acknowledged son, then he could ask on her behalf. But there was a stoic expression upon his face, as if he cared not what happened to her father.
She didn’t understand at all. This man had fought for her, lain beside her at night, and loved her until she’d cried out from the joy of it. Why would he not look at her?
“I know that you have come to plead for Devlin Connelly’s life,” the High King said to her. “But this man is a traitor and has allied himself with the Normans, intending to overthrow me and seize command of Éireann.” His gaze was iron, his gray eyes staring hard at her. “He deserves to die.”
She could not bring forth any words. Aye, she wanted to beg for the High King’s mercy once again. But the stony expression on Killian’s face suggested that there would be none.
Taryn moved forward until she stood directly before the High King. When she reached her father, her eyes filled up with tears. He appeared half-starved and emotionless.
Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees. The cold earth was damp, and the wetness seeped into her skirts. She remained kneeling before the High King and said quietly, “I give you my loyalty, as Lady of Ossoria. And I would ask for your mercy onmy father’s behalf. Exile him, if you must. But please...let him live.”
Her words did nothing to soften the High King’s ire. Taryn barely heard the King’s answer, his diatribe about how Devlin had betrayed them, raising an army against them. Instead, she studied Killian’s face, searching for answers within those cold gray eyes.
He’d wanted land of his own, a chance to have his freedom and a different life. She had offered that to him in return for saving Devlin. But now, he had no need of it. And that meant he no longer needed her.
“I accept your fealty,” the High King answered. “And I am inclined to forgive your part in my bride’s disappearance, since you brought my son back to me. But as for your father, I will grant only the mercy I spoke of before.”
Her pulse was racing, her knees aching as she prayed that Killian could somehow intervene for them. A swift death was the only offer Rory had made.
“I must know that my son is loyal to me,” the High King continued. A low buzzing rang in Taryn’s ears, and she felt sick with fear. “I need to believe that his obedience is without question.” Rory unsheathed his own sword and passed it to Killian.
Nausea rose up in her throat, her heart pounding. Dear God, she now understood why she had been brought here.
