“Lady Taryn had nothing to do with Devlin’s actions,” Killian reassured his father. “Already she has sworn her loyalty to you.”
Rory’s gaze narrowed. “She has said so, but I cannot let her return to Ossoria without one of my own men in command there.”
“I will govern Ossoria on your behalf,” Killian said quietly. Though he suspected his father had been speaking of another ally, he had the man’s attention now.
“Why should you be given a kingdom?” Rory demanded.
“Because my mother stole my birthright before I was born,” he answered. “I was given the life of a slave, instead of the life I was meant to have.”
“And you think I will simply hand over a kingdom to a son I hardly know?” The older man looked indignant. “Especially after you were involved in my bride’s disappearance?”
At that, Killian stiffened. He sensed that these questions were yet another test, a means of proving his worth. And yet, he no longer cared.
He met his father’s gaze and said, “I think we both know that Carice was not a suitable bride for you. Not only was she young enough to be your daughter, but she was too sick to be the Queen of Éireann. When I last saw her, she was dying.” It was not entirely the truth, for his sister had seemed slightly better among the MacEgans. But he would not reveal this to Rory.
His father’s mouth tightened and he gave a single nod. “So be it. Brodie Faoilin is still searching for her. If she is alive, we will find her.” He paused a moment. “Is it your wish to return to Carrickmeath? Or would you rather take your rightful place here?”
My place is with Taryn, he wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “I have no ties to Carrickmeath. But I have claimed the Lady Taryn as my own. I intend to wed her, and I will see to it that Ossoria prospers.”
Rory would have none of it. “The Queen and her daughter will remain here as my hostages. I want neither of them to have any claim upon the kingdom.” He refilled his goblet of wine and continued, “Lady Taryn is unworthy of the High King’s son. And although I am not opposed to you governing Ossoria on my behalf, I would prefer that you choose a bride whose allegiance is unquestioned.”
“I do not question her loyalty at all,” Killian said. “And the people will want their lady to remain.”
“If you wish to claim her for your ownfuidir, I have no objection,” the High King said. “But the daughter of a traitor will never be a queen.”
Killian stood his ground. “Queen or not, she will be my wife.”
“And if I demand that you leave Tara and deny you as my legitimate son?” The High King rose from the table, the anger glittering in his eyes.
“I would give up everything for her,” Killian answered, with no hesitation. The moment he spoke the words, he knew they weretrue. For this stubborn woman had laid siege to his heart until he could not imagine living without her. He approached his father and asked quietly, “Was there no woman you ever loved enough that you would do anything to possess her?”
Rory’s face transformed into sadness, and he removed the ring that had belonged to Killian’s mother. “There was one. And not a day goes by that I do not regret losing her.”
One month later
“I do not believe this is a wise marriage,” King Rory said as he stood beside Killian. “But I am willing to let you take command of Ossoria.”
In the past few weeks, Killian had worked alongside his father, learning the politics of Éireann and understanding the different provincial kings. The kingship was like a game of chess, but he was well aware of the threat that lingered.
Even more startling was the revelation that his sister, Carice, had become involved with one of the Normans. She had slowly recovered from her illness, and for that reason, Killian would be ever grateful. King Rory had agreed to release her from the betrothal arrangement, and she was now free to marry whomever she desired.
Everyone had gathered for Killian’s wedding, which was to be held at the Tulach-na-Coibche, the hill named for the numerous marriages held there and the bride prices paid. The day had been cooler than usual, holding the threat of snow within the skies.
Several of the provincial kings had gathered—including the Norman leader Richard de Clare, known as Strongbow, and his wife, Aoife. They had claimed Leinster as their own, and thoughthere was a fragile peace between the Irish and Normans, it would take more time before the power struggles ceased.
As for himself, Killian was content to reign over Ossoria with Taryn as his bride.
She walked toward the hillside, wearing a gown of deep blue. Her long black hair was pulled back with ropes of pearls, and a single sapphire rested upon her forehead. This time, she had done nothing to hide her scars.
Although there were whispers among the children as she walked, their mothers shushed them. Taryn walked proudly with her shoulders held back, and beside her walked two queens—her mother and Queen Isabel of Laochre. Queen Maeve had been disgruntled to learn that they had lied about their earlier claims of marriage, but she’d been mollified at the prospect of a grand wedding.
Taryn sent Killian a quiet smile, and her presence brought a warmth within him that seemed even greater than the sun. When she reached his side, he noticed that Harold the cat was following in her footsteps, his gray tail twitching as he stalked the train of her gown. Many of the onlookers chuckled at the sight of the animal.
“Harold seems quite taken with you,” Killian remarked, kissing her lips in greeting. “But I won’t be allowing him to marry you.”
“There is only one man I wish to marry,” she said. “And that is you. But Harold may share our home.”
He took her hand in his, and as the priest began the blessing, he murmured, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
