She crossed through the rows of tents, walking up the hillside to get a better view of Tara. The sun had barely risen above thehorizon, but she hoped she could see the High King’s territory. Sheep grazed upon the long grasses, and morning dew coated her skirts. She had bound a veil over her head, trying to keep her scars out of view.
Just a glimpse—that was all she wanted. She moved closer, towards the fortress enclosed by a large wooden fence. For a moment, she studied the High King’s vast holdings, wondering whether there was any mercy within him at all. Was it even possible that he would let her father live?
She shielded her eyes against the morning sun and then a small group of men began to approach. It was soon clear that they had been watching her.
Taryn hesitated, wondering whether to retreat. If she ran, they would undoubtedly pursue her. She remained in place while she tried to decide what to do. As the men came closer, she saw a familiar face. The leader of the soldiers had been among the High King’s men who had come to fetch Carice.
A faint smile edged his mouth the moment he recognized her.
No. Her pulse beat faster, even knowing she had done nothing wrong. But the moment he called out, Taryn spun around, hurrying toward the hill. She lost her footing and sprawled hard on the ground. Though she tried to call out to the MacEgan men, the High King’s soldiers surrounded her within seconds.
“We’ve been looking for you, my lady,” the captain said. Two of the men seized her arms and dragged her to her feet. “King Rory wants to have words with you. He wants to know where his bride is. And I think you know the answer to that.”
“I have not seen her since you left me at the round tower,” she countered. “I had nothing to do with Carice’s disappearance.”
“Then why did you run?” The knowing look on his face made her cheeks flush.
She tried to gather her composure. “You frightened me when you approached with your soldiers. I came to seek an audience with the High King, for my father’s sake.”
“Oh, he will be wanting to see you,” the man replied with a thin smile. “My orders are to bring you for questioning.”
Her heart quaked at that, even while her logical mind argued,This was what you wanted.It wasn’t as if she had a choice, either. Steeling herself, she met the captain’s gaze. “You need not treat me as a prisoner. I will speak with the Ard-Righ.”
But the captain ignored her. To the men holding her, he ordered, “If she resists, drag her upon the ground.”
The men obeyed, and Taryn had to struggle to keep up. Her skirts tangled against her legs, and more than once, she stumbled. Her pulse quickened as she searched for a sign of Killian. But he was nowhere to be seen.
Rory Ó Connor’s holdings consisted of a large fortification built of wood, known as the Rath-na-Rígh. Two walls surrounded the structure with a deep ditch between them. The men led her over the trench and inside the gates. Hearth fires were set up outside, and dozens of men and women moved throughout the space. Some were cooking food in iron pots, while others were treating animal hides stretched over heavy frames. A few boys wrestled in the open spaces, laughing as they tried to pin each other to the ground.
Taryn drew nearer and spied a smaller hillside within the walls. Duma nan Giall, it was named. She had never before seen the mound of hostages, but she had heard of it. An iron gate closed off the small house made of timber, and she wondered if her father was held within it.
As she passed through the grounds, she was struck by how vast the King’s holdings were—and there were soldiers everywhere.
The men forced her towards the banqueting hall, a tall building made of timber that was heavily carved and painted inbright colors. It stood between two parallel mounds of earth, and Taryn counted six doors on each side.
“Bind her,” the captain said, “until the High King is ready to see her.”
Taryn lowered her head, her mind spinning. She would have to plead with the King for mercy and pray that he did not hold her responsible for Carice’s disappearance. Her heart was pounding when they led her inside the main door.
Inside, she smelled roasted mutton and vegetables. Her stomach roared with hunger, for she had not broken her fast this morning. But all hunger vanished when she heard the heavy footsteps approaching. She did not dare to look up, but she knew the High King was drawing nearer. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Your Grace, this is the traitor’s daughter,” the captain said. “We believe she was the reason why Lady Carice disappeared.”
“Was she?” came a deep baritone voice. “Let go of her.”
The soldiers released their grip, and Taryn sank to her knees. She knew better than to attempt anything less than deference.
For a moment, the Ard-Righ stood in front of her. Taryn stared at his leather boots, her heart pounding.
“You do resemble Carice Faoilin,” he admitted. “I can understand why my men made a mistake at first. But they did not see you clearly.” He reached out a hand and touched her chin. Taryn kept her gaze averted, knowing that this man held her life in his hands. “Rise.”
She got up from her knees, and the moment she stood, he tore the veil from her hair. The linen slipped to the floor, and she felt the fear gripping her once more. Rory jerked her back by the hair, forcing her to look at him. His gray eyes were the same as Killian’s, and it was like seeing an older, crueler version of the man she cared about. His dark beard covered his face, and his mouth was a thin slash.
Dear God. Her mother had been right. The moment anyone saw Killian, they would recognize him as Rory’s son.
The High King pulled back her hair and revealed her scarred face to the men. “Think you that I would wed a woman so cursed?”
Taryn didn’t move, nor did she dare to speak. The wrong words could end her life or her father’s.
