‘The last time I saw him was yestereve,’ Marcas said.‘My mother cannot find him, either.I hoped maybe…you knew where he was.’
She exchanged a look with Balor, and his expression was grim.Without another word, she understood the true problem.If her father stepped down as king and Liam wasn’t there…
By the gods.She was starting to wonder if the Normans truly did pose a threat.
‘We’ve been searching all day,’ Marcas said.
‘Have you told my father?’She tried to keep her voice steady, but the danger was very clear.‘The king must know if Liam is missing.’
‘I was afraid to tell,’ Marcas admitted.
‘Go and speak with your grandfather now,’ Balor advised, resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder.‘It might mean nothing at all.He may have sent your father on a short journey.’
There was a hint of relief on Marcas’s face, as if he hadn’t considered that.‘All right.’
But Mairead doubted that her brother had gone anywhere.She nodded to her nephew in agreement, and Marcas hurried off.
As soon as he’d gone, she opened the door wider in a silent invitation for Balor to come in.His gaze fixed upon hers, and she suddenly flushed at the thought of him here, in her bedchamber.Her skin seemed to grow more sensitive, even as she tried to face him.‘They’ve taken Liam, haven’t they?The Normans.’
Worry caught her at the thought of her brother being threatened.She drew her hands around her waist, ignoring the wish that Balor would hold her instead.The thought of being in his arms right now, of being able to rest hercheek against his chest while he guarded her, was a wistful imagining.
‘I think so.’His tone was grim, and he added, ‘The Normans may hope to crown the earl as the next king, with you as his bride.’
‘They can’t do that,’ Mairead protested.‘It has to be a male from our bloodline.’
‘Can you not become queen?’
She shook her head.‘It isn’t our way.’
But she couldn’t deny that Balor could be right.Maybe that was what this was—a form of vengeance.King John might be punishing her father for daring to give such a show of force when he’d traveled north with his brothers and their armies after her attack.
Although Patrick had claimed they had come to offer fealty, she suspected the truth.Her father had been angry about the Normans who had attacked her and Velaria.Arriving with hundreds of men was a silent message to King John that he did not fully control the kings of Ireland.
Which likely meant the monarch wanted to retaliate.Or perhaps he already had with Liam’s disappearance.
Mairead sank down on a low stool, her stomach twisting.‘What should we do?Do I wed the earl, in return for Liam’s life?’
‘That’s likely what they want you to do,’ he said quietly, pulling up a stool beside her.‘But if you do wed a Norman, your family may lose control of the kingship anyway, and Laochre may fall under King John’s reign.’
A coldness caught within her at the thought, followed by fury.All her life, she’d been soft and obedient, the daughter her father expected her to be.But Patrick had been a warrior, as had his brothers.They had fought for peace, andthe last thing she wanted was to bow to a foreign king—especially if they had taken her brother.
She wanted to fight, just as her father and uncles had.And although she lacked physical strength, she had her wits.Mairead closed her eyes, trying to think of what to do.
‘My family will not lose the kingship,’ she said firmly.‘We need to gather men and find Liam.’
‘I agree.Your father should ask his brothers to return here quickly, along with their men.’
He was right.If her father had time to gather his brothers together, they could defend Laochre from any threat.
‘Until we find Liam, I’m not going to marry anyone.’She stood and regarded him.‘And you’re going to help me leave Laochre.’
For if she was not here to wed any of the Normans, it weakened their ability to impose a marital alliance.They would have to take Laochre by force.
* * *
‘No.’Balor stood to face her, refusing to play any part of this.‘I’m not helping you leave.’Although he’d previously wanted to disrupt her betrothal, it had been about dissuading her from marrying the wrong man or becoming a king’s pawn—not running away with him.
‘Why not?’
