Yet, if he succeeded in the assassination, there was the risk that King Henry would not release them. It was a dangerous game Raine played, one he doubted he could win.
He exhaled slowly and said, “What of my lands? Will they ever be returned to me?”
Darren shook his head. “That, I cannot say. After your father’s betrayal, I do not think Henry will give them back.”
“I have never given him reason to question my loyalty.”
“Then give him a reason to reward you,” Darren countered. “Rory Ó Connor’s death will encourage Henry to intervene. You will disappear after it is done and never set foot in Ireland again. It is very likely your sisters will be released as well.”
But if he was unsuccessful, Henry would lay the blame at his feet and order his death. That much was certain. “What will happen to my sisters if I fail?”
Darren said nothing, and his silence was the answer Raine had expected. He had no choice but to obey.
“So be it.” He stood back against the wall while the soldiers finished eating. The grim finality of his life hung over him with the knowledge that there was no escape from this. Invisible chains bound him to a fate he didn’t want.
“Find the High King’s bride and bring her to us,” Sir Darren said to him. “She will give you the means to get close.”
He inclined his head but added, “Do not follow me. I will bring her to Tara, but only if you stay away from us.”
His commander didn’t respond, and Raine understood the unspoken words. They didn’t trust him to uphold his promise.
“Nicole and Elise’s lives depend on my obeying orders,” he insisted. “I would never put them at risk. I will bring Lady Carice to the High King—be assured of it.”
And he could only hope that Carice would forgive him for this.
Carice sat in the solar with two of the MacEgan women, Queen Isabel and Lady Genevieve. Despite being in their company, she felt restless. Her brother, Killian, had left only yesterday with Lady Taryn on a journey to plead with the High King. Lady Taryn’s father was being held captive at Tara, and Killian had agreed to escort her there.
It felt as if her brother were walking into the lion’s den. And yet, she knew the reward that awaited him if he succeeded in saving Lady Taryn’s father. It would give him another life, one where he was no longer treated like afuidiror a bastard son. She wanted that for him, and she prayed for his safety.
Although the MacEgans had offered her the chance to stay longer at Laochre, her own protection was fragile, at best. It was only a matter of time before her father found her here. The sooner she left, the safer she would be.
She knew that the MacEgans would help her, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Raine. Trahern had offered to find out what had happened to him, but it would take time. It might be better to travel toward the abbey on their way west. Then she could see for herself if he was still there. The thoughtreassured her.
“Liam, come back here,” the queen demanded. When her young son only giggled, staggering in his attempts to walk, Isabel put aside her sewing and scooped him away from the fireplace hearth. “I vow, this child terrifies me. Every moment I turn my head, he finds a new danger. Yesterday, I caught him trying to touch Patrick’s sword.” She snuggled him close, and Carice smiled at the baby’s antics.
“At least my Duncan cannot walk yet,” Genevieve countered. Her own son was sitting up, chewing upon a piece of fur, while the young mother was seated at her harp. She had played music for them the night before, and the soothing sounds filled the room.
It helped keep Carice’s mind off her churning stomach, for the illness had returned again this morning. She’d tried to eat a little bread to calm the aching, but the pain had only worsened.
Carice let out a slow breath and lowered her gaze to her sewing, pretending as if nothing was the matter. If she didn’t eat at noontime, it might help.
As a distraction, she asked Genevieve, “May I hold your son?”
The young woman smiled, still plucking at the harp strings. “Of course.”
When Carice took the babe in her arms, Duncan seized handfuls of her hair, offering a gummy smile. She spoke nonsense words to him, but the moment was bittersweet, reminding her of the children she would never bear. Her heart grieved at the truth of it.
She braved a smile at the babe, trying to imagine what it would be like to live her days without pain. Or what it would be to have a child of her own.
Resentment gathered in her stomach, for she knew it would not happen. The sense of unfairness heightened, for what had she done to deserve this illness? Why should she have to die when other women could live and leave a part of themselves in their offspring? It made her wish that her sickness was a tangible enemy, one who could be struck down by a blade. She wanted a different life than this one, and she wished to God there was a way to have it.
A knock sounded at the door, and when the queen called out for the person to enter, an adolescent boy peered inside. He sent a brilliant smile toward Carice and said, “Queen Isabel, there is a man at the gates.”
The queen sent the boy a wry smile. “Ewan, that’s not very useful information. Who is there?”
His smile widened, and he entered the solar. He gave a dramatic bow before Carice and added, “It’s a Norman soldier. And he’s demanded to see the lady.” Then he knelt and offered, “Would you like me to slay him for you?”
Carice straightened, startled by the lad’s declaration. The only Norman soldier who knew she was here was Raine. Her emotions threatened to spill over, and she fought to hold them back. Raine was alive, and he’d come back for her. The rush of anticipation made her pulse quicken, though she knew her thoughts were running away with her. She was no longer a silly adolescent girl, and she needed to calm herself.
