She sent the Ard-Righ a kindly smile and continued. “Sometimes I grow weary of the tensions between our people. You and I both know that we are fighting to keep our country from becoming part of Henry’s kingdom. I wed Strongbow to protect my people from the Normans. Both of us would do anything to guard what is ours.” She gave a light shrug. “One man who happened to take an interest in your beautiful bride is hardly worth the effort. Send him away.”
Despite Aoife’s insistence, the High King didn’t appear at all interested in letting Raine go. It seemed that he was bent upon further punishment to satisfy his bruised pride.
But then, Carice spied a hint of movement in the shadows. Discreetly, she turned to see what was happening. Someone was pushing past the Irishmen and women gathered together.
To her surprise, she saw Trahern MacEgan. She hadn’t realized that he’d followed them to Tara. Surrounding him were the other MacEgan soldiers who had accompanied Killian earlier. The Irish giant held Sir Darren in a fierce grip, and there was an expression of satisfaction upon his face. “I believe you were looking for this man, Your Grace.”
The Ard-Righ leaned forward in his chair. “Was this the Norman who brought the poison?”
“He was.” Carice faced him openly and said, “My maids will bear witness to that.” She took a step toward the Norman, and her expression was grave. “I demand that he be punished for attempting to kill us both.” She didn’t know if this would save Raine’s life, but it was her best hope.
The brehons began to speak quietly among themselves. The Ard-Righ went to join them, along with his advisor, the chief poet. When he returned, before he could speak, Raine dropped to one knee. “Your Grace, I would like to ask for a trial by combat. Grant me the right to kill him on your behalf.”
Carice’s heartbeat quickened at Raine’s suggestion. Though she knew he loathed his commander and wanted vengeance, she worried that he might die in the battle. It was a risk she didn’t want him to face.
The High King’s expression remained guarded. “And if you are killed?”
“Then judge him based upon your laws. But first, he should be tried by ours.”
Carice tried to catch Raine’s expression, wanting so badly to plead with him not to do this. But if she dared speak to him, it would only prove her own guilt. She could only hold her silence, terrified by what was to come.
Raine stepped back, awaiting the High King’s response. The Ard-Righ consulted with the brehons and his chief poet, before he raised his hand to indicate that he had made a decision.
“I will let you fight Sir Darren, according to your laws. If you succeed, then you may have your freedom as compensation. But you will not return to Tara.”
The Ard-Righ gave a nod to his servants, who pushed back the onlookers to form a circle. Raine was given a blade, and the same was given to Sir Darren. A moment later, Aoife moved to her side. The young woman squeezed her hand in silent support, while Brodie stood on Carice’s opposite side. Her fingers were trembling with fear as she watched the man she loved.
Both stripped their armor and were bare from the waist up. The red lash marks upon Raine’s back were evident for all to see. Sir Darren had a powerful build, with broad shoulders and a few scars. He, too, was given a blade.
Carice gripped her father’s arm, praying that Raine would succeed. The two men circled one another, and she had no doubt that Darren would attack Raine’s wounded back.
“Shall I tell them about you and the king’s bride?” the Norman commander taunted. “How you shared her bed and took her innocence.”
Raine slashed his blade toward the man’s throat, but Darren dodged it, plowing his fist into his gut. The air exploded from his lungs, but he countered with his own blow. “Keep your liesto yourself. No one here will believe your attempts to dishonor the lady.”
Carice’s blood ran cold with fear that the High King would believe it, but she didn’t dare meet Rory Ó Connor’s gaze. Instead, she watched the two men battling, stricken at the thought of Raine being hurt.
He moved with swiftness, striking blows with his left hand while slicing with the right. Although Darren tried to reach his wounded back, Raine was careful to guard it.
Until his commander lunged and caught a handful of dirt, tossing it into Raine’s eyes. Carice bit her tongue to avoid crying out a warning. It was killing her to feign an impassive expression.
You cannot let the king know your feelings. You must behave as if Darren lied.But inwardly, she was dying.
Raine rolled over, and she watched in horror as Darren’s blade cut his shoulder. Blood welled up from the skin, and the two men grappled on the ground.
Carice closed her eyes, as if to will him to stay alive. Only the tightening of Aoife’s hand made her open them once more.
She saw the man she loved pinned beneath Sir Darren, the blade inching toward his throat. No. Tears burned in her eyes, her silent scream caught in her lungs. Raine’s fallen weapon lay only inches from his hands.
At the last second, Raine smashed his head against Darren’s and reached for the blade, burying it in the knight’s throat. The knight’s breath choked with blood before he lay still.
Carice gripped her hands to her mouth, her heart pounding. Aoife looked at her, and the young woman’s gaze was knowing. She prayed Strongbow’s wife would say nothing.
Raine stood up from his commander’s body and cleaned his blade. Then he lowered to one knee before the High King, waiting for judgment.
The Ard-Righ studied him for a long moment before he said, “The trial by combat is finished. Go with the Lady Aoife, and leave Tara. I will grant you your freedom as promised, but do not return.”
The threat within his voice was unmistakable. Carice desperately wanted to turn to Raine, for one last farewell. But it would only arouse the High King’s suspicions. Though she was so relieved that Raine was free to go, she was well aware that she did not have her own freedom.
