Talar stumbled out of the kitchen into the bailey. A blast of cold wind hit him in the face, taking his breath away. Goddess, what had Kaelyn done? Demanding a trial by combat was ridiculous. Sure, she had some martial training. But it was insane of her to think she could defeat the Great Hawk’s chosen warrior. The men who fought the trials were the best the clan had. They’d spent their lives honing their skill.
Only divine intervention could save her. And he knew how much his Goddess thought of that when someone’s life was on the line. He’d pray, but he doubted it would do any good. She had proven how fickle She really was.
There had to be another way. He could sneak into the prison and break her out. Not that she’d listen or follow him. He’d wanted to tell her to wait, go to Carthway, and Mac would make everything right, but she’d made him so angry. She didn’t know how the clans worked. Heck, he barely understood them and they were his people. But everything stood on ceremony, everything in its good time, and no matter how much noise he made, no one would listen to him. Even if he was a shaman’s son.
What really burned was that Kaelyn wouldn’t listen to him either. And yet she’d listened too well, throwing words said in dark jest back in his face. That she could be a political pawn for Meriduin. That no man would want her. How could she believe any of that? She was destined for something so much more.
If he knew anything, he knew that. Even if his tattoo didn’t burn at the thought her of, he’d know it. But now she was going to throw it all away.
He spun back into the kitchen. She couldn’t take back what she’d said. At dawn she’d face her trial by combat . . . if she was still in Angwyn.
A guard, Vaddon–the one he’d tricked when he’d first entered Angwyn three days ago–eased from a shadowed hall, hand on his sword hilt. “Going somewhere?”
“I–” Talar raced through the odds of being believed by Vaddon and trying to convince him of . . . of what? That the ritual was a death sentence? That tomorrow a lovely woman was going to die?
She didn’t even know who she was, didn’t know she loved a prince and was loved in return. Of course, maybe that was something better not remembered.
His gut churned at the thought. Life was unfair in so many ways, but Kaelyn didn’t deserve to die.
Vaddon’s expression softened. “The Goddess has been invoked.”
“Do you really think there’s anything divine about this?”
“No. But I saw what you saw down there. Losing tomorrow might be a blessing.”
It wouldn’t be for Kaelyn, and it certainly wasn’t for him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted the complication she represented.
#
Kaelyn must have fallen asleep somewhere between her calming breaths and Gerid’s quiet announcement that it was morning. The night had slipped away, revealing a fog-filled day. Gerid hugged Jillyn closer, and from over her head he stared at Kaelyn. Jillyn mumbled in her sleep but didn’t wake.
“At least it’s warmed up for me,” Kaelyn said to him, but his expression only grew grimmer.
So much for trying to see the light in the situation. She uncrossed her legs. They were stiff from sitting in the same position all night, and she knew she should stretch.
“You should stretch,” said Gerid.
She nodded, and stood. Things seemed so different now that the heat of her anger had melted away. She questioned if this really was her only option. Of course, it was now. It all seemed so simple last night. This or that, there was no other choice. Now she felt she’d spoken in haste. Talar had made her so mad, claiming it was all her fault. If she hadn’t run away, he’d said. Well, if he hadn’t said those horrible things about her, true or not. Perhaps not having a memory of her past was a good thing.
A short, bitter laugh escaped and she wondered if a person really did relive her life at the moment of death. It would be one solution to her problem. Of course, with her luck, she’d probably only remember her life since waking in the temple.
The door at the top of the steps opened, and half a dozen clansmen marched down. A rustling at the other end of the cell told her Gerid and Jillyn had stood to meet their captors.
Kaelyn opened her eyes and threw a quick glance at her cellmates. They propped Aric up between them so he, too, could stand. He didn’t appear to be aware of his surroundings. He would be the first of them to die if they didn’t get out of the there soon. The other two looked drawn but not yet sick. It wouldn’t take much more though. With one of them ill and the others in close proximity, needing to share body heat for warmth, it was just a matter of time.
The shaman stepped up to the bars, his chest and arms bare revealing the thick tattoos at his wrists and the one winding up the left side of his body. He still hung on his staff, as if that was all that kept him upright, and his frail form looked more like a withered apple-doll than an actual person. But his dark gaze was sharp and held a hint of malicious satisfaction. He said something in the clansman’s guttural language, turned his back on her, and shuffled away.
“It has begun,” said the clan chief.
The clansmen opened the cell door. Kaelyn strode across the threshold into the sea of warriors on the other side. If she was going to die today, she was determined to die with her pride intact.
Her gut churned and she sucked in a quick breath. She focused straight ahead, refusing to see if her cellmates were allowed to follow or not.
They marched through the kitchen, the sudden heat in the room making Kaelyn sweat, then stepped out into the frosty air. The perspiration on her body froze and she struggled to hide her shivering. She’d be damned if they thought she was afraid of what was to come–even if she really was.
In the center of the inner ward was a large circle, surrounded by what looked like the entire Great Hawk Clan. And within it stood the tallest, broadest clansmen she’d ever seen.
