Page 76 of Bound By Deception

Lowering his gaze, he surveyed the yard once more. He spied Prince Kennan then, leading his horse from the stables. The prince wore a pinched expression this morning. The eve before, he’d tried to get out of leading this attack.

“Are you sure, father?” he’d asked woodenly when the High King had made his announcement. “Don’t you want to claim this victory as your own?”

“I’m getting too old for combat … but you will do me proud,” Talorc had replied with a hard smile. “And since it wasyouwho unveiled the traitor in our midst, I shall give you this triumph, my son.”

But the prince hadn’t looked overjoyed about the gesture—and he still didn’t.

“There you are.” A tall, lanky enforcer strode toward Cailean then. Torran wore a grim expression this morning. “I thought the High King had hauled you in for another meeting.”

Cailean grimaced. “No, thank the Gods. I just had to check that our supply wagons were properly equipped.” He met Torran’s eye then. “As always, I leave the enforcers here under your charge.”

Torran nodded, even as his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you don’t want me with you on this campaign?”

In truth, Cailean could have done with his assistance. Torran was his best fighter, and they’d always worked well together. However, he didn’t trust any of the other enforcers he was leaving behind to look after things in his absence. “No, Torran … I need you here.”

One of the stable hands approached then, leading Feannag. Cailean nodded to the man and took the stallion’s reins, deftly checking that the girth was tight enough and the stirrups were the right length. He then set about looking over the contents of his saddle bags.

He was armed with enough iron to bring down the Raven Queen herself, with a double-edged broad sword strappedacross his back and full sets of daggers and knives; yet with such a swift departure, he worried he’d overlook something.

Especially since thoughts of his wife kept distracting him.

He’d never lost control of himself like that. The sight of Fia sitting naked amongst the nest of furs, her oaken hair tumbling over her bare shoulders, had made him ache to return to their sleeping nook, to plow her until they both collapsed from exhaustion.

It had taken all his will to put on his clothes and leave.

The woman was full of surprises. A Maid of Albia was supposed to be unsullied, yet Fia was no blushing virgin. He hadn’t cared though. Cailean liked a woman who owned her pleasure.

Tension rippled through him then as he reminded himself that this was just another lie, another secret. His wife had layers of them. He couldn’t believe he was letting this be. The woman could be a spy like Damhan. Lust had robbed him of his wits.

Skaal padded up to him then, waiting next to Feannag.

Shoving aside the suspicions that screamed at him now, he swung up onto the stallion’s back and gathered the reins. He then met Torran’s gaze once more.

His second’s smoke-grey eyes glinted. “May the Gods be with you.”

Cailean grunted. “They’d better be.”

As he made his way onto The Thoroughfare, riding at Prince Kennan’s side, Cailean made the mistake of glancing up at the walls.

The last time he’d ridden out of Duncrag, he’d seen his wife standing there, watching him go. But Fia hadn’t come out to see him off this morning. He hadn’t expected to catch a glimpse ofher, and yet something tightened deep inside his chest at her absence.

Dragging his gaze from the wall, he clenched his jaw. The Reaper’s scythe, he needed to tear himself free of thisweakness.

Curse the High King. This was all his doing. He’d never wanted a wife. Fia had been trouble from the beginning, challenging him and chipping away at his defenses. He’d managed to avoid speaking of his past—for it was a locked vault he refused to open—but she’d somehow pierced his armor, all the same. And his hunger for her, a need that still pulsed like an ember in his gut, would be his undoing if he let it.

Cailean urged Feannag down The Thoroughfare, past turf-roofed cottages that lay in darkness.

A raven’s caw echoed through the mist then. A storm bird, reminding him of what lay ahead. Misgiving stirred in his gut. Over the years, he’d always done the High King’s bidding without question, had hunted and slain the Shee without mercy.

But this mission was different. This time, it would start a war between two races. Finally, Talorc mac Brude would have the revenge he craved.

Cailean didn’t share the High King’s excitement though. Instead, thinking of the conflict to come made a heaviness sink into his bones.

“Can you take the washing down to the laundry?” Bree asked casually, motioning to the wicker basket in the corner.

Mirren stopped sweeping and glanced up. “I washed the clothes yesterday.”

“Aye … but I spilled wine on my tunic yestereve, so it’ll need a good scrub.” Indeed, Bree had deliberately marked the garment before her handmaid arrived.

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