“Who…” the soldier began, but I cut him off as I slid my hand around his throat.
“I am sorry about this,” I said in a low growl. I did not want to kill him, but I had no other choice. To save my clan, according to the prophecy, I had to take this foreign bride. Magnus ordered me to infiltrate the castle and, for now, I must obey him. Our mission would have been doomed to failure if I left the poor man alive. I twisted my hand, breaking his neck instantly, and found a small amount of comfort in knowing his death had been quick.
“Siv, he looks to be about your size,” I said. “Move quickly.” We stripped the soldier of his clothes and Siv began putting them on. The others then pulled the body behind some barrels of mead that lined the alley. My mind was a mix of duty and guilt. I knew of the tough decisions a clan leader must make, which is why I had never sought the post for myself. The responsibility of such decisions was the curse of holding power, and mistakes affected not only the leader, but those who depended upon him.
“Ready?” Brant’s voice came from behind me. I turned to behold Siv, who, other than his hair, now looked somewhat like an English soldier.
“We have to cut our hair.” I told them gruffly.
“I hope you know what you are doing.” Brant grumbled.
“I’m keeping us alive,” I said, my blood suddenly hot with anger. The burden of the prophecy and the weight from the heinous act I had just committed suddenly settled heavily upon me. Killing men in battle, men who would kill me if they got the chance, was entirely different from what I had just done. Even though it was done under Magnus’ orders, I had committed murder.
Brant held up his hands and lowered his head. “You have always put the clan first. We trust your judgment, hersir.”
My jaw clenched as I looked at each man who had pledged his loyalty to me. “I am doing the best I can with the information the Oracle has given me. When the time is right, I will share it with you, but that time has not come.” They each nodded.
“Now, we need to find a quiet place out of the way so we can observe the guards. We need five more uniforms.” We let Siv take the lead as he would draw the least attention.
We walked farther into the grounds, keeping our eyes lowered so no one could later identify us. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in a dingy alley crammed with small, dilapidated shops. One caught my attention because its door was resting wide open, which would be unusual, for this time of night. The interior was cloaked in darkness and I could see nothing of the inside. A painted sign, reading Myra’s Mixes, hung on a rusty chain above the door. Seeing the place sent a jolt through my belly. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt something pulling me toward the small store, as if I was meant to go inside. There was a subtle, pulsing energy flowing out of the place. A person who had never encountered magic would not have recognized the faint traces, but I had been raised by the Oracle. Where some would feel a cold chill or the shudder of deja vu, I felt magic.
I moved toward the door, knowing my men would follow without question, and when I inside the small hut-like room, I felt something pushing at my mind. Picturing a wall in my head, I looked over my shoulder at the warriors. “Shield your minds. There is something more at work here.” All of them had, at some point in their lives, spent time with my mother, and she was adamant that I and those closest to me learn to protect ourselves from dark power. It did not feel as though whatever presence attempting to see into my mind was dark, but I still did not like the idea of anything helping itself to my memories.
As we crept farther into the shop, my eyes began to adjust to the dimness, the only light coming from the moonlight filtering in from the open door behind us. Suddenly, a small elderly woman stepped from behind a shelf directly to my right, and I stopped in my tracks. With whispered grunting and cursing, the men behind me stumbled into my back, challenging me to stay upright before the woman.
“Torben, commander of the Hakon clan, king to be, I have been waiting for you,” the old woman said in an ominous voice.
“This cannot be good,” Brant mumbled.
“Growing up, it is fun for a little girl to dream of what her life will look like when she finally reaches adulthood. Of course, she pictures having the perfect wedding, a handsome man who adores her, and a happily ever after surrounded by lovely children. No one tells the little girl that the likelihood of these dreams coming true is about the same as that of her imaginary friend coming to life during one of their tea parties.”
* * *
~Allete Auvrays Diary
My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure everyone around me could hear it. I had never been thankful for a wildfire before, but the blaze outside the castle walls kept everyone from staring at me as I leaned as far away from Cathal as possible while he struggled to whisper in my ear. I wasn’t sure who had started the fire, but I would gladly shake their hand and thank them if I could.
Thomas sat across the table and three seats to my left. He caught my eye and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I really wanted to throw a chicken leg at him, but I was pretty sure Cathal might turn me over his knee and spank me in front of everyone if I did, or at the very least, scold me verbally. Pompous ass. I might never say it aloud, but I decided then I would call him P.A. to myself every time I thought of him. It was a petty and vindictive sentiment, sure, but I had to take pleasure where I could find it.
When the king of Tara finally turned to talk to someone on his left, I picked up my fork while looking at my cousin and pretended to stab myself in the eye. Dayna, who was sitting to Thomas’ left, must have seen me, because she snorted and the sip she’d just taken spewed from her nose and mouth, sending Thomas into an uncontrollable belly-laugh. My mother stared wit at her youngest daughter, eyes wide, and my father looked at me with a knowing grin on his face. I didn’t know if he saw my gesture, but he probably guessed who had caused the commotion.
“Excuse me,” Dayna said, patting her mouth dry. “I saw a fly in my drink as I was taking a sip and it startled me.”
At her comment, almost everyone in the room picked up their glasses and looked down into them. Thomas was still laughing, and I was so very tempted to throw a dinner roll at him. Perhaps everyone would be too preoccupied with the possibility of ingesting an insect to notice a flying baked good.