A Cursed Heart, page 23
His eyes dropped to the book still in his hands. “Not nearly as appalling as fucking Eithne.”
25
My heart was a traitor.
It had been four days since I’d seen Rían.
Four days of digging in the dirt, chatting with a pooka about everything and nothing.
Four days of searching the faces as they came and went—never in the castle, only in the courtyard—hoping to catch a glimpse of a blue-eyed prince.
My head knew what he was. What he’d done.
And yet my heart justified it all.
Keelynn had thrown herself at him.
Rían had married Keelynn to save her from ruin.
I’d woken up in Tearmann because my sister brought me back.
Rían was keeping me hostage because I was stubborn enough to disregard everything he’d said and end up getting myself killed.
I stretched my hands toward the ceiling, rolling my shoulders and neck to try and ease out the kinks. The white coverlet slipped down to my waist as I pushed myself upright against the headboard.
I liked Rían.
There. I admitted it. I wanted to hear about his shite trips to Airren. To have him tease me. To have him do more. But I couldn’t do any of that if he didn’t come back to the bloody castle.
Like every day before, a silver tray waited for me on top of the desk beneath the window. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection. A bit of color had returned to my skin, but my freckles had yet to appear. A few more days in the sun and heat, and they should be back. I desperately missed them.
Sinking onto the rigid chair, I removed the lid on the silver platter to find a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and a small pastry box.
A cherry tart waited inside.
The subtle reminder of my last night alive left my stomach fluttering.
Was Rían back from wherever he’d gone? I’d asked Ruairi yesterday, but the pooka had said that he’d been charged with keeping tabs on a hostage, not a bastard prince.
The tart’s crust flaked off on my fingers.
Heavenly. That’s what it was. Absolutely heavenly. Crispy crust and gooey cherries still warm from the oven. The only way it could have been better was if there were ten more.
I ate the whole thing and considered licking the box it had been served in. It wasn’t as if anyone would know.
After breakfast, I threw on yet another blue dress as quickly I could.
Being held captive in a house full of men meant no lady’s maid to help me get into these garments. Yesterday, I’d had to ask Tadhg to help button the back of my dress. You’d swear I’d asked the man to eat a raw chicken.
What I needed were a few plain ones like my gardening dress. Next time I saw Rían, I’d ask. As much as I loathed the idea of living off his charity, as long as he insisted on keeping me locked up, he could deal with my needs.
After an altercation between my wild curls and a hairbrush, I made my way to where my sister was being kept. A ticklish sensation brushed my fingers when I reached for the golden handle. Rían had made good on his promise to ward the room. But instead of blocking me as they did at the gates, the wards let me through without issue.
Next to her casket sat a pillow, blanket, and a half-drunk glass of amber liquor. Tadhg spent most of his days up here—and I suspected the nights as well. He’d added a fresh bouquet of purple hydrangeas since yesterday.
I still didn’t think he was good enough for Keelynn, but seeing his utter devotion made me feel a little guilty for dismissing his feelings as pure lust.
I’d known plenty of lustful men. And if any of them had been in the same situation, they would’ve been lost in a woman, not a bottle.
My sister looked exactly as she had every other time I’d visited. Dark lashes dusting pale cheeks. Rich brown waves falling over slim shoulders. Black stain from her lips to her throat.
“I miss you,” I confessed.
I would have given anything to hear her return the sentiment.
“And I miss him too. Silly, isn’t it?” I laughed. “You wouldn’t think it was silly, though, would you? You’d think it was romantic. You’d tell me I should let him sweep me off my feet.”
Heaviness settled over the room, and a voice from the doorway said, “I do not sweep women off their feet. I drag them down with me.”
Rían had a shoulder propped against the door, swirling a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His white shirtsleeves bunched at his elbows, revealing tanned, toned forearms.
“How much of that did you hear?”
He lifted the drink to his lips, hiding his smile. “Did you just miss me today, or have you been pining over my absence all week?”
Brilliant. He’d heard everything. “Don’t be ridiculous.” With my face burning, I shoved past him—and rammed headfirst into an invisible wall.
“I missed you too, my little viper,” he breathed against my ear. “Will I show you how much?”
“That sounds like torture.”
His dark chuckle teased against the fine hairs at the back of my neck. “It would be.” Cinnamon and whiskey swirled around me. His teeth grazed my throat.
My eyes fluttered closed. This was what I’d wanted. Why was I fighting when I could allow myself to revel in dark desire? He wanted me, and I wanted him, and it wouldn’t change who he was or who I was. If I kept my expectations low, gave him my body, perhaps I would emerge unscathed.
I leaned into him, my breath catching when his free hand slipped around my hip bone, kneading ever so slightly.
Then he was cursing and jerking away. The heat writhing my belly screamed. My eyes flew open to find Ruairi scowling at us from the other side of the tost.
A different kind of heat bloomed up my neck and over my cheeks.
Rían flicked his wrist.
“I’ve been shouting fer ye,” Ruairi growled.
“We’re a little busy,” Rían muttered into his drink before taking a deep gulp.
“He’s in an awful state.”
I didn’t need to ask who he meant. I hadn’t seen Tadgh sober since I woke up.
“Does he not realize what day it is?”
“Oh, he knows. He’s waitin’ in the great room now.”
The glass in Rían’s hand vanished, replaced by a black waistcoat. “Get rid of him. Tell Oscar I’ll be down in a moment.”
“What’s today?” I asked, watching Ruairi take off down the stairs.
“It’s Friday,” Rían said with a long sigh, slipping into the waistcoat. “And on Fridays, St. Tadhg hears the quibbles and complaints of the masses. Since he has become a worthless drunk, the responsibility has once again fallen on my shoulders.” It took him three tries to get the first button on his waistcoat buttoned. “Ruling over the Danú is like minding a bunch of unruly children.”
For some reason, I found myself reaching for the second button. His throat bobbed as his hands fell away, letting me fasten the rest. “And you don’t like children?”
His lips twitched. “Only for breakfast.”
When I finished, I found him studying me with a thoughtful expression.
“Thank you.”
“Careful, now. If you keep this up, I may start thinking you have a heart.”
“A trip to the dungeon would remedy that,” he said with a wink, shifting a black coat.
He slipped his arms into the sleeves and straightened the hem, giving the staircase a wary glance. “Would you . . . Never mind.”
I stopped him with a hand on his elbow. “Would I what?”
“Would you like to come?”
“Am I allowed? Wouldn’t want to blur the lines between hostage and captor.”
His dimples appeared when he smiled. “You blurred those lines the moment you said you missed me.”
In the great hall, two wooden chairs sat on a dais, one large and ornately carved, the other shorter and plain, as if it had been taken from an old dining set and added as an afterthought.
Whispering Danú formed an orderly line from the foot of the dais, along the windowed wall, around to the entrance, and out into the hallway.
There had to be at least fifty of them.
I wasn’t sure if the wary looks were directed at me or at Rían as he sank onto the larger chair and called the first person forward. I stayed behind, content to fade into the background in case any of them were looking for an afternoon snack.
The first person, with the body of a man and the face of a wolf, said he was there to pay taxes on his land. He set a heavy purse on the dais at Rían’s feet, then left via the main door without another word.
Two short men with bulbous red noses wearing red tweed caps came up next, glaring at one another and grumbling under their breath. One tried to pass the other only to get hauled back by the shirtsleeve.
“See what I mean?” Rían muttered under his breath so that only I could hear. “Children.”
When the men reached the top step, they both bowed their heads.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
Tenting his fingers beneath his chin, Rían looked down his nose at them and asked, “What is your issue?”
The taller of the two pointed an accusatory finger at the other man. “He’s been takin’ fruit from my tree again.”
The shorter man smacked his counterpart’s hand away. “As I’ve said time and again, ‘tisn’t yer tree at all. ‘Tis mine.”
“It’s on my land.”
“Growing over my feckin’ fence.”
They glared at one another, nostrils flared, fists tight at their sides.
Rían pinched the bridge of his nose. “So this is about a tree, then, is it?”
“My tree,” the tallest confirmed with a bob of his head.
“The tree is—”
Rían’s fist cracked against the throne’s arm, sending vibrations through the floor. “Enough!”
The hall fell silent.
A book appeared in Rían’s lap. He opened it to the middle, flipping to find whatever he was looking for. As his eyes scanned, he huffed a curse. “It would seem there is no law regarding a tree growing on the border between two properties.” Another flick, and the book disappeared. “And as there is no previous ruling, I shall make my own.”
Glares shifted to worried glances as the people at the front of the room began to whisper.
“The fruit tree belongs to neither of you,” Rían announced. “It will be harvested, all fruit brought to the castle’s store house, chopped down, and burned to the root.”
“Prince Rían, ye cannot—”
“‘Tis the best tree we got—”
Rían held up a hand and the hall went silent as a catacomb. “Did you or did you not come to me to solve this dispute?”
Neither responded.
“You could have worked it out amongst yourselves, but you didn’t. And now neither of you get the tree. Now, get out of my sight before I decide to take your homes for wasting my time and everyone else’s.”
Their shoulders slumped as they turned and made their way through the crowd and out of the hall.
The next handful of disputes were resolved quickly and without issue. Each time, Rían called a rule book, found a previous ruling or law, and gave a clear verdict, outlining what was to happen.
It was fascinating.
How did he know which book he needed and exactly where to look?
He was absolutely brilliant. For all his eye-rolling and drawled responses, he was clearly enjoying himself. And the people, though wary, never argued with him.
They took his ruling as law.
More people paid their taxes with coins or food or bolts of hand-woven cloth. And then a red-faced man with a sloping jaw stomped forward, yanking a woman with orange hair toward the dais.
A woman I recognized from the courtyard on my first day.
She stumbled forward, her muddy slippers catching on the torn hem of her dirty skirts. Her knees cracked off the stones. Without thinking, I ran to where she’d landed, offering her a hand. Red, swollen eyes met mine. The tears streaking the woman’s grimy cheeks tugged at my heartstrings.
With my help, she righted herself and smoothed a shaking hand down her skirts. “Thank ye, milady.”
I nodded and returned to the dais.
“What’s the issue, Madden?” Rían asked.
The man smirked. “I caught this deceitful witch shiftin’ goods from Airren, bolts of cloth and the like.”
Rían’s eyebrows arched toward his perfect hairline. “Anwen, you have been charged with theft. How do you plead?”
The woman’s gaze dropped to the stone floor. “Guilty, Prince Rían. But Maisie was sick, and little Sean needed new shoes, and with the new baby . . .”
That’s when I saw them, two orange-haired children weeping at the door, the eldest clutching a baby to her chest.
The few remaining spectators exchanged worried looks. Like he had every other time, Rían called a book forth. I glanced over his shoulder as his finger slid down the entries, and my stomach filled with dread when I read the words.
The book disappeared.
Before he could speak, I caught Rían by the sleeve. “I need to talk to you.” I tugged him toward the study door. Rían jerked free of my grasp but came along.
The door closed with a quiet click.
“How dare you order me around in front of an entire room of people. I should send you to the feckin’ dungeon, human,” he growled, narrowed eyes swirling with black. He flicked his wrist, and the tost descended. In a softer voice, still tight and clipped he said, “You cannot do that here, Aveen. Do you understand?”
For some reason, my head nodded, even though I was as confused as ever.
“Good. Now say you’re sorry. And cry, if you can.”
He flicked his wrist, and the barrier lifted.
I stared at him until he mouthed, “Go on,” waving a hand toward me.
“I-I’m sorry?”
Rolling his eyes, he tugged his ear. “Louder,” he whispered.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I practically shouted. “Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.”
Nodding, he flicked his wrist. “That was shocking, but it’ll have to do. Now, say your piece and hurry it on.”
“You cannot kill that woman.”
His eyes shuttered. “Theft of this sort is a capital offense.” His voice held no emotion. No warmth.
“It’s just cloth,” I insisted, my heart thudding against my ribs. “Surely the law allows for extenuating circumstances.”
“There is no gray area in this, Aveen. I’m sorry.”
I caught his hand, determined to make him see reason. “Rían, please.”
“Allowing emotions to cloud my judgement will only end in disaster. And if I do not follow the rules, then no one else will either.” He unhooked my fingers. “You should remain here until I return.”
I watched him flick his wrist and walk toward the door, wanting nothing more than to stay in this warm study and pretend that everything was all right.
But I couldn’t.
I hurried after him, catching the door before it fell closed. Rían shot me a hard look, but instead of reprimanding me, he walked stiffly to the throne and sank onto the edge. “The law is quite clear in this matter.”
No no no . . .
The woman’s eyes glittered with tears.
“Anwen, you will be executed at sundown. Take this time to get your affairs in order.”
I had to catch myself on the edge of the empty chair to keep from collapsing. How could he be so heartless? Did he have no compassion? The woman had children, and he had sentenced her to death.
The woman fell to her knees, sobbing, while the man who had accused her sneered and twisted toward the exit. Her children rushed to clutch her skirts. She wiped their tears with her thumbs, hugging them tight. “Mammy has to go away. But ye need to be brave.” The eldest wept, burying her face in her mother’s chest. “There, there. Yer gonna have to look after the smallies. Think ye can do that for Mammy?”
Sniffling, the girl nodded.
I couldn’t bite my tongue and watch a woman be killed for trying to support her family. What could I do? I was nothing and no one. Helpless. Useless.
My gaze landed on the door leading to the hallway.
But I know someone who isn’t.
I left via the study, running through the hall and up the stairs beyond. By the time I made it back to the fourth floor, the muscles in my legs ached and burned. I found Tadhg sitting on the stones beside Keelynn’s casket, eyes closed and face raised to the ceiling. A silver scar across his throat stood out against his tanned skin.
“Do you know what I love most about your sister?” he slurred, not bothering to open his eyes as he stretched his legs in front of him. Muck covered the soles of his scuffed boots, and his buckles had been left unfastened. “She forgave me for everything I’d done even though I didn’t deserve it.”
Still drunk. Brilliant. Perhaps he’d be easily swayed.
The closer I got to him, the heavier the air smelled of drink. “Do you share her views on forgiveness?”
Glassy green eyes found mine. “Why? What has my brother done now?”
“He sentenced a woman to death.”
Tadhg cursed. “Who?”
“I think her name was Anwen.”
Groaning, his head fell back.
“She stole things to take care of her family, but Rían . . .” Saying his name made me want to stab something. “He didn’t even listen to her explanation. Didn’t care.”
“Rían’s world is black and white. But the world isn’t black and white, is it? It’s a million shades of gray.” A smile ghosted across Tadhg’s cursed lips. His gaze fell to the golden coffin. “Your sister’s eyes are the most beautiful shade of gray. Like storm clouds rolling in from the sea.” Sighing, he pushed to his feet and brushed his hands down his dark breeches covered in stains. “I will fix it.”
For the first time since he’d killed Keelynn, I saw a glimmer of a man worthy of forgiveness. “Thank you.”
