The King's Warrior (Pict King Series Book 2) Read online

  “You are my wife and you will sleep beside me.” He threw the blanket on the sleeping pallet. “Disrobe. It is time to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow preparing for our journey.”

  Sleep naked beside him? She thought not and went to climb into the sleeping pallet fully clothed, fully aware that arguing with him would get her nowhere.

  Wrath grabbed her arm. “Disrobe.”

  “I will not sleep naked beside you.”

  “Why? Afraid you will surrender to your desires?”

  “I do not desire you,” Verity snapped.

  “Lair! I can feel how much you want me no matter how much you deny it.”

  Verity longed to tell him that he was right. She wanted him, though it made no sense. She did not know why she cared so much for him when she knew little of him. That was not true. She had come to know him through her visions. He was no stranger to her.

  She pushed her troubling thoughts aside and spoke words that hurt her to say, “I do not want you.”

  “Lair,” he accused again, though softly, and yanked her closer to him and kissed her again, quickly this time. “I will not say it again, disrobe.” He turned away from her and began shedding his garments.

  She turned away from him as well and she began to shed her garments, knowing if she did not he would see her naked by his own hands and that could prove dangerous. Once done, she hurried beneath the blankets on the sleeping pallet and turned to face the wall.

  Wrath joined her, his arm going around her to pull her close against him and settle himself around her. Her skin was soft and warm and there was something about knowing she now truly belonged to him that had his arousal from the kisses turning him hard.

  “You hide your desire from me. You hide truths from me. Why do you hide so much from me, Verity? What are you afraid of?” he whispered.

  She did hide things from him and when he discovered those truths would he be so eager to join with her? Was that what she feared? What would he think when he learned that her attacks were actually visions? Would he keep his distance from her as others had done? Or fear looking upon her? Or worse would he send her away to live in solitude?

  “Sleep, Verity, for we have a journey ahead of us that will reveal much,” he whispered in her ear. She did not respond and he had not expected her to.

  ~~~

  Wrath spent much of the next morn with the King and Harran, and Verity spent it with helping Cora. She had enjoyed her time here with the Raban Tribe. It had brought back the few memories she had of her tribe. She had been taken so young that there had not been many memories to recall and after a while many had faded until she could not be certain if they were ever real. The few that had stirred in her made her realize how much she had missed her tribe, her home, and how much she hoped to have one once again.

  With so much to be done before they took their leave, Verity saw little of Wrath and though her thoughts and hands were busy, she found herself missing him. It was odd how a part of her felt empty without him around. She wondered over it and began to realize that he had been with her and had been part of her through her visions for more moon cycles than she could recall. In a way, he had settled inside her and had become a permanent part of her without her realizing it. He had even helped her to gain the strength to escape. It was no wonder she could not stop caring for him.

  She was pleased when she caught sight of him and his eyes settled on her in what she believed, or wanted to believe, was a warm caress.

  “You will be carrying a bairn, if you already are not, with the way he looks at you,” Cora said, coming up beside her. “Most men have no sense about them. They look to poke their women and be done with it. Wrath looks to satisfy his woman, which in turn will satisfy him far more than a good poke.” Cora laughed when Verity just stared at her. “Wise women talk among themselves and listen. It is how they learn.”

  Watch. Listen. Learn.

  The woman’s words in her vision returned to her.

  “I need to learn,” Verity said.

  “We all do, though some more than others. Now come, and lend me a hand before you are gone and I can no longer seek your help and knowledge.”

  Evening fell quickly and after eating with a few of the women, Verity sought the warmth and solitude of her dwelling. Etta had gifted her with a bone comb for saving her son, who was improving even better than Verity expected. She had not wanted to accept it, but Etta had insisted.

  Verity had never owned anything of her own and was only allowed to use a comb when given permission. She was overjoyed having one of her own and she told Etta she would cherish the generous gift forever. Her grateful words had brought tears to the old woman’s eyes.

  With the dwelling quiet, Verity sat on the bed and began to unbraid her hair, eager to comb it. She ran the comb through her long golden hair repeatedly. It felt so good she did not want to stop and knowing she would be able to comb her hair whenever she chose thrilled her.

  The door opened and Wrath stepped in and he stopped unable to stop staring at her. Her hair was loose of its braid and the golden strands fell in waves down over her shoulders to rest at her breasts. An image shot through his head of her leaning over him, her golden mane skimming his naked chest, then moving down to tease and tickle his middle, before moving further down for the silky strands to drift across his—he turned around and left the dwelling.

  Verity stared at the closed door.

  The door swung open once again and Wrath turned a scowl on her. “Go to sleep. We leave early.”

  He was out the door once again and Verity went to sleep, not because Wrath had ordered her to do so, but because she was tired. She did not know how long after he returned and crawled in beside her, but she woke to find herself nestled against his naked chest, and she returned to sleep feeling safe in his arms.

  She woke to an empty bed and dressed quickly and was about to go find her husband when the door opened and he entered.

  “Good, you are ready. Join the women and eat and then we take our leave. The King has already departed.”

  Verity was glad to hear that. She was not comfortable around his overpowering presence. She followed her husband out the door and enjoyed the last meal with the women she had come to know and think of as friends.

  It was not long before they were on their way and as sad as it was to bid farewell, Verity was eager to continue her search for Hemera.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sky was overcast and the air crisp and Verity was glad to be on the horse with Wrath and tucked against him. She was warm and comfortable.

  “Tell me more about Ulric,” Wrath said as he kept an unhurried pace.

  Verity was only too glad to keep the discussion about anything but them. “Ulric and his father agree on little. Ulric believes his father is growing too old to lead the Southern Region. While Northmen from other regions continue to raid, Haggard has established trade routes with foreign lands. Ulric does not realize what his father has accomplished for his people. Or how his foolishness could unravel all his father had done.”

  “Do you believe he would go against his father’s command?”

  Verity bit at her bottom lip, thinking how she could tell him what she knew without revealing other things to him.

  “I will not let Ulric hurt you. You have my word on it.”

  He thought she feared Ulric, but then she did. “Many believe, and fear, that Ulric will attempt to unseat his father.”

  “Haggard is too well respected by his own men for them to go against him.”

  “That would not stop Ulric. He would seek whatever means necessary to see it done.”

  “How was it that you stood in his way?”

  Verity should have known it was not only Ulric that Wrath wanted to know about. And the way his eyes glared at her with determination, she knew he intended to have an answer.

  “You say you do not know why he falsely accused you of stealing his sword. But I would venture to guess that it was because you so
mehow stood in his way. What was it?”

  His look grew more forceful and Verity was ever so grateful when one of the warriors approached him with haste, preventing her response.

  He spoke quickly, “A troop of warriors from the Kerse Tribe approach and they have a prisoner with them.”

  Wrath called a halt to his troop, wondering what the Kerse were doing in this area, a distance from their home and with a prisoner.

  The troop of ten warriors with a large man in tow, a rope around his neck and his hands tied, approached slowly. Grins soon broke out as they recognized the garments of the King’s warriors.

  Before a word was said, the prisoner stepped forward, glared at Verity, and spoke in the language of the Picts. “Cut her eyes from her head before she sees your fate and steals it from you?”

  All the warriors turned to stare at her, giving the man enough time to grab a dagger off one of the Kerse warriors and jab it into his neck and fall to the ground, blood spraying everywhere.

  All eyes watched the man choke on his own blood until no life was left in him.

  The leader of the Kerse troop, an older man with hair cropped so short he appeared bald, looked to Wrath. “I am Dag.”

  “I remember you well,” Wrath said. “You and your tribe fought bravely to unite the tribes.”

  “It was an honor to fight beside the man who would be King,” Dag said with a firm nod. “We were bringing this man to the King to see what he would want done with him. He attacked our village along with some Ancrum warriors. He was the only one to live and it was not easy to take him captive. His tongue was foreign to us, though hearing his last words, it seems he speaks our language.”

  “Leave him with us,” Wrath ordered. “I will see that the King is made aware of this.”

  “We have heard rumblings that there are some displeased with the King and wish to see him dethroned,” Dag said. “Are the Ancrum among them?”

  “A few disgruntled tribesmen from various tribes stir some trouble. The King is seeing to quelling it,” Wrath assured the man.

  “The Kerse stand ready to help the King,” Dag said proudly. “There is talk that he will wed soon. We hope this is true so that his sons may reign after him and keep peace among the Picts.”

  “The King is appreciative of your loyalty and will call on you if needed. You have done well,” Wrath said. “Plans are being seen to now for the King to wed a fine woman whose mother gave her husband six sons.”

  Dag grinned and nodded as did his warriors. “That is good to hear. I will spread the word.” He gave a quick nod to Verity. “What of this woman? The prisoner spoke as if he knew her and he warned against her.”

  “Verity is my wife,” Wrath said as if that was all that needed saying.

  “Bless your joining, Wrath,” Dag said. “The fool must have thought to use her to distract us so he could grab a weapon.”

  “That would seem most likely.”

  “Do you want us to get rid of the body?” Dag asked.

  “No, my men will see to it,” Wrath said. “The King will be pleased to know how loyal you are to him. If your tribe has not already received word, you should be aware that a troop of Northmen led by Ulric, son of Haggard, Chieftain of the Southern Region has been granted permission to stand before the King at the stronghold.”

  “What is it the Northmen want?” Dag asked.

  “That is not yet known, but King Talon wants every tribe aware of it.”

  “We stand ready,” Dag said and after a few more words, the Kerse were on their way.

  Silence hung heavy in the air after the Kerse were out of sight.

  Wrath finally turned to his warriors and ordered two to take the body into the woods and leave it for the animals to feed on. He then signaled for the troop to continue riding.

  Verity sat silent, dreading the moment he would ask her about the man. He was a Northman, one of Ulric’s men, and she knew she could not continue to keep the truth from him.

  Once again she was spared when they rounded a bend and she recognized the area from her vision. “This is the area I saw in my dreams.”

  “You are sure?” Wrath asked.

  “Aye, this is it, up ahead,” she said excited that she was so close to Hemera.

  They followed a slight curve along the trail and Verity gasped when they came upon a dwelling, rotting with neglect and age.

  “It cannot be,” Verity said ready to slip off the horse as soon as Wrath brought the animal to a stop.

  Wrath tightened his arm around her waist, keeping her on the horse. He summoned two warriors to have a look. “There appears to be no one here. Are you sure this is the spot?”

  Verity stared at the crumbling dwelling, a large open gap where the door once stood. Her vision had been clearer than most and had showed her a thriving village on this very spot. How had her vision proved so wrong?

  Confused and disappointed, all she could do was shake her head.

  “No one here,” one of his men called out to him, walking out the door, having entered the dwelling from the other side where there was no longer a wall.

  “We continue on,” Wrath called out and turned his horse away, the warriors following behind him while one rode ahead.

  Verity looked around as they rode off, trying to see if perhaps she had been wrong about this place, but everywhere she looked seemed familiar. With her thoughts heavy on Hemera, it took her a moment to feel how taut Wrath’s body had grown against hers and how snug his arm had grown around her waist. He was angry and she knew why, but she had been too excited about the thought of finding Hemera to pay heed to what had happened with the Kerse.

  “I will have the truth from you, wife,” Wrath said his anger palpable. “Do not let another lie cross your lips.”

  Keeping the truth from him would no longer serve any purpose and it was better he learned the truth from her. “He was a Northman.”

  “I assumed that since he knew you.” He glared at her, waiting to hear more.

  She lowered her head, his angry scowl difficult to look upon.

  He gripped her chin between two fingers and forced it up. “I will see your eyes when you finally speak the truth to me.”

  Fear had kept Verity from sharing her secret with anyone but Hemera and fear now prickled her skin. She stumbled over words until finally they rushed from her mouth. “I do not have attacks; I have visions of what is to come.”

  He released her chin, his scowl deepening. “You are a seer? You can look into my eyes and see my fate?”

  “No,” Verity said, shaking her head. “The visions come upon me without will. I never know when they will strike or what I will see. Some are clear and others leave me wondering. It is how I knew your name before meeting you. You were in several visions I had before meeting you and you always helped me.”

  “Then why not trust me and tell me the truth when we first met?”

  “I did not know what you would do. I am not familiar with how the Picts treat their seers. The Northmen seers are not permitted to live among others. They live in remote areas and are available only to those in power.”

  “The King does not dictate to seers. They may live as they choose, but then he has found none that have been so accurate that he can rely on them,” he said.

  “It is not always easy to know what a vision shows you. They are not always clear.”

  “Like the one you had about finding your sister in this area?”

  Verity looked around at the tall trees, the boulders half-covered with snow, and the few snowdrifts that the horses avoided. “This is all familiar to me. I saw it in my vision, but there were people here and a thriving village.”

  “Are your visions more wrong than right?” he asked and was surprised at her response.

  “I wish they were more wrong than right, then perhaps they would fade and leave me be.” She rested her hand on his arm that circled her waist. “I would prefer not to see what is shown to me.”

  His instincts had
him tucking her closer against him as though he could keep her safe even from her visions.

  “Hemera was the only one who knew and she warned me against letting anyone else find out or else I would be sent away and we did not want to be separated from each other. So when the healer questioned me, I told her nothing of the visions. Everyone believed them attacks and in a way it helped, since most everyone stayed away from me fearing they would be inflicted with the same.”

  “That was why the men paid you no heed,” Wrath said and felt grateful that the visions had in a way protected her. “Did Ulric find out?”

  “The healer had been growing suspicious and had finally confided her doubts to him. He made it appear that I stole his sword and intended to kill him. That was when he had me tethered to a post, but only for a few days. He locked me away after that, leaving the rope around my neck to tug at for his amusement. He told me that he knew my attacks were visions and that he knew I saw what he planned to do. He warned me to tell no one of anything or I would die.”

  “You saw what he planned?”

  She shook her head. “He was wrong. I had seen nothing of his plans, though now I wish I had. I thought he intended to kill me, but he told me that I could be of use to him. He intended to keep me as his seer, always locked away, always his prisoner.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “Hemera helped me. She had a boat waiting for us.”

  Wrath wrinkled his brow. “Had either of you ever sailed a boat?”

  Verity shook her head.

  “You both were fortunate to have reached shore.”

  Verity gripped his arm. “Maybe Hemera never made it.”

  “Your visions tell you differently.”

  “But I was wrong, thinking I would find her here,” she said, hope of ever finding Hemera fading.

  “Tell me more about your other visions concerning Hemera.”

  Verity told him about each one.

  “From what you say, it would seem that your sister is safe and that you will find her. I think that is what you should hold on to until more is revealed to you.”