The King & His Queen (Pict King Series Book 3) Read online

  “I am grateful, she said, taking it and breaking a small piece off to taste. No soon as the flavor hit her tongue, she spit it out.

  Gelhard looked on appalled by her disgusting action and grew angry when she slapped the piece of bread out of his hand. His angry retort died on his lips when she said, “Poisoned.”

  She turned away from the two men, stuck her finger down her throat, and forced herself to purge her insides.

  Talon had just entered the practice field, Wrath and Paine already there along with other warriors when Tilden came running toward him shouting. He could not make out what he was saying until Tilden got closer and began waving at Talon to follow him.

  “Poisoned, Hemera!” Seeing the King break into a run, Tilden turned and followed beside him.

  Talon could not run fast enough, his heart pounded like a mighty fist against his chest, not from running but from the dread that filled him at the thought of losing Hemera. He heard running footfalls behind him and knew Wrath and Paine followed.

  Tilden pointed in the direction of the cookhouse and Talon did not wait, he sped past him. When he rounded the end of the building, he saw Hemera bent over, heaving, and he rushed to her side.

  His arm circled around her waist and she grabbed hold of it and brought her head up to rest it back against his chest.

  “I did not swallow any of it, but I had to be sure. I could not take a chance,” she whispered through heavy breaths.

  He felt her hand move to rest below his arm. His heart swelled with gratitude and something much deeper for her for protecting their bairn, should there be one. He turned her around in his arms and she laid her head on his chest.

  “It was the bread,” Gelhard said the shock of what had happened quaking his insides. “Hemera took a bite, spit it out, and slapped it out of my hand or I would have eaten all of it.” And died. The thought struck him. She had saved his life.

  Talon looked to Nock, staring at what was left of the bread in his hand.

  “Who made that bread?” Talon demanded.

  “One of the servants, I believe it was Cyril, but I am not certain.” Nock turned to the group of people who huddled near the cookhouse. “Cyril, come here.”

  A thin young man, his hair cropped short around the sides, defining him in service to the King, stepped forward cautiously. He held his hands clasped tightly in front of him and stopped not far from Nock.

  “Did you make this bread?” Nock asked.

  Cyril shook his head. “It was Opia.”

  Nock shouted for Opia to step forward and a young pleasantly plump lass with a pretty face hurried over to Nock. “Did you bake this?’

  She shook her head. “Cyril did.”

  Talon looked to Paine. “I will not waste time while they accuse each other. Fetch your wife.”

  Paine nodded and went to do as the King ordered.

  “Have the servants return to their duties,” Talon ordered Nock.

  Nock was quick to obey.

  Talon looked down at Hemera and before he could speak, she said, “I am not leaving your side.”

  He did not bother to argue with her, since he felt she was safer by his side than anyplace else.

  Talon had learned to watch others around him while focused on one person. He saw how still Cyril remained and how Opia kept glancing around anxiously.

  “He is too still, too confident,” Hemera whispered.

  Most would have suspected Opia since she glanced about as if she was ready to run while paying no heed to Cyril. Not so Hemera. She saw that Cyril stood much to still, not displaying a bit of concern. Even innocent people grew anxious when standing in question before the King.

  Opia stepped forward. “Have her touch me first. You will see I am innocent.”

  It took only a moment, but to Hemera it seemed like forever as she watched in horror as Cyril drew a knife, Talon shoved her behind him, and Wrath rushed forward, stepping in front of the King just as Cyril lunged with the knife, driving it into Wrath’s shoulder.

  Chapter 24

  Hemera stood shocked at the scene in front of her, everything happened so fast that she was not sure what happened at all. Wrath remained on his feet while Cyril lay on the ground blood pouring from his neck. It was not until she noticed the dagger in Talon’s hand, blood dripping from the blade, that she realized he had been the one to slash Cyril’s throat.

  Opia stood screaming, her wide-eyed stare focused on Cyril.

  “Silence!” Talon yelled and Opia clamped her mouth shut, though her eyes remained wide with fear. “Go fetch the healer,” Talon ordered and Opia nodded and ran off crying.

  Hemera had regained her senses and hurried around in front of Wrath, who to her complete amazement was still standing. When she came around in front of him, she saw that the knife had remained embedded in him. She was relieved to see it had penetrated the leather strap that crossed his chest before settling in his shoulder, which explained why he had remained on his feet.

  “You need to sit,” Hemera said.

  “After I make certain the King is secure and safe,” Wrath insisted and went to step around her.

  “You will sit now,” Talon ordered and pointed to a bench that sat against the cookhouse wall. Wrath looked ready to argue and Talon was quick to stop him. “Your King commands it.”

  Wrath nodded and Hemera walked alongside him as he took reluctant steps to the bench. She was worried for her sister’s husband. All wounds, even the smallest, turn fatal, if not tended properly.

  As soon as Wrath sat, his hand went to the hilt of the knife to pull it out.

  Hemera grabbed his hand. “Not yet. Wait for the healer.”

  “Bethia will not have the strength to pull it out,” Wrath argued.

  “But she will have the wisdom to be prepared if the wound should need immediate searing,” Hemera said.

  Wrath’s hand dropped away from the handle and he and Hemera turned at the sound of his name being screamed.

  “Wrath!” Verity ran straight for him and he hurried to his feet with a grimace, the sudden movement having caused a shot of pain to stab at his wound. It pained him even more to hear the fear in his wife’s voice and see her eyes pool with tears.

  Hemera got up from the bench and wanted to give Wrath a nudge to sit back down, but it would be useless. She saw that he waited to take Verity in his one arm, extending it out to welcome her and assure her that he was fine even if he was not. He would not have her worry over him and Hemera admired his courage and that he worried more for her sister than himself.

  Verity gasped when she saw the knife in her husband’s shoulder and Wrath was quick to coil his arm around her waist and draw her against his side.

  “I am fine. There is no need for concern,” he assured her.

  “We will see about that,” Bethia said as she took hasty steps toward him, Opia following behind her. “Now sit and let me look at you.”

  Paine and Anin arrived and while a worried Anin rushed forward to comfort Verity, Hemera saw how Wrath gave Paine a nod and he turned to speak with the King. She had often seen the many silent signals Wrath and Paine had exchanged between themselves and with Talon as well. They were like brothers the three of them, but battle did that to men, drew them closer.

  Bethia determined it would need searing as soon as the blade was pulled out.

  Verity was not happy to hear that Wrath intended to have Paine do it and in the torture chamber.

  “Bethia will see to it in our dwelling,” Verity insisted.

  Bethia was quick to agree with Wrath. “Paine would do better with this than I would.”

  “Then it is settled,” Talon said, ending the disagreement as he approached.

  Verity wore her worry heavily upon her, her face grim, and still fighting her tears. “Then you will rest in our dwelling.”

  “That he will,” Talon said, making it clear that Wrath had no choice in the matter. “I will have a word with Wrath.” Talon kept his voice low after they all mo
ved a distance away, affording him privacy. “You have seen for yourself what can come of a wound such as yours even after searing. Rest and heal. I fear a battle may be brewing and I need you at your best.”

  Wrath understood the wisdom of his words and nodded. “I will do as you say, my King.”

  “You did well, Wrath, you saved my life,” Talon said.

  “You would have easily saved your own life if you had not taken that one moment to protect Hemera. You care for her deeply, far more deeply than I think you even know.” It was an observation and one Wrath wished he had been wise enough to see sooner.

  Tuahna.

  Was that what Wrath was implying? It was not a word he had ever expected to say to a woman, let alone feel for someone and it was not spoken lightly. Few people would admit such a deep feeling, for it was believed to bind two people forever. He never thought of feeling that strongly for any woman. Yet as he had seen the knife plunging toward Hemera, a fear so strong had struck him that he had responded without hesitation and with no thought to his own life.

  Annoyed and not yet prepared to admit to anyone, even himself, that he could possibly care that deeply for Hemera, Talon ordered, “Go and see to your wound.”

  “Paine! Broc!” Talon shouted. “Finish taking care of this, then meet me in the High Council Chambers. You as well, Gelhard.”

  All three men nodded, though Talon paid no heed to their responses. He walked over to Hemera, took her hand, and was about to walk off when Hemera stopped him with a hard tug.

  “I would prefer to be with my sister. She needs me.”

  He stepped closer to her. “Wrath needs her right now. You may visit with her later.”

  Hemera turned to see Verity focused on her husband, not having left his side as they made ready to make their way to the torture chamber.

  Talon took hold of her chin and turned her head to face him. “I need you where I know you will be safe—alongside me.”

  Seeing her sister with thoughts only for Wrath, Hemera did not argue, though she asked, “May I have a moment with my sister?”

  Talon nodded and released her.

  Hemera went to Verity, her hand going to rest on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I will see you later when all is done. If you need me, send someone to get me.”

  Verity nodded and whispered, “Later.”

  “Wrath is not only strong, he is stubborn and—”

  “Aye I am strong, stubborn I am not,” Wrath said so seriously that Verity and Hemera laughed.

  Talon watched the exchange between the three. They laughed easily and cared for one another with the same ease. Being King did not afford him such ease, though he had found a comfort with Hemera that he had not expected. He stretched his hand out, letting her know it was time for them to take their leave and she left her sister’s side and hurried to him.

  Hemera took Talon’s hand and almost sighed with the strength and warmth of it as his fingers closed around hers. A slow tingle made its way through her as they walked together to the feasting hall. She was glad for the silence between them. It allowed her to enjoy this strangely intimate moment with him. It was almost as if they were forever linked together and not because their hands were joined, but because they truly were one and always would be.

  A sudden swirl of wind whipped around them and had Talon coming to an abrupt halt to take Hemera in his arms and shield her with his body.

  Hemera buried her face against his chest and smiled, not only pleased to be wrapped in the strength of his powerful arms but to hear clearly the message on the wind.

  Tuahna.

  The word sent a shiver deep through her and Talon’s body closed tighter around her.

  Tuahna.

  She felt it and sensed that he did as well and she raised her head to look into his eyes and she saw it there, bold, bright, strong, and shocked at the discovery. She watched as his lips moved to speak and she felt in her heart what he was about to say, what she never expected to hear from a man.

  “My King, hurry, before the rain is unleashed on you,” one of his guards called out.

  A splat of rain hit Hemera’s cheek and broke the intimate bond between them.

  Talon hurried her to the feasting house, out of the rain before it fell in earnest. Once in the High Council Chambers, Talon released her and walked away to pace alongside the table. He rubbed at his chin and along his jaw, trying to make sense of what he had felt only moments ago and continued to linger in him. It had come upon him as suddenly as the gust of wind, shocking him, and yet he had felt himself revel in it, embrace it, and never wanting to let go of it.

  Tuahna.

  He never thought he would feel that way about any woman, but then Hemera was not any woman. She was his woman. There and then he pledged to himself that nothing would stop him from making Hemera his wife.

  He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. She stood not far from the closed door, her head tilted and her glance drifting off as she was wont to do when her thoughts took hold. Thoughts that held more wisdom than most could understand. Talon waited for her to speak

  It was only a moment later that she said, “Someone fears something.”

  “There is always someone fearing something,” Talon said and took her hand and led her to the table to sit.

  Hemera shook her head as she sat on the bench to the right of where Talon took a seat at the head of the long table. “Why would there suddenly be an increase in enemy incidents?” She shook her head again. “They have become impatient, almost as if time was running out for them.”

  It was odd how she thought the same way he did. The exact thought had crossed his mind. What was happening that seemed to make his enemy suddenly impatient?

  “Had the bread been intended for you or me?” Hemera asked, her brow narrowing as she considered her own question.

  That was another question that had come to mind and disturbed Talon and one he intended to get an answer to.

  “You will know soon enough when you have Anin touch Nock.”

  He had to ask since she seemed to know his mind. “Do you read my thoughts?”

  “No, that is Anin’s gift, though I have come to know you better since my arrival here and even better since we have shared more time together.” She laughed lightly. “But then you are King and there is not much people do not know about you. Of course some may be more tale than truth.”

  He leaned closer and gave her a light kiss and he felt a slight tremble run through her. He was pleased that such a faint kiss could stir her and he had to chase away the urge to ignore all else and carry her off to his sleeping chamber and finish what his kiss had started. Or was it to satisfy what his heart felt?

  “It is not fair that you should know more of me than I do of you,” he said, realizing this was a chance to find out more about her. “Later you will tell me more about your time with the Northmen.”

  Talon was glad Gelhard’s arrival robbed Hemera of a response, since she appeared ready to protest. They would talk later. He would make sure of it.

  Hemera thought Gelhard would protest her presence in the High Council Chambers, but he said nothing. She understood why when shortly after Anin arrived escorted by Tilden. Hemera was not surprised to see Broc lead Nock and a teary-eyed Opia into the room.

  Talon gave a nod to Anin and Tilden remained by her side as she approached Opia.

  “I did nothing wrong, my King,” Opia sobbed.

  “Then you have nothing to fear,” Talon said.

  Without being ordered, Opia stuck her arm out and Anin took hold of it. She did not hold it long.

  Anin turned to King Talon. “She knows nothing and has done nothing wrong.”

  Opia wept with relief.

  “It is good to know you are loyal to your King,” Talon said.

  “Always, my King, always. You saved me and my mum from certain death during the war to unite the tribes and we both will be forever grateful.”

  “Go and be with your mum for t
he rest of the day. You can return to the cookhouse on the morrow.”

  “I am most grateful, my King,” Opia said, wiping away her tears and followed the guard who stepped up to escort her out of the room.

  “I am loyal too, my King,” Nock said and held his arm out to Anin.

  Anin rested her hand on his arm and it remained there longer than it had on Opia’s, making Talon wonder what Anin was learning.

  “He is innocent of poisoning the bread and loyal to you,” Anin said, looking to Talon.

  “You took longer with him. Why?” Talon demanded when she said nothing more.

  She hesitated a moment, looking to Nock as if for permission to reveal what she had learned.

  “He has no say, you will tell me, Anin,” Talon commanded, his powerful tone leaving no room for disobedience.

  “I have nothing to hide,” Nock said with a respectful nod at the King.

  Anin did not hide her relief at Nock’s words and she felt more comfortable saying, “He is not happy in the cookhouse.”

  Hemera’s words came back to Talon. I do not think Nock likes his task as cook.

  “Is this true, Nock,” Talon asked, wanting to hear it from the man himself.

  “Aye, my King,” Nock said with a nervous tremor.

  “Choices were given when chores were handed out,” Talon reminded him.

  “He was not given a choice,” Anin said.

  “Why not?” Talon asked of Nock.

  “It was late in the day and I was not asked. The person told me I was to be in charge of the cookhouse.”

  “Who told you this?” Talon asked, having given specific orders that each person was to be given their choice of chores, if possible, or at least close to what they believed would suit them best. It would make for a more satisfied and productive village if people did what they favored.

  “I do not know who he was. There were so many unfamiliar faces when the stronghold was just settling in.”

  “What task were you seeking?” Talon asked, recalling those chaotic days when his reign was just beginning.

  “Metal work, I am good at it,” Nock said, raising his head in pride.