Emerald Prince (52 page)

Meaty fingers clamped around her wrist, and with a little cry Alianor released the hilt. Seth’s arms closed about her like a band of steel. She struggled but it was useless, he was like a great tree in the forest, unmovable beneath her puny assault. Weeping, she beat her fists against him.

“I’ll not let you do this,” she screamed.

When the noise she made threatened to betray them, Seth clamped a big hand over her mouth. Holding Alianor against his broad chest, Seth lifted her like a child into his arms. With long, matter-of-fact strides, Seth returned to the encampment, carrying his charge all the way. Gently, he set Alianor down, and the other men circled about to keep her from fleeing again.

“Now, colleen, we’ll have no more of this nonsense.”

She shook with cold and heartbreak as she appealed to her stern-faced friend. “I beg you, Seth. Do not do this. I could not bear losing you.”

“You’re a brave woman, Alianor. Eire can be proud.”

His words made her sob harder. “I’ll not let you do it. I won’t.”

His steely look asked how she could possibly stop him. Alianor didn’t know, but she raised her chin in defiance. “You can’t watch me every second, Seth. I’ll not go merrily along my way knowing you’re going to die.”

Seth studied her. She saw resignation in his eyes and he heaved a great sigh, nodding in capitulation. Alianor hiccoughed one last sob, almost crying again from sheer relief.

“All right, colleen. You win.”

He moved to hunker down on the log again, and she joined him. They would start from scratch, she decided, make a new plan.

She looked at Seth, huddled beside her in the rain. “Maybe we can make a break for it.” She spoke half-heartedly; she knew the odds. Yet they must do something.

His dark eyes met hers; she sensed too late what was coming. “I’m sorry, colleen.”

Before Alianor could react, his large fist struck her. As blackness claimed her, she mumbled a horrified, “No …”

A
LIANOR’S MIND STRUGGLED TO
rise from darkness, the throbbing pain in her jaw causing her to stir. The movement and sway beneath her told Alianor she was on John, and his steady jog helped bring her awake. Her eyelids fluttered open, and slowly she got her bearings. She tried to sit up but found she was bound to the donkey, like a rucksack, to keep her from falling off. She cried out one word: “Seth!”

Her gaze adjusted to the dim, rainy darkness about her. Brady pulled at John’s lead, keeping them all moving at a fast pace despite the muddy road. Willie trotted next to her, and Turrean loped at their heels, covered with muck and mire. Alianor twisted about, desperately searching for any sign of Seth.

Distant shouts drifted on the wind and at last she caught sight of him, the gentle bear of a man bounding across a small clearing off the crossroads where the soldiers had it blocked. As he’d planned, he turned and boldly confronted the King’s guard, drawing their attention from the little group of outcasts who silently slipped past and down the road to safety. Alianor saw Paddy and Rob flanking Seth on either side, the three men ready to do battle, but far outnumbered and out armed.

Frantic, Alianor turned to Willie. “Tell Brady we must go back. We can’t let them stand alone against so many. Please, Willie. I beg you.”

The young man hunched against the wind and rain, his distress evident but his face set with grim determination. He shook his head at her plea.

“How can you leave them?” she cried, a flash of anger seeping through her despair.

“I ne’er w-w-went against S-Seth’s w-wishes, m-m-miss. I’ll no’ do s-s-so now.”

“You can’t let them die,” Alianor wept, her gaze drawn back to the terrible scene unfolding behind them.

“W-w-we drew, drew lots,” Willie explained, “t’ s-s-see who would s-stay t’ fight.”

“And they lost,” Alianor whispered.

“No, m-m-miss, Brady an’ me lost. W-we all wanted t’ fight.”

Alianor watched, horror-stricken, as Seth fell to his knees. Three, four soldiers descended upon him, swords flashing by the light of their torches. Paddy and Rob had already succumbed; she could no longer see them. Seth finally toppled into the mud, felled like a great oak, his large body slamming into the wet earth. Fog drifted in, obscuring further sight, its mist swirling like a cloak over the scene.

Alianor continued to stare though there was nothing more to see. Dear, gentle Seth was lost to her. So were two other loyal friends, brigands by trade but heroes at heart. The thought wrenched in her gut until the pain was unbearable. She looked at Willie again; the tears running down his face broke her heart anew.

“Why, Willie?”

Willie wiped at his tears and sniffed. “F-f-for Eire’s glory. S-Seth said it were up t’ us t’ keep you s-safe. He’s a dependin’ on us, an’ w-we’ll no’ d-disappoint him.”

Alianor saw the pure faith shining in his eyes, and was ashamed of her anger earlier. “No,” she whispered. “You’ve not disappointed Seth, Willie. You’ve not let him down.”

When they were far enough from danger, Brady untied Alianor. They spent the rest of the night in silence. The small party went on unnoticed in the dark and the storm ran its course by morning. The rain calmed to a gentle patter, and dwindled away.

As the sun climbed into the sky, its warmth banished the persistent chill from Alianor’s bones. Finally, she allowed herself to think about Seth and what he had done for her.

The pain remained fresh, unyielding, and she struggled to understand her friend’s decision. Seth had said he wanted to end his life doing something good, and she wept again for his beleaguered existence. She found it sad the big-hearted man had known naught but pain and despair. How could she come to terms with Seth’s ultimate sacrifice? He barely knew her, yet, he and two others had given her the greatest gift she could ever expect — their own lives.

Willie and Brady remained quiet, resolve clear upon their faces. Alianor had no doubt they would see her safely to Wolf Haven. Exhaustion and the gentler stride John kept coaxed Alianor into a numb, yet calmer frame of mind. A place she so desperately needed to be.

Chapter Thirty-five

A
LIANOR PRAYED SHE WOULD
remember the way to Wolf Haven. She remained uncertain she had until, in the far distance, she saw the abbey’s walls rising where mist still clung to the damp earth. She urged John into a trot. Tears blurred the wonderful sight — her relief was so great she thought she might sob outright.

The hills rolled before her, fresh and emerald-green. Everything was much the same as before, but this time, it felt like coming home. She saw everything through new eyes. There was no fear, no distrust of the people who came out to meet her. No longer a strange place, and she was no longer a stranger. How was it, she marveled, in the short span of time these drastic changes occurred?

She was still the same person, yet changed in so many ways. At this moment, and from now on, she was Ailinn. She touched the cross at her throat, and looked at the people and land with a heart bursting with love. This was her Ireland, a place of mist and legend, where long-forgotten memories sprang forth to touch her mind and soul.

For so long, her true heritage was lost to her though, subtly, the feeling of not belonging in England always niggled at her. Now, Alianor understood those feelings. Surely destiny brought her here. Yet, how could one woman, who didn’t know she was Irish for so long, act as inspiration to a country torn by strife and war?

In her heart she knew how, but she was afraid — afraid of failure. If she failed, Liam died. Not only would Connacht lose her Emerald Prince, but she would lose the love of her life.

W
OLF
H
AVEN.
L
IAM LONGED
for his home deep in the forest, embraced by moody skies and sweet, fragrant rain-washed hills. For days, he had not glimpsed the outside world from deep within the bowels of his prison cell. A perpetual darkness ensconced him, but they could not stop him from placing his mind where the beauty of his heart’s home existed. Lush green hills, wild overgrown forests, savage seas and untamed coastline — he saw it all, so vivid and alive in his memories. To die wasn’t the tragedy — to die without seeing Alianor and Wolf Haven again broke his heart.

Though condemned to die an ignoble death, Liam felt little emotion. Whoever challenged King John in thought or deed, met this fate and he would soon hang as an example of what happened to those who opposed English rule. His impending death was hardly unique and seemed insignificant — his sweet, beautiful Alianor was free.

As precious as the land he loved, Alianor was as irreplaceable. Visions of her carried him away from his torturous existence. He imagined lying with her, their bodies covered in a fine sheen of sweat from their lovemaking. He pictured Alianor as she had been at Wolf Haven, her English upbringing in stark contradiction to her desires. She loved him unabashedly, fiercely and passionately, giving herself in all honesty, never holding back her intimate nature.

Liam responded to his conjuring and he smiled. What magick did Alianor possess she could arouse him in a dungeon dream? He continued to visualize her beauty before him, her ivory skin aglow from the heat sizzling within her. She was an angel, nay, a she-devil with an angel’s face and form. In the end, it mattered not. She was simply Alianor.

A
LIANOR WALKED INTO CAMP,
worn to the bone. Had it only been weeks since she had last been here? It seemed like an eternity.

“Dear God,” Niall muttered, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of her. He opened his arms, and she ran to him.

Alianor swore she wouldn’t cry. She had spent far too much time weeping of late. But, despite her self-imposed promise, she couldn’t keep the tears back.

“Alianor.” Niall’s arms closed about her in a tight hug. He released her, took a step back and looked at her. Tears glistened in his eyes, too. He took in her mannish attire, but made no comment. But when Turrean trotted up beside her, worry creased his face, and the relief in his eyes vanished.

“Liam is not with you?”

“No,” Ailianor looked away from his stricken look, unable to bear the guilt.

“We’ve heard rumors …” Niall’s voice broke and he could not finish.

“He’s in serious trouble, Niall. The King has taken him prisoner at Fountainhall, and I’ve come for help. We must free him. He will die if we do not.”

Niall patted her on the shoulder and looked thoughtful. “Of course, colleen. We’ll not leave him to die by Lackland’s hand.”

“It’s because of me Liam is in prison.”

“Nay. The lad’s there because he made the decision to leave the safety of Wolf Haven ’gainst his wise old uncle’s advice. What matters is what we do ’bout it.”

The others gathered around, most welcoming Alianor in their own way. Only Rosaleen hung back, her stare no friendlier nor less challenging than before.

Felicity spoke when everyone grew silent. “Fate guides Liam, as it brought you t’ us, milady. You must realize you are both merely pawns in a game Mother Destiny plays out for us all.”

Alianor nodded, somehow understanding what Felicity meant. “Did you know what would happen all along?”

“Nay,” Felicity said. “I only know you love Liam with all your heart and it is this love that will save Connacht. You’re the one we’ve all waited for.”

“How can you be so certain? I do not know if I have the strength to do what is expected of me.” Alianor was still afraid to trust in a legend … in herself.

Felicity smiled; her knowing look so calm, so filled with faith. Alianor glanced around at all the hopeful faces of Wolf Haven’s people, counting Willie and Brady now among them. She remembered her dear friends who willingly died because they believed in her; Seth’s face floated across her jumbled mind. Still, she revolted against their conviction.

“I cannot be what you want me to be!”

Her passionate outburst elicited silence. Alianor wanted to weep, to run away — to hide from the truth. She struggled with her inner self, the discovery of who she was, and what she was being asked to do.

Alianor felt the cross beneath her coarse shirt, reminding her of its presence with a weight beyond mere gold. She touched it, the image clear in her mind as her fingers traced its intricate knotwork. Closing her eyes, her pounding heart slowed and the magick of the stone filled her with its power. Her trembling stilled, and her legs grew strong, no longer quaking with tiredness and fear.

Pulling the chain from her neck, Alianor raised the cross high so all could see it clearly. She waited for the gasps of awe to fade before she spoke. “It’s time, at long last, for Connacht to unite to save her Emerald Prince.”

No longer could Alianor deny Felicity’s fateful words. She looked at the others and knew she could not bear to watch the glimmer of hope in their eyes dwindle like glowing ashes in the grate of a fire. She would stand strong for them; no more doubts blocked her way.

“Ireland’s lost daughter has come home, and
Seòd Fios
will help light my way.”