Curse of the Celts Clara O'Connor (new reading txt) 📖

careful. I don’t know what’s between you and Devyn, but you are here as Marcus’s betrothed. The countryside is teeming with warriors searching for Marcus; he has value to them and as his bride, you too will be safe. But it sure looked like you were with Devyn rather than Marcus yesterday. It cannot be,” she whispered, her hand gripping mine tightly in warning.

“Why? Why can’t I be with Devyn?”

What was it that made it impossible for us to be together?

“Devyn’s future is not certain. He has enough problems – keeping himself alive is more than enough.” She eyed me assessingly. “That was a lot of power you pulled in yesterday. I know Fidelma didn’t think you were more than a latent but…”

I bit my lip. Fidelma had been wrong. I had to count on the likelihood that Bronwyn didn’t know in any great detail what had happened in Londinium. But she knew who Devyn had been in search of and if she had realised I was indeed the one he had sought, she would have said something already. I wanted to trust her but I had promised.

“I’m not sure what happened or if I could actually have done anything with it.”

Bronwyn inhaled deeply before pursing her lips and returning to the topic of Devyn’s fate. “Whatever hope he has is in getting back to Mercia quickly and then delivering you and Marcus to York.”

“What’s in Mercia? Will we be safe there? Will Devyn? Why can’t we be together there?”

Bronwyn looked at me, her face lined in concern.

“You just can’t. He left a mess behind him; it will be enough for him to deal with that. The last thing he needs is to turn up with a city latent on his arm. Especially one he thought was…” She shook her head. “Devyn is helping Marcus and you’re merely along for the ride. Whatever was between you is a complication he can ill afford.”

“If that was supposed to clear things up, it really hasn’t,” I told Bronwyn sourly as she turned and started to head back up the hill, making her way across the golden leaves on the forest floor.

Bronwyn turned, her mouth pulled down. “I’m sorry. I know it’s confusing. Oh, and Cassandra… you mustn’t reveal your magic any more than you already have. That girl you helped escape the city was one of the most powerful latents we’ve ever seen. Her discovery was a surprise, and there are those who fought over her bitterly. The arrival of a second one of you could be seriously disruptive to the balance of power. It’s just best if you keep it hidden for now. Especially from Gideon.”

“Why Gideon?” Gideon had hurt Devyn and seemed to follow no one’s orders but his own, but he was with Bronwyn, so why couldn’t he be trusted? “Isn’t he your friend? Don’t you trust him?”

We were almost back at the camp and she stopped once more, looking in the direction of the tall cloaked figure striding across the glade, his long hair loose in the breeze.

“My friend? Maybe. Do I trust him? Not at all.”

I looked over at Devyn, sitting on the black horse ahead of us with Bronwyn. Yesterday had taken its toll on him. We had made good progress, the Britons paying little heed to his injury. He had been exhausted when we finally made camp last night and was asleep as soon as he had eaten. Given his natural propensity to be taciturn, and with the injury as well as our argument, I wasn’t sure I had seen him utter a word since Marcus had closed his wound. He barely looked my way, and had given no sign that he thought at all about what happened the other night. I, on the other hand, was a mess. My stomach folded in on itself every time I recalled what had happened in that tumbledown barn, and while my conscious mind was aware that Marcus’s leaking passions had ignited the incident, it was impossible to draw a line between what had come from Marcus and what had come from me.

Whatever had precipitated the whole mess, it was the aftermath that washed over me like unrelenting waves crashing against the shore. The rejection from deep within Devyn hit me again and again, sometimes soaking me through, sometimes threatening to knock me over with the unexpected force of it. Screw him. Screw all of them. Particularly the handsy giant who held me close to his chest in the misty rain of the late afternoon. I elbowed him and turned to throw at him the ire and bile that consumed me, directing it at Gideon for lack of a more deserving target. Gideon’s eyes creased and he pulled me tighter to his hard chest. Oaf.

I wasn’t the only one reacting to Devyn; the dozen or so warriors in Bronwyn’s group all watched him. While ostensibly Marcus was the prize that everyone in the country was looking for, it was Devyn who attracted the most attention. Gideon’s lack of repentance at wounding a man he knew was no real threat to Bronwyn was baffling; it was as if, once the opportunity had presented itself, he had been unable to resist taking the shot. The others also reacted strangely to Devyn’s presence. When they weren’t busy staring at him, they pretended he wasn’t there at all. Was this an indication of what awaited him? Was the treatment he had received as a child as nothing to the reception he would receive now?

Why was I still worrying about the turd?

My bones hurt from the jolting sway of the horse, and holding myself stiffly away from the body behind me wasn’t helping. Though I was certainly grateful that my feet were being given a day off. Being in company also allowed me to relax; what I realised now was that constant vigilance against the next attack was exhausting.

I tried to piece together what little I knew to make sense of