Sword of Victory Read online

  He shook himself. Nothing to worry about, he assured himself again. Nothing and no one would stop him from taking what was rightfully his.

  He tilted his head as the bells rang out. Three times the sound echoed into the silence of his room.

  So it was true. It had finally happened. After a year of waiting, the king was dead.

  Phelan rubbed a hand over his heart and smiled. The real work was about to start.

  CHAPTER 1--EDANA

  A number of curious citizens flocked to the city center to see the funeral procession of a king. Most didn’t give much thought to the pain caused by the king’s death, Edana thought bitterly. They just wanted to see their queen and her daughters so that later, while they sat in their taverns with their ale, they could say, “We were there.”

  The nobles from the five regions--Ulster, Leinster, Munster, Connacht, and Meath, itself--were there, most of them concerned about one-upping the others. They would talk about the fashions of the mourners. Was someone wearing a new cut to their dress? A new style of hat? What jewels were the nobles wearing? Was this person there? Was that one not? Were they intentionally trying to insult the royal family?

  Eventually, they would discuss the death of the king. They would say that there had been murmurings of an illness, but no one believed that what ailed him had been so severe. He had only taken ill a short week before his death. Such a shame, they would concede.

  Then they would discuss the type of king he was. Some would say that he was a noble ruler who did much for his people in his short life. They would admire the way he increased the sentry numbers in the Navan, the most dangerous of the four districts that made up Meath. Then, there was the foundation he’d started to give food to the poorest families in each district, not mentioning that the foundation had lapsed in recent months due to his illness. These people would admire who and what he was, saying that he showed compassion for all and was thus worthy of their respect.

  Others, the worst and most bitter, would say scornfully that he was nobility. Surely, one less nobleman could only be a good thing, never taking into consideration that as well as a king, chosen by the gods, he had also been a husband and father.

  Regardless of what would later be said, Edana tried to focus on what she could do to get through this horrible day. Dark thoughts about people she’d known her entire life wouldn’t bring her father back. Setting these dark thoughts aside, she held her head high, standing between her dry-eyed mother and gently-weeping sister whose tears streamed down her cheeks.

  In the three days leading up to the funeral, Edana had emptied herself of tears. Now, she only felt empty. Empty and numb. She would stand by her mother and sister until they too were numb.

  When the procession reached the Hill of Tara and she saw its giant stone centerpiece, Edana thought briefly of her dream. Her grieving period had started the moment Fal had spoken to her.

  Today the stone was silent. She had to consciously push thoughts of gods and war out of her head.

  Gods and war could wait one more day while she mourned the loss of the best man she had ever known.

  The Hill of Tara that had been so beautiful and green in her dream now seemed ugly and harsh with the funeral pyre erected only a short distance from the Stone of Fal. In Eire, fire was the way to cleanse the body and soul to prepare the dead for the afterlife.

  King Cian, draped in the white and red colors of their house, was laid atop the pyre while flowers were strewn over his body.

  He looked so much like he was sleeping, his raven hair cropped short and covered by his gleaming, golden diadem. He looked like someone need only reach forward and nudge him to have him sitting up and smiling his big smile, laughing his big laugh. But he wasn’t sleeping. He would never smile or laugh again.

  Never again would Edana see his intelligent blue eyes sparkling with life. Life was gone. Only the afterlife awaited him now.

  Normally, the King’s chief counselor, who happened to be her father’s closest friend, Morfram, would light the fire with a torch blessed by the priest of Eiru, the patron goddess of all of Eire. It was believed that the chief counselor aided the king in life, and that he would aid his body into the afterlife. This ritual had always been used.

  Today though, Edana felt something pulling her forward until she found herself taking the torch from the stooped priest even as Morfram moved to do the same. She felt it was her duty to light the pyre.

  Not even the shocked gasp from the other mourners could stop her. Tradition be damned, she thought.

  The priest’s gaze met hers and she had only the brief impression of approval from his sad eyes.

  As she stepped closer to her father’s body, torch held aloft, Edana offered up a silent prayer.

  Let the fire cleanse his body, Eiru, so that he may take his place in the Hall of Kings on the Isle of Man.

  Edana lowered the flaming torch to the pyre until the fire caught and began to dance its way upward to the king’s body. While the flames enveloped the red and white of the king’s shroud, she kept her gaze riveted on his body. She would remember this day for the rest of her life.

  As Edana stepped back into the embrace of her family, a single tear escaped her. She thought, with a combination of sorrow and relief, she wasn’t empty after all.

  CHAPTER 2--PHELAN

  They could feel pain too, Phelan thought.

  He had to admit, it was nice seeing someone other than the poor bleed. He had seen the despair and hunger burning in the eyes of the lower classes since his return to Tara. And still more would suffer before the end of the day. This city held too many secrets, not the least of which was that King Cian had been assassinated, and the culprit was still out there. It was his duty to expose them--by any means necessary.

  As the fire began to wane, Phelan studied what was left of the royal family. The Queen, Bidelia, was still a beauty. Though her skin was ashen, her eyes were dry. Her copper hair offered a stark contrast to the black of her mourning dress. He’d never met the woman, but from all accounts she was a gentle soul, more concerned with her gardens than affairs of state.

  The younger daughter, Ianna, was a younger version of her mother--pale and lovely with large green eyes. Everything about her looks was quiet, but even through the tears clouding her eyes, a sharp intelligence shone. She was well-known as the scholar of the family. It was possible she could have come across something dangerous in her books, something she could have used against her father, yet her grief seemed genuine.

  The older daughter, Edana, took after her father. She had the raven-black hair and blue eyes the northern clans of Ulaid, King Cian’s birthplace, were known for. The only similarities she shared with the other two women were their large eyes that contrasted interestingly with otherwise small features.

  Her face was exactly as he remembered it from his dream. Her eyes shone with a combination of grief and determination, her expression fierce.

  Rumors said she was a little warrior, often seen following her father and his warriors through training exercises. Some believed Cian had been preparing her to assume the throne. Phelan knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

  It was said she had quite the temper as well, though he’d never had occasion to see it firsthand. In fact, he’d been prevented from seeing it. Perhaps her temper was something he would be able to exploit.

  When the fire finally died and the queen led the procession back into the city, Phelan found himself staring at the stone. In his dream, it had sung. Beautifully.

  And she was there, he thought darkly. When he ran toward the stone, she had too, her face mirroring his own resolve.

  She wouldn’t beat him. He couldn’t let her. He had too much at stake. Lives were at stake. Lives that couldn’t afford to rely on some spoiled princess who knew nothing about the world.

  When it came down to life or death, he would do everything in his power to win. Everything.

  His resolution set, he turned to join the procession.


  CHAPTER 3--EDANA

  Edana and Ianna sat on the rooftop of the bakery overlooking the deserted square below, the full light of the moon the only witness to their pain.

  This was the only place in the city they could be alone. The old ladder leading to the rooftop was too weak to hold up under the weight of their guards. Left with no other choice, the guards were left to monitor the area from the ground. Because this tradition had gone on so long, the guards knew to find something else to do until Edana and Ianna came down. The guards didn’t consider that there were other ways to get to the rooftop. The buildings were so close together that jumping from roof to roof was a simple matter. Edana had learned the secret paths through the city long ago, to this building in particular.

  It was their spot.

  Edana still remembered the first time they had climbed to the roof four years before. Many of the other children excluded them from their games. Because they were the daughters of the king, many of the children were afraid of them--afraid of what might happen if one of the princesses was injured or displeased with them. It was just something they had to deal with.

  On that particular day though, a young boy had lost his fear and pushed Ianna. Edana, always trying to protect her sister, had pushed the boy back causing him to trip and hit his head on the ground. Afraid of getting in trouble, they ran away. They found the rickety ladder in an abandoned alley and climbed. Only their father had been able to talk them into coming down.

  That wasn’t going to happen today.

  After returning to the citadel after the funeral, Edana had convinced their mother to take a tonic to help her sleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes had been clearly visible against the pallor of her skin. The queen’s eyes had been dull and lifeless. Normally, their mother was the bane of the servants’ existence, insisting on perfection in all things. Today, she was more subdued. Though sleep wouldn’t erase the pain of loss, she hoped it would restore her mother’s energy enough to deal with her pain properly.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” Ianna asked into the silence, the worry in her voice clear. “She’s not eating well and she’s been wandering around the castle at all hours of the night.”

  Edana sighed. She thought it was too early to tell but was afraid to voice her fears. Their mother hadn’t been the same since their father took ill. They’d spent the last year with a shell of the woman they’d once known. “She’ll be fine. She just needs time.” She gripped her sister’s hand tightly in her own. “We’ll be fine.”

  Ianna nodded, fighting back the urge to cry. “He told me, that day, that I would always be his pretty girl.” The first tear fell. “I thought he was teasing me because my birthday’s nearing. I never thought it would be the last thing he ever said to me. All I can think is that I’ll be turning seventeen soon.” She turned her face to meet Edana’s eyes. “I’ll be seventeen, and he won’t be here.”

  Edana put her arm around her sister’s shoulders, offering what comfort she could. The one thing she’d learned about death was that words, no matter how kind or well-meant, couldn’t soothe the ache of loss.

  They sat there, hoping the silence could do what words couldn’t.

  “Ladies,” a deep voice said from behind them.

  Edana and Ianna sprang apart and stood, turning to face the speaker.

  Kyl, Edana’s closest friend, smiled at the two sisters. Edana stood braced for a fight, while Ianna stood behind her.

  Seeing who had snuck up on them, Edana relaxed. Kyl was a tall man, nearly a hand’s breadth over six feet. His face, and a strong face it was, would have been considered handsome had his smile not had two dimples winking out on either side of his mouth. The dimples softened his face considerably, lending a boyish charm to his appearance. His mahogany hair hung down to his shoulders and seemed much darker under the light of the moon.

  He held his hands up, palms out, to signal his surrender.

  “Easy now,” he laughed. “If we have to fight up here, we’d probably all fall off the roof. Then where would we be? I’d probably be in the dungeons while you were left to convalesce in your big comfy beds.”

  Edana smiled at his rambling. He’d always been long-winded and rather than annoy her as it should, she only found it charming. On this day especially, it was good to be able to smile about something. His devotion to her and her sister was one cause. A fear of heights had plagued Kyl since he was a child, yet he climbed to this roof with them whenever they needed him. In Edana’s experience, friends like him were rare.

  “Missed you today,” Edana said, stepping into Kyl’s waiting arms.

  As a soldier and a member of the king‘s guard, Kyl had been assigned the duty of watching over the king’s body, so while he‘d been present at the funeral service, there were strict protocols regarding their public interaction.

  It didn’t seem to matter that they were raised together, he the son of the general of the southern province of Munster.

  Kyl’s mother had died when he was a small child, leaving his father, General Sloan, with little choice but to turn to his close friend, King Cian. He received permission to have Kyl schooled with Edana and Ianna.

  Because Edana and Kyl were the same age, both eighteen, nearly nineteen now, they had bonded quickly. That bond was one of the strongest parts of Edana’s life. After his father was injured by an Ottoman raider five years ago and retired to the family estates in the south, Kyl had chosen to stay behind in Tara. It would have been a simple matter to move south with his father, but he had stayed for her, Edana knew.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t switch duties,” Kyl said, still hugging her. “My father arrived yesterday and mentioned it was probably best that we not cause any more gossip. Today of all days. He also said he‘d be leaving first thing tomorrow and he expected me to comport myself with more discretion.” He smiled. “He actually used the word comport.”

  Edana pulled back, angry eyes flashing. She didn’t see the humor in this.

  “My father’s dead and people are worried about my relationship with you! You would think they had more important things to worry about, not the least of which is that a new ruler will be chosen within the next month.”

  “I think that’s the point,” Ianna interrupted. “If you’re chosen and you eventually marry Kyl, Eire will have a career soldier as consort and king.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’m fairly sure that’s never happened.”

  Edana and Kyl turned to regard her as she spoke. Ianna made it seem like Edana was likely to be chosen as ruler. As far as she knew, a woman had never been chosen before. And more, that Edana and Kyl were likely to marry. Whether she was queen or not, Edana couldn’t see that happening.

  Edana and Kyl turned to look at each other before bursting into laughter.

  “Surely you’re joking,” Edana wheezed when she could bring herself to speak.

  “Hey now, I’ll have you know I’m quite the catch. Any girl would be lucky to have a handsome man like me. Princesses and peasants alike. Besides,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “We did have one really memorable kiss.”

  More laughter ensued while Ianna glared at the two.

  “It seems perfectly logical to me,” she hissed. “If you don’t want people gossiping about your clearly peculiar relationship, then you shouldn’t be so intent on excluding everyone else’s company. You,” she said pointing at Edana. “Mother wanted to betroth you to that Kerran lord’s son.”

  Edana bristled at this as she always did. “Mother had taken leave of her senses. I was only sixteen at the time.”

  “Exactly. Some girls would have been married by then, but you managed to talk your way out of that one. And you,” she said turning to Kyl. “No one’s ever seen you walk out with another girl. The other soldiers walk out, some with several women at a time.”

  “And how do you know that?” Kyl asked with a smirk.

  “I know all sorts of things.” Ianna offered a smug smile. “I even know ab
out Donal taking you to see the dancers.”

  Edana clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. The dancers were women who claimed to follow the old ways of the Druids. In reality, they were just women who would dance naked in a clearing close to the city wall, hoping a wealthy citizen would take them in. By claiming to be Druids, the unsavory characters usually left them alone, afraid of what might happen on the off chance that there might actually be a Druid in their midst.

  “I-- no, I-- it’s not--” Kyl stuttered before clearing his throat. The full moon made it easy to make out his blushing cheeks.

  “Donal said it was a rite of passage. I hardly think I’m the first, nor will I be the last to admire the dancers,” he said stiffly, all dignity. “I think we’re getting off topic now.”

  “Oh yes,” Edana grinned. “Definitely off topic. I won’t be marrying Kyl, though.” She reached over to pat his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it, especially now that I know of his weakness for the dancers.”

  Edana and Ianna laughed merrily while Kyl scowled. A slight twitching of his mouth had her suspecting he was trying hard not to join them.

  Abruptly, Edana realized that this was the first time they had laughed--really laughed-- in more than a week.

  When their father had taken ill, they’d been too worried and too busy trying to do what little bit they could. Then his death had left them sad and angry.

  Now, here they were, laughing on a rooftop on the day of their father’s funeral. Perhaps this was a sign that things would get better.

  Edana stretched her hands out to Ianna and Kyl, who then linked hands in turn. I can get through anything, Edana thought, as long as I have them with me.

  “Did you bring it?”

  Kyl untied a small leather pouch from his belt and tossed it to her. “One of these days, one of us it going to get caught. You can’t keep stealing from the treasury like this. It’s one thing for them to catch you with all this gold, but if I’m caught, I’ll be executed on the spot.”