She pulled back and stared at him in disbelief.
“When the council hears about this they won't let it slide. The Viceroy and Batch will have to answer for their actions.”
“But Batch did nothing wrong. His father——”
Finn's arms tightened around her. “With your word, he may not be punished severely, but they will never allow a traitor's son to remain in the circle of the Twelve.”
Cara cursed under her breath. She didn't know what else to do. “But if we have the binding ceremony, how can they claim the Viceroy a traitor?”
“Without an officiate trained under the priestesses of Annul, the ceremony isn't binding.”
“There has to be a way——”
“You've given him some time,” Finn said heavily. “Helfrich knows the laws better than anyone. If there's a way around it, he will figure it out.”
Struck by doubt, she looked up at Finn, whose brows were drawn in a deep frown.
“Maybe,” Cara said, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach said otherwise.
Chapter 17
Cara sat at the head of the grand banquet table in between Efy and his grandfather, Lord Eoghaan, the Viceroy of Meall. After leaving Loewik, they had ridden hard and had reached Eoghaan's estates in less than two weeks. In doing so, they had arrived in time to celebrate Samwain, the festival of the dead.
Lord Eoghaan had gone out of his way to rearrange the festivities so that Cara and Efy's moon ceremony could take place on the last night of Samwain, instead of waiting for the full moon that would occur in three weeks' time. Cara had tried to persuade the old man to wait, but he insisted that it was a good omen that his grandson would enter Annul's sanctuary on the night of the dead.
Cara had never experienced a Samwain festival, and she was shocked to learn that it was believed that on Samwain eve, the veil that separated the worlds thinned, and those with the gift of sight could see what had been and what would be.
After her experience in Crowthorne, Cara wasn't certain that she wanted to test the theory.
The Viceroy stood beside her and lifted a hand to silence the room. “Tonight is the first night of Samwain. For three days and nights we will give thanks to the goddess for this year's harvest, the protection of our livestock, and her continued blessing on Meall.”
“Annul, blessed mother of all, we give thanks,” the room echoed in response.
Eoghaan continued, “On the third and most holy day, we will celebrate the dedication of our future queen, and she will be united under the ancient laws of Annul with my grandson, the champion and consort of Meall.”
“Annul, blessed mother of all, we give thanks.”
Eoghaan raised his cup and directed, “Let us lift a glass in honor as I deliver the opening prayer to commence Samwain.”
Cara followed the direction of the others and raised her cup of wine.
Eoghaan's voice echoed throughout the room as he recited the words he had spoken every year since he had been a young man and took his father's place as the Viceroy of Meall.
“Hail to Annul, the goddess who guards the worlds,
The harvest has ended, and the earth grows cold,
The veil is lifted, so we may comfort our dead,
And ask Annul to guide them to her bosom.
Spirits of our Fathers and Mothers,
We welcome you on this night,
Ancestors of Meall, You live within us,
And those who are yet to come.
Hail to Annul, the goddess of death and life,
We celebrate the turning of the wheel,
The wind grows cold, and we light our sacred fires,
As we remember the past and look to the future.”
As Eoghaan finished, the room stood and lifted their cups high and cried in unison, “Annul, blessed mother of all, we give thanks.”
Draining their cups, the people cheered, “Samhain, Samhain, Samhain.”
As soon as she placed her cup on the table, a servant came to refill it.
Efy drank heavily, and urged her to do the same. By the time the meal was finished, Efy was completely drunk, and her own head was spinning as the tables were pushed back to allow the dancing to commence.
Efy continued to drink as the guests began to dance, and Cara couldn't understand how they were still both conscious.
Genovefa, Efy's younger sister, sat down on her grandfather's lap, and took his cup from his hand. “I think you've had enough for the night, grandpapa.”
He smiled indulgently at the girl and nodded. “You may be right, my dear. I think it's time I took to my bed.”
He kissed both of Genovefa's cheeks and then swayed as he stood. Patting Cara's head as if she were a small child, he said his goodnights and staggered out of the hall.
Genovefa sat in her grandfather's seat and rolled her eyes at her brother who seemed oblivious to their company.
“Your grandfather certainly knows how to throw a celebration,” Cara said as she lifted her cup to her lips and drank deeply. “He seems very fond of both you and Efy.”
“He practically raised us since we were weaned,” Genovefa said, adjusting her dress to expose more of her generous bosom. Her voice was detached as she spoke, and her eyes roamed the room as if searching for prey. “When our mother died giving birth to us, we came to live under his roof. Our father was killed a few years later defending the borders from raiders.”
Cara hadn't realized that Efy and Genovefa were twins.
“I'm sorry,” she said sincerely, grief catching in her throat as she was reminded of her own father's recent passing. “Both of my parents are gone as well.”
“Then we should drink to their memory and pray that they will join us in the celebration of Samwain.”
Cara shivered at the thought and raised her cup in salutation. “To their memory.”
“Tell me what it's like,” Genovefa sighed, her brown eyes suddenly bright with curiosity. “To have all those men doting on you day and night?”
Cara laughed, “It's been more challenging than you would think.”
“But they're all so handsome, especially the blond one there. What's his name?”
Cara hesitated and looked over at Finn, who sat with his back hunched, glaring into his cup. She had been watching him, and she knew he had kept pace with Efy in terms of how much wine he had consumed.
It was clear he was still sulking over the argument they had earlier in the day. Despite her warnings, he continued to assume control over the other men, and today he had once again overstepped his bounds. She had said some things that she now regretted that had hurt his feelings, but she was tired of him acting like he was her sole guardian.
Cara shook her head and looked away.
“Finn of Crantock,” she answered, taking another sip of wine.
“Finn,” Genovefa said, letting his name roll off her tongue as if it were something to be savored. “What I wouldn't do to trade places with you just to have a taste of that.”
Cara choked on her wine.
“Oh come on. Don't lie to me,” the woman insisted. “Tell me you haven't taken him taken him for a romp or two.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. She was definitely Efy's sister. Neither of the siblings seemed to have any filter on their words.
“Efy said that you're not wed yet,” Cara said, refocusing the attention on the other woman.
“Heaven's no,” Genovefa spat, as if the thought were repulsive. “Most likely I'll be forced to marry my cousin Craigorn when Grandpapa passes. He's to be the Viceroy now that Efy is ineligible. But until that day I'm going to enjoy myself. There are more delicious things I'd like to do with my body than waste my youth popping out babies.”
Despite herself, Cara laughed out loud at the woman's brazen words.
“Come,” Genovefa said, grabbing her hand. “Let's find some handsome men to dance with.”
Cara shook her head. “I think I've had too much wine. I'd probably stumble over my own feet.”
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Genovefa shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Cara watched as Genovefa walked towards the table where Finn sat with Helfrich and Batch. The men looked up as she approached, and Cara's stomach twisted when Finn smiled up at her. Genovefa placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, and Cara could tell by her pout that Finn had denied her request to dance.
As their conversation continued, Cara couldn't take her eyes off Genovefa's hand that remained fastened on Finn's shoulder. Her own hand tightened in fists as she watched as the woman unabashedly flirted with him. Finn said something that made the woman tilt her head back in laughter, and Cara fumed as she heard Finn's own deep laughter echo across the room.
In a move that was blatantly orchestrated, Genovefa stumbled as she reached for a cup on the table. Cara's breath caught in her throat as Finn's hands wrapped around the woman's slender waist as if to steady her. Taking her cue, Genovefa sat boldly in Finn's lap and wrapped her arms seductively around his neck.
“Harlot,” Cara hissed under her breath.
In that moment she didn't care that it was Efy's sister, she could strangle them both. Finn leaned back in his chair and peeled her arms away, but did nothing to remove her from his lap.
It was jealousy that drove her to drain another cup of wine, and even though the room spun and her lips and tongue went numb, she grabbed another jug and refilled her glass.
Cara growled low in her throat as she watched the woman flagrantly display her scarcely covered breasts mere inches from Finn's face. Her chair nearly toppled over as she pushed it back. Finn looked at her as she stood, and something in her expression made him hastily push Genovefa from his lap.
“Too late,” she mumbled to herself.
In a reaction that was entirely out of character for her, she boldly leaned down and drew Efy's mouth to her own. She saw his eyes widen in surprise, before he enthusiastically returned the kiss.
Pulling back, she grabbed his hands and demanded that he dance with her.
Finn was on her before she reached the floor.
He grabbed her arm and hissed, “What are you doing?”
She shook his hand away and glared at him. “Whatever I want. Maybe you should see if your new friend wants to dance as well.”
Turning, she allowed Efy to take her hand and led her across the floor.
As the night progressed, Cara danced and drank, and found herself enjoying the growing tension between herself and Finn. He had become too arrogant in his possession of her, and he needed to know that she didn't belong to him alone.
Breathing heavy, and flushed from dancing, Cara walked over to Finn's table and sat boldly in Helfrich's lap, as Genovefa had done to Finn. With clumsy movements she poured more wine into a cup.
“You've had enough to drink,” Finn growled.
“I'll decide when I've had enough,” she replied, draining the cup.
Finn pushed his chair back and stood abruptly, and Cara flinched at the anger that blazed in his blue eyes.
“Keep an eye on her,” Finn said to Helfrich, before turning and walking out of the room.
“Keep an eye on her,” Cara repeated in a mocking tone.
Helfrich frowned and shook his head at her. “What's bothering you?”
She shrugged and looked down at her empty glass, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.
She stood, placed her hands on the table to steady herself, and held up a hand as Helfrich stood to help her. “I'm okay.”
Two large hands grabbed her by the waist and turned her around.
“You're not okay, you're drunk,” Tahdaon snarled.
“And you're an ass,” she retorted.
“Go to bed,” he ordered.
“Will you be joining me?” she challenged.
Beside them, Helfrich choked and coughed, and from the corner of her eye she saw him back away.
Tahdaon narrowed his eyes, and she shuddered at the threat beneath them. “I think we both know that would be a mistake.”
“You're such a coward,” she hissed, and pushed him out of her way.
Weaving through the crowded room, she darted out of the hall. When she reached her chambers, she let out a shout of frustration, sat down on her bed and prayed that the room would stop spinning.
The door slammed behind her, and Tahdaon stalked towards her.
“I'm not a coward,” he snarled.
“Prove it,” she dared.
Faster than she could blink, he had her laid out on the bed, his steely grip holding her hands above her head. Cara gasped at the unexpected movement. His mouth crushed hers possessively, and her lips parted as his tongue stroked her mouth. The weight of him on top of her sent shivers down her spine, and she moved her hips suggestively against his hard body. She moaned into his mouth and cried out for more.
He pulled back and stared at her. His eyes flickered with a surge of anger mixed with desire, and his lips quirked mockingly. “You're drunk.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and managed to smile. “Maybe a little.”
She was drunk. Very much so, but every inch of her body ached for him, and she wanted nothing more in that moment then to him inside her.
He growled low in his throat as he let go of her wrists and stood abruptly. Backing away from the bed, his face turned dark, and a deep scowl lined his brow. He grabbed the chamber pot from the other side of the room and placed it on the table beside her bed.
“Get some sleep,” he muttered, and turned to leave.
Cara stared at him in confusion, which quickly turned to indignation.
“Perhaps Efy's sister is more your taste,” she sneered between clenched teeth. “She's probably with Finn now if you want to take your turn with her.
He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. He turned to face her, his expression completely stoic. “Finn would never touch her or any other woman.”
“Right,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “Your sacred vows.”
“Are you really that blind? Or just stupid?”
“Stupid enough to think you actually had feelings for me.”
His eyes darkened and his lip curled in disgust. “Yeah, pretty stupid.”
She flinched and her breath hitched in her throat at his words. “Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again.”
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Why did she let him get to her?
“Cara——”
There was a catch in his voice, but she ignored it. She didn't want his pity. She bent her head to hide her tears.
“Get out of my room.”
From the corner of her eye she saw him hesitate.
“Go,” she screamed.
Would she ever learn? Tahdaon didn't want her. She had thrown herself at him and he had rejected her. Bitterness stabbed at her heart. She cursed herself for drinking so much. She would never had been so bold if she were sober.
When she heard the door click shut, she reached for the chamber pot and was violently ill.
Chapter 18
On the final eve of Samwain, Cara stood on the edge of the altar and grimaced in revulsion as Lord Eoghaan sliced through the jugular of a large white bull. As the blood drained from the deep incision, he caught the thick liquid in a gem encrusted goblet and drank deeply of its contents. It was an old custom and one that Cara hadn't realized was still observed in Meall. Cara shivered in horror as a priestess lifted the cup to her lips and ordered her to drink. She suppressed the urge to gag at the pungent smell, and when she managed to swallow, her stomach churned in protest.
Not even in Lydd had the ceremony been so lavishly commemorated. Sacred fires burned as far as the eye could see, and Cara thought in awe that it looked as if the stars had fallen from the heavens and landed on the rolling hills of Meall.
Earlier in the day, the holy women had stripped Cara of her clothes and with a horsehair brush, dipped in a mixture of cow's milk and bull's blood, and had painted sacred symbols acros
s her breasts and abdomen. Her skin itched under her robes where the dried blood had tightened and flaked.
The priestesses of Meall were highly honored among their people, and they took great pride in honoring Annul. Much to Cara's relief, her own part of the ceremony was shadowed by the sacrifice of the white bull and the high priestess' augury. The hours dragged slowly, and only when the moon reached its apex, did the priestess turn to Cara and recite the ceremonial blessing.
“Great Mother of All,
We acknowledge your daughter,
May her womb be opened,
To accept the great bull of Meall.”
The people of Meall broke out in a deafening cry of acclamation and the crowd parted to allow their great bull to cross the field towards the altar. Cara's breath caught in her throat as she watched Efy climb the steps towards her. He was naked from the waist up, and his thin well-toned muscles oiled and glistened in the fire's light. Around his waist he wore only a simple animal skin loincloth marked with the same symbols that had been painted on her body. A solid gold helmet with two large protruding horns crowned his head and marked his position as the great bull of Meall.
The effect made him appear almost intangible, as if he possessed an unworldly quality.
He was magnificent.
When his eyes caught her gaze, she saw that like her own, his mind was sober of wine and herbs. Gone was his usual carefree gaiety. His expression was controlled and focused, and when his gaze held hers, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Around them, the priestess led the crowd in an incantation, and Efy held out his arm for her. Placing her forearm on his, she allowed him to lead her through the crowd and down the long path that led to the opening of the cave where they would spend the night. Torches flickered and licked at the blackened stone walls. Bread and cheese had been set out, along with a decanter of wine, and instead of a bed, animal pelts and skins had been positioned on the floor. Despite the warmth of the cave, Cara shivered.
Efy came to stand beside her.
He removed the golden helmet and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. His muscles tightened and contracted with every movement. She had never noticed how well defined he was.