Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

Rion Deverell smiled in recognition. “We met at the ball in Londinium.”

I did not return his smile.

“Devyn is still recovering,” I found myself saying.

His eyes went flat.

“He’s still breathing,” he said coldly. “I would say his health is more robust than it deserves to be.”

Llewelyn’s intake of breath was the only sound in the courtyard. “Rion,” Bronwyn called as she tripped down the stairs towards us, her hood up against the rain as she flew into his arms. “I’m so sorry we didn’t make it all the way to you.”

She trailed off as she became aware of the tension in him and turned to survey the rest of us. Her head went back as she took in her cousin on the ground, her eyes widening. “Oh, Rion, please, can’t you—”

Whatever she was about to say in Devyn’s defence was cut off. The King of Mercia had obviously had enough of our objections to Devyn’s treatment.

“Another word of this and he will stay there until the wind and rain weather his bones. Am I understood?”

“You are in my home,” came a growl from the Prince of Gywnedd. Rhys’s restraining hand was violently shrugged away.

“He is mine to command as I will,” came the answering growl.

I was going to fry him where he stood. This… this was the brother I had longed to meet? Bronwyn laid a gentle hand on Rion’s chest.

“My lord, I beg you,” she started.

“By rights he should be in chains, not standing free to greet me,” he said flatly, looking directly at his host. Given the severity of his crime, Devyn was considered an outlaw. As soon as he had crossed the borderlands, we had stayed out of sight as much as possible – for all our sakes. Gideon and Devyn had warned me how his return would be received. I had been lulled into a false sense of security because the first households we had entered had been Devyn’s own family.

“Rion,” Bronwyn spoke more firmly. “Devyn is barely recovered from the poisoning.”

That caught his attention, his stiffness unbending sufficiently to ask, “What poisoning?”

“On the road north,” Bronwyn explained softly. “He nearly died.”

Glacial blue eyes flicked to Gideon who nodded in confirmation.

“I sent word with your men.”

“I did not meet them. I received word of your detour by other means.”

Without looking to where Devyn knelt, he threw his chin up in a signal to Gideon who stepped over to Devyn and reached under his arm to raise him from the ground.

“When we leave, he leaves with us.” The king spoke directly to Devyn’s uncle.

Llewelyn’s jaw set mutinously and he neither agreed nor disagreed, indicating instead that they should all continue inside.

My chest was tight as we followed them inside. A servant took my dripping cloak as we entered the hall. My hair and face were wet, but with the heat that was burning through me, I half expected to see steam rising.

Llewelyn was near shaking with rage as he answered whatever Rion Deverell had said to him as they walked in.

“You will have the trial here.” His accent was so strong it sounded as if he would trip over the words as they were catapulted violently out of him.

I couldn’t hear the king’s response from where I was, but it only served to enrage Devyn’s uncle further.

“You will have the trial here,” he repeated. “Or there will be no trial and you can be on your way now.”

Everyone froze as the two lords faced off.

What trial?

“You would break the laws of our land?” came Deverell’s low voice.

“He’ll get no fair trial in the north. If justice must be done, it will be done here,” Llewelyn rejoined decisively. “We can send for the High Druid from Anglesey. You can find no fault with that.”

My heart thumped against my chest. What trial?

Those frozen blue eyes flicked to the spot outside where Devyn had knelt before turning back to the small, fierce figure before him.

“I agree,” came that low voice again. Calm and formal.

My eyes caught Bronwyn’s. She looked worried. I searched for Devyn but he hadn’t followed us in, choosing to make himself scarce following the confrontation in the courtyard.

“What was all that?” I whispered to her as we followed through to the great hall.

She checked to see if anyone was close enough to hear.

“I don’t know,” she started. “I had hoped… I did not expect him to be so…”

It appeared that Bronwyn was as shocked at the scene that had taken place as I was. Why?

“You people never stop telling me that Devyn is beyond the pale.”

“Yes, but Rion loved him once,” she returned, pulling me aside into an alcove as everyone continued on. “It looks like we defied the Lakes by bringing Devyn to his family.”

“Then explain,” I said fiercely, “that we would never have made it to the Lakes.”

“I will, but we should have sent you and Marcus ahead. He won’t understand why we didn’t. He’s not to know that you put Devyn’s life above…” She stopped, her brow furrowing. “Oh gods, we put his life above everyone else. Above yours. When he learns who you are, he’ll kill Devyn for sure.”

“Devyn was barely conscious; it was hardly his decision,” I protested. I followed her logic, unwillingly, but I did follow it. What Rhodri had done in saving his son instead of the lady would be deemed unforgivable. Rion Deverell would be beyond reasoning with if he felt Devyn had repeated his father’s sin.

“Devyn knew who you were. So did I,” she moaned softly. “Another betrayal by our house. Putting our own blood ahead of yours. What have we done? What should have redeemed him has damned him utterly.”

Her eyes looked wild as the full impact of our actions hit her.

“Then we don’t tell him.” What he didn’t know couldn’t be used against Devyn in this trial. History repeating itself would condemn him in the eyes of everyone here.

Bronwyn blinked.

“No, we have to tell Rion,” she began.

“We don’t have to tell him anything. This would hurt Devyn