The Prince of Powys (13 page)

dragon’s fire. “There is only one reason a man would do such to

his daughter. She has lain with the enemy. With you!”

A rage of anger arose in Blaise, and he abruptly stepped up to

Elisedd. “I told Branda I would take her to her sister. She got

me a horse and we rode through the gate of Mercia.”

Elisedd’s face was less than a breath span from Blaise’s. A

muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. “You met no resistance in this

escape?”

“No.” Blaise jerked his shoulders in anger. “I’ve told you, I

wore a Saxon hearth guard’s uniform, and Branda told the men

at the gate she rode on an errand for her sire.”

“Indeed!” Elisedd snapped. “When the King found his

daughter and his hostage gone, he questioned the guards. They

reported she rode with you of her own free wil.”

“She rode of her own wil for she thought I was taking her to

the Picts.”

Elisedd’s brows drew together in an angry frown. “Ethelbald

doesn’t know that. A Saxon Princess ran off with a Cymry

Prince. His daughter is ruined. No one wil wed her.” His voice

was ful of venom.

“I never touched her.” Blaise lifted his chin and met the King’s

glare with a hard stare. “Her honor is intact.”

“I stil cannot believe how foolish she was, to deem you aided

her in escaping Cuthred rather than fathom she’d been taken

hostage by you.”

“It was not her fault.” Blaise clenched his jaw. “She was

desperate to escape her betrothal. Ethelbald should have listened

to her.”

“You should have listened to me, then you would not have

raided Mercia, been taken captive and had to escape with this

girl in tow.” Elisedd’s eyes darkened as his accusing gaze burned

through Blaise.

“In truth, it is my fault.” Blaise swalowed hard.

“That it is.” Elisedd leaned forward. “I have grown fond of the

maiden. How can her father not want her? The heartless Saxon.”

He rubbed his forehead. “How wil you get her and Powys out

of this mess?”

The room hung in an unbearable silence. Blaise’s thoughts

raced dangerously. He brought Branda here to please his father.

Instead, he angered him and ruined her reputation. There was

but one way out of this. Elisedd would win the ransom, and

Branda would be wed and no longer ruined. However, did he

dare betray her, knowing how she felt about Cuthred? He let out

a sigh of exasperation. He knew no other way to right the wrong.

He steeled his churning emotions and spoke in a controled

voice. “There is Cuthred. The Wessex King wil pay her

ransom.”

“Would he want her?” Elisedd arched his brows.

“Any man would want her,” Blaise said in a choked voice. He

wanted her. Branda belonged with him, not Cuthred. He burned

for her, but he’d caused this wrong and he had to right it.

Tensing his shoulders, he baled his hand into a tight fist.

Tensing his shoulders, he baled his hand into a tight fist.

“
We must send word to Cuthred. Wessex has no lands I

covet, but we can make the Saxon cur pay in gold—that wil at

least make al this trouble worth our while. The Princess wil be

married and no longer ruined. She should be happy of that.”

“She hates Cuthred,” Blaise managed to say through his

clenched jaw and tight lips.

“Her father made that bargain. If Cuthred wants her, then he

shal have her as long as the ransom is paid.”

“Do you want me to carry word to King Cuthred?” Blaise’s

tone was cold. He couldn’t bear the thought of bargaining with

Cuthred for Branda’s ransom.

“No, I shal send Brochfael. Cuthred would have heard of

Ethelbald’s accusation that you slept with Branda, his own

betrothal. If you show up in Wessex he wil surely kil you. This

task must fal to your brother. He is the heir and this sorry

business wil give him a taste of what it is to be King.” Elisedd

waved his hand in dismissal. “Leave me so I may cal for your

brother and send him on this doleful errand.”

Blaise shook his head and cast his gaze downward. Al had

turned out wrong. He could not part with Branda, much less turn

her over to that Wessex cur, yet he had given his word to his

father, his King. Branda was banished from Mercia. If he ran

away with her he would be banished from Powys. They would

live as outcasts, traitors not only to their country and their kings, but to their own fathers. He was split in two. Would he throw

away his honor for love, or tear out his heart for honor?

He scuffed his booted feet against the dirt floor, turned and

walked to his bower to wash, rest, and hide from Branda. Once

inside the sanctuary of his own chamber, he plopped down on

the edge of his narrow bed and yanked off his boots. Dust

swirled in the air.

There was a rap at the door. “Enter,” he caled.

Carthann strode in, laid down a laver of heated water and

kissed both his cheeks. “Welcome home.”

“My thanks, but my tidings aren’t welcome.” Blaise paused.

“Ethelbald won’t pay the ransom. He thinks I have dishonored

Branda.”

Carthann’s lucid blue gaze comforted him. “I know the King

was not pleased. I take it he wil request ransom from Cuthred?”

“Yes, but if Cuthred does not pay, what then?
If he does pay,

“Yes, but if Cuthred does not pay, what then?
If he does pay,

I cannot let her go.

“Elisedd could never bring himself to harm Branda. She

makes him smile the way he did when he played with you as a

babe. She is a sweet girl, the Princess. The daughter he never

had. Do you not think so?”

“No.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think of Branda as

a sister.”

“That is apparent enough.” Carthann’s eyes gleamed with

amusement.

“Naught can come of my desire for Branda.” He sighed. “She

is the daughter of the King of Mercia. Even if she stays here

forever, she wil always be an enemy of Powys.”

“I do not think so,” Carthann said indulgently.

“What say you?”

“Why do you not ask Elisedd to gift you the Princess as your

wife?” She flashed a sly smile.

“What!”

“Elisedd holds her hostage. Her sire has refused the ransom.

Elisedd can do with her what he wil.” Carthann spread her

hands. “He can betroth her to you.”

“Father wil never alow one of his blood to marry a Saxon.

He has said as much.”

“Elisedd says many things. This girl is like the sun: warm,

bright and strong.”

“My sire wil have my head if he hears I have given thought to

marrying Ethelbald’s daughter.”

“I shal keep my opinion secret, but I see the way you look at

her and she at you.” Carthann arched her right brow

prominently.

“She hates me,” Blaise said under his breath.

“Realy?” Carthann shook her head from side to side. “Go to

her after you bathe. It’s best she hears this news from you.” She

grinned wryly and exited the bower, giving him privacy.

He dipped his hands into the warm water and splashed his

face. Having tugged his tunic off over his head, he tossed it to the floor and puled off his britches. After scrubbing his tired body

until his skin prickled, he put on a pair of clean clothes and puled on his boots, then ran a sliver comb though his thick mass of hair.

He had lied to her, misled her. She thought he took her to

He had lied to her, misled her. She thought he took her to

Pictland.
How could she be so trusting? Such an innocent.
He pushed open his chamber door and trod slowly to the sunroom.

As soon as he reached the grianan, Carthann opened the door

before he even knocked.

* * * *

as she folowed Leri out of the sunroom.

Branda sat in the corner near the window, busy with her

embroidery. When she looked up at him her eyes were such a

clear, sky blue. It was hard for him to speak knowing those eyes

would soon mirror the sadness of his words. She set her

embroidery down on the window ledge.

“Beautiful,” he said gazing at the embroidered daffodils and

mustering the courage to reveal the dismal news. “I have come to

tel you of the missive from your sire to mine.”

“No matter what the missive says I wil not go back to

Mercia.” Branda cocked her head.

“Who told you?”

“The Celtic god Bran. While you were in Mercia, Bran sent

me on a quest for the sword of Nuada.”

“What say you, Branda? Bran the Blessed has nothing to do

with this.”

“Your gods gave me a boon for finding the sword of Nuada. I

can stay at Dinas Bran. I know now this is where I belong.”

“What do you mean, you belong here?”

She stared at him. “Bran is a god. He says I belong here.”

“Neilyn has been teling you old tales while I was in Mercia.

The Druid has you thinking you are seeing gods.”

“No, Neilyn did not believe me at first, but when the sword

was found, he knew it was true.”

What was she babbling on about? “Branda you wil not be

going back to Mercia but you cannot stay here. You are to be

ransomed.” His words came out in a curt tone due to anger at

himself for causing al this heartache.

“What mean you, I cannot stay here?” She lifted her head and

pushed her hair to the back of her neck.

“King Ethelbald refused to pay the ransom.” Blaise’s throat

tightened, causing his tone to sound sharp.

tightened, causing his tone to sound sharp.

“Why would he do that?” Her soft voice was etched with a

sad tone, and her eyes were moist.

“He thinks you’ve betrayed him. He thinks I am your lover.”

“How could he think that?” She lifted her head and wiped her

eyes. “No matter; it proves I belong here.”

“My father has deemed otherwise.”

“If not to Mercia, then where would he send me?” Suddenly,

her face went pale, and she widened her eyes in shock.

“Cuthred?”

Blaise didn’t like her downtrodden tone, so weak, so sad. He

had become used to the vibrant defiance that often spiled forth

from Branda’s lips. “Princess, when I am sad, Queen Carthann

has a way of comforting me. She is like a mother to al of Dinas

Bran. It’s best you speak with her.”

“Yes, send in the Queen. She is always gentle and kind.”

“I know this is my fault. I hope you can forgive me.” He’d

never felt lower, more worthless, not even when held captive in

Mercia, for he’d let down the one person who meant the most to

him—Branda.

“You took a hostage and requested a ransom from your

enemy.” Branda shrugged. “It’s the way of kings.”

He’d feel better if she was angry with him. She struck him as

too quiet, not like her usualy spirited self. “I hasten to fetch the Queen.”

Blaise strode from the chamber as Branda slumped down on

her bed and wept.

* * * *

sauce, filed the hal along with smoke form the roaring hearth fire as Blaise supped at the King’s board for the evening meal. A

serving girl with a loving spoon dangling from her slender neck

clutched a smal cauldron and scooped out a generous portion of

turnips and leeks onto his plate. As he stared at the steam rising from the heap of vegetables, another servant laid a slab of juicy

stag on the side.

Carthann picked up a slice of brown bread and spread it with

creamy, churned butter. “Princess Branda has chosen to dine

alone in the sunroom.”

alone in the sunroom.”

Blaise starred at Branda’s empty chair as he sliced off a hunk

of venison drenched in berry sauce. Heaviness pressed on his

heart. What had he done? The sound of hard, fast footsteps

interrupted his musings.

One of Elisedd’s guards swiftly approached the dais. “We

have captured an intruder, my King. A man disguised as a

woman in skirts and shawl.”

“What kind of coward is he?” Elisedd mumbled with food in

his mouth.

“A Saxon, my King,” the burley guard stated.

Elisedd grunted. “The worst kind.” He grabbed his silver

goblet and took a long gulp of ale.

The guard nodded in agreement. “We found him with Princess

Branda in the sunroom.”

“Bring him forth; I wil see him now.” Elisedd clunked the

goblet down and leaned back in the wooden throne.

Blaise wondered who among Ethelbald’s men would brave a

mission to save the Princess and wear a woman’s gown to do

so. He had not seen the like among the Mercian troops. Except?

As he sliced off more bites of meat, he gazed at the man the

guards dragged before the dais. He dropped the dagger he cut

the venison with onto his plate and stood. “Scan!”

Elisedd leaned forward and turned toward Blaise. “You know

this man?”

“Yes, sire. He is the guard who unwittingly aided me in my

escape.”

“Ah, the fool you spoke of.” Elisedd leaned back in his

throne. “A fitting description indeed.”

Of al the men to come to her aid, Scan couldn’t rescue a cat

out of a tree. If only it had been someone who could have

succeeded and kept Branda out of Cuthred’s clutches.

“Scan, where did you get that dress? It looks awful on you.”

Blaise rubbed his forehead. “Does Ethelbald know you are