The smallest of smiles crossed his lips so fast I wasn’t sure I had seen it at all. “You are persistent, meyja. I will give you that.”
I took a step toward the end of his chains. “Does this mean you agree to my terms?”
“That small bit of bread and puny flagon will only stir my appetite,” he said, a taunting smile curving his mouth. “If you will bring me a real meal, fit for a warrior after a battle, then I will answer you.”
I strode forward and ripped the irons free from their stays; the sudden slack caused him to pitch forward, and he barely caught himself at the last moment. “You will answer me now. If I am satisfied with your response, then I will bring you more food and drink.”
The muscles in his arms bulged as he pushed himself upright. His eyes flicked to the ends of the chains, still attached to a ring on either side of him. I had merely removed the pins that kept the length of links so short. “You play a dangerous game,” he said, holding one of the chains aloft.
If he lunged, he could pin me. I became suddenly aware of the familiar weight of the dagger hidden beneath my cloak, but I didn’t want to use it. Not yet. “Do you still sneer at my offering?”
We stared at each other, tension a thrum of power between us. After a moment, he held out his hand. I stepped within reach of his chains, my head held high, and gave him the bread and wine. A low chuckle escaped him as I returned to a relatively safe distance unscathed.
He tore into the bread and gulped the wine in two swallows. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and reclined, one arm resting on his knee. “Come, then. Ask your questions.”
I opened my mouth to ask about the northern monastery, or to ask if he knew anything about monstrous invaders who threatened my family, but I realized all at once that he would never answer me. It was clear he didn’t fear me, and I couldn’t force his mind as I did others’—something that still nagged at my thoughts—but I could do what anyone must do who wanted answers: gain his trust. I remembered the boy I’d spared on the battlefield and how this Northman had seemed to fear for him. “That boy on the battlefield. Who is he to you?”
His face darkened like a sudden storm cloud. “Where is he?” The length of chain rattled ominously.
“Safe. Or as much as he can be, I suppose, with your men.”
The threatening aura he had been emitting just moments before receded. “You spared him.”
“He’s a child.”
“Celts have killed our children before.”
And Northmen have killed our children before, I wanted to say. With force, I pushed down the flare of anger that burned within me. He was not my sister’s murderer. “I haven’t.” I risked a glance at him. “Why would you force a child to fight?”
To my surprise, he avoided my gaze. “I didn’t realize he was on the ship until we landed on your shores.”
“A stowaway.” It was something Branna would have done. A flash of the look on his face when he saw me battling the boy appeared in my mind then: the gut-wrenching fear. “You were afraid I would kill him.”
“He is my brother. The only sibling I have left.” He shook his head as though his admission surprised him. “After watching what you did to my men, I was afraid you’d make quick work of him.” He was silent for several heartbeats. “You have my thanks,” he added, his voice gruffer than before.
“And the monastery I asked about?” I held my breath.
“We did not raid a monastery.”
My shoulders slumped. I couldn’t hide my relief. “Thanks be to God.” All too soon, a cold feeling settled in my stomach. “But your longship came from the north.”
“What of it?”
“Why pass up the opportunity for a monastery? Why disembark on our shores?”
He hesitated, as though debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he said, “A bird. A kráka.”
My eyes snapped to his. “What did you say?” I had to be sure—with his accent, it was hard to tell.
He made an impatient sort of noise before letting out a harsh caw-caw-caw. I felt the color drain from my face. The Morrigan.
“Did it lead you?” I asked, my voice hushed.
“It landed on the prow of my ship, and I saw myself within its eyes. It wanted me to land here, so I did. I didn’t expect to be greeted by a warrior maiden and her band of Celts.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you never intended to raid my home?”
“Of course we were there to raid. Your castle was a challenge, and one that I ultimately failed. My first failure, thanks to you.”
“My apologies, Northman,” I said with a curl to my upper lip Conall would be proud of. But inwardly, the Morrigan’s visions haunted me. If the Morrigan had led him here, if she was bringing us both together, then the horrific scenes she’d shown me . . .
No, it couldn’t be true.
But even as I denied it, I heard my sisters screaming before the life was squeezed from their bodies.
“What now, maiden?” the Northman said, pulling me from my morbid thoughts. “I have told you everything you asked of me and more. Will you keep me chained here until my flesh falls from my bones?”
But how could I ask him what he knew about the Morrigan? What if he hadn’t seen what I’d seen? He’d think I was mad. “What would you have me do? Set you free?” I scoffed. “So that you might continue your raiding all the way to Dubhlinn?”
His gaze shifted to the entrance of the cave. “I have seen many things, but a maiden as a prison guard is one of the strangest. Are the Celts so weak they allow their women to interrogate prisoners? Where are the men?”
“I am no maiden,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest.
He laughed. “A warrior maiden, perhaps, but a maiden just the same. Do you think me blind? You are far too beautiful to be a mere servant.”
“Honeyed words do nothing but anger me. All you need know about me is that I am your captor.”
His expression turned skeptical. “The Celts allow their women to hold prisoners captive? To shed blood on the battlefield?”
“If the woman has proven abilities, then yes. Isn’t it true you Northmen have your own female warriors—shieldmaidens, I believe?”
He didn’t answer me, but instead leaned back, raising his chin just slightly, as though challenging me. “And what would a maiden want with a warrior chained in a cave?” His eyebrows rose, the suggestion clear.
I stared at him, aghast. My heart belied my calm tone, beating a furious pace in my chest. It was clear I was losing control of this conversation.
He only laughed, obviously enjoying my embarrassment.
“If your plan is to insult me, then I will only leave you here to starve.” I turned to go.
“By all means, milady. Go, bring me a meal fit for a warrior, and I will tell you what it is the kráka said to me.”
I paused. “It spoke to you?” This could be what I needed to know: if the Northman knew of the Morrigan’s vision.
“It did, but I will tell you nothing more until I have eaten my fill.”
I looked away for a moment, a muscle in my jaw twitching. His tone was flippant, but I could also hear the truth in his words. “I suppose I could find you some bread and cheese.”
He smirked. “Come, do not toy with me. I will accept nothing less than meat, brown bread, dark beer, and cheese.”
I scoffed. “I would also like some meat. But we are a stone’s throw from the sea. You will have fish like the rest of us.”
“A stew, I hope,” he called as I left the cave. I shook my head at his audacity.
A short raid in the kitchen was a small price to pay to discover what the Northman knew, but the prospect of giving in to his demands was as noxious to me as swimming in a each-uisce’s pond.