Trust Ch. 06

Iona honestly felt that she had done nothing wrong. Regardless, she did feel a tremendous amount of guilt eating away at her. Not only had she seen this man of darkness a total of three times now, she also was relieved that he had managed to not lose his life. She had no idea why he was still in the vicinity. Theirs was more or less just a meeting of the eyes, for her a simple fascination—a witnessed anomaly of sorts. However, that was something she sensed Kieren did not believe.

Kieren said nothing on the unusual and longer route they took to return, other than a sharp, "watch your step", or "hold on". He would occasionally take her arm. Frustrated by the awkwardness of her progress, he lifted her completely off the ground when necessary. But, he released her quickly. She spent most of the time looking at the expanse of his back and trying to avoid tripping with nothing but the moon to light her step.

She said nothing, not that she could. Keeping up with Kieren as they covered ground that he easily maneuvered left her struggling to breathe. Besides, the scene-Kieren rising from the water as he did, the way he held the two-edged weapon over his head, hurling it through the air. And, the way the water glittered, so calm at first and then full of life, was a thing of beauty and yet beyond belief. It was the Kieren the Skalds sat around the fire at night and told stories about. It played itself in slowed motion over and over in her mind. First, she saw the eyes of the Blåmenn, glowing with intensity against the almost blueness of his skin and focused so completely on her. Then Kieren, the flexed muscles of his arms and shoulders glistening in what light of the day was left, fierce with the intent of taking a life.

It made no sense. Had Kieren and the man had an exchange she had not witnessed? Why did both Kieren and Russ respond so to him?

With this new route, once the trees cleared, they approached the village by way of what Iona called Kieren's wall. It was not an actual wall, but gave her that impression. The separate dwellings were so closely packed together that they could be considered a wall aligning itself and meeting an ark shaped rampart that ran to the cliffs that hung over the bay. On one side of the wall was a stretched strip of land with random huts and homes made from turf, housing a few of Kieren's men. The village itself lay on the other side. Nature left no access from the sea and Kieren's wall limited any access from the forest. General public traffic was smoothly diverted from the grouping even within the village. It had a defensive feel to it that Iona was only recently beginning to fully understand.

What belonged to Kieren bore his mark and stylings. These particular dwellings were no different. Kieren's buildings were constructed with fine timber, with low bowed sides meeting rectangle roofs that reminded you of capsized longboats. At the height of the inverted V, on the ends, the wood crossed in a way that looked like a projecting animal. In Kieren's case, the animal had a definite focal feature. It was a crude and menacing bird. Not many of the typical village homes, even that of artisans, compared to the main Longhouse and its immediate, surrounding smaller longhouses or what Iona referred to as the wall.

What bore Kieren's stylings consisted of a mixture of accommodations for his people-his men, their families, and a few craftsmen (mainly notable metal workers). There were also structures strictly built for storage. Quite by accident, Iona had discovered that an underground web of passageways connected most of them.

Iona was sure that the main and largest Longhouse, which although housing Kieren's rooms was more or less most dedicated to the assembling and feeding of his favored men, was also connected to the passages. That would make sense. But, Iona just had not found it yet. She was also aware that the hidden network was not common knowledge to the villagers.

There was a definite, organized grid to the layout of the village too; she was certain of it. It was subtle in that it did not interfere with the relaxed feeling of general village life, with its families and workers buying and selling. But, it was not so subtle in that it had a purpose. Even the placement of where animals were collected was suspicious to Iona.

To the west of the village was the natural harbor. That allowed access from the sea, but only the invited dare enter. It was where workshops and such were close to the waterfront. Stone jetties with ships being repaired by building workers were there. Metal workers were there as well. As one moved further inland, routes led to the hills, dense woods or to the village. Beyond the woods, and in the hills, Iona assumed there were outlaying farmsteads and tributaries to the river. The river eventually just led back to the sea.

The entire village, as well as the bay itself, could be easily shut down, controlled by Kieren's men if need be. Iona felt that what was disguised as a thriving, colorful town and welcoming trading center was mainly a training camp and protected fortress belonging to none other than Kieren himself.

The village had its original and common name, as did the bay. But no one referred to either by such. They referred to the village as The Eagle's Head. And the bay, she had heard its name called the Bay of Fire.

It was rare that she, even with what status she held, left or entered the village by any other means than the common public entry way-which mainly led to the market square and then sprouted off. It was the only open and free way to leave and enter the village. But she was with Kieren now. He had avoided that route when leaving and was using an even more unknown route to return.

So, she was not surprised when they entered a passageway which led to what appeared to be just a simple home. He spoke briefly to one of his men. Iona was cordial to what appeared to be the man's woman. The woman looked scared to death of her, but offered ale. It was no one she recognized. Then, Iona was separated from Kieren. He did not bother to look in her direction when he departed.

Kieren was in a different mode and Iona realized it best to be quiet and submit to his orders. Luckily, she soon found herself on familiar ground, being led by three men to the Longhouse-and to Brenna, whom she desperately needed the guidance of.

Everything was quite active and still busy in the village. The streets were lit up. Music could be heard. Children still ran playing and waving long thin sticks with glowing tips while being shushed away from the fires.

The village came alive in a different way with the presence of Kieren. Iona had thought that during the day, but night brought on another type of unique festive mood. Normal for the season was the increase in traders and barterers, and all that they attracted, as summer began to come to its end. With it, was the infusion of more men and what came to entertain them. Everything combined and flowed into the streets. Laughing, singing and drinking abounded. Men were rowdy, women too, in their celebratory spirit. Life with Kieren made them all wealthy. Men wore their decorations and woman wore their gifts.

Vendors sold food late into the night. Wagons of drink were constantly being unloaded. Houses of various sizes and distances from the street with their long axes and rough angles opened their doors. The huge wooden double doors to the Longhouse were left wide open too and men filled the main area. They drank mead and spoke boisterously to one another as women danced on top of tables.

No one paid any attention to Iona's return or the closeness of her guards. She knew exactly where they were leading her, but broke off to go her own way. She discovered that the choice was not hers to make. When she attempted to ignore them and go to find Brenna, she was corrected and told that she was to be taken to Kieren's quarters and kept there till he returned.

She tried to call out to Brenna in hopes that anyone would hear. It resulted in her being lifted off the ground with one of their hands over her mouth. The men were discreet, to say the least. And, she was politely deposited in Kieren's main sitting room.

No longer was she in the mood for submission. She was livid. Iona threw herself in an overstuffed lounging chair and waited.

"Kieren feels that you may have some knowledge of the Moor."

Russ loudly placed a wooden chair in front of her and straddled it in one swift movement. Having been on the verge of falling asleep, it startled Iona. Russ gave her a moment to gather herself. His words were not accusatory, just a matter of fact. He did not appear angry, but rather overly relaxed.

This left Iona suspicious.

"Then why am I talking to you and not Kieren?" she countered, returning back to a more comfortable position and showing him her back.

"Oh," Russ began. His tone was teasing and he was undeterred by her temperament. "Am I now no longer good enough company?"

"What woman does not enjoy the attentions of Russ the Long Sword?" Her words were animated, honey sweet and dripping with sarcasm.

Russ laughed before speaking.

"With great concern for your safety, he has returned to the woods to find your dear friend, the Moor."

She rolled her eyes at his baiting.

"So this is how he shows concern," she said, turning to look at Russ, "By sending you?

"Perhaps, my flower."

Iona huffed at the use of his pet name for her and turned her back to him again.

"You know better than most how he shows concern." He laughed once more.

Iona turned, unamused and kicked at him. Russ caught her foot and held it.

"There is no time for games here, my flower." He spoke more seriously, releasing her foot in a way that forced her to sit up. "Have you encountered the Moor since that day in the square?"

"I feel like I'm being interrogated."

"Now why would you feel like that?" Russ returned.

Iona narrowed her eyes in offense, weighing the situation. "This is because of you," she accused.

"Because of me," he pointed to himself and scoffed with amusement.

"You are why he mistrusts me."

"Time to grow up, little flower, and be fully open. This is unrelated to any closeness we may share. You must focus. He does not mistrust you. If he did you would not be here, and specifically not in his rooms. If you know anything, you must confess it. It will eventually be known. Kieren has a whiff of him now. He's not easily thwarted."

"A whiff of him?" She could not believe what she was hearing.

"Does that upset you?"

"I don't know. It depends, what exactly does Kieren smell? He is not easily thwarted from what? And please, don't leave out why?"

"You tell me why any man would not seek to protect what is his?" Russ spoke calmly. "Are you not Kieren's woman?"

She ignored his questions, which were mere attempts to draw out a reaction and therefore information. He more than anyone knew how much Kieren meant to her.

"Damned it, Iona," Russ was reaching his limit. "Dealing with me is considerably easier than dealing with him at the moment. You are a wise woman. Now, have you had contact with the Moor? This is important."

"What do you know about him?"

"This isn't about what I do or do not know, but you?"

"Why?" she demanded, getting up from the chair. "I want answers, too."

He stood and placed himself directly in her face so that she could not avoid him. His voice was calm now, but his expression dangerously reminded her of Kieren.

"Do not make this into something that it is not. Have you not been cared for and protected?"

Making an aggravated sound, she threw herself back into the chair and stubbornly folded her arms in front of her.

Inside, she understood the weight of the situation, but she did not want any more space or time to make matters worse between herself and Kieren. She knew that the village was to host of Thing soon, an important gathering of clan heads. She knew that the few days that she had alone with Kieren were rare and that his dealings could easily take him away from her. Also, she knew that if he did not want to talk to her or see her, she had no way of making it happen. She could possibly not see him for days or weeks if that was his choice. She could possibly not see him for months.

"If the all-important Eagle of Fire..." she sat up and began coldly.

Russ raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do know what they call him," she added. "If The Eagle of Fire needs something from me, he must come to me."

With that, she set her lips and eased back into the chair as if ready for battle.

"You could have been killed today." Russ sat back down, having decided to use another approach. "He's assuring your safety as you and I speak—just as he has always done for you. It is what he has done since your first meeting. Is it not?"

"You think me daft?" she fumed. "Not once did this Moor bear a weapon. Not when I encountered him in the square or on the side of the river. How is he of danger to me? That makes no sense."

"How do you know what he had or did not have at the river?" Russ challenged.

"Because I saw him," she snapped, "right before Kieren tried to murder him. Why do you assume that he desires to harm me? He's never said a word to me, not one. Why must you seek to kill him? He did nothing in the square but look upon me as I looked upon him. And you wanted a reason to end his life. You threatened a kind, innocent, old man in association with it.

"Then," she threw up her arms to mimic Kieren's wielding of the weapon, eyes wide, "butt naked, Kieren seeks to kill him because he is simply standing on the opposite side of the river bed. Which, I might add, could have been pure coincidence? It seems to me that you two are the dangerous ones. Maybe it is the two of you I should protect myself from."

Anger briefly flared across Russ' face, but then he smiled and stood up. "I have what I need for now. Sleep well, my flower."

Iona realized that she had nothing else to tell, nor had any of her questions been answered.

"I hate you," she screamed in frustration a few minutes later to the empty room.

She undressed and laid in Kieren's bed. Once again, she found herself waiting.

Iona did not know what made her open her eyes. But she could see the outline of him in the shadows of early dawn, motionless in a chair watching his own bed. She waited a minute before sitting up, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin on top.

"You are," she said quietly, "at least, not sleeping on the floor."

He remained silent.

"That's a good sign," she added after a while.

Kieren finally spoke, his voice low and even. "Do you trust me?"

"I do," she whispered.

"You understand that your life may one day depend on how well you listen to me and obey my words."

"I do."

"I now put the question to you," he began, his voice still reserved. "You are fully revealed to me. Do not let an attempt at falsehood come between us."

Iona waited for his next words.

"What makes him risk his life for you? He knows the house to which you belong and yet he dares to watch you still?"

Iona started to ask who but thought better of it. This was no time for games.

"I do not know. I have never spoken to him."

"Is there something from your past that draws him?"

"Nothing I can recall. Before that day in the market, I had never seen a man of my people. I had never even imagined one so deep in darkness."

"Is that what you think to be true?"

The sudden anger that laced his words made Iona raise her head. Her chest tightened.

"Do you believe him to be of your people?"

"He is a slave," she murmured mournfully, "as I...was."

"He is no man's slave. And, he is not of your people. If he were thought to be a slave, he would have long since killed the one thinking himself to be his master. If unable to relieve himself of such a position, the Moor would choose death by his own hand. But we see that he is here and still alive."

Kieren sat in silence for a moment before continuing. His next words were more measured and controlled.

"Do not let the coincidence of his appearance mystify you or influence you in any way. Among his people woman are little, they own nothing and are traded as a commodity. You are not of his people."

"I, too, own nothing and am traded as a commodity."

Regret overcame Iona as soon as her words fell from her lips. Despite their trueness, in her heart she knew that he did not deserve their implication. Even the air in the room seemed to shift as she watched him lower his head.

When Kieren spoke again, his voice was low and heavily strained.

"Not by me."

Kieren had been told in advance about the Moor. And yes, the Moor was a threat. Experience and a natural sense of things confirmed this within him. Kieren's life came with its own expectations. To encounter a threat was nothing new, even if the extent of that threat was not fully known. To have someone thinking they could claim his life was nothing new. The concept itself created no fear or hesitation within him. But when it came to Iona, he was not himself and he knew it. In the woods by the river, he had experienced a new emotion, one that left him shaken. Kieren was caught between possessive anger and an unfamiliar sense of uncertainty.

He was discovering things within that he could not fully define. Some things, however, were quite simple. It was important to him that she fully understood them.

"All that is mine falls under you," he said.

"Iona, you own much," he then added, a bit defeated.

Iona had learned early in life not to trust everything she heard, or even trust what was sometimes seen with her own eyes. Her eyes were capable of lying to her, especially when blinded by emotions she could not pin down. She knew that the wants and needs of men shifted quickly and without much warning. Once reminded of his words, a man could easily look in her eyes and call her the liar and know she spoke the truth; or, he could not look in her eyes at all but through her as if she did not exist and simply walk away. But this man...

Kieren was like no other, and she did not lie when she told him that she trusted him.

She rose up from the bed and came to him. Standing naked in front of him as he sat, she smoothed back the hair from his temples.

Kieren's blue-grey eyes focused on her face and softened as he let his large hands spread across her bottom. He pulled her to him and rested his forehead between her breasts.

To touch him and feel his heat filled her with relief. To have him respond filled her with a sense of peace.

"I am your people," he said, bringing his lips to her skin. "And, you are mine."

"I am fully yours, my Kieren," she returned.

This was what he needed from her. Iona could feel his body relax beneath her touch.

"You are much to me, Iona. Never forget this."

With that, his hands moved firmly up her back. She reveled in the strength of them claiming her, the feel of them on her skin, the security of it. When they lowered back down to her behind, he lifted her as he stood. Her legs wrapped around him and they kissed. Kieren's kiss demanded much and left her heady. He removed one hand and she could feel him undoing the ties of his pants. Anticipation made her body hum. When he laid her on her back, she scurried back further onto the huge bed so that she was in the center—not taking her eyes off of him. She spread her legs wide and leaned back on her hands.

Prior attempts to be the seductress had always ended badly or were a major source of amusement. This time he did not laugh, and his expression was one of pure animalistic passion. His eyes were wild with it as they took in her lush body and a wanton position. Her pussy already glistened for him.