The Hatred That Binds Us

Part 1

To all the oldest siblings, who carry the burden of looking after their family, I see you.

***

Pain shot through her body as the leather whip slashed through the skin of her back. Besides her blood pulsing through her ears, all she could hear was the disappointment in her father's stern voice.

"The world is divided into two categories, Niamh. Conquerors and conquered. Which one are you?"

He stood in front of her with his chin lifted and hands tucked behind his back, not bothering to give her a second look. The sound of the crack of the whip filled her ears before she could feel the burning sensation again, but she refused to scream. Niamh Ceallach would never give that satisfaction to any of the soldiers observing that grotesque show. If her father wanted to make an example out of her, so be it, but she would rather die than allow herself to break in front of any ofthem.

"You had one mission, just the one. And you failed miserable and pathetically. You allowed Iarfhlaith Meagher to make a mockery out of us."

"Father please, I– " She threw her head back when the leather sliced her back once more, gritting her teeth so hard she was afraid they'd shatter.

"Eithrónach's throne will be mine! And for that, Iarfhlaith Meagher must die." He spun on his heels, turning his back on her. "This is your last chance, child. Don't disappoint me again, or I'll make sure you'll wish Meagher had kept you in his dungeon."

***

It was hardly fair that her sisters could devote their time to doing whatever they pleased, while she carried the burden of causing the downfall of the Meagher clan so that her father could claim the throne of Eithrónach. At that moment, Siobhán, her middle sister, probably had her nose stuck in some useless book, and Catriona, the youngest, was most likely still asleep. Niahm, however, could only do what her father allowed her to do, which usually meant any task that would ensure her clan's welfare, regardless of how difficult or dangerous.

She dismounted her horse and stretched languidly. She had risen at the crack of dawn to ride to the king's lands, where she would ambush Iarfhlaith as soon as he showed up to hunt.

Niahm stroked the animal's dark muzzle, wishing she could have a single day to rest. A whole day to herself, in which she didn't have to worry about her father, the clan or the king. She was pulled out of her thoughts when her steed suddenly stepped back, startled by a sound in the distance, resulting in her having to hold on to the reins to keep her balance.

"It's all right! Shhh, it's okay." She rubbed its ears, trying to calm it down." Stay here. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone, okay?"

She took a minute to observe the animal. If her father could see her coddling it, he would surely kill it. If there was one thing Tighearnán Ceallach believed in, it was that love is a weakness. The harbinger of one's destruction. She patted the horse's muzzle and slipped her dagger into her boot before rushing off into the middle of the open field, lying down in the tall grass. Niamh took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling the earth tremble beneath her as the king's horse approached. She heard the sound of reins being pulled between gloved fingers, which meant that he had seen her. The dry sound his boots made as they stomped the ground when he dismounted caused a knot to form in her stomach.

This is it, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Miss? Are you alright?" The girl felt him kneeling next to her, and the rough leather fabric of his glove made her almost squirm when he cupped her cheek. "Can you hear me?"

Niahm opened her eyes, blinking slowly. Iarfhlaith hooked the fingertip of the glove between his teeth and pulled it off, removing it with ease. His warm hand caressed her forehead, then pushed her fiery curls away from her face.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, unable to look away from his intense green eyes. His long black hair reminded her of a lion's mane and she fought the urge to bury her fingers in it. He smiled, revealing a row of perfectly aligned white teeth.

"Do you know how to speak, girl?"

She scoffed. What an arrogant and overbearing asshole!

"I'll have you know that I am quite eloquent, thank you very much."

His laughter exploded in his chest like a roar, sending shivers down her spine.

"You're feisty. I like that."

"I'm not for you to like." 

"And witty." The king leaned over her, so close that his warm breath tickled her skin. The smell of his skin mixed with the fragrance of bergamot and cinnamon invaded her nostrills, tantalizing her. "And extremely beautiful. Do you have a name?"

"It's Niahm. And flattery won't save you."

He smirked, clearly amused.

"From what?"

She reached for the dagger in her boot and put the blade against his neck, cutting him superficially as she rolled back so that she stood over him.

"You saucy little traitor." He didn't even wince when the blade sliced through his skin. "Who sent you?"

"My father." She pressed the blade harder against his neck. "Tighearnán Ceallach."

His plump lips twitched in a mocking grin.

"I should have known better. Naturally, that cowardly little weasel had to send a child to do his dirty work."

She furrowed her brow, taking offense at his words.

"I'm not a child. Besides, we're the same age, you nitwit."

She raised the dagger, ready to drive it into his chest, but the king gripped her wrists firmly.

"Leave before you regret it, Sunbeam."

She ignored the endearing nickname.

"I will not leave until you are dead!"

He rolled over, pinning her between him and the floor, and skilfully disarmed her. Iarfhlaith grazed his lips on hers, making her cheeks take on a rosy hue.

"I'm not surprised that the imbecile you call father didn't train you properly before sending you on an idiotic, and quite possibly deadly, mission. I am surprised, however, at your dedication and commitment. You are undoubtedly better than he will ever be, in every aspect." He held her gaze, his smile fading from his face. "To the dungeons."

"What?" She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

A pair of strong hands lifted her up in the air. Somehow, his guards had gotten there, which blew all her plans out of the water.

"You bastard! Sooner or later, I'm going to get you." She looked over her shoulder at the man holding her. "Let go of me!"

Niamh could see the king's eyes sparkle with amusement, which angered her even more. The bastard was enjoying himself!

"Lock her up and send a letter to Tighearnán Ceallach to come get his daughter."

Her eyes went wide. As soon as her father learned she had not only failed but had also been captured, he was going to kill her. She closed her eyes and prayed silently for some divine force to put her out of her misery before her father got his hands on her.