Nimue, who had been reading, looked up. Andraste’s eyes, however, were on her cauldron.
“Cerridwen,” Nimue said, standing.
“Sister, I’ve come to ask a favor.”
Nimue looked at Andraste who had not looked away from the cauldron.
“Of course,” Nimue said, frowning at Andraste’s lack of engagement. “What is it?”
“It’s Thora,” I said, motioning to my dog. “The war wearied her. I know her time is coming. She is moving so slowly. I hoped maybe…”
Nimue knelt and clapped her hands, calling Thora to her. “What do you think, Graymalkin? Will you stay with me? Very soon, your mistress will join us. Stay with Andraste and me, and it will seem as if no time has passed at all.”
Thora wagged her tail then went to Nimue.
I stared at Nimue. “What do you mean, I will join you soon enough?”
At that, Andraste finally looked up. “We will look after her. Now go. Stay no more for the sake of Aelith,” she said, eyeing my growing belly, then she waved her hand in front of her.
I pitched sideways as I suddenly found myself standing in Crearwy’s chamber once more.
“Andraste, you old crone. You didn’t even let me say goodbye,” I complained loudly to Andraste who, I knew, could still hear me.
My hands drifted to my stomach. “Aelith,” I whispered. “A lovely name, isn’t it, my rose?”
I turned to go but spotted the shade of Gillacoemgain’s sister standing by her bed.
How much she and my Crearwy looked alike. It moved my heart to no end to know, for certain, it was no mere coincidence. I was angry with Andraste for her deception, angry beyond measure. But the truth was far sweeter.
Crearwy motioned for me to come close to her. With ghostly hands, she touched the small wooden box at her bedside.
Following her gesture, I opened the box. Therein lay small trinkets, rings, and necklaces, ladies’ things.
Crearwy touched a small silver pin lying in the box. On it was the same flower that trimmed Gillacoemgain’s dagger, broach, and even his seal. She motioned for me to take it.
I picked it up and looked it over.
Crearwy moved to touch my hands, to press the item toward me, but she hesitated. Even her spirit would not touch my cursed fingers.
“I will give it to Crearwy,” I told her.
She nodded then looked back in her box once more. This time, she touched a small ring. It was a dainty silver thing with a piece of amber at its center.
I lifted the ring from the box.
Crearwy smiled once more, this time setting her ghostly hands on my stomach. She inclined her head, then gave me the softest of smiles. Meeting my eyes once more, she slowly disappeared.
I closed my eyes, feeling hot tears burning behind my lids. Poor girl. Poor spirit. Poor lost sister. How everything would have been different if evil had not lodged itself in the hearts of foul men. Crearwy was the sister I never had, and in her countenance, I saw that same soft spirit that had lived in Gillacoemgain. I felt like I had missed my entire life, like a version of myself existed in a different reality where they both had endured, me along with them.
But it was not so.
And because it was not so, I was carrying the child of the man I loved.
What a bittersweet irony.
“My lady, I hate to see you leave,” Standish said as he helped me into the wagon. He had fluttered about me all morning as we got ready to depart for Lochaber.
“I hope to be back in the spring. We shall see what the season holds for us all.”
Standish nodded. “Stay safe, Lady Gruoch. And give the young mormaer my greetings. We are looking forward to seeing him again.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Standish.”
I nodded to Banquo who was mounted on his own stead. He had come to Moray with a contingent of his own loyal soldiers. We were more than protected, but Killian and a small group of Moray men had insisted on coming along to Lochaber. I decided not to dissuade them. Remembering Rhona and Tira’s words, I pitied Killian. He had lost everything in the war trying to protect Moray and Gillacoemgain—and he was still doing that job. How could I stop him?
The journey took three days, but the ride was not hard. The countryside, dotted with rivers and lochs, was beautiful. The summer sun shone down on us. I missed being in the forest. I missed the smells of pine, loam, and flowers. I knew my daughter was angry with me for settling her in a life of service, but it was a peaceful life. In many ways, I envied Crearwy as much as I knew she envied me. I only hoped that in the future, she would come to understand my reasons. Given she had not had to endure the same struggles as Madelaine and me, such a realization might not come easy for her. But my daughter was intelligent. Even if she didn’t feel it, perhaps knowing would be enough. I hoped so.
Soon, the River Lochy came into view.
“Tor Castle sits on a hill above the river. Look there,” Banquo said, pointing in the distance.
Following his gesture, I spotted a castle tower looming high above the trees not far from the water.
I smiled at Banquo. While he had always been a part of my life, I had not been privy to this part of his world. I remembered him telling me that his father had been a cruel man. When I was married to Gillacoemgain, his father had passed, his mother died while I had been at Ynes Verleath. Banquo had lived the life of a druid, a wanderer. As chief of Macbeth’s generals and loyal to Thorfinn, he’d spent most of his time in the field and little time in his ancestral halls. Now, however, he had a reason to go home.
The wagon slipped through the castle gate. The tall castle had high walls, the inner yard safely hidden behind the stone. Banquo dismounted and began directing his servants. Morag, who’d been riding with me, slowly slipped out of the wagon.
“Come along, Lady Gruoch. Let’s see what the thane has prepared for you and how much I have to fix to make it right.”
Banquo grinned. “Morag, I did my best. I swear. But I will leave Gruoch in your capable hands while I see the men settled in and attend to affairs.”
I gave Banquo’s hand a squeeze. Turning, I caught Killian’s eye. I inclined my head toward the castle, letting him know I was going inside.
He nodded to me.
I followed Morag into the castle. I was surprised to find that the ceiling was very high. Stairs twisted up the wall to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the massive, open great room. There was an enormous hearth at one end of the room. Light shone in through the embrasures on the walls. A huge chandelier made of deer horn hung over the central open space.
“Kitchens and meeting rooms on the first floor,” Morag said, gesturing to the hallways leading from the great hall. “On the second floor, some private rooms,” she added, pointing to the doors that looked over the balcony. “The hallway leads to chambers and the stairs to the third floor. It’s really a small place, once you get used to it.”
“Morag?” a voice called.
Morag and I turned to find an elderly gentleman crossing the room toward us. He was a slight thing who looked like he could be blown over in a sharp breeze. He had wispy white hair on his head. He was dressed in the tartan of Lochaber.
“Lewis,” Morag said warmly. Surprisingly, very warmly.
“What a welcome return this is. And is this Her Majesty?”
“Yes, this is Lady Gruoch.”
“So very, very pleased to meet you,” the man said, bowing to me. I reached out to stop him, afraid he might not be able to righten himself if he bowed too low.
“Lewis, where has the thane asked for Lady Gruoch to be lodged?”
The man shifted. “He’s taken the chambers in the southern end of the castle. He…his lodgings—and hers—are there. Though I’ve also readied an adjoining room,” the man said, flicking an eye at me.