by Heidi Hanley
Listening to the inventory and assessments gave Briana something to focus on other than the odd feeling of her hand in his. Eventually, he let go, leaving her free to stroke and pet the beautiful animals, a strategy that prevented further disturbing contact. She wanted nothing more than some privacy to sort out the cobweb of thoughts and emotions that were making her a tangled mess.
“Ready to go back? They’ve moved you to chambers above the great hall. They’re moving Cailleach now.”
Brath walked her to her room. “I want to make sure everything is just as you would like it, Briana.”
Opening the door to her new chamber, she found a spacious, airy room. Lavender and lemon scents danced on the breeze that came in from the open balcony doors. Her bed, a miniature of the king’s, swathed in shades of gold and burgundy, stood against one wall, opposite a hand-carved armoire. A writing desk took up the corner.
“Sweet Maker,” she said. Thick woven rugs in rich colors were scattered across polished wooden floors. Dara sniffed around, finding a royal pile of blankets that met with his approval, as he did a few turns on them and then lay down, muzzle on paws, for a nap. Green light flashed in Briana’s peripheral vision and she turned to find a small table and two chairs atop which stood a stunning green marble ríocht board. She walked to it, hand on chest, her mouth forming a silent exclamation, and examined the green marble that glittered when the sun hit it just right.
“Maker, Brath, this is beautiful. It reminds me of the green marble I saw in Ireland.”
“It was my mother’s. She also loved to play ríocht. I thought you might like it. Consider it a welcoming gift.”
“I can’t take that! It was your mother’s.”
He smiled. “And now it belongs to the new queen.”
She picked up the rook and turned it, watching the colors change as the light struck its different angles. “Thank you. This is much too generous a gift, but I promise to treasure it, as she must have.”
“You’re welcome. Just promise not to beat me too badly. I understand you’re an excellent player.”
“Not really, she said, setting the piece down. She walked to the balcony, where she looked out at the overrun garden and the ocean behind it.
“Guards at the door and the cliffs behind. Nothing will ever hurt you here,” Brath assured her.
Little did he know that the things that hurt had nothing to do with marauders or evil prime ministers. “I suppose not.” He wanted so much to please her, to make her comfortable and secure. She must honor his efforts.
“This is beautiful, Brath. Thank you.” She looked around the room. “For everything.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It is nothing less than the Queen of Uisneach deserves.”
She learned this had once been his mother’s sitting room, and the furniture pieces were family heirlooms.
“I would love to spend more time with you, but I have a few meetings to attend,” said Brath. “There’s still a lot to do to get things back in order. I’ll see you this evening.” A slight bow and kiss to her hand, and he was gone.
Briana heard scraping in the room next door. She walked over to see what was going on in Cailleach’s room.
The witch was attempting to rearrange the furniture. Briana rushed to help. When the table was where Cailleach wanted it and level, Briana stood back, eyeing the beautiful, earthy and wise woman before her, wishing her own life could be as uncomplicated and uncluttered as Cailleach’s usually was. “I’m so torn,” she blurted out. “I’m living in a dream castle, with a dreamy fiancé, wanting for absolutely nothing, and yet I don’t want any of it, if it means I live here without Silas.”
Cailleach was silent for a moment, studying Briana. “Imagine, for one second, that Silas wasn’t part of the equation. What if you had only ever met Brath? Would you feel the same?”
“The problem is, I can’t imagine a world without Silas.” She scrunched her eyes closed and let out a long breath. “But if I could, then I would consider myself the luckiest woman on the planet. And what the hell do I do about that, because Silas is in my world, and I love him, and I hate the intrusion of these other feelings and responsibilities.”
“Try not to overthink things. Just flow with the magic of each day and let nature take its course.”
“Easy for you to say,” Briana muttered.
“I advise caution. Try to be open to the possibility that your life does not need to be one of complete and dreary martyrdom.”
A housemaid knocked at the door and asked Lady Briana to come to the kitchen right away.
“What’s wrong?” Briana asked.
Brigit, a cute, well-rounded young lady, wrung her hands. “Mrs. Flannigan says dinner is ruined and there won’t be anything to serve tonight.”
Turning to Cailleach, Briana forced a smile. “What was it you said about my life being dreary martyrdom? Excuse me while I go solve a domestic crisis. Come along, Dara.”
She followed the maid, and her nose, to the kitchen, where the acrid smell of burned flesh assaulted her. She was introduced to Moira Flannigan, a short and wide older woman with a discernible limp, who fluttered around the kitchen, waving her hands hysterically.
“What on earth has happened, Mrs. Flannigan?”
“The meat has all been burned to a crisp! And no time to roast anything else. The king will have no meat for his supper!”
Briana took a second to clarify. “So, there’s no meat, but is there anything at all? Vegetables, desserts, bread, anything?”
“Oh, aye, the vegetables are fine, but I cannot serve dinner with no meat!”
“Of course you can. Mrs. Flannigan, we will not all starve without a deer or a goose. Are there eggs and cheese?”
“Yes, of course, for breakfast and baking.”
“I am going to teach you how to make a quiche.” Moira shook her head, not understanding the word. “An egg pie.”
“For dinner?” she asked, flabbergasted.
“Yes, it’s wonderful. The king will love it, and I will tell him I asked you to make it special for him from me.”
Mrs. Flannigan gazed upon her with adulation and gratitude. Briana went on to explain the making of quiche, and suggested some available side dishes and warm bread to go with the dish.
Patting the cook on the back was her sister, Agnes Flannigan, the head housekeeper. Identical twins in looks, they were otherwise opposites. While Moira was a bit of a mess, Agnes was serious and steady.
Three other women worked in the kitchen: Fionn, a lovely redhead who seemed far too aristocratic to be a domestic; Kenna, a sprightly kitchen maid and Orla, somewhat standoffish, but who Briana hoped would lighten up when they got to know each other better. Pressed and proper Reilly Doherty, the butler, nodded and bowed to her every comment. Underneath his stern exterior, she detected a layer of kindness and knew they would get along well, as long as she executed her queenly duties with equal seriousness.
She was introduced to Mary O’Brien, the senior housemaid and a paragon of efficiency. Dark hair twisted precisely in a bun and a neatly pressed gray dress gave her an austere appearance that bordered on intimidating.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, milady. If there’s anything you need or anything you find amiss, please let me know straight away.” Like Doherty, her bar for excellence was set quite high. Briana hoped she was up to the challenge.
Brigit, Donal, Lucy and Cavan were housemaids, all friendly enough, but accustomed to standing in the background, so more difficult to evaluate. Not as difficult to notice was the essence of lye, tallow, beeswax and wood smoke that floated like a cloud around them, nor could one miss their black-edged fingernails, identifying them as the staff responsible for getting Ard Darach back in tip-top shape so magically and beautifully.
“I guess you are the ladies who keep this place looking so wonderful.”
Four simultaneous curtsies.
“There are no other lady’s maids in residence, milady,” Gael informed he
r. “We can call on a few from the village if need be, but for now, I’m it. And I’m all yours,” she said brightly, earning a semi-smile from her new employer.
“And Cailleach’s,” Briana amended.
“Of course, milady. Though she never lets me do much.”
Right, and neither shall I, Briana thought, hating the idea of being waited on as much as Cailleach probably did.
*
Everyone stood as Briana entered the great hall that evening, dressed in another of Queen Eleanor’s gowns, a vibrant red brocade trimmed in black satin, with black velvet slippers. She self-consciously waved them back down. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, as she sat next to the king. With a look to the butler, she indicated the food should be served. “Your Majesty,” she said, “I asked Mrs. Flannigan to prepare a special meal for us this evening. It’s one of my favorites, called Quiche Lorraine, made with eggs, vegetables and aged cheese. I hope you’ll like it.”
He took her hand in a kiss, causing her to cringe. “If it is a favorite of yours, my lady, it will surely be a favorite of mine.”
She smiled weakly and eased away her hand to grasp her goblet of wine. The meal was served and to Mrs. Flannigan’s great surprise and relief, it was indeed a hit. Conversation hummed around the table. Sigel and Cailleach were in deep discussion about something, and Sir Jameson and young Mr. Stark engaged Briana in a chat about Jonathan’s training in archery. When she turned to ask Silas a question about it, she saw him chatting with a lovely young woman with cascades of blonde hair and dark, doe-like eyes, who looked at him with adoration. He nodded, smiled and then laughed heartily. There was no denying the pain of seeing him enjoy himself with a woman. As he should, she reminded herself, trying to swallow the resentment and disappointment.
The king, in spite of declaring that no celebrations would occur for a week to honor the losses of many of Ard Darach’s citizens, laughed at, and even offered a few jokes, and joined in the singing, his rich baritone voice a nice complement to Silas’ tenor.
She studied the two men, one dark and the other light. One regal and resolute, the other a carefree heart. Brath took every opportunity to pull her in as his consort. His frequent touching, although gallant and appropriate, made Briana squirm. At one point, he toasted her as the most beautiful queen Uisneach would ever have, and leaning down, kissed her cheek. She nearly fainted and looked anxiously at Silas, who wore a fixed smile on his face as he raised his glass to her.
Her bed, when she finally sank into it, was everything she anticipated. The business and cares of the day disappeared as consciousness gave up its post for the realm of the subconscious.
Chapter Thirty-three
Visions and Contracts
Briana stood, streaked with dirt, her hair draped with dead vines, in the middle of a botanical disaster. Chased by images of two men in her dreams, she’d risen just before the sun and persuaded Arthur, her guard de nuit, to accompany her into the garden. He made himself inconspicuous, giving her the illusion of solitude. The sun was now fully up, and she was enjoying the first reward of her efforts, breathing in the scent of the primrose and broom she’d unearthed. Dara, who’d been exploring mole holes and cat trails, shot out of a hole in the brambly, lifeless rose bushes. Swallows swooped and dived overhead, and warblers warbled in the blackthorn tree. Surging waves of a nearly high tide provided a meditative backdrop as she tore through primordial ivy and found a bench beside a paved stone walkway. Uncovering a sundial set in a circle of stones and the remnants of a fountain, she imagined the recovery of this beautiful landscape. Lost in the joy of gardening, she also lost track of time. She was late for her morning ritual of breakfasting with Brath, and wondered why he hadn’t sent for her.
Hurrying along the old stone path back to the castle entry, she paused to delight in the mossy swirls and lichen badges that graced the ancient walkway. Her guard reappeared at her side. She found the kitchen, where the cook bustled and sweated over the warming ovens, baking bread.
“Smells wonderful, Mrs. Flannigan.”
“Good morning, milady, and please, I’ll not ask you again to call me Moira. I’ll bring a loaf out in two shakes and you can have some hot with fresh butter.” She reached for the oven even before she completed the sentence.
Briana declined with a smile. “Thank you, but maybe just bring it up to the king’s room. I’m late for my morning meeting with him.”
The plump cook waved her hand and laughed. “Oh, he’s not in his chambers, milady. He came down a while ago and ate in here before going to meet with the knights in the hall. They’ll be planning to go after that crooked wretch, Shamwa.”
“What?” She was dumbstruck. “Why was I not told of the meeting?”
Mary O’Brien stepped into the kitchen at that moment. “I did ask if he wanted you fetched, milady. He said you were not to be bothered from your gardening.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stiffened her back. “Is that so?”
O’Brien nodded crisply.
Briana turned on her heel and headed toward the great hall. With each stride her ire rose, and by the time she reached the door, she was in full warrior mode. A dozen men sat around a long table, Brath at the head, Sigel and Silas on either side of him. Brath was pointing to a spot on one of the maps strewn across the table. At her sudden entry, they looked up, and the room became silent.
“Good morning, gentleman,” she said, as she moved in between Sigel and Brath.
“Good morning, Briana. Is something wrong?”
“If I was informed correctly, that this is a meeting to formulate a strategy to capture Shamwa, then my presence seems to have been overlooked. I’m here, reporting for duty.”
Brath stood, visibly surprised. “I thought you were going to work on the gardens. You don’t need to be a part of this. We’ll be the ones going out after Lord Shamwa.”
She pulled herself to her full height in front of the king, and looked up into his eyes. “I will not be a stay-behind, baking-cookies-and-weeding-the-garden kind of queen, Brath, while you go after Shamwa.”
Something glinted in his eyes. “Oh?” He paused only for a moment. “What kind of queen will you be?”
Slowly, not taking her eyes off his, she drew Nua from her sheath and raised the blade between them. Five knights stood as one, their swords appearing instantly.
“Relax men,” Sigel drawled, remaining seated.
“The kind who will have your back,” she said, maintaining eye contact. Drawing a sword against her king should’ve made her knees tremble. It didn’t, but the passion she saw in his eyes did.
“Well, my lady,” he said, his voice thick and warm as he took the end of her sword and neatly lowered it, “I shall be grateful to have your protection.”
Sigel cleared his throat and said, “Brath, perhaps we should leave you and Lady Briana…”
“No need. Lady Briana, the decision to allow you to join us in battle does not solely belong to me. Since every man here would be responsible for your safety, we must be of one accord about this. What say you?” he asked the knights.
They looked tense. No one spoke at first. Silas broke the deadlock. “Your Majesty, I can’t speak for the others, but as a man on the winning end of Lady Briana’s bravery, I would be happy to have her at my side on the battlefield. She’s not only a fine healer, which would be beneficial, but she’s got a hell of an arm with that sword of hers. I stand by her in this.”
Briana turned, hearing an unfamiliar edge to his voice. He looked tired. As the bard, he was required at every gathering, so he could craft the story of his monarchs. As one of the men of Uisneach, he would be included in any military exercises. He would witness nearly every interaction between her and the king. Her heart ached as she saw the toll it was taking on him.
Sigel stood then, as well. “I stand with her, also. She’s a courageous warrior, Your Majesty.”
The other men had no experience with her, but clearly trusted the leadership of Sigel and Si
las, because they stood as one, with expressions of unity.
The king nodded to Briana. “It seems you are to be a part of this team. However, you and I will talk about this later, privately. Let’s continue. Sigel, bring her up to speed.”
She turned to the table, prepared to work, though not before she and Brath exchanged a curious glance.
They worked through the rest of the morning and past lunch hashing over plans to destroy Shamwa. Agreeing that destroying the army was priority number one, they nevertheless decided to do it en route to Aurum Castle. Brath did not want to wait any longer than it took to pull the troops together. He did approve her suggestion that they assess the damage to the faerie trees along the way. Upon hearing about Briana’s personal connection with the faeries, Brath’s rejoinder was, “Well, well, another reason for you to join us.”
Briana told them about the faerie tree seeds, but it was decided that replanting would not be undertaken until Uisneach was secure.
“I think we have a good plan, men. And lady,” Brath said nodding at Briana. He stood and stretched, looking out the window. “Take what is left of the afternoon off. Tomorrow we prepare for battle.”
Briana rose, meaning to follow Sigel and Silas.
“Briana, would you please wait a moment.”
She sat back down as the men filed out.
“Briana, we need to talk about what happened this morning.”
She waited without pretense or guile.
“There are certain expectations of a queen. One of them is that you don’t burst into places in an outrage and confront your king. I don’t think I need to say you might have found a better way of handling your concern. In future, should you take issue with something I do or say, I would appreciate the courtesy of raising it with me privately, not in front of my men. If we’re to be seen as a unified couple, you can’t fight with me in front of the whole damn nation.”
“Fine. I get it. But, in future, maybe you could talk to me before you go planning things that should include me.”