“My lady—no, my queen,” he said with a smile.
“Not yet,” I said with a grin. “But I will ride south tomorrow. When I’m gone, I want the castle closed and garrisoned.”
“Is there anything to be worried about, my lady? Any news?”
“No. No threats this far north. But I will keep Moray protected like a precious gem. When I am gone, you will watch it with your sword drawn. I don’t know how long I will stay south. Only as long as I must. I would also ask that you assemble a personal guard for me. A dozen trusted men. Can you do so?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Thank you, Standish. And if you have any worries, please send someone to me right away. Do not hesitate.”
“Of course, Lady Gruoch. We’ll keep the castle warm and ready for you and Lord Lulach’s return.”
“Thank you, Standish. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lady Gruoch,” he said, smiling softly. “You’re dear to all of us here.”
“As you are to me.”
“Ah, speaking of dear ones, your grumpy old stallion was out for a bit of exercise this morning. Limping but healing.”
“I’ll see to him. The blood bay I rode in on. Is he still here?”
“He is, my lady. Fine horse, that one.”
“That he is and sure of foot. I’ll ride him south. Can you see to it?”
“Very well.”
I headed through the stables to the field where Kelpie lingered not far away from the stable door. He’d lifted his leg, resting it. His ears drooped as he watched the other horses. My heart broke for him. “Are you pouting?” I called to him.
He nickered at me, but he didn’t budge.
The battle had taken a lot out of all of us. Even Thora had slept most of the time since we’d returned. I joined Kelpie, patting him on his nose, then bent to look at his leg. The wound was still covered, and I saw no signs of blood.
Sighing, I stroked Kelpie’s ear. “It is a bad wound, but you will recover. It’s time to rest, old friend. I’ll go south, and you will stay here and ogle the pretty mares.”
He nickered again then nosed my chin.
“Dear one,” I said, setting my cheek on his neck. “I’ll see you again soon.”
Feeling deep sorrow in my heart, I headed back inside. I needed to get Tira and Rhona ready. Soon we would be on the road to Scone where I would be crowned queen, a prospect, which, despite everything that had led up to it, didn’t matter to me at all.
Chapter 5
I stood in the window of my chamber and watched as a massive army rode toward Cawdor. At the front of it, I spotted Banquo and Macbeth. A cool breeze swept across the field, ruffling my shoulder-length hair. I closed my eyes and attempted to breathe in Cawdor, breathe in the smell of the stones, mortar, wood, and the lingering scent of Gillacoemgain I imagined in every corner. When I closed my eyes and dreamed, I smelled lavender and fresh mint, tasted strawberries and felt sunlight.
But that was just a dream.
The reality was far sparser.
“So, now it begins,” Morag, who was standing beside me, said stoically.
“Are you sure you won’t ride to Scone with us?”
“No. I will wait here. The boys… They will be back?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
“Very well. I will wait here, if I may. Or I could return to Lochaber if you prefer.”
“Cawdor is your home now too,” I said. In the years that had passed since Merna’s death, Morag had become a permanent fixture in my household. But time had advanced upon her. While she had watched over Lulach and Fleance like they were her own blood, her croning days were upon her.
“Thank you, Lady Gruoch. In truth, I’m too old to ride around the country like some wild thing, and the wine in Cawdor is better than in Lochaber.”
I chuckled. “You’re welcome to it.”
Morag laughed. “Now, let’s get this on you,” she said then turned to the trunk at the foot of my bed. I had dressed carefully, selecting a dark blue riding gown and trousers. I looked the part of a queen in that respect, but with things still so unsettled in Scotland, there was no telling what assassins might line the roads. It didn’t pay to be over-bold. I’d cleaned Gillacoemgain’s chainmail and would put it to use once more. Morag lifted the chainmail shirt. I stooped while she lowered it over my head. Once it was on, I adjusted my belt, so my father’s dagger and my sword were close at hand. I had hidden Gillacoemgain’s dagger safely in my boot.
Morag helped me lace the ties on my cloak.
“The helmet is on the bed,” Morag told me.
“Very good,” I said then went to grab it. When I did so, I was taken aback once more by the scarlet-colored stains on my hands. Stains that no one but me seemed to see.
“Morag, did you set out gloves?”
“No, my lady, but there is a pair here,” she said, pulling a pair of kidskin gloves from the trunk. She handed them to me.
I pulled them on, trying to ignore the spots on my hands.
“I’ll go downstairs and make sure Tira and Rhona are ready,” Morag said.
“Thank you, Morag.”
She nodded then headed out.
I went back to the window. I eyed Macbeth at the front of the army.
Just because I was riding south with Macbeth didn’t mean I had to tolerate a single word from him. He was nothing to me. No one. I would rule this land and rule it well, with or without him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow beside me.
I cast a sidelong glance to see the shape of Gillacoemgain there.
“Now I will go to Scone. I will become queen. But if I’d had a choice, I’d rather have stayed here all my life, content to be your lady and your wife,” I whispered.
While I loved Banquo, my words were true. I missed Gillacoemgain desperately. That beautiful dream Gillacoemgain and I had shared was rare, precious, and fragile… And it had been, in the end, just a dream.
I turned my head to look at him, catching only a glimpse of him before he disappeared back into the aether once more. But at that moment, I caught the soft, regretful look on his face.
One day I would be with him again.
One day.
But not today.
Adjusting my belt, I headed downstairs. Everywhere I looked, people were making ready. I passed through the hall, spotting Thora dozing sleepily by the fire. I went to her, bending to pet her.
“Lazy girl. What, you don’t want to become Queen of Scotland’s dog?”
Thora lifted her head and thumped her tail. Thora had never been one to miss an adventure, but the war had taken some of the spirit out of her. Both she and Kelpie had returned broken. It wasn’t like Thora to let me go without a disagreement. But this time, she didn’t seem interested. In a way, I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t excited to go either.
I patted her gently. “Be good. Keep an eye on my castle.”
Thora licked my hand then lay her head back down, closing her eyes to sleep once more. A nervous apprehension flickered in my stomach. What would I ever do without her?
“My lady,” Tira called from the door. “We have everything ready.”
Rising, I crossed the room and met Tira.
“Rhona is waiting outside with the Moray men. Standish has the horses ready.”
We exited the castle and crossed the courtyard. As we went, I pulled on Gillacoemgain’s helmet. In the courtyard, Standish waited with the blood bay stallion.
“My lady,” he said, helping me up.
“Thank you, Standish.”
“Lady Gruoch, this is Killian,” he said, motioning to a dark-haired man I had seen often about the castle. Killian had a serious, hawkish expression. I remembered him from amongst Gillacoemgain’s men. He was the second son of one of the clan leaders. “He has agreed to go south with you. He will organize your guard.”
I nodded to the man. “Killian. My many thanks to you and the others,” I said, motion
ing to the men assembled there, faces I knew.
“You are safe with us, Lady Gruoch,” Killian assured me.
“Safe travels, Queen Gruoch. Don’t worry about Cawdor. She will be held as you requested,” Standish told me.
“I’ve no worries,” I said, smiling gently at him. Gathering up my reins, I nodded to the others then we rode out.
The bay trotted gingerly across the field. I could feel the energy coursing through his veins. It took all the restraint he could muster not to sprint.
“Don’t worry,” I told the horse. “You’ll get your chance.”
The stallion turned his ears back to listen to me.
“Wild thing. Swift as an arrow, aren’t you?”
The horse neighed softly in reply.
My stomach turned as I approached Macbeth.
The years had done little to change him. His skin was still as pale as milk, his dark hair flecked with just a bit of silver at the temples. He was looking everywhere but at me.
I rode to him, stopping in front of him.
“How now, Macbeth?”
Finally, finally, he turned and looked at me. I saw his light-colored eyes take in my armor. The muscles around his mouth twitched. He inhaled deeply, slowly blowing out his breath.
“Where is Lulach?” he asked.
“Not here.”
“Not here? Then, where?”
“Not here, and not coming. Shall we?” I said, motioning to the field.
“But Lulach must come. He must ride south with us.”
I turned the blood bay and moved my horse alongside Macbeth. The bay snorted and stepped high, making the steed Macbeth rode shy sideways. Macbeth tightened his reins, controlling his nervous animal. I leaned toward Macbeth. “Lulach is not here, and he is not coming. You will not ask about my son again. Ride south, Macbeth.”
“Gruoch,” Macbeth whispered.
Tapping the bay, I rode to the front of the army, the men of Moray behind me.
Banquo, who had organized the line, called for the army to advance.
Whatever Macbeth thought was going to come next, he was very, very wrong.
Chapter 6
We rode throughout the day without incident. Bonfires lit the fields as we made our way south, a signal to us that the north was on our side. They were lighting our way to glory. From sunup to sunset, we rode southward. That night, the men of Moray prepared my tent. Across the field, I could see Macbeth amongst his own men. We hadn’t spoken since the sparse words we had exchanged that morning. It was for the best. I wouldn’t waste my breath on him. Once the tent was settled, I went inside to rest.
“Tira and I will find us something to eat, my lady,” Rhona said. “There are guards here to keep watch. I can smell that the soldiers are cooking. Let’s see what they’ve made.”
“May the Great Mother protect us,” Tira said with a laugh, exiting behind Rhona.
I chuckled then began pulling off my armor. My whole body ached.
“My lord,” one of the soldiers outside my tent said.
“My lord,” the second echoed.
I scowled. The last thing I wanted was to see or talk to Macbeth. I was relieved when Banquo called my name.
“Gruoch?”
“Come.”
He entered the tent, closing the drape behind him. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“Road-weary but well enough. How are the men?”
“Good. Eager to get to Scone.”
I nodded. “Are there any reports from our scouts?”
Banquo nodded. “The way south is clear, for the most part. There are mercenaries hiding in the woods, but our soldiers are making quick work of them. We have captured some of Northumbria’s spies. Otherwise, most of the lords who allied with Duncan have remained within their keeps, their armies disbanded. I suspect they will seek to broker peace.”
Outside my tent, one of my soldiers said, “Sir,” a hard tone in his voice.
“Sir. My lady is engaged,” Killian said. His shadow reflected on the tent, he moved protectively toward the tent opening. Another second soldier joined him, blocking the path.
Banquo and I both turned.
“Gruoch, perhaps you should remind the men of Moray that I’m about to be crowned king,” Macbeth called.
Still, the Moray soldiers didn’t move.
I met Banquo’s eye. A thousand unspoken words passed between us. I shook my head then pushed the heavy fabric of the tent door aside.
“You should applaud them for their loyalty to your wife and queen. It’s good to know that Moray will always see that I am safe. Did you need something?”
Macbeth frowned hard. “I understand Banquo is here. I would like to discuss the reports from the south.”
I glared at him, unable to hide my disgust. “Let him pass,” I told Killian. “This time only,” I added under my breath.
“Yes, my lady,” Killian replied, meeting my eyes.
I stepped back inside.
This was only the beginning. Somehow, I was going to have to find a way to live with this man, rule alongside him. I was going to have to find a way to co-exist with someone I utterly loathed. How does a person do that without losing their mind?
“Banquo,” Macbeth said, giving him a nervous smile.
Banquo inclined his head to Macbeth. “I was telling Gruoch that our scouts indicate that the way south is mostly clear. There are a few small bands, paid men, in the hills. I have sent men to route them already. Siward has spies out, but the Northumbrian army has withdrawn all the way back to their own lands. The southern lords have gone home, their armies dispersed.”
“What resistance Siward tried to rally has come to nothing,” Macbeth said.
“Once Duncan fell, there was no support. Even the southern lords will not back the Earl of Northumbria,” Banquo said.
“What about Crinian and Bethoc?” I asked.
“Still in Edinburgh,” Macbeth replied. “We believe that Suthen and Malcolm fled south when the fighting began.”
“How deep?” I asked.
Macbeth shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”
Banquo turned to me. “From what we were able to extract from Siward’s spies, I believe they have withdrawn to the court of Harthacnut.”
Harthacnut was the son of King Cnut who passed during the struggles. Cnut’s timing was certainly excellent, but by all accounts, Harthacnut was worse than his father. Hated by the people of England, inept and cruel, he didn’t strike me as long for the throne. He’d already lost Norway to Magnus and Thorfinn. But sending Malcolm and Suthen to Harthacnut was a wise play on Siward’s part. One day, they would return to take what Macbeth and I had stolen.
“A smart play,” Banquo said.
I nodded.
Macbeth turned to me. “I understand that Donaldbane was taken prisoner by the Irish king and that you’ve sent word.”
“Yes.”
“We must try to ransom him,” Macbeth said.
“The cost will be very high,” Banquo warned. “He will want the isles from Echmarcach.”
Macbeth nodded, considering. “That will brew another war. We should finish this one first. We’ll find another way.”
I raised an eyebrow at Macbeth. That was the first sensible thing I had heard Macbeth say in years.
“Agreed,” Banquo said.
At that, Macbeth smiled softly then turned to me. “And you? Are you in agreement?”
I gave him a steely gaze. What game was he playing? Or was he, too, trying to find a path forward. “Yes. For now.”
Macbeth nodded. “Thorfinn and Magnus have taken the fleet north, Magnus for his throne, Thorfinn for Ingibjorg.”
At that, Banquo chuckled.
“Do they expect any resistance?” I asked.
Macbeth smiled. “Only from Ingibjorg’s father. It will be easier to subdue Norway.”
At that, Banquo laughed. I could not help but grin, feeling glad for Tho
rfinn that he would finally be with the woman he so adored.
I cast a glance at Banquo who smiled gently at me. I returned the gesture.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Macbeth stiffen. “Well then. We’ll ride in the morning. I’ll see to the men now,” Macbeth said.
Banquo turned back to Macbeth. “Very good. I’ll inform you if any further news comes through from the field.”
“Thank you, Banquo,” Macbeth said then went to the tent flap. He paused. “Goodnight, Gruoch.”
“Goodnight,” I replied.
The tent flapped in Macbeth’s wake. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief.
“Let me get us some wine,” Banquo said as he rummaged through the supplies that had come from Moray. Digging into the trunk, he pulled out two goblets and a decanter, pouring a drink for us both. He handed one to me.
I moved to pull off my glove but paused.
No.
It would be better if I left them on.
I took the goblet.
“Are your hands cold?” Banquo asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
Banquo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I hated that he knew when I wasn’t telling the truth. Sighing, Banquo drank. “Well, there is one bit of good news. Macbeth seemed steadier that I have seen him in years.”
“Seeming is not being.”
“True.”
“And what do your druid’s eyes tell you?” I asked.
“When it comes to Macbeth, my vision is like muddy water. Seeing him a madman lets me keep him at a distance. It keeps you away from him. It keeps you with me. Seeing him well makes me pity him. If he is well, he can be your husband again, which my heart will not permit. But a steady Macbeth means a steady Scotland. We need him to be steady, not for us, but for the country.”
“I agree that he needs to be well for the good of the country, but you are wrong on one count. It doesn’t matter if he recovers his wits. I will never permit that man near my heart again.”
Banquo raised his goblet. “Praised be the gods.”
I lifted mine as well. “Yes, praised may they be,” I said.
Chuckling, Banquo drank. But I froze. I stared at my hand. The fabric of my glove was marred by red spots. The blood had seeped through.
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