Highland Queen

by Melanie Karsak

  “But what will we do?”

  “Uald is ready to lead this place until Crearwy is of age. The others know the way.”

  “I love Uald, but she is not like you. The gods don’t speak to her as they speak to you.”

  Epona laughed. There was bitterness in her voice that I’d never heard before. “The gods don’t speak to me anymore. As for your unborn child, I don’t know. And I am sorry for it. I never saw you with another child in my visions.”

  “Epona, I have something else to ask.”

  “Hmm?”

  “The night I came here after…after what happened. You saw that I would bear two children. But did you see, clearly and for certain, that Duncan was their father? Please. Try to remember.”

  Epona sat down. She tapped her fingers on the table as she looked into the fire. “That night was so strange. Full of omens. Before you returned, the skies raged. Wolves howled. The owls and ravens shrieked. But the vision…” she said, squinting as she looked into the flames. “I saw two children. Clearly. And I knew that your daughter would come here. She had to. I saw Crearwy grow in this place. I saw her make things right for us again. I saw you carrying twins.”

  “But then? Right then? Was I with child at that moment?”

  “At that moment…”

  “Epona, I did as you advised me. I took Gillacoemgain to bed at once. Crearwy looks so much like Gillacoemgain’s sister. And Lulach’s smile… Is it possible the visions you had—the visions I had—were confused? Deluded? Is it possible that Lulach and Crearwy really are Gillacoemgain’s children?”

  Epona sat back and sighed. “The gods play games. They move us as they wish, and then leave us blind as they wish. What did Andraste say?”

  “That they were Duncan’s children.”

  “And how many hard choices did you make based on her words?”

  My life. My whole life had been set into motion based on those words. “Many.”

  “The gods move us, Cerridwen. Andraste, she has become like them. Perhaps she is a goddess now, I cannot say. The magic she uses is beyond my understanding,” she said then shook her head. “But I have never cared for her meddling. Nor for her, to be honest.”

  “Then it is possible that they are Gillacoemgain’s children after all? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “My visions were no more exact than your own. I cannot say for sure Duncan was the father. I saw children. I saw you round with twins. But the father…”

  My knees felt weak. I sat down.

  “You must ask Andraste. That secret, black, and midnight hag. You must convince her to tell the truth. After all, it’s done.”

  “What’s done?”

  “The deed without a name.”

  I was about to ask Epona what she meant when the door opened to reveal Juno, whom I had met only once before, and two women I did not know.

  I rose.

  “Cerridwen,” Juno said with a smile. “Many welcome returns.”

  “By all the gods, this is Cerridwen?” the older of the two women asked.

  Epona laughed lightly. “Cerridwen, this is Tully.”

  I smiled at the woman. She had long, pale blonde hair streaked with grey. Like Uald, she wore trousers and a tunic. Her skin was tanned and weathered, a testament to her days on the road.

  “I’m so pleased to finally meet you,” I said, moving to embrace her. All these years, I had heard tale after tale of the mysterious Tully who wandered the country looking for new recruits, following wherever the Goddess led, traveling to each of her sacred groves.

  “Your timing is auspicious. I am about to travel north, now that our new rulers have things quieted down,” she said with a wink.

  Epona chuckled lightly. “Cerridwen, this is Flidas,” she said, introducing a girl with long, brown hair standing behind Tully. At once, I noticed the girl bore a tattoo on her brow that was not unlike Banquo’s.

  “Sister,” I said, inclining my head to her.

  “Flidas is called by the nature spirits, creatures of the wood. Her mother is the leader of another coven,” Epona explained.

  “It’s good to meet you, Cerridwen. You are much spoken of here. And well-loved.”

  I smiled at her, feeling uneasy under the sharpness of her gaze. It was almost as if she was seeing through me to someone or something else. “I’m pleased to meet you as well.”

  Flidas smiled at me.

  “I was about to make breakfast,” I said, picking up my bowl once more. Turning to the fire, I lifted the pan and began ladling cakes thereon.

  “Epona, let us finish your work,” Juno said, taking the water pitcher from Epona’s hand.

  Epona relinquished her work without complaint then sat on a stool before the fire. She watched me work. The other women went into the kitchen of the house, chatting busily.

  “The other covens,” I said to Epona. “I am in a position to do more. To help. It would be helpful to know where—quite literally—I can be of use.”

  “Balor,” Epona said. “Speak with Balor. I do not have the say I once had.”

  “Perhaps not, but I think you must still have some influence,” I said, casting a glance at Flidas.

  Epona chuckled. “A raven’s eyes miss nothing.”

  I grinned but said no more.

  Aridmis returned not long after, Crearwy along with her.

  Once my cakes were made—and I felt rather proud of myself that I had managed not to burn any—everyone sat down to eat. Once more, I sat at the table with my sisters. I hadn’t been Queen of Scotland for a week, but in Epona’s home, I felt more at ease than I had in some time. But the starkness of the meal wasn’t lost on me. While the offerings at the coven had always been humble, they had never been meager. As I looked at the others, I realized Aridmis looked far thinner than I remembered. Worries bubbled up in me.

  Crearwy sat beside me, Beauty squeezing into the small space between us. Much like Thora, Beauty waited for scraps, but she was far more elegant in her manner. Lifting her paw, she gently nudged Crearwy. Crearwy fed bits of bread and dried meat to her dog. Beauty ate cleanly, not dropping a bite. If I had not already been sure of her lineage, Beauty’s outstanding ability to win bits of food certainly would have convinced me Thora was her dame. Yet Beauty’s manner was far more refined than Thora’s. Where Thora would chomp and slobber, Beauty waited politely and ate cleanly. Crearwy had picked a good name for her dog.

  The others chatted as they ate. I kept quiet, watching Crearwy as she interacted with the women. My sisters treated my daughter well, but Flidas’ eyes missed nothing. And I did not miss hers. I sensed no malice in the girl, but there was magic at work within her. When the meal was done, Crearwy took my hand. “Come, Mother. We have work we must attend to. The others will help Epona.”

  “What work, my love?”

  “You’ll see,” she said.

  I looked at Epona who nodded. Crearwy led me out of the house and across the square to Sid’s home. We opened the door to find the place dark and dusty.

  “You tend the fire. I’ll remake the bed,” Crearwy told me.

  “Is Sid coming?”

  “That’s what Nadia said.”

  “Nadia?”

  Crearwy nodded. “She came to me when I was feeding the horses. I told her you were here. She left to get Sid.”

  “So you see her…always?”

  “Only when she wants to be seen.”

  “You were born in this room,” I told Crearwy.

  “So they tell me. I’ve seen this room, Epona’s house, Aridmis’ house—all the little houses—the barn, the smithy, and the forest. My world,” she said, a bitter tone in her voice. “They tell me Madelaine has castles. And my mother has a kingdom. I have the coven.”

  “Crearwy,” I said, stopping to look at her. “You must understand…I mean, I am certain Epona has explained…”

  “That I’m here for my own safety? Yes, I understand. My brother Lulach will become king, and I will rule the trees.”


  I stared at her, shocked to hear such a harsh tone in her young voice.

  “Things are not easy for women at court. Here, you are free. You can live any life you please. I’ve given you a free life. You can choose any life you want.”

  “Any life?” she asked.

  “Well…I mean…”

  “Hmm,” Crearwy mused then opened the door. Carrying a blanket with her, she went outside and shook out the linen.

  I turned back to the fire. Rattled by Crearwy’s dark words, I nearly burned my fingers on the flames when I set a log in the hearth. I pulled my hands back only to see the spots of blood thereon once more.

  Sitting back, I looked into the fireplace. Flames flickered to life.

  Outside, I heard Crearwy snapping dust from the linens. I lifted my hands and looked at them. I had murdered my cousin. I had married the man who killed my husband. I had forsaken my druid for Lulach’s sake. I had left my daughter behind, a daughter who appeared to resent my choice. And if she disliked it now, how much she might grow to hate me in the future? I had done all these things because I’d believed Andraste’s words.

  I stared into the flames.

  “Andraste,” I called sharply.

  The fire crackled.

  “Andraste.”

  The flame flickered, and a moment later, a window opened to Ynes Verleath. There, I found Nimue.

  “Where is Andraste?” I asked.

  “Hail Queen.”

  “Nimue, where is Andraste?”

  Nimue shook her head.

  “She is a coward. Tell her I will have the truth from her, one way or another.”

  Nimue nodded. The expression on her face suggested that she was not in disagreement with my anger.

  “Nimue, do you know the truth? Do you know the answer to the question I want to ask?”

  “And what is your question?”

  “Is Gillacoemgain Lulach and Crearwy’s true father?”

  “I only know what you know. I see only what you see, Cerridwen.”

  “And what is it that you see?”

  “I see what you see,” she said with a soft smile and then the vision faded.

  I sat back and ruminated on her words. Did she mean that her vision was blocked the same as mine, or did she mean that she and I saw the same thing—that Andraste had lied? That Gillacoemgain was their father. Was she trying to tell me that what I was realizing was true?

  “You riddle, Nimue. Shame on you,” I whispered to the flames.

  A moment later, Crearwy returned. She lay the blanket on the bed.

  “Daughter, please come to me,” I whispered.

  I could tell from the expression on her face that she was still unsettled, but she came all the same.

  I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my head against her soft belly. How sweet she was, soft and warm with skin as smooth as butter. I sighed heavily.

  “What is it, Mother?”

  “If I have failed you, I am sorry. I did what I thought best for you. I may have been misled.”

  Crearwy patted my head. “Then don’t be misled again. I’ll go get some water now.” Pulling from my grasp, she snatched two pitchers from the table and headed out the door.

  I rose slowly, feeling dizzy as I did so. I set my hand on my stomach.

  “Easy,” I whispered.

  “Cerridwen?” a voice called from the door.

  I turned to find Flidas there.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you, but I’ve seen something that confuses me.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve seen you at my mother’s grove. In my visions. Have you been there?”

  “I…No.”

  She nodded slowly. “No. You’re right. Your hair was different in my vision. I’m sorry. I was hoping you had news of my mother. I haven’t seen her in some time.”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  She looked around the room. “I’m very fond of Sid. Will she be here soon?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good,” she said then smiled happily. “It’s hard to find such honest souls. Again, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said then turned and left.

  Flidas’ manner unnerved me, but she was right about one thing. I turned and gazed at the flames. Honest souls were in short supply.

  Chapter 18

  I spent the rest of the morning with Crearwy, indulging her whim to ride my horse.

  “What do you mean he doesn’t have a name?” Crearwy asked as she rode him in circles around the coven square.

  “I never thought of one.”

  “It feels like he wants to jump into the heavens and run. He’s very swift.”

  “How about Swift?”

  “Swift,” Crearwy said with a laugh. “That’s perfect. You should have just called him that from the beginning.”

  I chuckled.

  Horseback riding was followed by hunting the woods for mistletoe, which mostly consisted of Crearwy chasing Beauty through the forest, digging for truffles, unsuccessfully tracking deer, and all manner of other curious but exhausting things. When we returned to the coven, Crearwy decided she wanted to work at weaving.

  “I’ll take some rest,” I told my daughter.

  “All right. I have to help Epona with the lunch soon anyway,” she said. Jumping up, she gave me a peck on the cheek then ran off.

  My heart was filled with joy, but my body felt weary. I returned to Sid’s house. The fire was burning nicely. After our work that morning, the house was bright and clean. I lay down on the bed, promising myself I would only close my eyes for a few minutes. But sleep came quickly upon me. I was deep in my dreams when I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me.

  “Crearwy? I’m sorry. Is it time to eat?”

  “Almost time for supper,” a snippy voice replied.

  I opened my eyes to find Sid sitting there. She was grinning at me.

  “Sid.”

  “Slept the whole day, did you? That’s what they told me. What, crown too heavy?”

  “Something’s too heavy.”

  “Oh, yes, Epona was whispering. Finally caught our man’s lightning seed, did you?”

  I chuckled. “Apparently.”

  “Well, that won’t complicate anything.”

  I huffed a laugh. “You’re right about that, old friend.”

  After I sat up, Sid handed me a package wrapped in parchment that looked more like leaves than paper.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A gift.”

  “You brought me a gift?”

  “Not I.”

  “What is it?”

  Sid chuckled. “That’s not how a gift works. Open it.”

  I moved aside the brittle wrapping. Within, I found a pair of gloves. “What are these?”

  “Gloves, of course.”

  I chuckled. “I see that. But from whom?”

  “The Unseelie Queen.”

  I looked from Sid to the gloves to Sid again. “What?” While the Seelies were known to be benevolent, the Unseelies were another matter. The Unseelies, at least what I knew of them, disliked humans and often caused harm. While all the fey stayed away from humans, the Unseelies found mankind particularly repugnant.

  “That’s why I’m late,” Sid said. “The Unseelie Queen came to the Seelie court to bring me these to give to you. Everyone was in a titter. Then the Seelies were vexed because they had no gift for you. I told them they needed none, but everyone was upset. And no one understood the gift, not even me, until I saw.”

  “Saw what?”

  “Those rosy fingers of yours. Can’t get the blood off?”

  “You see it? You see it too?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m just glad it stayed on your hands and didn’t get all over my bed. Gruesome. You must have had quite the time with your cousin to leave such a mark.”

  “What is this mark, Sid? Why are these stains there?”

  “It’s a curse. You’ve stained your very soul. Don’t you
see? Such a pity. You always had such lovely hands. But try these on. They’re made with cloth found only in the land of the fair ones.”

  A curse.

  I had stained my soul.

  I lifted the gloves. They were made of soft black fabric that felt like silk but was sturdier. The hems were trimmed with silver embroidery. There was a pattern in the material itself. It appeared and disappeared as I moved the fabric.

  “Are they bespelled?”

  “That’s what I asked. They are. But the Seelie Queen looked them over and promised they’d bring you no harm. My guess is that the spell quiets the bloody marks.”

  I slid the gloves on, waiting for the red spots to soak through. But they didn’t. My hands stayed covered and clean.

  “Did the Unseelie Queen say why she sent these?”

  “No. And I didn’t have the nerve to ask her.”

  “No matter what gloves I put on, the spots remained. The blood always soaked through,” I told Sid.

  “Not now,” Sid said, taking my hand.

  “Not now. Why would such a creature send something to me?”

  “One day you will take your place among the Wyrds. Perhaps she hopes you will remember her kindness then.”

  I sighed. “We shall see.”

  “Right. But we shall see later. Now, you need to go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “Back to Madelaine.”

  “But I just got here. And you just got here.”

  “I know, but Nadia says you need to go now. Madelaine needs you.”

  “Sid! I haven’t seen you in years.”

  “So I complained. But I’m told that it’s urgent. So you must go. Kiss me once, like you mean it, and then you can depart.”

  Not waiting for me, Sid set her hand on my neck and pulled me into a deep kiss. Her mouth was warm and sweet as if she had been eating honey by the spoonful. She slipped onto the bed with me, straddling my lap. With her free hand, she gently stroked my breast.

  My mind wanted to resist, but in the end, I fell into her kiss.

  I loved Sid.

  I loved Sid in ways I didn’t understand.

  And I loved her kiss.

  After a time, Sid pulled back. She sighed heavily. “Now, I have to let you go. What a pain. I’ll see you again though,” she said then leaned toward my stomach. “And you, wee thing, what are we going to do with you?”