“Aye,” Niall agreed. “Queen Fiona sent me to warn Leland about Lord Fergus. However, it appears I am too late. Do you know where they have gone to search for the princesses?”
She nodded as a knot formed in her stomach. “Some of Leland’s men arrived this morning with a young squire they found injured. While they were here, they informed me Leland, Tristan and their crew set sail for the Blathnaid Isles. The crew must be close to them now. They discovered one of Fergus’ commanders, Lorcan, took Gwyneth and Isla.”
Niall’s eyes narrowed. “Lorcan. I’ve heard that name before. Leland battled him in Órlaith last year. He’s a fierce warrior. I must make haste to join Leland as soon as possible.”
Airell put her hand up to stop him. “Now, you’ll be no help to Leland or anyone else if you exhaust yourself. Stay here for the night. I’ll have the servants prepare guest chambers for you. Two ships of Daireann soldiers, are leaving tomorrow morning to sail to the isles under the command of my uncle, Lord Edmund. You can leave with them.”
The physician appeared to relax and Airell felt the tension in her shoulders release as well. “Very well, Your Majesty. Thank you for your generosity. Now, you said you have someone in the castle who is injured? Can I offer some assistance?”
Airell felt her spirits lift. “You are an answer to prayer! He suffered a wound to his abdomen. Our physician at the castle stitched it closed, but now the young man is suffering from a high fever.”
Niall rubbed his chin, seeming to mull over what she told him. Then he stood. “I’ll go retrieve my medical satchel. If you show me to his room, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate your expertise.”
Niall arose early to check on his patient one more time before he would have to depart for the Blathnaid Isles. To his relief, the young man’s fever had broken and his wound was no longer hot and swollen like the previous day. He reapplied a poultice to the wound and then left the jar with the remaining mixture on the nightstand along with some more herbs for the patient to be given if the fever returned.
When Niall returned to his guest chambers, he saw his wife had woken up while he was gone and was sitting in a chair by the hearth. “Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well.”
She nodded and offered a brief smile. “I did. How is your patient?”
Niall placed his medical satchel on the bed and grinned. “He’s doing much better. I believe he’ll make a full recovery.”
“‘Tis good. I’m glad to hear it.”
She turned back toward the hearth and began brushing her long golden hair. He watched her for a while out of the corner of his eye while packing items into his larger satchel. It was unlike her to be so pensive. She’d only eaten a few bites of supper the night before and was unusually quiet. He came up from behind and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. “Thinking about your mother?”
Sibeal craned her neck and managed a faint smile. “Aye, perhaps a little. I wonder if she even thought of the implications her actions would have.” She shook her head and turned her attention to the glowing fire.
“I don’t know, my love. Perhaps one day she’ll come to her senses. For now, I’m just relieved you are safe. I pray the climate of the village cools while we are gone. It is wrong for them to think ill of you because of your mother’s wrongdoings.”
“Aye, but I can’t blame them. I went along blindly with her scheming for a long time before realizing the error of my ways. If not for you, I may have continued down that path. They have every reason to mistrust me.”
Niall knelt by her chair and gripped her free hand in his. “Things are different now. I do hope you don’t still place blame on yourself for past mistakes.”
She sighed and put down her brush, pausing to caress his cheek. “I try not to, but the feelings of regret creep up on me every now and then. I suppose this quest to bring King Leland home safely may help to redeem me in the eyes of the Kielyan people.”
“No matter what they think, you are already redeemed by the one who really matters. Jesus has already paid that price for you. No one can take that away.”
She smiled with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Niall. You are a true gift from God. Whenever I look at you, I remember how good He is. He’ll protect us on this new journey.”
Niall felt a lump rise in his throat at the mention of the journey they were about to embark on. Seeing the injured young man was a reminder of the dangers they would encounter. “Sibeal, I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that. I believe it would be best if you remain here in Beatha.”
Sibeal’s brow furrowed as she looked into his eyes. “Remain here? Niall, what are you saying?”
He sighed and squeezed her hand tighter. “I almost lost you last year. I cannot risk putting you in danger again.”
“We made it all the way here and now you wish to leave me in this foreign land while you rush off to fight a deadly enemy on the isles?”
“You will be safe here. You cannot deny it is the best plan right now.”
Sibeal drew her hand away from his, hurt registering on her face. “If I would have known we would be separated, I’d have never left Kiely.”
“You didn’t have a choice then. But you do now. I’ll not force you to stay here, but it would ease my mind if you did.”
Sibeal released a ragged breath before starting to pace by the window. After a while, she paused and turned back to him with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I will not just sit by while you go and risk your life for the kingdoms. That’s not the kind of person I am, Niall. You know this. I’m coming.”
He sat down, rubbing his chin. “‘Tis as I expected. I suppose there is no talking you out of it.”
“No,” she said while approaching and kneeling in front of him by the hearth. “Not this time, my husband. I would rather die fighting by your side than live a sheltered safe life in a fortress.”
He chuckled softly and met her gaze, pausing to brush a few strands of golden hair from her face. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met.”
A grin curved on her lips. “Would you change me if you could?”
“No, certainly not. I’d never dream of it.” With that, he pulled his wife into a passionate kiss, even though a shiver of fear passed through him. They didn’t know what the future held. Their quest to the isles could usher death for both of them, but at least they could treasure the present.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Isles
A day and night passed by as Commander Lorcan’s ship traveled west. Since Gwyn’s ankle had been wrapped, the swelling decreased significantly. It was still a little sore, but being confined in the small ship cabin prevented her from walking very much anyway. She and Isla found creative ways to entertain themselves during the long hours trapped there. Her friend still wasn’t speaking because of all the trauma they’d experienced, but she did play dice games with her.
On the second morning, Gwyn peered out the small circular window at the never-ending waves and blue sky. At least she still had a view of the outside world beyond the ship’s cabin. Otherwise she may have fallen into despair. As she watched, a gull fluttered onto the outer sill of the window, filling her heart with hope.
“Isla look!”
Her friend sat up from the bed and moved toward the window, smiling when she saw the bird. They hugged and cried happy tears at the sight, watching more of them gliding above the water. Then as the ship turned gradually to starboard, something else came into view. “Land!” Isla cried out.
Gwyneth hugged her friend closer. “Oh, Isla, you spoke. Praise be to God. I was so worried.”
“Land,” Isla said again, this time her voice filled with emotion. “Did they return us to Daireann?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s the Blathnaid Isles, I believe. But do not despair. At least we’ll be on dry land now.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Gwyn wished she hadn’t said them. It would be a welcome change
to step foot on dry land again, but they would be on an isle, surrounded by water, with little chance of escaping. Still, she was thankful her words helped ease Isla’s trembling.
They watched the land grow larger in the distance, until details of the small harbor came into view. There were men waiting to help the ship dock, along with some fisherman and peasants working nearby. Gwyn had never seen the isles, but knew most of the peasants earned their livelihood by fishing. It was good to see most of them still at work, even though the isles had been occupied by Lorcan and his men.
Soon there was a knock at the door and the commander came in flashing a proud grin in their direction. “We’re here. Come, Your Majesty. I believe you will be pleased with the quarters we have prepared for you.”
Gwyn wanted to cry, but stopped herself from doing so for Isla’s sake. Instead, she held her friend’s hand while Lorcan led them to the top deck. She squinted in the sunlight, unaccustomed to the brightness after being cooped up in a dimly lit cabin for nearly two full days.
Lorcan assisted them to the dock and up a rocky path toward the village. On the outskirts, they reached a stable where servants already had horses prepared for them to ride. Gwyn and Isla shared one as they rode the rest of the way to the fortress walls. Along the way, they saw villagers standing outside their homes watching them. Several of them bowed in respect, recognizing her as their princess, yet sadness radiated through their eyes. There was nothing they could do to help her, nor she them. They were all captives of Lorcan and his men.
When they approached the gates, Gwyn craned her neck to look up at the structure beyond. It was a small fortress—less than half the size of her home in Beatha—yet its height was a stunning sight to behold. Located on a cliff overlooking the sea, its towers soared into the sky, the top halves cloaked in the thick fog that covered the entire isle like a downy gray coverlet. A shiver ran down Gwyneth’s spine, pondering for a moment if the fog would swallow and never release her.
Then, as the gates creaked open, a thin ray of sunlight peeked through, warming her face and bringing her hope. Somehow things would be all right. Somehow, they’d make it back home.
“I trust you will find your new chambers acceptable,” Lorcan said as he led them through a high arched doorway. The room was larger than her normal accommodations and had a luxurious four-poster bed, intricate tapestries and cushioned chairs by the hearth. Most of the furnishings in the room were decorated in a pale gray-blue—almost the same shade as the thick fog outside the window.
Gwyn reached for Isla’s hand and tried to keep her voice from trembling. “Aye, it will do nicely, as long as my maid can stay with me.”
Lorcan raised an eyebrow. “I had arranged for her to stay in the maid’s quarters down the hall, but I supposed exceptions can be made. At least until we are wed.”
“And when will that be?”
“King Fergus will arrive, in about three days hence. He wishes to be present for the ceremony. Then we shall make our home here on the isles. Until then, you may take time to rest from our voyage.”
Gwyn shivered at the mention of marriage to the man who had deceived and held her captive, yet fearing his anger, she decided it wouldn’t be the right time to speak her mind. “Thank you for your kindness, Milord,” she said, although thanking him was the very last thing she felt like doing.
Her response coaxed a smile from his lips. “You’re welcome, Milady. We are not yet wed, but please think of this place as your home. Feel free to venture anywhere within the castle grounds. I do not wish you to feel like a prisoner here.”
Gwyn nodded, but didn’t speak, realizing Lorcan’s mindset was much different than hers. Being a prisoner, didn’t always mean being trapped behind bars. The palace grounds would be their prison and Lorcan, the warden. Even if they did manage to escape, there was still the vast ocean surrounding the isle. It became clear, their only obvious way out would come from someone on the outside. However, anyone who made an attempt at a rescue only had a three-day window before she would be forced to marry a man she despised.
The next morning, Gwyn woke up feeling refreshed. After bathing the night before to cleanse herself of the grime and salt from their long journey, she’d gone straight to bed and Isla had followed suit. They’d been too exhausted to even eat supper.
Gwyn padded across the room, pleased to realize her ankle was no longer sore. She looked out the one window in her dismal quarters. Some of the fog had lifted, allowing a few rays of sun to filter through the clouds. Perhaps they would be able to go outside and enjoy the nice weather. After being cooped up on the dark ship cabin for nearly two days and then the gloomy castle yesterday, it had seemed like an eternity since they’d enjoyed a nice stroll in the sunshine.
Isla woke up soon after and then a few maids fluttered in, carrying gowns for them. Gwyn’s was a lovely shade of violet—one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen with white buttons and embellishments over the bodice and down the sides. Noticing Isla’s was a plain shade of gray, paired with an apron, Gwyn almost started to object. Then she held her tongue, remembering Isla was posing as her maid for her own safety. If anyone found out, she could be married off to an enemy lord as well. Plain clothes or not, she didn’t wish that fate upon her dear friend.
After dressing and eating breakfast in their room, Isla glanced down at her maid’s clothing and then gave her a sad smile. “I suppose I better find the other maids and make myself useful. We don’t want to draw suspicion.”
Gwyn nodded and dabbed at her eye with a cloth napkin. “I wish you didn’t have to, but I know you speak the truth. Above all, I want to keep you safe. Will you return here tonight?”
Isla smiled and stood, offering a little curtsy. “Aye, Milady. As you wish.”
She released a deep sigh. “Oh, Isla, you don’t have to do that in private. I feel bad enough as it is that you have to be treated below your station. I would change it if I could.”
Her friend sat beside her on the bed and hugged her. “Do not pity me, Gwyneth. This is only temporary. Once my cousin comes to rescue us, things will be made right again. I may have lost my hope briefly, but ‘tis returned now. You know who I dreamed of last night?”
“Who?”
Peace filled her friend’s eyes. “Slade. We were free and happy again, taking a stroll through Beatha Valley. You know, we both experienced captivity before, all those years ago, when the usurper, Malcolm, attacked Órlaith. We survived then and we’ll survive now.”
Gwyn smiled, her friend’s encouraging words lightening her mood. “Do you believe he still lives?”
Isla nodded. “I feared he was dead before, but I believe God sent me the dream to restore my hope. We will meet again.”
“I pray it to be so, my friend.” She gave Isla one last hug, before her friend had to leave. Then alone in the room, Gwyn truly felt the weight of isolation on her shoulders for the first time. When Isla was with her, they bore it together, but while she was gone, it almost felt unbearable. However, the feeling was short-lived. A middle-aged maid with brown hair came into the room to fix her hair.
The woman offered her a bright smile, reminding her of her mother in a way. “Good morning, Your Majesty. I’m Miss Leery. Commander Lorcan has requested your presence in the courtyard for the midday meal.” She paused to study her. “I must say, you have a head of thick, beautiful hair. How would you like to wear it today?”
“A simple cage braid will do. You do not have to make a fuss over me.”
The woman chuckled from behind her. “Making a fuss over you is my job, Milady. Besides, you do want to impress the commander, correct?”
Gwyn sighed upon the mention of his name. “I suppose I should. Forgive me if I am unenthusiastic about the match.”
“There is no need to apologize. ‘Tis no secret the betrothal was not your choice.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “To be honest, the remaining people of Blathnaid do not desire this marriage to happen either. You see, our fu
tures are intertwined with yours now, Your Majesty.”
Gwyn furrowed her brow as she looked at Miss Leery’s reflection in the mirror. “So, we should be trying to make me look undesirable. Then, perhaps Lorcan would change his mind about the marriage. Am I mistaken?”
The woman took out a brush and nodded. “It may seem that way, but a much better plan would be to impress the commander and gain his trust. Then escape while his guard is down.”
She watched the maid working the tangles out of her long wavy tresses. Was she really trying to help, or was she a spy sent by Lorcan to trick her into confessing something? Treading carefully, Gwyn asked, “Even if I could escape the castle grounds, the sea will still separate me from home.”
“We will help with that. An opportunity will arise. Just be patient.”
“You keep saying we. Are there others who are willing to help me?”
A smile spread across Mrs. Leery’s face. “Aye, Your Majesty. There are many survivors from Lorcan’s attack who are still willing to fight back. We may lack large numbers because most of our young soldiers were killed during battle, but we have other strengths. There are secret passages Lorcan and his men know nothing about. We just have to wait for the right opportunity to arise.”
Gwyn felt a smile curve on her lips, knowing she could trust her. Joy and hope filled her heart to the brim. “Bless you, Miss Leery. This is the best news I’ve heard since this whole ordeal began. After I escape, my army will return and defeat Lorcan. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Princess Gwyneth. If not for your arrival, we wouldn’t have very much hope of freedom at all.” She smiled through her tears. “Now, enough about our plans for today. We can’t keep Lorcan waiting. I have a hairstyle that is certain to impress him.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Pretender
Lady Gwyneth's Hope (Ladies of Ardena Book 4) Page 9
