CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Dreams
“Leland!” Fiona cried, sitting straight up in bed. The same dream had awakened her three nights in a row. She kept seeing Leland fall during a battle by the sea. He was in pain, but no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t seem to reach him.
Fiona drew in several ragged breaths while taking in her surroundings. She was in the Kielyan Castle, but Leland wasn’t beside her. Then she remembered he was far away in Daireann. She had yet to hear word if her carrier message or Niall had arrived in time to warn him of Lady Kyna’s escape from the tower. Not knowing if he was safe tormented her.
“Mama,” a voice said from beside her.
She looked down at Clare, the dim light outlining her sweet face. Ever since the attack on the castle, her daughter had been sleeping in the royal chambers instead of the nursery. “It’s all right, my darling,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Is Papa coming home tomorrow?”
Fiona shook her head, taking a moment to smooth her daughter’s unruly curls. “No, but he will be returning soon. I promise.”
Clare seemed satisfied with her answer and closed her eyes again, yet Fiona couldn’t erase the fear from her own heart. Did the dream mean something? Why would Leland be involved in a battle near the sea?
Her maid knocked on the door a few moments later and Fiona called for her to enter. “Is everything all right, Your Majesty? I heard you cry out.”
“Aye,” Fiona answered, pulling on her robe before moving to one of the chairs by the hearth. “I only had a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Would you like me to bring some tea to help you relax?”
She nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
After she left, Artair sat beside her and Fiona patted the wolfhound’s coarse gray fur, drawing comfort from his warm presence. “It’s nice to have you here, boy, but I wish you were with Leland right now. He needs someone to protect him, too.” The dog responded by resting his head in her lap and releasing a deep sigh, as if he worried about Leland as well.
Her maid returned a few minutes later and served the tea. Artair rested on the floor by her feet and soon she felt her body relaxing, the dream beginning to fade from her thoughts. Fiona set her cup aside and ran her hands over her protruding stomach, feeling the child kick. “Now that I’m beginning to relax, you’re growing restless. So much different than Clare. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if you were a boy.” The kicks calmed down and Fiona drifted off to sleep in the chair. It wasn’t long until she was awakened again—this time from someone knocking on her door.
The servant bowed after coming in. “Your Majesty, I apologize for coming at such a late hour. A carrier pigeon and rider arrived with correspondence from Daireann.”
Fiona sat up straight in her chair. “What do they say?”
He opened the first, carefully smoothing out the tiny folds, telling her it was from the messenger pigeon. “It says unfortunately your warning message came one day too late. A company of men infiltrated the Beathan Fortress the eve before the wedding. They took Princess Gwyneth and Princess Isla.”
“Took them where?”
“The Blathnaid Isles. Soldiers have been sent on a quest to rescue them.”
Fiona’s heart sunk. “And what of the second message?”
The servant gave her a knowing look, recognizing the worry in her voice. “Aye, Your Highness. There is a sealed letter from King Leland, for your eyes only.”
After the servant placed the first message and the sealed letter in her hand and left, Fiona stood from her chair, pausing as a twinge of dull pain tightened through her belly. When the feeling passed, she crossed to the window, gazing at the stars and moon illuminating the mountains. Then she opened Leland’s letter and lifted a candlestick close for light, bracing herself to learn what she already feared to be true.
My Dearest Fiona,
I pray this finds you well. Please give Clare a hug and kiss from her Papa. I had hoped to be starting the journey home by now, but it appears I shall be delayed a little while longer. I’m sure by the time you read this letter you’ll have heard of Isla and Lady Gwyneth’s disappearance. While I long for nothing more than to hold you all in my arms and witness the birth of our child, I hope you’ll understand, I cannot abandon my sister in her time of need. I do not know where this journey will lead, but please remember my love is with you. It will always be. Keep the faith and pray for me until I return to you.
All my Love,
Leland
Fiona wiped her eyes and looked at the date of the letter, comparing it to the carrier pigeon’s message. Leland’s letter had been sent sooner, but it took longer because it was carried by a rider. It explained why the Blathnaid Isles weren’t mentioned. However, she knew in her heart that’s where he was. The dream flooded back to her—Leland falling in a battle near the sea. It was real. Her husband’s life hung in the balance and she couldn’t be there to help him.
Fiona felt her knees going weak and barely was able to brace herself against the window sill. Pain tightened through her belly again and she cried out before sliding to the floor.
Artair barked in alarm and her maid came rushing in, eyes wide with concern. “Your Majesty!”
Fiona clutched her abdomen, trying to concentrate on her breathing. “The child is coming. Send for the midwife and Widow Delaney. Quickly!”
After struggling to fall asleep on the rocking ship, Niall came up to the deck to stargaze and calm his thoughts. However, he was disappointed to discover a thick fog had rolled over the sky like a downy blanket.
A few minutes passed before he heard familiar dainty footsteps approach from behind him. “Are we nearly there?” Sibeal asked. How can the captain even navigate through these conditions?”
He sighed as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “The captain has traveled here before and is accustomed to the fog.”
“What is the plan when we arrive?”
“Both ships will anchor in a small inlet on a neighboring isle close to the main one. It will allow us to navigate by rowboat unseen by the enemy.”
She craned her neck to look up at him. “I suppose that is good. It will give us the element of surprise. I have to admit, I’m not keen on the idea of transferring to a smaller boat, but at least afterwards, we’ll be on dry land for a while.”
He studied her pale complexion in the dim light, noting dark circles under her eyes. “Are you certain you are still up for the journey? It’s going to be treacherous.”
Sibeal grinned at him. “Has that ever stopped me before?”
Niall chuckled softly and shook his head. “No, I suppose not.” He kissed his wife’s cheek and pulled her closer to him. He’d been watching her carefully during their voyage to the isles since she had suffered from seasickness for most of the way. Part of him wanted to implore with her to remain on the ship, but he knew her stubborn nature all too well. It was better for him to allow her to come and keep a close eye on her than having her try to sneak onto the isle with no protection.
They stood holding each other for a while until land came into view. The Blathnaid Isles seemed to rise from the fog, creating an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Once they arrived and began their quest, there would be no easy way to retreat back to the ship if things went amiss. Still, he had made a vow to Queen Fiona to bring Leland home safely and Niall always remained true to his word.
By the time the midwife and Widow Delaney arrived, Fiona’s labor had intensified tenfold. She was thankful Clare had been taken back to the nursery by her maid so she wouldn’t hear her mama in pain.
“The child is coming, but breached,” she heard the midwife say, causing tears to roll down her cheeks in fear for her unborn child.
“You can do this, dear lamb,” the widow, whom she called Aunt Edna encouraged. “You are strong.”
“It’s too soon,” Fiona cried.
“Only a few weeks. Try to relax and the c
hild will come easier into the world.”
Fiona tried, but she couldn’t help remembering her awful dream. “Leland,” she whimpered. “He should be here now. What if he never meets his son?”
Aunt Edna dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth and shushed her gently. “He will, dear lamb. He will. When he returns, you’ll be holding the wee one in your arms and introduce them to each other. Leland will be so happy and so proud.”
Fiona thrashed her head from one side to the other as another contraction came and went. “No, you do not understand. The letters…please read the letters.” She motioned toward the nightstand where they sat. “He’s in danger…maybe even dying. I dreamed it.”
Aunt Edna picked up the letters and scanned them, her eyes filling with understanding. Then she held Fiona’s hand. “This does not mean we should lose hope. Now is the time to hold onto our faith tighter than ever. It’s not Leland’s time to leave this world. You will be reunited again.”
Fiona looked up at Aunt Edna, hope filling her heart again. “Will you pray?”
“Aye, dear lamb.”
As the midwife told Fiona to push, Aunt Edna’s prayers filled the room. She felt God empowering her with the courage and strength to bring her and Leland’s child into the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Forgiven
Gwyneth startled awake with the sensation of falling. She gasped for a breath, only to inhale bits of sand. Coughing and gagging commenced, until her airway cleared. Exhausted, Gwyn turned onto her back and breathed deeply, staring at the night sky.
The fog had lifted, giving her a perfect view of the full moon, but there was something odd about its appearance. It was trembling.
She blinked hard, believing her eyes were deceiving her, but when she opened them again nothing had changed. Gwyn lifted her hand in curiosity, reaching for it. Perhaps she was still dreaming. That was when she noticed her arm’s violent tremors. The moon wasn’t shaking. She was.
The events of the evening came flooding back to her and she remembered losing grip of Lorcan’s hand after they’d plunged into the water at the base of the waterfall.
She sat up and screamed his name, glancing upstream and then the other direction. Tears streamed down her face, remembering how difficult it had been for her to escape the strong undercurrent from the waterfall. After making her throat raw from screaming, Gwyn resolved herself to the grim truth. Lorcan had probably drowned or died from his wound.
She rested back on the sand, hands wrapped around her middle, in a vain attempt to control her shivering. Exhaustion pulled her in and Gwyneth closed her eyes. Images flashed in her mind—images of Tristan. She’d heard his voice in the cavern. There was no mistaking it. Was he on the isle looking for her?
Gwyn’s eyes flew open, knowing she couldn’t give in to sleep and risk never waking again. She had to survive. She had to find Tristan.
She forced herself to her feet with a groan. Every muscle cried out in protest from the night’s ordeal, but giving up was not an option. First, she needed to find a way to warm herself. The quickest way to do that was by making a fire.
With the moon for a guide, Gwyn stumbled her way down the shore, gathering driftwood and some dried grass for tinder. Once collecting a good amount, she left it in a dry place and headed back toward the river. There, she knelt by the bank, picking up various rocks and studying them in the moonlight.
After moving to a few different locations, Gwyneth found what she was looking for—a dark stone with smooth grooves that reflected like glass. A trembling smile spread across her face. She had the flint. Now, she only needed some steel to strike against it.
She was still pondering it when hearing a low noise, a short distance away. Gwyn lurched at the sound at first, thinking it to be an animal’s growl. Then she gathered her courage and went in search of the source. After traversing a small raised embankment, she heard the sound again. This time it sounded like a person groaning. She hopped down to another sandbar. By the water, she saw the shadow of a man, lying on his stomach.
“Lorcan!” she called out, rushing to his side and brushing some dark hair away from his eyes.
“Gwyneth,” he managed to whisper. “You’re alive.”
“Aye, we both are.” After thinking she was alone in a strange place for the evening, Lorcan’s face was a welcome sight. However, when he started to tremble in the cool breeze, she remembered what a grave situation they were in. “We need to move to shelter and make a fire.”
Lorcan agreed and attempted to rise into a sitting position. He’d barely lifted his upper body off the sand before crumpling to the ground with an agonizing groan.
Gwyneth placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Please, lie still so I can look at your wound.” He obeyed, allowing her to lift the back of his tunic. The dim light from the moon didn’t allow her a clear view, but she saw enough to reveal the stab wound in his lower back was deep and bleeding heavily. She covered her mouth to keep from being ill.
He clamped his eyes shut after witnessing her reaction. “You must leave me…and help yourself,” he rasped, panting for breath. “I won’t hold it against you…after what I’ve done.”
Gwyn shook her head. “I most certainly am not leaving you.” She thought for a moment before tearing some fabric from the bottom hem of her skirt to make a bandage. Then she removed her long, braided belt. After covering the wound with the bandage, she carefully wrapped the thin belt around his waist several times and tied it to keep the bandage in place.
Afterwards, she studied their surroundings. The sandbar angled up slightly and then flattened out. It appeared to be dry sand. If they made camp up against the embankment, it would provide a bit of a shelter from the wind. She turned back to Lorcan. “There is a suitable place to make camp a few yards away. We can make it if we work together.”
He looked doubtful at first, but nodded eventually. “All right, Milady. I trust you.”
Gwyneth helped Lorcan stand and then supported him with her arm around his waist as they hobbled up the sandy incline. It was a long, painful journey to the level part of the sandbar, but she didn’t stop until they reached it.
After making Lorcan comfortable, she went back up to retrieve the firewood and tinder she’d gathered. Upon returning, Gwyn dug a small pit in the sand and placed the tinder in it to start the fire. Then she paused, remembering the missing item.
“What’s wrong?” Lorcan asked, lifting his head.
She shrugged, her bottom lip quivering from the cold. “I have the flint, but no steel.”
He furrowed his brow, appearing to think over the problem. “I’ve got a dagger in my left boot.” He winced trying to reach for it.
“Just lie still,” she said. “I’ll get it.” She retrieved the dagger and then laughed while kneeling near the pit for the fire again. “How many blades do you have? I already borrowed another dagger from you this night and I saw you fighting with two swords during the battle.”
He grinned at her. “Well, as you can see…there’s always a need for an extra one.”
“Aye, you may have a point.” She struck the flint against the blade several times to make sparks and light the tinder first. Then she started adding sticks and larger pieces of wood. Soon the fire was large enough to stop them both from shivering.
Gwyn knelt next to Lorcan and tried to check his wound again, but he gripped her hand, preventing her from doing so. “There is no need. You’ve done enough for me already.”
“But I can see more clearly with the firelight. I could bandage your wound better.”
He shook his head, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “That will only delay the inevitable. Lady Kyna intended for me to suffer a slow, miserable death…if the waterfall didn’t kill me first. My punishment for betraying Fergus.”
“I could cauterize it to stop the bleeding.”
He shook his head, chin quivering. “It’s too deep for that. I’m dying, Milady.”
“No, you’re
not,” she argued as tears flowed down her cheeks. “I won’t let you. This was my doing. I persuaded you to go against Fergus.”
“No, lovely Gwyneth. Do not blame yourself. You opened my eyes and convinced me to do what was right. At least now I can die honorably.” He smiled and kissed her hand before releasing it. “‘Tis more than I deserve, after all I’ve done to you…and your maid. I never should have tried to force you into a marriage. I never should have sent your friend away.”
Gwyn’s eyes widened at the mention of Isla. “Do you know where she is?”
His eyebrows knitted together in distress. “She is on her way to my kingdom.”
“Beibhinn?”
He nodded miserably, his breathing becoming more labored. “I’m sorry. I would do anything…to undo my actions. I told my men she was a maid. I thought it better…than the truth. At least she’ll not be forced to marry a nobleman when she arrives.”
“You knew she was highborn all along?”
“Aye, Milady. I kept the secret…to protect her.”
She looked away for a moment, her temper flaring, but she couldn’t remain angry at Lorcan while he was in such anguish. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
“There’s one other thing you should know. There will be more of my people coming to Ardena. Many more.”
“What?”
He closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to catch his breath. “Lady Kyna…she made an alliance long before marrying Fergus. In the near future, she will have an army coming…larger than you’ve ever seen. They will help her claim Ardena, like she’s always desired.”
Gwyn shivered at the thought, but then peace washed over her. “Our enemies will not prevail. Not with the Lord on our side. My people and I have survived the reign of Malcolm and Fergus. One day, with God’s help, we will defeat Lady Kyna and her army as well. I am not afraid.”
Lady Gwyneth's Hope (Ladies of Ardena Book 4) Page 14
