by Heidi Hanley
As soon as they entered Briana’s room, Cailleach told Claire to leave.
Briana walked to the balcony, still trying to calm the fury inside her. How ridiculous this all was. Over a bloody kiss. A splendid orange and black butterfly flew to the railing, interrupting her angry thoughts. “Look Cailleach, a monarch butterfly.”
“Unusual to see them here. Ironic, isn’t it, that one would appear now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a choice to make, Briana.”
The seriousness of the witch’s tone refocused Briana on the situation at hand. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you? I’ve disappointed you, yet again.”
“I’m not mad that you kissed Silas. It was just a kiss…”
Not exactly, thought Briana, catching her breath at the memory.
“I am concerned about a queen who would put her own desires above the needs of her kingdom.”
Though the words were spoken gently enough, Briana felt as though Cailleach had slapped her. Tears welled.
“You must decide what you’re going to do and then commit to it. Any faltering, any indecision, could result in the death of people you care about. Don’t think for a minute Sigel decided to send Silas away rather than kill him because of your threat. He’s already given you the option of leaving. It was pure grace and love for both of you that made him weak. You dare not tempt him again.”
“Weak? How was that weakness?”
“Under any other circumstance, he would order the man to be executed.”
“Over a kiss? Ridiculous.”
Cailleach shrugged. “I didn’t make the rules. Sigel is responsible to the king before anything or anyone else.”
Silence filled the space as Briana thought about what the witch said. “I understand, Cailleach, and I don’t want to fail, but what you need to understand is that I’ve waited for Silas my whole life. He’s lived in my dreams. My soul has talked with him. It’s not so easy to dismiss the love of my life.”
“And this kingdom has waited your whole life for you,” she replied, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully. “There is something else you should know about Sigel.
“He was married once. Molly was a kind and beautiful woman who died in a tragic accident.” Her eyes filled with grief. “She and Sigel had been in love their whole lives. Her death left a hole in in his heart I doubt anyone could fill. So, when you said what you did, I imagine it was a like a knife ripping through his heart all over again.
“You must learn to be more careful, Briana. You can heal or you can wound with your words. I know that you would never intentionally hurt someone like that.”
Briana bit her lip and closed her eyes to prevent tears from flooding out of her. Oh, Maker, is there nothing I can do right? Can Sigel ever forgive me for that thoughtless remark? “I might as well leave Uisneach now,” she said. “I’m making a mess of things.”
“You’ve not done anything irreparable yet,” Cailleach said. “But you do have to make a choice and then either go back, which I do not encourage, or work on becoming a true queen.”
Feather-light, the butterfly fluttered around her and landed on her hand. Briana smiled at the small, perfect creature, amazed that it allowed her to stroke its satiny wings. She would’ve sworn she heard it speak to her. We are kindred spirits. We are queens.
“I will make this right, Cailleach, just as soon as I get over being angry at Sigel.”
“Get over it quick, please. Wounds fester when left untended. We don’t have time for indecisiveness. We need a strong queen who can do what needs to be done.” She stood at the door, preparing to leave, but paused and looked at Briana with an unmistakable twinkle in her eye. “So, how was it? The kiss?”
Briana closed her eyes, and sighed. “It was beautiful and perfect,” she said dreamily. “More wonderful than I could ever have imagined.”
“A gift to be treasured always and never repeated.”
Briana nodded.
A light knock ended the moment. Cailleach admitted Claire, who placed Briana’s breakfast on the table. At a look from the witch, she turned and left.
“You have much to think about, Briana. Don’t keep us waiting long for your decision,” Cailleach said, as she closed the door behind her.
Briana picked up the cup on the tray and took a sip, but ignored the food. Two decisions to be made. One, would she stay and accept the role of Queen of Uisneach? If she did, what kind of queen would she be? The butterfly wafted by, leading her to the balcony. Silas was riding away on a chestnut stallion.
How do I live without you?
He turned and looked up at the balcony window. You will never be without me. Remember what Nionon said. We share the same soul. I’m never away from you in spirit. He offered up a wave and turned back to the road before him.
When he was out of sight, she curled up in the chair beside the fireplace. Now she understood the depth of the sacrifice asked of her. I feel like such a failure. How do I honor the promise I made in the grove? She leaned her head back, closed her eyes and cleared her mind of all thought except one. Will I stay?
Blue-gray stone surrounded her as she passed through two heavy wooden doors to a large hall. In front of her, flanked by colorful banners, sat two thrones. One was empty. On the seat of the other rested a monarch butterfly. She walked to the thrones, past two lines of people she knew and loved: Cailleach, Genevieve and Jack Wells, young Rippa, Sir Thomas and Lady Isabella and Sigel. At the end of the line on one side stood her mother, smiling and nodding. Across from her stood Silas, his eyes bright with love and pride. He nodded to urge her forward. The butterfly rose up and she took its place on the throne. Unfamiliar energy dwelled in the throne beside her, without form, but strong and trustworthy. An ermine mantle settled across her shoulders, then a hawthorn crown descended upon her head. Heavy at first, it became lighter as she grew accustomed to the weight of it.
The vision ended.
Bittersweet determination thickened her throat as she made her decision. The butterfly glided around her in apparent approval.
Bittersweet determination thickened her throat as she made her decision. The butterfly glided around her in apparent approval.
Her belly rumbled. She nibbled on the oat bread. So, what kind of queen do I want to be? She finger-danced with the butterfly while running through the merits of all the queens and female world leaders she could think of, the wild Irish Boudicca, the Queen Elizabeths, and first ladies of her own country, until she rested upon the one quality that defined the great ones. Sacrifice.
Am I willing to sacrifice my personal desires for Uisneach, or will I be the catalyst for its demise? If I choose to continue on this journey, I will have to fully accept that I can never be with Silas in the way I want to be, to believe we were brought together and given this telepathy for some purpose other than to live a bucolic life with me as his wife, bearing his children.
Aye, that would be lovely, Silas said, but it will have to wait for another time. Just be yourself, Briana, and the rest will fall into place. I’ll do me part to help and not hinder your victory.
When her thoughts finally settled upon one course of action, Briana leaned back in the chair with a deep, satisfied breath. The butterfly circled around her once more before floating out the balcony door to be carried away on the winds of fate.
Chapter Twenty-two
From the Frying Pan into the Fire
“There are hundreds of acres here and three training rings,” Sir Thomas told Briana as they walked toward the stables. “You’re free to ride wherever you like, with guards, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied, with only the barest trace of sarcasm. It was her first time outside since coming to the mansion, and she was awed by the splendor of the home and its stables, and the amazing view of a seriously sheer cliff dropping down to the ocean. Briana turned around to gawk at the mansion again. Hundreds of crows perched on the roof, all along the ridge and dormers.
“Is
there a purpose to all the crows along the roof?” she asked.
“Watchers. All are capable of shapeshifting in the event of a threat upon Winge Mansion, but for the most part, they simply alert us to any visitors.”
“A self-contained army,” she murmured.
“Quite right.”
Entering the barn transported her to another time and place: horse, hay, leather and liniment evoked pleasant memories from her youth. Her eyes grew accustomed to the shadowy interior, revealing a spotlessly clean aisle that was easily wide enough for three horses abreast. Along both sides of the aisle were ten stalls, enough for twenty animals and, if the sounds emanating from the boxes were any indication, they were full. Except for one, presumably the chestnut Silas had taken. The nickers, whinnies and soft chatter were music to Briana’s ears. The chatter, she discovered, was Epona talking to a horse she was working with.
“Epona?” Sir Thomas called out.
A delicate head with a long dark braid swung out of a stall. “Briana! You’re here! Wonderful! One second, and I’ll be right out.”
Briana and Sir Thomas wandered down the aisle. He introduced the magnificent blue-blooded equines. One big black stallion had his head over the wooden door, making spirited, blowing noises at her. She moved toward him, and then paused, noticing a clear warning in his eyes.
“You, sir, are very handsome.”
His ears twitched and he snorted. Dara stepped forward, a tiny growl forming in his throat. Briana pulled him back and stroked his head reassuringly.
“Meet Dorian Gray, my mount,” said Sir Thomas. “Don’t go too near until he knows you. He’s a bit of a beast.”
“Or so you’d like us to think,” Briana crooned at Dorian Gray, keeping her distance.
The stable housed a red mare, a matched set of bays with four perfect black stockings, a smaller white horse, a black mare much smaller than Sir Thomas’ stallion, and an assortment of other horses. At the last stall, Briana found the horse that called to her soul, a beautiful dappled gray mare with a black mane and a black tail flowing almost to the ground. She had the delicately dished head of an Arabian, but on a larger body, like an Andalusian. Strong and powerful, her body was clearly made for battle, but there was a contrasting gentleness in her manner that spoke to Briana. She slowly raised her hand toward the horse, who nuzzled her.
Breath like hay and apples tickled the skin on the back of Briana’s hand, bringing a smile to her lips. The horse’s dark eyes met Briana’s and an instant kinship was established.
“Meet Banrion,” Epona said, as she came up beside Briana. She pronounced the name “Ban-reen.” Briana repeated it under her breath. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Briana could only nod, so taken with this lovely, strong creature. “Do you like her?”
“Oh, yes,” Briana whispered. “She’s beautiful.”
“Good, because she’s yours.”
“What!”
“Sir Thomas told us to select a mount for you, and this is the one Silas chose for you,” she said.
“Silas?”
“Is an excellent horseman and thought she would be the perfect mount for you,” Sir Thomas interjected. “The Taranian stables will be a good home for her.”
It was almost a full minute before Briana could respond. “You want me to keep her? I couldn’t.”
Epona turned to her. Placing one hand on each of her shoulders, she said, “Briana, you will be the Queen of Uisneach.” Her tone was firm. “Gifting this horse to you is the least Sir Thomas can do for you.” He turned away.
Embarrassed? Angry? Briana wondered if she’d ever get the hang of being a queen.
“You must graciously accept her,” said Epona. “Besides, the two of you are obviously soul mates. Silas chose well for you.” She gave Briana a conspiratorial wink.
Banrion pushed her muzzle gently up against Briana’s cheek, sealing the deal with a horsey kiss. The women laughed. “Well, Banrion, I guess you and I are a team,” Briana said, stroking her velvety nose and bonding with the animal.
“When Cailleach clears you for riding, Epona will take you out,” Sir Thomas said, “but we best return to the house for lunch. Epona, will you be joining us?
The woman shook her head. “I’ve a mare foaling. I want to stay here.”
After checking on the mother-to-be and determining that it might be a while, Sir Thomas urged Briana to come with him, promising that Epona would alert them when the mare foaled. Briana hugged the Mistress of the Hunt, and left with Sir Thomas.
Briana’s stomach grumbled at the aroma of oyster stew and warm bread being laid on the dining table. “I guess I’m hungry,” she said, smiling, as she took her seat.
Until Sigel walked in. Seeing him reminded her that for no good reason, Silas was gone.
There is a good reason, a mhuirnin. Let it go. He did what he had to do.
Hrmph…
“Lady Briana.” Sigel bowed formally.
“Lord Marshall.”
She could not let it go. Neither could she express her anger. Instead, she turned her attention to Lady Isabella. “I want to thank you for Banrion. I can’t say I’m comfortable accepting such a gift, but your husband insists I must.”
“As do I. It is the least we can do for our future queen.”
Briana forced herself to avoid looking at Sigel. “Thank you. Also, following up on our conversation from yesterday – is there more we need to discuss about staffing issues?”
Lady Isabella lips parted in a pleased smile. “Why don’t you plan on spending tomorrow morning with me?”
Briana agreed. “Where’s Cailleach?” she asked, suddenly noting the witch’s absence.
“Out for a walk,” Sigel answered, between mouthfuls of soup. “She said to tell you she’d come this afternoon to check your leg.”
Briana nodded and turned to her meal. No further words were exchanged between the two of them, though Briana was careful to keep her expression and behavior neutral. The conversation was friendly and informative. Briana learned all she could about the day-to-day operations and atmosphere of Winge Mansion.
Cailleach met her in her room after lunch and wasted no time in assessing her leg.
“It’s all but completely healed. I think you can start riding in a day or two, but I’m going to recommend to Sigel you remain here for another week.”
Briana spent the afternoon lighting candles with magic, changing the flow of the breeze coming through the balcony doors and trying to make a goblet move. Claire gasped when it slid an inch. The energy it took to do these things exhausted Briana, so she decided to try a simple scrying in hopes she might find guidance about her recommitment to the prophecy.
Once centered and relaxed by some breathing, she gazed into the bowl of water. Letting go of any unrelated thoughts, she reached a place of receptivity and was not surprised when ripples skittered on the surface and rearranged themselves into an image of a golden castle. Details emerged: a tree beside the fortification, locked windows, a little person curled up by a fireplace, books and papers strewn about on the floor. A face flashed before her, a man with ice-blue eyes and long blonde hair. Handsome. Cruel. Enemy. Split-second thoughts dashed through her mind. The minutia of the room disappeared, replaced by a fast-flowing river and a boat. The image lasted only a couple of seconds before her mother’s worried face appeared.
Use your power to save yourself, said her mother.
I’m okay.
Lastly, Silas’s face emerged, strong and reassuring. My great cat.
The vision left Briana more confused than satisfied. “Claire, would you please hand me my pack out of the wardrobe?”
Briana found the map and unrolled it. A lone figure with bow and arrow made his way to Ratskillen. No other figures appeared to threaten his journey. Well, that’s good, she thought. Shimmering gold drew her attention further north. Aurum Castle. A tight line of gray figures encircled the castle. Coward, she thought, wishing the prime minister could hear her. You don’t have
the guts to meet us face-to-face. Ard Darach remained under a blue haze. The sooner we get there, the sooner this comes to an end, and the sooner I can get on with my life, whatever that means.
She sat back in her chair, yawning. A rap at the door erased any idea of a nap. “Come in,” she said, wearily. When Sigel walked through, she stiffened.
“I wish to speak with milady, Mistress Claire. Alone.”
The girl looked at Briana, who nodded, then left, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Cailleach tells me you’ll be ready to leave in a week.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be riding tomorrow?”
“I hope to, yes.” She wished he would come to the point. Maintaining a pleasant expression and finding more than obligatory words was proving to be a challenge.
“Then we’ll leave a week from today. My question to you is – are we going to Baigsith or Ard Darach?”
They stared at each other until Briana finally said with as much queenly dictum as she could muster, “We ride north.”
“Good. You have a few things to do before we leave, which will keep you busy enough, I suspect.”
“I do. I’ll be working with Lady Isabella, hopefully riding with Epona and I know Cailleach wants to go into Derryfeeny for supplies. You may want to plan on accompanying us on the trip.”
He nodded. “I’ll speak with her about it.”
An awkward silence hung between them. He turned to go.
“Is there anything I should know? Any word on Shamwa?”
He frowned as though confused by the question.
“I’d like to have a report each day about what’s happening. If I’m going to be the queen, I would appreciate being treated like one. I want to be involved in the planning and decision making from now on.”
“Ah, I see. Well, perhaps you’re right, milady. You will have the privilege as you earn it.”
She gritted her teeth, wanting to argue, but forced herself to stay calm. Resentment didn’t provide an excuse not to correct a wrong on her part. “Sigel?”
“Yes, milady?”
