The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  In seconds, she reviewed her life, the experiences she’d had since coming to Uisneach, and her own heart for the truth of who she was, and whether or not she could abandon her deepest yearning for the greater good of this place she loved.

  Releasing a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, she said, “Why don’t we try that kiss again?”

  This time, when he leaned toward her and he took her face in his hands, she opened herself to the possibilities that might come from this marriage. He would never be, could never be, Silas. Silas was her other half, the fulfillment of the deepest part of her soul. She held no deeper longing than for them to be together as one, but Uisneach needed them in different roles now. For the sake of Evalon, the Tollemys, the Winge family, Sigel, Cailleach, and even for Silas’ sake, she must commit to this alliance, which would begin with a kiss.

  He tasted of wine and bread. His exploration deepened and his hands went to her hair, caressing, as he sighed into her mouth. Her hands found their way around his neck and pulled him closer. They lingered until she gently pulled away. It was done. She’d made the leap and sealed the contract. Though her heart ached, her mind was clear, and for the moment anyway, at peace.

  He took her hand and pressed his lips upon it. “Thank you, Briana. I promise I will do my best to make you happy.”

  They sat silently, looking at Ard Darach and contemplating the future of Uisneach. Finally, Brath stood and reached for her hand. “Are you ready to go home, my lady?”

  The word “home” startled her momentarily, but it was her home now, not just the house she lived in. She nodded as she rose and allowed him to help her mount Banrion. She didn’t need the help, but the symbolic gesture made sense, and she smiled at the man who made it. She considered leaning down to kiss him again, but before she could, he had a foot in the stirrups of his own mount. Just as well, she thought. I need these butterflies to roost for a while. She was a little saddened by the bridge she’d just crossed.

  Grooms received the animals. Brath walked her to her room. Perhaps sensing her ambivalence, he touched his lips to her hand in courtly fashion, and left her with the promise to see her at dinner. She hoped she wouldn’t run into Silas on his way down. She hoped she wouldn’t see Silas anytime soon. How could she ever look him in the eye? She removed Nua from her side, and sat on the bed. Dara jumped up beside her. The dressmaker arrived, and she turned her attention to matters at hand. Chiefly, her wedding gown.

  The entire afternoon passed with the dress fitting and readying herself for the evening. With nothing to do but wait, she elected to go down to the great hall on her own. Making a stop at the kitchen for Dara’s supper, she was greeted with “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” over the black and white gown, courtesy of Queen Eleanor. That lasted only seconds before she was bombarded with questions about the coming meals. Turning each query into an opportunity to give the staff confidence in their own decision-making skills, Briana and Dara left the kitchen content with the way things were turning out at Ard Darach.

  The great hall was splendid. The fire in the massive fireplace was warm and comforting. It seemed no matter how sunny the day, the nights were always cooler, and peat fires were always kept at least crackling in the hearths. She took time to really examine the main room of her new home. Tapestries and the banners of the five kingdoms led the way to the throne. Evalon’s standard featured a faerie tree. On Cedarmara’s flag, someone had stitched mountains ceding way to the ocean. Painted across Appleduir’s was a brightly colored floral scene. Dromdara’s banner featured the insignia of the House of Taranian, a winter-white weasel bearing a crown of gold braids and holly. The last banner, for the kingdom of Tynan Ibor, showed the Uisneach Tree with the dryad’s face. Oh, wise Nionon. I’ll never forget your kindness. I hope we meet again, someday. The tapestries told the glorious story of Uisneach, adding new information to what she’d already learned.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark shape scurry toward her. The mouse stopped in front of her and looked up, its round black eyes blinking, curious. They stared at each another, aware of a kinship that began the day of her birth.

  Good evening, Queen Briana.

  I’m not the queen yet.

  Don’t be coy. Making battle plans, kissing kings and ordering servants about. Of course you are the queen here.

  Everything is happening so fast.

  So it is. The trick is not to get gobsmacked by it all.

  She glared at the rodent. Easy for you to say.

  Whiskers wiggled as he lifted and balanced himself on delicate back feet. Oh, you think it’s easy being a mouse? Scurrying about, avoiding cats, traps, brooms, feet and any other horrible means of ending my life?

  I see your point. How do you suggest I manage it all?

  Be alert but stay calm. Trust your instincts. Focus on Uisneach and avoid traps. Be graceful.

  She mulled the words over in her mind. Do you think… ?

  A squeak preceded a whoosh of air and the yellow straw of a broom sweeping across Briana’s line of sight, aiming to crush the wee creature.

  “No,” she shouted, knocking the broom out of the way, pleased to watch her four-pawed friend scamper away to the safety of a hole near the fireplace. Prim and proper Mary O’Brien simply raised one eyebrow in response.

  “Well, now, we can’t have every furry creature from hill to glen wandering freely about the castle, now, can we? They’d eat us out of house and home.”

  “I doubt this one fellow would make much of a dent. Besides, he’s a friend of mine.”

  “You’re a lovely woman, milady, but I must say, I think you’re a bit daft.” Shaking her head, she walked back to wherever it was she had so inopportunely come from. Her words might have been considered inappropriate, but made Briana like her all the more. Near-catastrophe averted, she turned her attention back to the story of Uisneach.

  She was standing in front of the throne. Make that two thrones. A second, smaller version of Brath’s giant oak armchair had been added. Both were covered with vibrant red canopies, rich brocade cushions and brilliant carvings that were a work of art. Polished to a sheen, each featured an ash tree whose branches reached across to the other throne. Across each backrest was a large, circular carving of the Taranian sigil.

  She wobbled, her knees heavy from the weight of the responsibility upon her.

  She heard footsteps behind her and made a conscious effort to relax when Brath put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I thought I knew the story of Uisneach pretty well, but these tapestries, the symbolism of the banners, and the thrones makes it even more real.”

  “I think something else has made it real for you, Briana. I think today you decided to claim this kingdom and these people as yours.”

  She didn’t argue, but that decision had been made eons ago. It was this man and this home that she may have started to come to terms with today. At least she thought she had.

  He turned her around to face him and kissed her again. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into him. Strong arms pulled her close, and her own arms slid around his waist and explored his back. They lingered into the kiss, only stopping when a kittenish purr escaped from her throat. He pulled away with a chuckle and whispered, “You can make that sound anytime.”

  She opened her eyes to find, with complete dismay, that Silas had come in behind them with his usual catlike quiet and witnessed the moment. She saw the mixture of pain and acceptance on his face and wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness, but she couldn’t. The best she could offer was a flushed look of regret and apology.

  His smile was fixed. “Good evenin’, Your Majesty. Lady Briana.”

  “Hi Silas,” Brath greeted him, sounding a little stilted. “Getting ready for this evening?”

  “I wanted to speak with you, but it can wait.” Her heart broke to hear his usually bri
ght voice so muted.

  I am so sorry, Silas. So, so sorry.

  “No, of course not, come in. Briana and I were just reviewing a little of Uisneach’s history. What’s on your mind?”

  He paused, looking at Briana. “It’s about the weddin’. I was going to ask you if you had anythin’ in particular you wanted for the reception, but really, it can wait.”

  Briana, sensing an opportunity to speak alone with him, quickly agreed. “Why don’t we meet here after breakfast in the morning and talk about it.”

  “As you wish,” he said. “Please pardon my interruption.”

  “No need to apologize,” Brath said, but Silas was already making his way to the back of the room, where his harp stood.

  The great hall quickly filled and the sounds of a well prepared meal and sharing of the day’s events. When the meal was over, the dishes cleared away and cups refilled with mead or ale, Silas moved to his usual place in the center of the room for storytelling.

  “Are you taking requests, Silas?”

  “Of course, as Your Majesty wishes.”

  He turned to Briana and took her hand in his, placing a kiss on her fingers. “I’m in the mood for something romantic.”

  And so the evening wore on, Brath cheerfully requesting one amorous song or story after another, Silas looking like a water-logged wooden Indian and Briana feeling bilious.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Matters of the Heart

  “Briana?”

  “Huh… what… Si…” Pine and bergamot – Brath, not Silas. Briana clamped her lips shut.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, tentatively.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He cleared his throat. “There’s something I’d like to talk about.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “Please, Briana. It’s important.”

  “Okay,” she said, wrapping herself in her robe. “This can’t wait until morning?”

  “Please. I’ve been tossing and turning all night. It’s really bothering me.”

  “What?” she said, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

  He lit the candle beside her bed with the flame from the one he carried and sat down on the bed. “We had such a good day, and then during dinner, you seemed distracted. Did I do something to upset you?”

  She fiddled with her sleeve, searching for a reasonable response. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just got… confused, and then upset with myself.”

  “Why?”

  She met the question in his eyes, first with silence and then a sigh. “Things are happening so fast, Brath. I’m having a little trouble sorting through unexpected feelings.”

  Curling a hand lightly around hers, allowing her the space to move away, he said, “I’d be happy to help you sort things out, but I’m guessing that kissing you into oblivion wouldn’t be the way to do it.”

  She squeezed his hand. “No, it would not, but damned if I don’t appreciate the thought.” She moved away from him to the table where the ríocht set stood, sparkling in the firelight. “But there are other ways for us to get to know each other.” She swept a hand toward the green game pieces.

  “You want to play ríocht? Now?”

  She nodded, smiling. “Let’s spend some time together as friends. No pressure.”

  He let out a breath, then nodded. “Yes. I feel so rushed. I hate it. This isn’t what I imagined –”

  “Then let’s just relax and do something fun,” she said. “I mean, hey – you’re the king. And I’m going to be the queen. Shouldn’t we get to make the rules?”

  “I like the sound of that.” Brath smiled.

  Hours later, sunlight filled the room when Briana declared, “Check!”

  Brath considered his options. A loud bang on the door was followed by it bursting open to admit a red-faced Sigel and Silas, who went pale at the sight of Briana in her nightgown, leaning on one neatly exposed knee, across the table from an equally disheveled king.

  “May I help you, gentlemen?”

  “I’ve been looking all over for you, Brath,” Sigel said. “We were supposed to meet with the knights for training.”

  “Oh, I forgot. Sorry.”

  “I thought you’d been taken.”

  “We were supposed to discuss weddin’ plans this mornin’,” Silas reminded Briana, his face as hard as one of the stones of the dolmen.

  “Did it occur to neither of you that I might be with Briana?”

  “No, it did not!” Sigel said.

  “Yes, it did,” Silas said simultaneously, staring at Briana.

  “Well, if you all don’t mind, I think I’ll get dressed,” Briana said, wishing the room would empty of men and the hot glut of emotional turbulence they were bringing to the start of her day. “Silas, why don’t you meet me in the garden in an hour?”

  An hour later, hair and emotions under control, Briana found Silas sitting on the bench, his head in his hands.

  He brushed away catkins beside him. “Lovely bench. Care to sit down?”

  They sat beside each other. She welcomed the silence of not knowing what to say, was grateful to share the ache in his heart. Two hawks screeched overhead, dipping and diving, circling into and drawing away from one another in an age-old mating ritual.

  “I’m sorry, Silas.”

  “You have nothin’ to be sorry for.”

  She met his eyes. “I’ve hurt you and I hate myself for it.”

  “You’ve only done what you were supposed to do. What I – we, all pushed you to do.” He glanced sideways at her. “But, there’s the knowin’ you belong to him, but then there’s the seein’ it. Two entirely different things.”

  She stayed still, waiting.

  “You seem to like him well enough.”

  She heard the edge in his voice and noted the glint of resentment in his eyes.

  “He’s impossible not to like, Silas; you know that. You knew I would find a kind, caring man and a capable and dedicated king.”

  “Aye, I only wish you hadn’t noticed it quite so soon.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  He slapped his knees. “No, it isn’t, but I’m discoverin’ that even the most charitable man isn’t made of stone. You do not owe me an apology and I am grateful you won’t be locked into a miserable marriage, but don’t ask me to apologize for feelin’ as I do.”

  “I’m not asking for an apology. I just don’t want to lose us, and I don’t know how to manage that and do what I need to do as the queen.”

  “In this world, there is no ‘us,’ Briana. In another world, perhaps, but here, you belong to another man. Well and happily, it seems.”

  Knowing he was taking his pain out on the only person he could, she let his hurtful words pass. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  They walked along the path to three silver birch trees she’d rescued from an overgrowth of gorse bushes. “Birch symbolizes the ability to adapt to changing or difficult situations,” she told him. “They can root in shallow soil, in places where other trees would die. They stand strong in the face of adversity.”

  Sunlight filtered through the delicate leaves, making dewdrops sparkle on a plant in the center of the grove, two enjoined hearts woven from the spiny, tenacious branches of the gorse she’d cleaned away. She watched his chest rise and fall as he understood and accepted the meaning of her display.

  He stood and turned toward her, his eyes shining with remorse. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be,” she whispered. “It won’t be easy, but there will always be an ‘us.’ I made this our special place, where either of us could come when we need a reminder.”

  He nodded.

  She gave them both a moment before saying softly, “Now, shall we get on with these wedding plans?”

  They returned to the bench, where he explained the traditional sections of the ceremony.

  “Brath wants me to add something that’s meaningful to me.” She grimaced. “What would that
even look like? Short of bringing my mother here as my matron of honor, or substituting you for him,” she paused, “I can’t think of a thing.”

  “I have an idea, but I would keep it from you until the weddin’. Will you trust me?”

  “Of course. How will I know what it is?”

  “You’ll know. Briana?”

  “Hmm?” She swiped away a spider, making its way near his leg.

  “Thank you. For the talk, for the hearts. It helps. Do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me. You can’t live worryin’ that every move you make with Brath is goin’ to hurt me. I want you to be happy, and if he makes you so, then I’ll be happy.” He offered a half-smile before adding, “Someday.”

  Footfalls on stone alerted them that they were no longer alone.

  “Here you are, my lady,” Brath said, admiring what she had accomplished. “This is remarkable, Briana. It’s starting to look like the gardens of my childhood. Do you remember, Silas?”

  “I do, sir. Lady Briana is as skilled with growin’ things as Queen Eleanor was.”

  “Yes,” he said, putting an arm around Briana, “she has a way of making things bloom.”

  “You are too kind,” she replied. “Did you come for a reason, Brath?”

  “Oh, yes. Donla’s arrived, bearing gifts.”

  “Oh! Dresses! I won’t need to wear your mother’s things anymore!”

  The men shook their heads, not grasping the import, but Briana hustled them back to the castle. Before heading upstairs, she turned to Silas. “Did you need anything else, Silas?”

  He smiled, honestly and warmly. “No my lady, you’ve given me all I need.”

  She sucked in her breath at the way he so carefully emphasized the “my” in his address. Heart lifted, she went to examine the dressmaker’s efforts.