Lady Fiona's Refuge (Ladies of Ardena Book 3)

by Rachel Skatvold

  She squeezed his hand. “And this troubles you because of Tristan.”

  He nodded. “Aye. Stealing my cousin’s throne is the last thing I wish for, yet it seems I no longer have a choice. My people need a leader and the responsibility has fallen to me.”

  “‘Tis a noble thing you are doing, Leland. Do not think of it as stealing your cousin’s throne, but preserving it. I can think of no one he would rather see on the throne in his stead. You said yourself, he is like a brother and you are the rightful heir to the Kielyan throne as well. No one else would make a better protector for the kingdom than you.”

  Leland looked up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You are right. I am the heir to the Kielyan throne.” He sat up straighter and ran his fingers through his hair with a faint chuckle. “Fiona, what would I do without your wise counsel?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have helped me think of a solution. Kiely was once an independent kingdom. She could be so again.”

  Her eyes widened at his words. “And what will happen to the remainder of Órlaith?”

  He gripped both her hands in his. “Kiely will continue being a refuge for all people. Most of the survivors from the surrounding villages are here already. I will never cast them out, nor turn away any refugees who come here looking for aid. As our army grows, we will go looking for more people who need our help. Then, when Tristan returns, he will still have his kingdom and court at Aoife Castle. I will gladly help him reclaim it from the remnants of King Malcolm’s army.”

  “It sounds like a good compromise for everyone.”

  He nodded. “I only hope the council will agree.”

  Lady Sibeal meandered around the court gardens in a dull haze. It had been two days since her father’s death and the castle she once loved seemed lonely and empty. Her mother provided little comfort—lost in her scheming. Without her father around for a buffer, she tried to keep her distance.

  Making her way around the garden path, Sibeal reached her destination near the rose bushes and rested a bouquet of flowers on the rectangular mound of dirt before her. In a few more weeks an engraved memorial stone would mark the resting place of her father, but for now there was only a simple wooden cross. For that reason, she had taken it upon herself to bring fresh flowers to the place daily. “I’ll always love you, Papa,” she whispered and wiped away a few tears. Would her heart ever cease aching?

  After a few more moments, Sibeal headed out of the garden, but instead of returning to the castle, she turned in the direction of the village to go for a morning stroll. She hadn’t gone very far before recognizing a familiar face.

  Niall, the physician smiled at her. “Good morning, Lady Sibeal. What an unexpected surprise. I was actually on my way to check on you and your mother.” His kind hazel eyes provided temporary relief from her pain, recalling how kind he had been after her father’s death.

  Sibeal turned for a moment and dabbed at her eyes to erase any evidence of tears. Then she smoothed a few wrinkles in her black mourning gown. “I am well as can be expected. I thought the fresh air might do me some good.”

  Niall nodded. “Aye, ‘tis exactly what I recommend my patients do. You would be surprised how much fresh air improves the mood and health.” He extended his preferred arm. “May I escort you through the village?”

  Sibeal nodded while tucking her elegant hand into the crook of his arm. “I would enjoy that very much, Milord.”

  They made small talk while journeying toward the outskirts of the village and then taking the long way back to the castle. After ending up by the orchards, Niall removed his cloak and spread it under the shelter of a pear tree. Then while Sibeal sat down he picked two pieces of fruit and gently wiped the outside of them with his shirt. “Have you eaten yet this morning, Lady Sibeal?” When she shook her head, he offered her one.

  She took it from his hand, smiling for the first time in days. “Thank you, Milord. I often neglect to have breakfast. My father used to be the one to remind me to eat.”

  He took a seat next to her and they began eating their fruit. “I suppose he would be pleased I have reminded you this day then.”

  “Aye, he would.” She took another bite and swallowed before continuing. “I wanted to thank you for all you did the day of my father’s passing.”

  He shook his head. “I wish I could have done more.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, but the more she tried to stop them from coming, the more they raged out. “You eased his pain and brought comfort. What more could I ask for?” His arms wrapped around her and she relaxed into his comforting embrace for a few moments before sitting back and wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry. I do not usually behave in this way.”

  “There is no need to apologize or hide your tears from me, Milady. ‘Tis natural to grieve your loss.”

  She scoffed lightly and dabbed at her eyes again. “I’m afraid my mother would disagree with you. She said a future queen ought to only weep in private. Weakness is not something she tolerates.”

  “I would disagree, but ‘tis not my place. Which reminds me, I would like an audience with your mother soon. When would be the best time?”

  Sibeal shook her head. “She keeps busy most of the time. However, you could contact her by letter, or I could relay the message to her.”

  “No, this subject would be better conveyed in person, I’m afraid. ‘Tis something of medical nature concerning your father.”

  Her eyes widened. “What is it? Now I have to know. He was my father after all and I’m not a child.”

  He sighed. “Of course, you are not a child, Milady. I apologize. I did not mean to treat you as such. I simply did not wish to disturb you in your grief. I would not say anything at all, except I fear for your safety.”

  “My safety?”

  “Aye, ‘tis complicated to explain.” He paused and put the core of his pear aside. “While examining your father, I noticed his toes and the tips of his fingers were purple. Now, at the time, I thought it to be from bad circulation caused by his heart condition.”

  She nodded. “Aye, the condition has slowly crept up on him since the Battle of Órlaith.”

  “Did your father display any heart conditions beforehand?”

  “No, Milord. He was always very fit and healthy. He was a war hero. Why do you ask?”

  “Your father had yellowing of his eyes as well, which would suggest jaundice caused by an enlarged liver. Both of the symptoms I described can be caused by slow poisoning over the years.”

  Sibeal gasped and stared at him in disbelief. “Poisoning? Do you really believe…” Her voice faded away with the breeze as fragments of thoughts cluttered her mind.

  “‘Tis not fact, Milady. Only a suspicion. Do you have enemies who would do something of this nature? Someone in the village or close by?”

  She shook her head. “We do have enemies, but none close enough to do something like this.”

  He sighed, looking relieved. “Then it is probably nothing, Milady. However, if you or your mother begins to feel ill, please inform me at once.”

  Lady Sibeal nodded, still dazed. “Thank you for everything, Milord. Now, I must go.”

  After he bid her farewell, she headed back to the castle, questions clouding her thoughts—questions only one person could answer.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Opposing Sides

  Leland looked around the room at the council members after his proposal, waiting for their reaction. Without Lord Dawley’s mediation, he didn’t quite know what to expect.

  One of the lords from Aoife spoke up first in strong opposition. “Do you propose we abandon the rest of Órlaith?”

  Leland shook his head. “No, I will never abandon our people. Soon when our army is stronger, we will free those still under oppression in the east. However, right now my concern is for the people already taking refuge here in Kiely. They need a leader, but I will not take what is not rightfully mine.”

  “Aye, but our ancestors joi
ned us together in unity. Now you seek to divide us? How is this going to solve anything?”

  One Kielyan lord spoke up. “If Kiely separates from the rest of Órlaith, it will make our home and people easier to protect. We will be united, rather than fragmented across a land with scattered enemies. Let those who need protection come here. We will not turn them away.”

  Leland nodded in thanks to the lord who voiced his opinion, hoping others would speak up as well.

  The council discussed the implications of Leland’s proposal for a while and in the end when everyone in the room was exhausted, they decided to take a vote. He looked at the men before him—three from Kiely and five from Aoife and the surrounding villages, knowing the odds were against him. With how divided they seemed, Leland knew it would take a miracle for the vote to lean in his favor.

  Sibeal entered her chambers, surprised to see her mother already there. She needed to discuss something with her, but now she had lost her resolve. It was clear she was not in a healthy state of mind—her usually well-groomed hair a mess and green eyes intense as she rifled through drawers. “Where on earth have you been?”

  “I visited Father’s grave and then took a short walk. What is the matter, Mother?”

  She didn’t look in her direction but proceeded to pull out a locked chest and then scramble to the other side of the room to find the matching key. “The council has voted seven to one, in favor of Leland. We have a new king.”

  Sibeal’s eyes widened as her mother crossed the room, opened the chest and flung garments onto her bed. “‘Tis good news. Leland will be a kind and just ruler. Our kingdom will flourish under his reign.”

  Her mother ignored her words, rifling through the chest until reaching the bottom and pulling out a large, shallow box bearing the Dawley Family crest. “There, I’ve finally found it.”

  Sibeal moved closer to gaze inside. When her mother opened it and slid off a linen cover, her breath caught in her chest, seeing the diamond-studded necklace, matching earrings and the most beautiful hair comb she had ever seen. Her hand moved to touch the jewelry. “Where did these come from?”

  Her mother finally started to relax and aimed a smile in her direction. “They were your grandmother’s. She passed them down to me when I wed your father and now they shall belong to you. I wish for you to wear them at the coronation ball.”

  “The coronation ball? Mother, I love them, but they are much too regal for me to wear. I am not Leland’s queen.”

  “Aye, but after he sees you in these jewels and the beautiful golden gown I am having made for you, the next celebration could very well be your wedding.”

  Sibeal shook her head and looked down at her plain black gown. “Mother, I am still in mourning. Those things are far from my mind at the moment. Besides, Leland has chosen Princess Fiona. How can I compete?”

  “In a month’s time when your mourning is over, you will no longer have to compete. My plan is already in motion.” Her mother took the jewels out of the box and beckoned her toward the floor-length mirror. When she stood in front of it, her mother held the necklace in place and fastened the clasp. Then she put on the earrings and worked the comb into her golden hair. “There, my daughter, do you see my vision now? By the evening of the coronation, you will be one step closer to having everything we have ever dreamed of and more.” She smiled at their reflection in the mirror. “Do you not see it, Daughter? Do you not see what a lovely queen you will make?”

  Sibeal fingered the heavy jewels around her neck, fighting the urge to claw them off. Each time she breathed, they seemed to tighten, squeezing out whatever remaining goodness her father believed she possessed within with her. “Aye, Mother,” she finally said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I will make a fine queen indeed.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sheep and Wolves

  The next month flew by in a hurry for Fiona. The weather turned colder every day and the time of harvest began. She and Clare spent their time helping Aunt Edna pick apples and pumpkins—preparing them into various dishes for their table and the villagers. Great feasts took place in celebration of the new King of Kiely. Fiona, Clare and Aunt Edna were invited to attend them. She enjoyed the festivities and the joyous traditions the people participated in. They were so welcoming, even after the hardships they’d been through since the attack on Órlaith. Their kindness put her heart at ease.

  Leland on the other hand was hardly present at the cottage or village. Starting the day after the council decided he would be king, he spent an exorbitant amount of time at the castle, assuming the role with great reverence and care. His official coronation was scheduled for a month after the initial decision, but he had already begun making changes for the good of the kingdom. Fiona had never been prouder of Leland, but she missed sharing time together—their walks by the stream and to his cottage—their late evening talks by the fire. However, she knew soon things would change and the realization gave her hope.

  A fortnight before the coronation, Fiona was busy kneading bread while Clare was out tending to the animals with Aunt Edna when a knock sounded at the door. It wasn’t uncommon for women from the village to pay a visit to Aunt Edna, so she didn’t give it much thought. However, when she opened it and saw her guest, Fiona’s pulse quickened. “Lady Sibeal, what an unexpected surprise!” She attempted to fix her disheveled hair and wipe the flour from her dress. “I apologize, Milady. I must be quite a sight.”

  Sibeal waved her elegant hand, dismissing her concern. Even in a simple black mourning gown, the countess radiated with beauty and confidence. “‘Tis quite all right, Lady Meara. I came unannounced. Please, don’t stop what you were doing on account of me. Besides, I love the smell of yeast dough and freshly baked bread. As a girl I used to spend time by the kitchen in the castle simply to take in all the delicious smells.”

  “Aunt Edna has taught me so many recipes while I’ve been here. Perhaps she or I could teach you, if you wish.”

  Sibeal produced a weak smile while taking a seat at the widow’s small table. “I believe I might enjoy that sometime in the future. Thank you.”

  Fiona nodded while crossing the room to prepare them some refreshments. Sibeal’s wistful tone put her at ease. Her gaze had softened, no longer reminding her of razors. Perhaps the loss of her father had softened her a bit. She said a silent prayer, asking for God to comfort the grieving young woman before her. She also prayed the wedge between would be removed. ‘Twas a shame they could not be friends because of their mutual feelings for Leland.

  Sibeal took the cup of hot cider from Fiona’s hand when she returned and thanked her. “I have to say, you have blossomed since coming here. When you first arrived in Kiely, you behaved like a scared little fawn.”

  Fiona took the seat across from her guest and delayed a moment to sip from her cup before responding. “Aunt Edna has been kind to me. I never thought I would feel at home anywhere other than my home by the sea, but I was wrong. I feel at home here in the mountains.”

  Sibeal’s regal eyebrow arched, her green eyes curious. “I didn’t know Dóchas Village was located by the sea. That is where Leland mentioned you were from, correct?”

  Fiona’s heart pounded as she struggled to cover her misstep. “I-I lived in a small manor by the sea with my husband. After he died, I no long had the means to go on living there by myself. With our child on the way, I was forced to find shelter elsewhere. Dóchas was our only option.”

  Lady Sibeal nodded, seeming to believe her story. “I’m truly sorry for the sorrows and hardships you have endured.”

  Fiona offered a gentle smile. “Thank you. I wanted to offer my condolences, too. I did not know your father well, but I know he was an honorable man from way Leland speaks of him. You must miss him a great deal.”

  Sibeal’s face contorted for a moment, but she quickly regained her composer and her stoic expression returned. “Thank you, Milady. My mother and I are managing the best we can.”

  She reached acro
ss the table, placing her hand over the younger woman’s hand, causing her to flinch. “I am relieved to hear it. If you ever need anything—even simply a listening ear, please let me know.”

  Sibeal nodded, but her chin quivered. “Thank you, Milady, but I do not deserve your kindness. I have been cold toward you since your arrival. Forgive me.”

  “I do not hold grudges, Lady Sibeal. I’ve already forgiven you.”

  Sibeal thanked her and managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I would like to start our new friendship off on the right foot. Do you have a gown for the coronation ball?”

  Fiona shook her head and looked down. “No, I wasn’t planning on attending.”

  “Oh, but you must! All the nobles are attending. It will be the celebration of a lifetime. It will bring such joy to my heart if you attend as my honored guest.”

  At the hopeful sound in Sibeal’s voice, Fiona peeked up at her. “I’m afraid I do not own a gown fit for a ball.”

  The younger woman produced the first genuine smile since her arrival. “Well, we cannot allow a complication like that to spoil our plans, can we?”

  Leland escaped the great hall and didn’t stop until reaching the terrace. He breathed in several gulps of fresh air, closing his eyes as relief washed over him. All the meetings with the council seemed to be suffocating him. He felt like he was doing well as a new king, but as a person who had never enjoyed politics and preferred the outdoors, rather than the confines of a castle, it would take some getting used to. Right now, it felt like imprisonment.

  God, please help me become the king Kiely needs, the king you wish for me to be.

  Peace washed over him as he opened his eyes, knowing God was in control. He looked out over the courtyard to the village and mountains beyond and smiled. Before, he didn’t have much of a voice in the council, but now they all looked to him for leadership. He knew all of it had happened for a reason. God had planned for him to watch over his kingdom and lead them into peace and prosperity. He only had to follow the leading of his Heavenly Father.