Page 10 of Highland Queen

I drafted the letter for the Irish king then set it aside. Though I had carefully chosen my words, I would need to consider the matter from all points. Turning to Banquo, I found his eyes had taken on a dreamy, faraway look.

He was lost to a vision.

Turning, I stared into the flames, hoping to make out what he saw there.

I saw only fire.

The hearth popped, the flames danced, but no visions came to me.

A few moments later, Banquo shook his head then lifted his tankard.

“Banquo?” I whispered.

“All is well,” he said, taking my hand. “All is well. Our boys… They are safe and happy.”

“Then it is best they remain where they are, for now.”

“When it is quiet, I will properly cast to Balor.”

“When it is quiet.”

Banquo frowned. “I have no wish to see you ride off to Scone.”

“Nor do I have any wish to go. I will not stay there long.”

“You do not mean to rule?”

“I do. But not from Scone. Let Macbeth go south and play politician.”

Banquo frowned. “Without you there, his position is weakened. He is vulnerable. All we have worked for is put at risk.”

“My place is in Moray.”

“Your place was in Moray. Now, you are Queen of Scotland.”

“Not yet.”

“Soon. And if Scotland is to be ruled well, she needs you.”

“But what about you? About us?”

Banquo looked back toward the fire. “I am a druid,” he said stoically. “I serve the land and the gods before myself. Just like you.”

I stared at him. All along, I had intended to help Macbeth to his victory but had no intention of staying by his side. Not now. Never again. But Banquo was right. If Macbeth was unsteady, I could not leave him alone. He would inevitably fall victim to deceit, come unglued and act against the good of the country, or be murdered. If Macbeth died, I had the right to rule without him. I could be queen alone, Lulach my royal heir. But if Macbeth was murdered, his enemies would come for Lulach and me next.

“Are we never meant to have a moment?” I whispered.

“Yes,” Banquo said quietly. “But just moments. We are the tools of the gods,” Banquo said then slugged back his ale. “And this tool must get ready to ride to Inverness.”

“When?”

“I should go tonight.”

“Should. Would it matter much if it waits until morning?” I asked, taking his hand into mine.

Banquo turned and looked at me. He smiled, his chestnut-colored eyes shimmering softly. “No.”

“Then go in the morning,” I whispered.

He nodded. “I’ll go in the morning.”

I placed the draft of my letter in a chest and locked it. Banquo and I exited the hall, leaving my armed guards at the door, then went to my chamber where we spent the night relishing just one more moment.

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