Page 64 of Highland Queen

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll leave that for him to decide. I must see to Crearwy,” I said, motioning to the barn.

Epona nodded.

Sid wrapped her arm around Epona’s waist and set her head on Epona’s shoulder. “Just moments. Always, just moments,” Sid whispered.

“That is the way of life. In the end, it was all just a moment.”

“End? Not yet, horse lady. Come, let’s have a look at Cerridwen’s bloody beast.”

When I entered the barn, I paused and listened. The horses and goats turned and looked at me, all of them hopeful for something to eat. She wasn’t here. I then heard the sound of soft crying coming from the smithy. Crossing the barn, I found her sitting beside Uald’s cold forge. She was weeping quietly, her head cradled in her arms

“Crearwy,” I said softly.

“How can you go?” she demanded, turning to me, her face red with fury. “How can you just leave? You just got here. I never see you. It’s like you never wanted me, only Lulach. How can you just leave?”

“I don’t want to go. Nadia said Madelaine needs me. Tavis—you will not know him, but he was like a father to me—is gravely ill. Madelaine needs me.”

“I need you!”

“Crearwy—”

“Take me with you. I want to come. I don’t want to be here. I want to be with you.”

“You are loved and safe.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I know. I’m safe. But safe from what?”

“From terrors you cannot imagine. From pain you cannot imagine. Please believe me, I would never leave you for any other reason.”

“But Lulach can go? Lulach can be out there. Lulach can be a prince.”

“Lulach is with the druids right now.”

At that, Crearwy threw up her hands. “So, he gets to do both? That’s fair?”

“It’s different for women. Things are not fair, not equal, in the world outside this place. Macbeth is a lunatic. I will not let him have any say over your fate.”

“Then don’t. Tell him no. I am Gillacoemgain’s daughter, not his.”

I smiled at her. “You are. Had your father lived, things would have been so different, but—”

“But he didn’t live. He died. Your husband killed him. You married the man who killed my father! How could you?”

“Crearwy, it’s difficult to explain.”

“Don’t explain anything to me. Just leave. Just go. You don’t want to be here anyway. Go away, and don’t come back.”

Full of fury, she shoved Uald’s tools to the ground then took off in a sprint, leaving me to stand there not knowing what to do. Tears welled in my eyes. Crearwy was right to be angry, and I had no good answers for her. She was too young to know the terrible things that had happened. How could I explain it to her?

A moment later, someone approached me from behind. “I’ll go after her,” Aridmis said, setting her hand on my shoulder.

I looked at my old friend. “Aridmis, I…”

“She will forgive you in time,” Aridmis reassured me. “She will need to forgive all of us, in time. Be well, Cerridwen,” she said then headed into the forest after my child.

My heart heavy, I rejoined Sid and Epona. Epona wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Children get angry with their parents. Parents get angry with their children. It is the way of things,” Sid said. “For instance, I understand that Eochaid once spent a year in Moray, but he never bothered to tell his mother. Seems a kind lady there looked after him. Have anything to say about that, raven beak?”

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