Page 96 of Highland Queen

“Yes.”

“Lulach and Crearwy are Gillacoemgain’s children.”

“Yes.”

“And that night, you pushed me back into the world, then and there, knowing I would meet Duncan on the road.”

“Yes.”

“How could you do that to me?”

“I did what I must. We are all the tools of the gods. I moved you so that a thousand other seeds would grow. I moved you as I foresaw. I moved you as I had to.”

“Have you no pity? No love?”

“Love?” Andraste said, scoffing. “What is love to a creature like me? You cannot escape your fate. Good and bad comes to us all. Do you think I wanted to live on after everything I loved crumbled to nothing, after everyone I loved was killed?” she said, motioning around her. “Do you think I wanted to take on the heavy burden given to me? We cannot escape our destinies. The Goddess has her ways. Her eyes see farther than ours. And we must move as she decrees.”

“But the cost.”

“There is no cost; there is only destiny.”

“No. I would have made different choices.”

“But you were not given a chance, as fate decreed.”

“Don’t riddle with me, Andraste. You turned my life into a lie. You took everything from me.”

“And yet,” she said, motioning to my stomach, “something has come back to you. Don’t hate me, Cerridwen. I only do as the Goddess bids. One day you will too.”

“Never,” I spat.

Andraste crossed the room and stood before me. The lines on her ancient face were deep and grooved. I remembered what Epona said, that Andraste herself had become a Goddess. Once, she had been a mortal girl like me. Was that the fate the Goddess had laid out for me—for Cerridwen—that I would become like Andraste? I couldn’t think of a destiny any less appealing.

“I am sorry, Cerridwen. Now, go from this place,” she said then reached toward me. “Out, out brief candle,” she whispered, then snubbed the light on my wick.

I shuddered then found myself standing in complete darkness.

My heart was beating hard in my chest.

I stilled and listened. It was so silent. Reaching out, I felt for the wall. I touched cut stone. Patting the wall, I moved slowly across the room, nearly stumbling when my foot found the stairs leading upward. Moving carefully, I made my way up the steps. As I neared the top, a dim light shone. I was in the ancient throne room of the castle.

Retracing my steps, I wound my way down the hall on the first floor of the castle. A few moments later, I heard voices.

“Here, let’s go down here,” someone called, panic in their voice.

Following the sound, I made my way forward. I exited a hallway to find myself face to face with one of Macbeth’s soldiers.

His eyes went wide. “She’s here. She’s here. I’ve found her,” the man screamed.

Behind him, I heard a flood of footsteps.

Killian appeared at the end of the hall. He rushed toward me. “Gruoch,” he called.

Macbeth’s soldier raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

I looked out the window. To my surprise, the sun was rising. The horizon was lit bright pink and yellow. It was morning once more.

There was shouting all around the castle.

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