Page 14 of Highland Queen

One day.

But not today.

Adjusting my belt, I headed downstairs. Everywhere I looked, people were making ready. I passed through the hall, spotting Thora dozing sleepily by the fire. I went to her, bending to pet her.

“Lazy girl. What, you don’t want to become Queen of Scotland’s dog?”

Thora lifted her head and thumped her tail. Thora had never been one to miss an adventure, but the war had taken some of the spirit out of her. Both she and Kelpie had returned broken. It wasn’t like Thora to let me go without a disagreement. But this time, she didn’t seem interested. In a way, I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t excited to go either.

I patted her gently. “Be good. Keep an eye on my castle.”

Thora licked my hand then lay her head back down, closing her eyes to sleep once more. A nervous apprehension flickered in my stomach. What would I ever do without her?

“My lady,” Tira called from the door. “We have everything ready.”

Rising, I crossed the room and met Tira.

“Rhona is waiting outside with the Moray men. Standish has the horses ready.”

We exited the castle and crossed the courtyard. As we went, I pulled on Gillacoemgain’s helmet. In the courtyard, Standish waited with the blood bay stallion.

“My lady,” he said, helping me up.

“Thank you, Standish.”

“Lady Gruoch, this is Killian,” he said, motioning to a dark-haired man I had seen often about the castle. Killian had a serious, hawkish expression. I remembered him from amongst Gillacoemgain’s men. He was the second son of one of the clan leaders. “He has agreed to go south with you. He will organize your guard.”

I nodded to the man. “Killian. My many thanks to you and the others,” I said, motioning to the men assembled there, faces I knew.

“You are safe with us, Lady Gruoch,” Killian assured me.

“Safe travels, Queen Gruoch. Don’t worry about Cawdor. She will be held as you requested,” Standish told me.

“I’ve no worries,” I said, smiling gently at him. Gathering up my reins, I nodded to the others then we rode out.

The bay trotted gingerly across the field. I could feel the energy coursing through his veins. It took all the restraint he could muster not to sprint.

“Don’t worry,” I told the horse. “You’ll get your chance.”

The stallion turned his ears back to listen to me.

“Wild thing. Swift as an arrow, aren’t you?”

The horse neighed softly in reply.

My stomach turned as I approached Macbeth.

The years had done little to change him. His skin was still as pale as milk, his dark hair flecked with just a bit of silver at the temples. He was looking everywhere but at me.

I rode to him, stopping in front of him.

“How now, Macbeth?”

Finally, finally, he turned and looked at me. I saw his light-colored eyes take in my armor. The muscles around his mouth twitched. He inhaled deeply, slowly blowing out his breath.

“Where is Lulach?” he asked.

“Not here.”

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