“Would you have me go meekly to my fate?”
“Nay, but—”
“Do not tell me you are eager to be banished to live among strangers.”
“Nay, but—”
“Orle, my heart cannot accept this thing.”
“I know.” Orle bit her lip. “Yet I fear somehow you must.”
Nay, and nay, andnay. Darlei carried Caledonia’s wild heart within her. Whatever awaited her at the end of this journey, she would never surrender the bold woman she was.
Chapter Five
The weather cleared,turning warm and bonny, the gods breathing gently over the land. Autumn, when it turned fine this way, was Deathan’s favorite time of year. He went out often hunting with his friends or just tramping the land in an effort to escape what lay at home.
Life in the keep had become intolerable.
He knew too much, that was the problem. Knew that the Caledonian princess was due to arrive at any time, depending on the weather and other vagaries of travel. She came with her father—a king, apparently, in his own right. With Mother so ill, Da called upon his seneschal to make preparations, and he, a man called Farchan, promptly turned the place on its head.
Deathan could not help but keep an eye on his brother, who continued to be moody and irascible, apt to quarrel with Da—or indeed, with anyone—at any time.
Deathan noticed now how often Rohr met with the lass, Caragh, seemingly by chance. She would stop by wherever he worked, usually in company with one of her friends, and they would exchange fervent, hushed words.
Once, the lass went away weeping.
As well she might. Soon enough, her condition must show, and she would not be able to name the father—a man who, indeed, waited by the day for the arrival of a woman destined to marry him.
Destiny, so it seemed, was a terrible hard thing. Better, so Deathan decided, to live a quiet, ordinary life. To escape the notice of the gods entirely.
To be an unimportant second son.
The only person who seemed excited by the news of approaching events was Mother. Deathan stopped in to see her one morning before making his first round of the guard, to find her propped up on her bolsters, her face shining.
So long had it been since he’d seen her so, with a light in her eyes and some color in her face, that it put a check in his step as he crossed the floor to her bed.
Half the life had gone out of their world since she’d been confined to her bed. And watching her fade away had become a constant, mortal wound.
Now she reached for his hand even as he sat down beside her.
“Och, Deathan, is it no’ exciting? I am to have a new daughter. And a princess!”
“Aye so.” Deathan could not keep from smiling.
“What d’ye think she will be like? A Caledonian, aye—but verra grand, no doubt. D’ye think she will be beautiful?”
“Mayhap.” Deathan tried to picture the woman and failed. Most the Caledonians he’d seen had been male, and many of those either rushing at him with blades in their hands, or lying dead or dying.
“Only imagine.” Mother plucked at his fingers. “My descendants half Caledonian. Deathan, our world is changing.”
“It is.” He could only agree.
“’Tis a new land, this. One where enemies become blood kin.” She spoke in the manner of a seer, almost. Was she so close to death that she could see beyond to what would come?
“I maun get up,” she declared, “and help wi’ the preparations. For such honored guests, all must be ready.”
“Mam, nay. I believe all is in hand already. Everyone has been engaged in seeing to it.”
