Chapter Thirty-Two
The camp had been slow to stir the next morning, most people nursing headaches and upset stomachs. Aemyra had used it as an excuse to find a moment alone.
Sitting on a damp tree stump just outside the manor house, she thought over all that Fiorean had said. Not only the revelation that he was alive, or that he believed her to be the rightful queen, but that he had found a spirit Dùileach.
The gate creaked and Aemyra looked up, squinting in the bright sun.
“Apologies, I didn’t think you would be out here,” Maggie said, hesitating beside her guards.
“I could say the same,” Aemyra replied, pushing herself off the tree stump and onto her feet.
With a wave of her hand, Aemyra dismissed the guards and fell familiarly into step with Maggie, adjusting her stride to match the slower pace.
“I have spent too many weeks cooped up. I thought the fresh air would do me well,” the princess said.
Aemyra gestured to Maggie’s ill-fitting dress. “I see Sorcha managed to find clean clothes for you.”
Maggie stroked her growing bump with a smile. “Elizabeth laced me in as best she could.”
Keeping to the shade of the pine trees, they walked around the wall in silence until they came upon a small graveyard.
Aemyra leaned on the wrought-iron gate, admiring the metalwork.
“When Alfred finds out Dildain has fallen, he will know I have you, Elizabeth, and Katherine,” Aemyra said, flexing her fingers. “Too many people will have seen you at the solstice ritual, and I cannot keep the tongues of my soldiers from wagging.”
“Are we hostages?” Maggie countered.
Aemyra shrugged. “It’s best we let Alfred think that. We can use it to our advantage.”
“I wish I knew where Nael was. I fear for my little Fionn still within Alfred’s reach.” Maggie stroked her bump, as though glad she could still give her second child the protection of her body.
The princess bit her lip to stop herself from crying and Aemyra shifted her feet. She had wanted honesty between them, but she dared not reveal Fiorean was alive too soon.
Nudging her sleeping dragon through the Bond, she tried to get a message through to Aervor that she requested an audience with his Dùileach at their earliest convenience.
If it worked, she didn’t feel it.
Gathering herself, Maggie pushed open the gate and stepped into the graveyard. Aemyra followed.
“How did you and Elizabeth end up in Dildain?” she asked as a way to break the awkward silence.
Maggie paled and Aemyra immediately regretted asking. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“No, i-it’s all right. Fiorean told us to make for Balnain, had paid the carriage driver handsomely for his discretion and speed. Apparently Covenanters pay more,” she said.
Aemyra could piece together the rest. It would have been easy enough to change direction on the road south and ride for Dildain instead of Balnain. The princesses wouldn’t be familiar enough with the landscape to know something was wrong until it was too late.
If she hadn’t wounded Fiorean, if she had allowed him more time to explain his plan, they could have rescued them sooner.
Trying to keep the blame off her face, Aemyra said, “This town used to be under Laird Edouard’s authority, you know. But when Clan Leuthanach rose to power after several abundant harvests, they took it as an outpost.”
“Why did Laird Edouard never take it back?”
Aemyra shrugged, boots crunching on the gravel. “It’s hardly an important stronghold. It could never withstand a siege, it does not have a port, and the forest chokes the roads. I suppose Edouard was content to leave them be.”
“But you deemed it important enough to take?” Maggie asked quietly.
“Yes. After Fyndhorn, Maryk gathered his forces here, and if we had bypassed Dildain on the way to Edinbane port, we would have found ourselves trapped.”
“There are many trapped in àird Lasair, and yet you seek to take Edinbane port first.”
Aemyra nodded. “Edinbane is the bigger threat, and Laird Lorna has imprisoned Dùileach there on the instruction of Athair Alfred. Now the solstice is over, we march in two days’ time. But I assure you, retaking àird Lasair is the end goal.”
“Perhaps we can help you with that.”
They both turned at the sound of the dowager queen’s voice to find Katherine walking down the path with one arm looped around Elizabeth’s elbow, both of them radiating royal presence.
“Care to tell me how you gave your guards the slip?” Aemyra asked.
Elizabeth lifted her nose into the air and Katherine shrugged. “We seem to be the only ones in this town who did not overindulge.”
Maggie’s small smile was hidden behind her curls.
“I have knowledge of the secret passageways leading into Caisteal Lasair,” Katherine said, hurrying her footsteps to come level with Aemyra. “You could fly north with your dragon and sneak in to rescue my grandsons.”
Aemyra sighed. “I cannot split my forces at such a crucial time. The Balnain fleet is anchored off the Edinbane coast and Terrea is needed here.”
Elizabeth made a scathing noise. “You will not divert from your chosen course of action? Our children languish in the caisteal, our husbands missing, and you will not go to their rescue?”
“We have had no news from the city, we do not know what Alfred has done to them,” Katherine added.
Aemyra stopped beside a grave slab so suddenly that Elizabeth almost walked into her. Extracting herself from the skirts, Aemyra plucked a stray golden hair from her breeches.
“I understand how important your children are to you, but my soldiers also have children. The sailors with the Balnain fleet have wives and husbands hoping they will come home. I cannot jeopardize thousands of people for the lives of a few young princes. No matter how much I wish I could.”
Elizabeth looked furious, and Katherine’s pale face grew more pinched.
“Death comes for us all, no matter who we worship,” Aemyra said, gesturing to the grave slab. “My job as queen is to keep as many people alive as possible.”
“Surely there must be something you can do?” Maggie asked, her voice quiet.
Elizabeth’s blue eyes were hard. “You killed Fiorean and Evander, the least you can do is save our children.”
“My father killed Evander.”
“All the more reason to make amends,” Katherine interjected.
Aemyra’s heart squeezed.
“Give me until the end of the day to think on it,” she finally said, sending another nudge through the Bond to see if Fiorean would meet them soon.
Somewhat cowed, the three women fell into step with her and Aemyra realized she had inadvertently ended up on a promenade through a cemetery.
Seeking a way to break the awkward silence, she eyed the graves.
“I wouldn’t like to be trapped underground with a thick slab of stone pressing me into the earth. ”
Maggie was pensive as she looked upon the carved grave slab. “Don’t the earth Dùileach bury their dead?”
“Yes, but at the base of a tree. Their bodies become nourishment to sustain the forest,” Aemyra explained.
“And fire Dùileach are burned…” Elizabeth muttered.
“Yes, but we often build cairns as a way to remember the deceased,” Aemyra explained. “It can be nice to have a tangible marker to visit, to lay a bunch of harebell beside…”
When this war was over, she would return to the Sunset Isle and build three cairns. One each for Orlagh, Pàdraig, and Lachlann, on the hill behind her father’s caisteal, where they would catch the light of the sun in the mornings.
“Don’t let them burn me,” Maggie said in a small voice, one hand stroking her bump. “I know we are effectively prisoners with your army, but I don’t want to be reduced to ash on the wind.”
Startled, Aemyra took her small hand.
“Maggie, you are not a prisoner and nothing is going to happen to you,” she said fervently. “Have you been having pains? What is giving you concern?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, the babe is kicking and I am growing as I should. But my last labor was difficult, I am already dreading this one.”
Aemyra had seen enough childbirth with Orlagh to hold any woman who went through it in the highest regard. Even Katherine had found the strength to do it four times.
“You are forgetting one thing,” Aemyra said, putting on her warmest smile. “This time you have me.”
Much to her surprise, Maggie returned the smile.
“The queen herself would deliver a child?” Elizabeth asked.
Aemyra’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m surprised to hear you call me queen.”
With a sniff, Elizabeth turned her beautiful face away.
“I think you would be surprised by a lot of things we have to say,” Katherine replied.
Assessing the women, Aemyra stepped back. The graveyard was empty save for the four of them, and she spread her arms wide. “All right. You have my attention.”
Slightly taken aback, Maggie wet her plump lips and looked once again at the grave slab. Her brown eyes traced the whorls and knots carved into the stone, and Aemyra knew that if Maggie ever did die before her, she would commission the most beautiful piece of marble to lay above her for eternity.
“It is about what Catriona Leuthanach said,” Maggie finally said. “About worshipping the Savior in peace.”
“We feel the same way she does,” Elizabeth interrupted.
Aemyra had been expecting them to talk of the war, of what would happen to àird Lasair, not how they would be allowed to worship.
“Has the solstice ritual made you uncomfortable?” Aemyra asked.
Elizabeth turned a little green, but Katherine shook her head.
“I witnessed Kenna lead many such rituals throughout the years. My sons were all dipped in Cliodna’s waters upon their births, and I ensured my husband would be burned according to Brigid’s ways—against Athair Alfred’s demands.
Their choices were respected, and we wish to ensure you will do the same for others. ”
It reminded Aemyra of what Sorcha had spoken of. Freedom to choose who to worship, or whether to even worship at all.
“Those who support me in this war expect me to eradicate the Chosen completely. From what I have seen of the True Religion’s practices, I can’t say I disagree with them,” Aemyra said carefully.
Maggie grew impassioned in that quiet way of hers. “You only saw the Savior through Alfred’s eyes, but at its core, the True Religion is peaceful. It provides hope and comfort to ordinary people like myself.”
Aemyra stopped beside a grave covered in moss. “You are far from ordinary, Maggie.”
“I was raised to worship the Savior by my father. A man so reminiscent of Haedren and Alfred that you would think I should turn my back on their teachings the moment I was free. But I haven’t. Because when I pray, when I listen in the quiet moments, the Savior speaks to me.”
Maggie clearly believed the words she was saying, and Aemyra could not find fault in her faith.
Elizabeth clutched the iron pendant around her neck.
“Why don’t all followers of the True Religion wear one?” Aemyra asked.
“They are a mark of outstanding devotion to the Savior,” Elizabeth explained, her tone haughty. “I received mine upon agreeing to journey here and court a Teine prince, to bring the Savior’s word to the territory.”
Bristling at the insinuation that her territory needed tempering, Aemyra studied the pendant. It was a singular piece of metal, shaped like a bolt, with no additional fixings. One hole had been drilled through the tip to allow a thin chain to pass through.
The way it swung made Aemyra believe it was hollow.
It would have been easy and cheap enough to forge for all worshippers, but it seemed only Covenanters, the Chosen, and those of high rank wore them.
“I assume the priests are given them after taking their vows?” Aemyra asked.
Katherine nodded. “Yes, not dissimilar to how Brigid’s priestesses are given their gold browband.”
Disliking the comparison, Aemyra reached out to touch the pendant, wondering if it would no longer burn her if she couldn’t access her magic.
“Fucking Hela,” Aemyra hissed, withdrawing her hand after it singed her fingers.
It should have been a comfort, knowing that her magic was still inside of her, just unable to be accessed. But now she had touched it again, the burning sensation was familiar.
“The pendants are imbibed with the magical rejection agent,” she muttered.
This made Elizabeth a little smug. “They offer protection, and a reminder to always walk in the Savior’s light.”
Even Aemyra could admit there were plenty of people who would convert for the offer of protection. Especially in a territory where dragons ruled the skies, a ruthless Goddess was ever watchful, and most Dùileach possessed a destructive element.
They had paused beside the oldest grave, dated in 1839. A man named Haryld had been a beloved father and brother…and had worshipped the Savior.
Katherine spoke. “There are people in this territory who need to have faith in something they recognize. I have no kinship to the Goddesses, nor will I ever find any. Many non-Dùileach in Tìr Teine feel similarly.”
Crouching in the dirt, Aemyra ran her hand over the rough stone, clearing away some of the ingrained dirt with her thumbnail.
There had to be at least some good in the True Religion’s belief system, otherwise people would never have worshipped the Savior for so many years.
Tilting her head back to the cerulean sky, Aemyra took a deep breath.
Was it possible the Chosen had radicalized the Savior’s word?
Many non-Dùileach worshipped the Goddesses, but it would be understandable if they sought a different deity to represent them.
Perhaps the Chosen had taken something pure, something comforting, and turned it into a way to grasp for power.
“We showed you respect by attending the solstice ritual,” Katherine said. “If you claim to love all of your people, why is it you still know nothing of the True Religion when you have spent so many hours with Maggie?”
For the first time, Aemyra saw Fiorean in his mother’s face. The proud nose, the high cheekbones. As much as she didn’t want to hear it, there was truth in Katherine’s words.
Wiping her hands on her breeches, Aemyra asked, “You don’t happen to have a copy of the Tùr, do you?”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “Um, I think perhaps Elizabeth traveled with hers?”
Elizabeth looked as though she would rather suck glass than let Aemyra borrow anything she owned.
“You would be willing to read it?” Katherine asked, gray eyes narrowing.
“You’d be surprised at what I am willing to endure for my people,” Aemyra replied, guiding them out of the graveyard and back onto the path.
When she had seen them safely back to the manor, Terrea opened the Bond while stretching like a cat in the sun.
An image was bleeding through, of a man with fiery hair standing in the middle of a stone circle.
Fiorean had learned to harness the mating Bond.