Page 120 of Highland Queen

“So you did.”

“What does he want from you?”

“From me,” Banquo said then scratched his chin. “He wants me to ride south to Dunsinane to help him prepare the army.”

A chill washed over me. “What for?”

“For war.”

I swallowed hard then took the parchment from Banquo. As I expected, the handwriting thereon was a barely legible mess. Macbeth had fallen to the darkness once again, and unless I acted very soon, we would all fall with him.

Turning, I looked back at my daughter. Her dark hair had softened to brown, much like Banquo’s, but her eyes were a lovely mix of deep blue and brown. She didn’t take after me as much as Crearwy and Lulach did, but she was clearly my daughter—mine and Banquo’s. You could see her parents in her face.

Grinning, she pulled the toy out of her mouth and showed it to me. “Dah,” she babbled with a grin.

I smiled at her. “Yes, I see it.”

She giggled then began chewing once more.

“What are we going to do?” I asked Banquo.

“As for me, I will tell him I am unwell and cannot leave Lochaber. And I won’t. Not for him. Never again.”

“You’ll resign your post as his general?”

“Yes. I won’t leave Aelith. I have made too many mistakes over the years. I have sacrificed many things for Macbeth. At last, I have a chance to do something right. I will stay here with my daughter.”

I felt ill. Banquo was right. His choice was best. But it was his choice. As for me, I felt the tug of fate. I was Queen of Scotland. Lulach was Macbeth’s heir. I couldn’t just let it all go, could I?

Aelith jabbered, picking up then setting back down the toys I had laid on the fur around her, biting each one in turn. Again, I was asked to leave a child behind to follow a destiny I didn’t want.

“You won’t have to go right away,” Banquo whispered.

I nodded. I had known all along that I would not be able to stay in Lochaber forever, but knowing a thing and facing a thing were very different. What I hadn’t expected was Banquo’s decision. But now that it was out, I was glad. I wasn’t leaving Aelith alone; I was leaving her with her father. That, at least, would give me some comfort. Once things were settled, I could return to Lochaber.

Banquo wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

“I love you too,” I replied.

I waved to Aelith who giggled then waved back with both hands, one pointing backward. Our child. The gods were both cruel and kind. At that moment, I had the only thing I had ever really wanted. Yet a greater destiny called me, and there was no ignoring the call.

A rider came from Moray within the week. He carried messages from the local thanes as well as a letter from Macbeth.

While Macbeth’s letter to Banquo had been less than detailed, Macbeth told me more. As it turned out, Crinian was not content to be Abbott of Dunkeld. He had fled south to join Siward and young Malcolm in Northumbria. Rumor had it the pair were plotting, planning to retake the southernmost lands as soon as the spring arrived. Macbeth pleaded for me to return south.

“Please come back,” he’d written, then signed the letter with his name.

Given what I now knew, Macbeth’s calls for war made sense. Crinian deserved to be punished, and Siward could not be permitted to step foot in Scotland. I could see Siward’s plan unfolding. One square of land at a time, one turned or murdered lord at a time, he would make his way north.

I looked at the handwriting in Macbeth’s letter to me. As with Banquo’s, the perfect courtly script Macbeth usually used had disintegrated to scratch. Crinian’s treachery—and god knows what else—had unhinged Macbeth. But unlike in his letter to Banquo, Macbeth made no mention in his letter to me about Thorfinn and Echmarcach.

That night, while Aelith slept, Banquo and I composed our reply letters to Macbeth. Banquo wrote that he contracted an ailment in the winter and had not recovered. He could not come. I wrote that I would return south within the month.

I handed my letter to Banquo. He read it then set it aside.

Rising, I went to Aelith. How sweet she looked. Her brown hair, glimmering with red highlights, sparkled in the firelight. Her lips were puckered like little roses.

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