Page 28 of Highland Queen

“Very well.”

“We will leave Scone immediately after the crowning. I’ve sent people ahead to ready Glamis. Perhaps Lulach will join us at the fortress when it is completed.”

I said nothing. If Macbeth believed he had any right to know anything about my son, he was sadly mistaken.

Macbeth exhaled heavily. “Must you be so difficult?” he said coldly.

We turned the corner to the yard. There, I spotted Banquo alongside Thorfinn’s party. I stopped, blocking Macbeth’s path. I turned and looked at him. “If you are so eager to have a child underfoot, perhaps Elspeth can send your son, Findelach.”

Macbeth stared at me, his eyes widening in surprise.

It took everything inside me not to bash his face in.

Saying nothing, I turned back toward the square. Lifting my hand, I waved. “Thorfinn! Thorfinn, many welcomes,” I called then crossed the space between us, leaving Macbeth behind.

As I approached Thorfinn, I couldn’t help but notice the strikingly beautiful woman on a pale horse alongside him. Thorfinn dismounted then went to help her down. Hand in hand, he led the woman toward me.

“Lady Gruoch,” Thorfinn called.

Banquo followed behind the pair, chatting merrily with the Northmen who’d come with Thorfinn. The morning sunlight shined on Banquo’s chestnut-colored hair, which was now sprinkled with flecks of silver. How handsome he was. Even still, my heart was moved at the mere sight of him. Banquo caught my eye then smiled softly at me.

I returned the gesture, not caring in the slightest if Macbeth was watching. I then turned my attention back to the newcomers.

“Jarl Thorfinn…and is this the much-renowned Injibjorg?” I asked.

“My lady,” the girl said, inclining her head to me.

Thorfinn’s report of Injibjorg’s beauty hadn’t been a boast. She had beautiful, straw-colored hair, which she’d swept into a braid that nearly reached her knees. And she was, as Thorfinn had suggested, a curvy girl. She would, no doubt, produce many sons for the jarl.

“Welcome to Scotland,” I told her, taking her hand.

“By Odin’s beard, what a place,” Thorfinn said, glancing around at the mix of southern lords and ladies and priests who filled the square. They all stood still as statues, staring in wonderment at Thorfinn and his men. The Northmen who’d arrived with Thorfinn where a rough-looking crowd with long, braided hair, tattoos, and enough weapons to slaughter pretty much anyone they wanted. No wonder everyone looked nervous. Suddenly, I was delighted Thorfinn and his men had come.

Macbeth smiled awkwardly, casting reassuring and calming glances at the gathered nobles. “Yes, well, customs are a bit different this far south. Come, old friend. Let me see you and Injibjorg inside. Banquo, can you see to Thorfinn’s men?”

Banquo inclined his head to Macbeth. At every turn, Macbeth found one reason or another to keep Banquo and me separated. I didn’t blame him for trying to minimize the rumors. But I hardly gave a damn. After all, it was Macbeth who had failed our marriage, not me. If Macbeth had stayed steady, had been a good and decent person, all would have been well.

“No need,” Thorfinn objected. “These men have traveled long and far to see you, Macbeth. We will feast together. And I want Banquo to tell me about the battle. So, Lochaber, did you see Duncan lose his head?”

Banquo laughed. “Unfortunately, no. I did see his blood. There was a lot of it.”

Thorfinn laughed. “Too bad you didn’t get that head on a pike. He could have ridden with Macbeth to Scone.

Macbeth laughed nervously then clapped Thorfinn on the shoulder. “You will scandalize the ladies,” he said, motioning to Injibjorg and me. But it was evident that it was more the southern lords and ladies within earshot whom Macbeth was worried about, not us.

Injibjorg chuckled. “Have you not heard of shield-maidens, King Macbeth? My mother was a shield-maiden of great renown. Talk of battle doesn’t frighten me.”

“Well… It’s just… Never mind. Let’s go within and feast,” Macbeth said then nodded to Banquo.

I frowned. Who did Macbeth think he was to order Banquo in such a manner?

A king.

He thought he was king.

And he was…or soon would be.

At my doing.

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