Page 18 of Highland Queen

I moved to pull off my glove but paused.

No.

It would be better if I left them on.

I took the goblet.

“Are your hands cold?” Banquo asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

Banquo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I hated that he knew when I wasn’t telling the truth. Sighing, Banquo drank. “Well, there is one bit of good news. Macbeth seemed steadier that I have seen him in years.”

“Seeming is not being.”

“True.”

“And what do your druid’s eyes tell you?” I asked.

“When it comes to Macbeth, my vision is like muddy water. Seeing him a madman lets me keep him at a distance. It keeps you away from him. It keeps you with me. Seeing him well makes me pity him. If he is well, he can be your husband again, which my heart will not permit. But a steady Macbeth means a steady Scotland. We need him to be steady, not for us, but for the country.”

“I agree that he needs to be well for the good of the country, but you are wrong on one count. It doesn’t matter if he recovers his wits. I will never permit that man near my heart again.”

Banquo raised his goblet. “Praised be the gods.”

I lifted mine as well. “Yes, praised may they be,” I said.

Chuckling, Banquo drank. But I froze. I stared at my hand. The fabric of my glove was marred by red spots. The blood had seeped through.

“Praised may they be,” I whispered again then drank the wine knowing that what I was seeing was not possible. And even though it was not possible, the spots of blood remained.

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