Page 73 of Queen of the Shadow

He looked away first, turning his gaze to the loch. “You believe it will help?”

“I know it will, but you must also know it,” she said.

He spoke slowly. “I will try.”

“I’ll give you privacy. When you’re ready, you may join me in front of the keep if you wish. There I will announce Aife’s punishment.”

Cuchulainn stared out at the water. “Is she really carrying my son?”

Scáthach had almost hoped he hadn’t been aware enough to understand that part of the nightmare. She wished she could lie to him, to save him the knowledge, but he had a right to know. “Uathach’s vision says she is.”

A shudder rippled through his body. “That is why you won’t kill her.”

“It is.”

His amber eyes met hers. “Thank you. I don’t think I would have shown such mercy in your place.”

She held his gaze. “You would have. You, too, understand there is strength in mercy.” Then Scáthach began retracing their path. “If you’d rather not see her again, you need not reenter the fort. Let any of the Shadow Guard know and they’ll give you a horse. You can meet us back at the campsite.”

“Scáthach?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Will your sea monsters join me in my swim?” he asked.

She grinned. “Only if you’re very lucky.”

Chapter 17

Sentanta hadn’t known how it would feel to see Aife again. He almost didn’t enter the fort—almost took the escape Scáthach had offered him. He could have called for a horse. Ridden to camp. Waited there for the Shadow Guard.

He would have done those things had she not been carrying his child. His son. But she was carrying his child, so he could not leave without seeing her... without doing something.

He’d been shocked by her size. The night before, his addled mind had made it seem as if she filled the room. And then she was Scáthach, who naturally filled any room she entered. But where Scáthach carried strength and compassion and honor with her like a cloak, Aife was wrapped in vitriol and self-involvement. He’d known that, even through the wounds and the drugs. She would never be worthy of forgiveness.

For his son, Sentanta gave Aife the signet ring his mother had made for him before the world began calling him Cuchulainn. It was a simple gold thing stamped with a largeS. He’d taken it off only to move it to his little finger when his hand grew, and he hadn’t taken it off since. But for his son—for his son he would part with it. And perhaps someday he would have the opportunity to be the father to his son that Lugh had never been to him.

* * *

Scáthach was glad of the breeze from the loch. It mostly blew away the stench of two hundred burning bodies, though she would be very glad to leave the fort and return to the clean salt air of Dunscáith. She stood on the raised stone steps in front of the keep. The Shadow Guard had assembled before her, along with the residents of the fort. Tabiti was beside her. Uathach waited for her signal to bring out Aife. Behind Scáthach the door to the keep opened and Kintail’s three daughters joined her. Aife had kept them locked away for the ten days she’d held the fort, barely granting them food and water, and definitely not emptying their chamber pots. They’d bathed and changed from their filthy clothes. They were fair-haired like their mother, with their father’s long, strong nose and intelligent blue eyes. The eldest of the three, Aillis, was almost Uathach’s age. The two younger girls were twins, Lili and Leitis, and had just known their tenth birthday. The twins’ eyes were red and swollen, though they held their heads high. Their older sister went to Scáthach and bowed.

“Aillis,” Scáthach said. “I wish I could have saved you, your parents, and this fort the misery Aife brought.”

“We tried to get word to you, great queen,” said Aillis. Shadows bruised her eyes and her cheeks were sunken, making her appear willow thin. Like her young sisters, her chin was high and her voice steady. “But her men killed anyone who attempted to leave our fort.”

“They killed Mama and Papa and our brothers!” one of the twins said through eyes filled with tears as the other little girl nodded in agreement.

Scáthach touched their blonde heads. “I know and I am sorry.” Then her gaze went to Aillis. “I have a proposal for you that will ensure this fort is never taken again.”

“If it involves marrying me to a warlord with an army, I respectfully decline. I’ve been prepared by my mother and father to lead, and I prefer not to abdicate control of my life to anyone,” Aillis said firmly.

“Ha!” Tabiti said. “I appreciate a woman who knows her own mind.”

“As do I,” said Scáthach. “No, Aillis, I will not advise you marry. That is your business, not mine. I advise you make use of the excellent herd of horseflesh that is now in your possession. Many warriors would be happy to relocate to your islet and protect it in return for a Lethra-bred broodmare or young stallion and a tidy roundhouse. Spread word that you will pay with horses and homes for warriors to relocate here. You should only need—” She paused and turned to Tabiti. “How many warriors would you advise Aillis hire?”

“Fifty warriors permanently living here should be more than enough to protect the fort,” said Tabiti.

“I agree,” said Scáthach. “You have a herd of a little more than two hundred. Plenty to entice warriors hereandkeep some of the breeding stock so you may continue to produce exceptional horseflesh. Dùn Dòbhrain will be known as the fort to come to for the fleetest horses in all of Alba.”