My Highland Bride (Legends of Meria #2) - Cecelia Mecca Page 0,1
no need for my own squire to perpetuate them.
I hear the clang of swords before I see men at the quintain. Bradyn rotates between training in the yard, on the horse Cettina provided him, and with the men. He has a long way to go—others younger than he already display enough skill to see real battle—but I have every confidence he will rise to the challenge.
“Your shadow is missing,” a young knight teases as I walk toward her.
“On guard duty,” I respond, making my way toward the queen.
Her skill with the longsword grows more impressive each day. Cettina’s insistence on learning to use it is just one of the many reasons we find ourselves the subject of flapping tongues.
Seeing me, she steps away from her opponent, hands him her sword, and nods to the edge of the yard. I meet her there, where it’s slightly less noisy, and waste no time.
“The king’s men have been spotted in the village. I assume they make their way here.”
Cettina purses her lips together and looks me straight in the eye.
“Is Lord Scott with them?”
I shake my head.
“Our banners were not spotted.” I glance down at her attire, similar to the other men in hose and a surcoat with no gown to be found. “I told Bradyn to fetch me as soon as they are spotted coming through the gates. Perhaps you should prepare for them.”
She lifts her chin in defiance. One thing I’ve learned from serving Cettina is that she rarely does as she’s willed. Not by me and not by her first commander, even though she trusts Lord Scott implicitly. None of the Curia can compel the queen completely to their cause.
It is the reason I would give my life for her.
Unlike her father, she will do what she believes is right no matter the consequences. One day, I fear, such willfulness will get her killed. In the meantime, she is our best chance for returning Edingham to our ideals.
“I will meet them as such.”
As the first queen of Edingham, or this Isle, Cettina has no precedents to follow. And apparently receiving her enemy’s men in a tunic and hose will be an acceptable practice moving forward.
“Afterwards, we must talk,” she adds.
“Your Grace?”
It annoys her when I use the title in private, and indeed, her eyes flash back at me.
“I know you returned from Murwood End talking of peace with Meria, but it will never come to pass unless we gain Lord Moray’s support. Just yesterday my brother-in-law was seen speaking to MacKinnish.”
My hands ball into fists. MacKinnish has little love for Cettina, and I even less for her bastard brother-in-law. I refrain from reminding Cettina that it was she who pardoned her excommunicated sister and brother-in-law and allowed them to return to the castle last year as one of her first acts as queen. I understand why she did it—her sister’s treatment was unjust—but there’s no denying Lord Whitley has been a pain in the arse ever since. He’ll not rest until he’s fully undermined Cettina.
“If we are to convince the Highlanders to stand down, we need Moray,” she continues.
She’s not wrong. Gaining Lord Moray’s support for peace would placate the Highlanders and force those in Edingham who do not live in the mountains to follow, but unfortunately it will never happen. She knows this.
“He hates my family nearly as much as he does yours. Moray will never enter the fray, Cettina.”
Again, that look. “There is no man the Highlanders will listen to more.”
“We’ve dismissed this idea before.”
“You and Scott have dismissed it, not I. Moray’s support becomes ever more important as my brother-in-law stirs the Lowlanders. I will not be forced into war.”
“Are you asking my advice as your commander, or are you ordering me to treat with him as my queen?”
I know the answer before she gives it.
“That, my dear Stokerton, is an official order.”
Goddammit. It will be a waste of valuable time we do not have. Born and raised in the Highlands, I know they’re much too stubborn to be convinced of anything against their will.
“Very well.”
I bow as Cettina takes her leave. My family land borders Moray’s, so at least I’ll be able to pay a visit to my family.
“Oh,” she calls back over her shoulder, “while you’re there, perhaps you should enter so you might champion your queen. It would do well to remind everyone why you were chosen for this position.”
I watch her walk from the yard toward the keep, trying to make sense of