Chapter 1: Queen Cadha
Morag flew through the drafty stone corridor of the royal quarters, humming a tune to hide the irritation she was feeling. She smoothed the annoyance from her face as she chased down the royal nanny. The woman held one ten-day-old baby in each arm, the twins freshly bathed, ready for sleep. The nanny knew Morag was behind her, but she bustled along anyway, gleeful that she could outpace a palace fairy, even if the fairy had an injured wing.
When the nanny had to pause and open the queen’s sitting-room door, Morag caught up to her.
“Why hello, sunshine and starlight.” Morag forced her way past the nanny’s protective stance, extending her hands for the wee prince and princess to grasp. “Have you been fair goodly ones for your mother today?”
The nanny frowned and pulled the twins away from Morag. “The princess has a right set of lungs on her. We all tried to keep the queen from hearing too much during her daily rest, but you know how she is.”
Morag straightened to her full height, as tall as the nanny’s waist, and followed the crotchety woman through the sitting room, still trying to attract the babies’ attention. She beamed when the prince squeezed her finger, however accidentally at his age. “Och, he’s a braw lad, this one. We could call him Fergus. A strong name like that and no one will tease him about his unfortunate birthmark.” Although longer hair would also take care of that.
The warmth of the room struck Morag as she entered the queen’s bedroom. A young attendant carefully stoked the glowing peat fire on the hearth. The fire served to ward off the autumn chill and warm the ailing queen, but it left a strong earthy scent hanging in the air.
The tapestries covering the stone walls here were softer and more delicate than those in the corridors, telling tales of love rather than battle. Near the window, a special floor-to-ceiling tapestry of a regal unicorn standing proudly and unchallenged dominated the room.
Heavy drapes in a deep evergreen fabric framed the window looking out over the low, setting sun. The queen’s four-poster bed, a grand structure of carved mahogany, centered the room, its hangings embroidered with the royal crest and trimmed with thick braided cord. A large oak cradle waited at the foot of the bed, lined with soft linens and a gossamer veil to protect the infants from drafts. Not that they spent much time sequestered there, as the queen preferred the twins at her side.
Morag broke away from the overprotective nanny and stood near the cradle. “Cadha, you should call the lad Callum. And then the lass can be Cara. Peace and friendship. And your names would alliterate.”
The weary queen finished brushing the ends of her long auburn hair before placing her silver brush on the bedside table. She pushed herself up, leaning against the plush headboard as she readied herself to hold her babies. She set her blue eyes firmly on Morag. “Nae, Morag, you’ll not hear their names from me. Not until their naming ceremony. What would the king say?” She took several shallow breaths before reaching for her twins. “It’ll be soon enough, and you and the entire kingdom will learn their names.”
“As you wish. But if you don’t mind me suggesting, Ian and Iona are nice names as well. Would be lovely for twins, both acknowledging divine blessing.”
Cadha ignored Morag and kissed each little head. “And how did the day go today?”
Undaunted that her suggestions were rebuffed, Morag pivoted to give her account. “The rivermen are busy as ever upstream on the secret project your husband has them on. But the watchmen saw several kelpies in the water, prowling about near the bridge. They’ve added more guards to the patrols to watch for those water horses.”
The nanny shot Morag a withering look before she spoke sharply. “Enough of that. Let the queen focus on getting her strength back. I want no more relapses of that lung disease.” With a practiced motion, she adjusted the thick blankets around Cadha, tucking them in with care that spoke of a deep, if stoic, affection.
Cadha and Morag exchanged a look over the nanny’s head. The woman muttered as she flitted about the room tidying what didn’t need to be tidied. She hovered near the queen’s vanity, straightening creams and perfumes that the queen hadn’t used in months.
Queen Cadha still had her lung disease, and they all knew that she wasn’t recovering from it. But if pretending helped the nanny carry on through her duties with the children, they would allow her the fiction.
“Morag, off you go to dinner before you’re missed. We’ll talk more tomorrow, I promise.” The queen reached out to take Morag’s hand. “Thank you for being my eyes and ears. I’d be as forgotten as an old mop if it weren’t for you. Check in with Solly to make sure she’s still happy to keep tending my garden, even though I haven’t been able to take the bairns there yet. And tell Mavis I miss her visits, but I understand how busy she is.”
“Aye. But before I go, you ought to know there have been developments.” She glanced at the nanny, wishing she would leave. “It’s been noticed that supplies have been disappearing from the kitchen. Osario is making a fuss about it. He’s got an ambitious young guard patrolling with him and searching for clues. There’ll be a right ruckus when they find who’s taking those supplies.”
The queen looked distracted, snuggling noses with the prince and princess, but Morag knew her well enough to not feel slighted. The queen was paying close attention. As was the nanny, so Morag was careful with her words.
“Anything else that I should know about?” Cadha asked, her gaze momentarily shifting from her children to Morag.
Morag nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, a few things worth noting. First, there’s talk among the townsfolk of a strange figure seen at dusk by the river. Some say he’s a wandering bard, others claim it’s a kelpie in human guise. Also, the blacksmith’s apprentice has gone missing, and rumor has it he had a quarrel with his master over the quality of steel being forged for the guards. And finally, Solly’s been complaining about holes in the garden.”
“Holes?”
“Holes.”
“I can see how that would vex Solly.” The queen waved her hand. “I’m sure she’ll have it figured out by week’s end.” Cadha shifted the squirming princess. “What about this bard? Any description? Outstanding features?”
“Descriptions vary, but most agree on a few points. He’s cloaked, with a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his face. No one’s seen him up close, but there’s an air about him that makes people suspicious.”
The queen leaned forward, her interest clearly piqued. “Does this wide-brimmed hat hold a flower?”
“Dinnae ken. I’ll find out.”
“Do. Thank you, Morag.” The queen looked out the window at the river. “Take care who you ask. Until we learn friend or foe, I don’t want anyone knowing that I’m doing anything but tending me bairns.” She glanced back at Morag, her eyes conveying the seriousness of the situation.
“Not even Solly will suspect, and you know how sneaky she is at getting information out of me. I will stand strong.” With a final glare at the nanny, Morag left the room, wondering what the woman had gleaned from their conversation.
