The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (41 page)

She brightened. “Aye. I’d like that.” She slipped her gemstone from the pocket in her robe. “Riggs, I’d like to give this to Magnus. Those women, they canna understand what’s happening to them. Travis tells me they’re frightened. Some fight the physicians rather than let them do their work. It doesna help that all who tend to them are men. They doona understand how this world is. Or why they’re here. Only that they’ve been abused by a terrible man. Magnus has tried to speak to them, but he frightens them as well. If he had this, mayhap they’d listen. Mayhap ’twould help them. Could you bear to go back to how ’twas after the plain? When we could hardly understand one another?”

He put down his broth and cupped her face in his two hands. “For those women, for your sister, I’ll more than bear it. I’ll embrace it. I’ll teach you my tongue, and then once you know mine, you can teach me yours if you like.”

Her eyes grew shiny. “
Och,
you’re a fine man, love. A fine man.”

“Luckiest man in the world.”

She kissed his mouth, her lips as gentle as the brush of flower petals. “And I’m the luckiest woman.”

The winter chill nipped Anya’s face and hands as she walked down the stone steps that spilled into Glendall’s rear gardens. She held on to Magnus’s arm for ceremony but not because she needed him to steady her. Daly, who had suffered naught but a bump on his head during his scuffle with the rogue guards, had devised a pair of shoes for her in which the left sole was built up with cork to overcome the difference in the length of her legs. When she wore the shoes, she no longer limped, and the pain in her legs and back was largely diminished. She’d kissed his cheek after her first turn around the room in them, and had scarce taken them off since except to sleep…and to tup, both things she and Riggs did frequently as they recovered from their brief but strenuous time in Saroc.

Three weeks had passed. Winter had set in with its overcast skies and damp, cold air, which she hardly noticed when tucked away in the warm private retreat she and Riggs made by drawing the curtains of their bed. But she wasn’t in bed now. She was outdoors in a gown of burgundy brocade and a cloak trimmed with the surprisingly soft hide of marbled boar. Despite the heavy fabric of the gown and having the hood
of the cloak up for warmth, the cold sank into her body and revived the ache in her left knee. The pain didn’t dull her joy. Nor did the mild sickness she’d woken with this morning or the weariness that seemed always to drag at her eyelids. Nothing would dull her joy this eve. ’Twas her wedding day.

After returning from Saroc, she’d requested
an audience with Magnus and given him the gemstone to aid his communication with the rescued women. He’d accepted it graciously with the promise she could ask to borrow it at any time. So far, she hadn’t felt the need. She was learning Riggs’s tongue rapidly. That evening, Magnus had invited her and Riggs to sup with him. During the meal, he’d asked them to make Glendall their permanent home and had set this day as the date to publicly confirm their pledging.

Now her king led her toward the bower where she would oft sit upon a bench with Travis to enjoy an hour or two of fresh air while Riggs, now fully healed, trained in his new role as axeman in the king’s army. The lad liked to read her stories to help her learn the language, and she enjoyed spending time with him when she couldn’t be with her lifemate.

Gravel crunched ’neath their soles as they walked a path lined with bare bushes and a few ornamental trees proudly clinging to their green leaves. The low murmuring of a gathered crowd grew in magnitude as they neared the bower.

“
Och,
how many have you summoned to bear witness?” In her beloved Highlands, a few close family members on each side would do for a proper handfasting. Only men and women of note invited the entire clan and then more commonly for the feast, not the vowsaying. Then again, she and Riggs seemed to have become notable among the citizens of Chroina, in which case a small crowd was mayhap understandable.

“Only a few hundred.”

She gasped. “A few
hundred?
” How would they all fit? There were only six benches lining the bower.

Magnus grinned down at her. “Nervous, Lady Anya?”

“Doona be ridiculous. Of course I’m no’ nervous.” She’d long since stopped fashing over his calling her lady. All the men did it, and none could be dissuaded. But there was one man she never discouraged from calling her lady, one man who would call her such and make her toes curl in her shoes every time. That man came into view as she and Magnus rounded a hedge into the intimate space paved with flagstones and lined with closely packed trees that made a canopy of winter-bare branches overhead.

Riggs.

Her heart leapt to see him standing at the head of the bower beside the white-robed high priest of Danu’s temple. His broad shoulders filled the crisp linen shirt he would don each morning as part of his military garb. His plaid, well fitted if faded like the rest of the low-ranking soldiers’, fell in an immaculate sweep across his leather armor and past his knees. A rabbit fur sporran draped his hip in front of the flap that covered the deadly head of his axe.

The benches had been pushed aside. Lanterns of beveled glass hung all around, making the dusk sparkle with golden light. Hundreds of standing wolf-men and a few wolf-women packed the space nigh to overflowing. But her eyes fastened on Riggs’s
. To her mind and body, they might as well have been alone for the sweet peace that filled her. Eager to reach his side, her pace quickened.

Magnus chuckled in her ear. “Patience, my dear,” he chided, bringing her through the center of the quieting throng. Heads turned their way. Bearded faces split into broad smiles. Shaggy heads bowed out of respect for their king.

Near the front of the crowd, Magnus stopped her before an ivory-skinned, dark-haired wolf-woman in a gown of sea-blue and a cloak of sable fur. “Lady Anya, I present Hilda, mother of Riggs, mother of Garryn, and mother of Jonoc. Lady Hilda, I present Anya, lifemate of Riggs, sister of Seona, slayer of Bantus the Terrible.” He’d introduced her as such before, but the list of her accomplishments still sounded strange to her ears, especially the part about Seona. Magnus believed she would be queen one day, and thus Anya’s relation to her was notable. Considering the few conversations she’d had with her sister, Anya feared Magnus’s faith was once again misguided.

Riggs’s mother regarded her with forest green eyes and the restrained warmth Anya had learned was proper for public gatherings in noble society. The tall woman had only a few streaks of gray in her hair and only a few lines on her lovely face. She was one hundred and four.

Magnus released her arm so she could clasp both of Hilda’s hands and kiss her right cheek while Hilda kissed hers in return, a greeting between women she’d learned from Travis.

“My pleasure to greet you, Anya,” Hilda said in a cultured alto voice.

“And mine to greet you,” she said in the language of Riggs’s people.

“Come visit me once your mating week is ended,” Hilda said. “Bring your lifemate,” she added with a wink.

Riggs had last seen his mother shortly after their return from Saroc. Anya had abstained from the meeting since Riggs had gone to bring Hilda news of Neil’s sentence for his treason: incarceration for life. Though a far cry better than the sentence Ari had received—a swift and public death—the news had sent Hilda into a period of grieving. Anya understood. She’d grieved when she’d been separated from Seona. She still grieved, because though she had access to Seona in body, her sister was no longer the same in mind.

“How can you
love one of them?”
she’d sneered.
“They’re beasts one and all. They’re vile. I’ll find a way home, Anya. You’ll see. I’ll find a way out of this hell or I’ll die trying.”

She felt her smile become strained and released Hilda’s hands. Magnus led her to the front of the crowd. He placed her hand in Riggs’s.

Her lifemate’s warmth and confidence twined with her being and swallowed up the sadness brought on by thoughts of Seona. He bent to her ear and whispered, “You look beautiful.” The low rumble of his voice and his familiar scent wrapped her body like the most treasured of cloaks. Her cheeks warmed at the heated look in her lifemate’s eyes. She could not wait until the feast was over and they could divest each other of their fine garments in the privacy of their chamber.

The priest stepped to the side while Magnus took the prominent place at the center of an arch made from braided vines adorned with colorful ribbons. “Esteemed ladies and men of Marann,” he began. “We gather this eve to bear witness to the confirmation of two pledgemates. Riggs, son of Hilda, champion of Anya and Anya, sister of Seona, slayer of Bantus the Terrible.”

Beside her, Riggs’s chest swelled. She stole a glance at him and found him gazing proudly at her.
Och,
he was a handsome man. And a good man, through and through. And he was hers.

She still struggled to rest in this happiness she had found at his side. ’Twas too good to be true. And yet, if ’twas all a dream, she
’d not woken from it. She hoped she never did.

“I have wronged these two brave souls.” Magnus’s voice yanked her attention firm to him. She heard him in her own tongue, an effect of the gemstone he carried with him always. But words of humility and repentance from a king struck her as altogether foreign. Catching her eye, Magnus inclined his head, a gesture of sincerity. He did the same to Riggs.

“Every citizen of Marann in this gathering should consider himself blessed beyond measure, for we stand in the presence of the first lifemates in one thousand years. When I found them and heard their story, one that I hope I can encourage Riggs to tell at the feast tonight—” He smirked at Riggs, who paled, causing the king to huff a good-natured laugh before he sobered. “I reacted with a hard and jealous heart. Rather than wait on Danu and trust in her promise, I tried to insinuate myself into the union she had created. I committed a grievous blasphemy. Riggs, Anya, I should not have forced your consent in a pact when Danu had already blessed your exclusive union. I beg your forgiveness.”

“I forgave you already,” Riggs said, and he clasped arms with the king.

They both looked at her. “
Och,
if I doona forgive you, I’ll look like a spiteful wench.”

Magnus grinned. “A king learns how to secure what he desires. I desire your forgiveness and will sink to any depth to obtain it.” He spoke just to her now, no longer projecting his voice. His grin smoothed, and he adopted a serious air. “I have learned much through this. Patience. Faith. Fairness. Not only do I ask your forgiveness, but I thank you for teaching me these sound lessons.”

She’d had little to do with it. Luck…or Danu, mayhap, had been on their side when they’d found Seona. Would Magnus have dissolved the pact if they’d never found her? Would he honor Anya’s wishes by not pestering Seona while she recovered from all that had happened to her in Saroc?

The crowd was silent. Magnus looked expectant. She didn’t like being coerced into forgiveness, especially on her wedding day. On the other hand, in the past few weeks, Magnus
had
proven himself a compassionate guardian of the rescued women, housing them all in a previously unoccupied wing of Glendall and treating them every bit as well as he did the wolf-women of Marann. Despite his army and court being in disarray after the failed coup, he’d taken time to arrange for this fine wedding. He’d invited her and Riggs to live in his home and he’d allowed her to keep Travis as her personal servant, a great honor.

Speaking clearly for the benefit of the crowd, she said, “A Highland lass trusts carefully and forgives slowly. But when she sees goodness in a man, mayhap she can forgive m
ore quickly than is her wont. You have my forgiveness.” She lowered her voice and added privately, “But I ask that ye tread carefully with Seona. If you have truly learned patience, you’ll give her the time she needs to heal.”

“You have my word.” Lifting his gaze to Riggs, he said, “Riggs, son of Hilda, champion of
Anya, you have proven yourself among the very best of men. Loyalty, honor, and strength are yours in abundant measure. Your service as axeman in my army is appreciated. But I have a new calling for you. As all know by now, I lost one of my twelve Knights of the Crescent Moon. One of my twelve proved a traitor. The opening must be filled, and I would have it filled by you. Do you accept this duty and this honor?”

Riggs expelled a great burst of air, as though Magnus’s request had knocked the wind out of him. His hand tightened around hers. He cleared his throat. “I accept, Your Majesty.”

Pride straightened her spine. Joy brought hot mist to her eyes. She couldn’t tear her gaze from her wolf-man. He stood tall and proud and looking every bit the respected knight he’d just become.

Magnus beamed at them both. He motioned the priest forward to start the ceremony. While the priest took his place, Magnus withdrew from his rabbit-fur pouch a golden necklace. “I had this made for Lady Seona. I will give it to her when the time is right. It is yours to borrow until the end of your mating week.” He held it up with one side of the open clasp in each hand. The chain was fashioned from gold links done to look like woven cords. Rectangular amethysts interleaved with octagonal emeralds marched along the sides. The sizes of the gems increased as they
drew the eye to the centerpiece, the amethyst gemstone Magnus had begun calling the Translation Stone. Wee diamonds surrounded it in a dazzling display. It looked exactly like the necklace in the portrait in Magnus’s throne room.