Page 3 of Queen of the Shadow

“Your father’s wife had no choice. His warriors would insist his heir be informed of his death, and then crowned his queen and successor,” said her mother.

“I have no desire to be queen of Lethra,” Scáthach said quickly.

“And yet you are your father’s successor. Whether you desire it or not, you are already queen of Lethra.”

Scáthach shook her head. “No, I am Queen of Shadow.” She gestured at the castle. “This is the only kingdom I desire. And Mother, Inga will never stand for me to be crowned. As you and I know all too well, she has a daughter—my half sister—also of Father’s blood. Her Aife should rule.”

Béfionn breathed out a long sigh. “Inga was fearful of you, the daughter of a goddess, a child so obviously powerful and so beloved by her father. And she was afraid that during one of my visits to see you I would return to his bed and never leave. Both fears were unfounded, but jealousy clouded her reasoning.” Béfionn’s gaze grew distant, though her voice lowered with anger. “When she discovered she was with child, her fears and jealousies grew. She was, and probably still is, a rather silly woman.” Béfionn squeezed Scáthach’s hand. “But, sweet girl, never question your father’s love for you. He often told me that you were his greatest accomplishment.”

Scáthach smiled. “I remember that he would touch my hair and say,So like your mother’s,and his eyes would fill with tears.”

Her gaze still distant, Béfionn nodded. “He was an unusual man—kind, compassionate, and wise. Though leading a raid in his advanced years makes me question whether his wisdom had left him.” Her full lips tilted up. “How handsome he was in his prime!” She glanced at Scáthach then. “Almost as tall as you have grown to be.” A secret half smile played around her lips. “His hair was ember red, his eyes the blue of the Valkyries’ favorite flower, belladonna, and his arms were strong and welcoming.”

“I remember,” Scáthach whispered. “He cried when I left with you.”

Béfionn nodded slowly. “Yes, it saddened him.” She turned to face her daughter. “I thought I could allow him to raise you, at least until you became a woman, but he married, and even as a child of five you were taller, faster, stronger than fully mortal children—something that his new wife found highly intimidating.”

“I know I was just a child, but I remember Inga well. She never knew how to act around me. It seemed I always made her angry,” Scáthach said.

“It wasn’t anger. It was fear and foolishness, and both grew with the babe in her womb. When I visited you not long after the birth of Aife and witnessed your attempt to make yourself smaller, more palatable to your father’s bride by rounding your shoulders, ducking your head, and being silent—” The goddess blew out an angry breath. “I knew I could not leave you there, to becomeless than. Your father understood, but it broke his heart. Again.” She spoke the last word softly.

“He knew you could not stay with him for his mortal lifespan,” said Scáthach.

“Yes, but knowing something must be does not change the heartbreak of it,” said her mother. “You’ll understand that when you fall in love.”

Scáthach scoffed. “Me? I have neither the time nor inclination for love. Men can be pleasant to take to bed.” She shrugged dismissively. “But tolove? No. They take more than they give. I love my daughter, my mother”—she smiled at the goddess, who nodded in gracious acceptance, and then made a vague gesture at the castle—“my school. My Shadow Guard. Oh, and of course, Leannan.”

“And how is the mighty deerhound I gifted you with?”

“Magnificent.” She grinned at the goddess. “So you see, Mother, I have many loves and do not need another.”

“Try not to quantify love. What is too much? What is too little? And you are only partially correct about men taking more than they give. Most often that is the case, especially with mortal lovers, but when it is not—when a man is truly your lover and partner—well, that can be glorious.” When Scáthach began to reply, the goddess held up a hand to still her. “No, you must live longer before we debate the intricacies of love.”

There was a short silence between them before Scáthach spoke again. “Mother, may I ask something about Father?”

“Of course.”

“You know he visited here often after I became an adult.” Scáthach paused and her mother nodded. “Why did you never come see him?”

“Breaking Ardgeimm’s heart twice was enough. Just as I could not leave you with him to become less than you were meant to be, I could not play at being a mortal woman by living a lifetime with him. I am a goddess, not a wife. He understood that it was not our fate to spend our lives together, but mine would have been less full had I hardened my heart to your father and not loved him. I know Ardgeimm, Jarl of Lethra, regretted nothing about our time together—other than it was too short. Remember that should fate offer you love, my child.”

“I will remember.”

“Good. Has the entourage from Lethra arrived yet to crown you?” Béfionn asked.

“Not yet, and I do not want that crown,” Scáthach said firmly.

Béfionn shrugged. “Perhaps you can abdicate to your half sister. It will depend upon what kind of woman she’s grown up to be.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Scáthach shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since she was a toddler. I do hope she is more like our father than her mother.”

Béfionn smiled at Scáthach. “Well, I know what kind of womanmydaughter has grown up to be and I will be proud whether you reign as Queen of Lethra or not.”

For just a moment Scáthach rested her head on her mother’s strong shoulder, just as she’d done countless times as a child.

“I’m glad you summoned me. I would not have wanted to hear this news from anyone else.” The goddess wiped a single tear from her face. “Ardgeimm died in battle, so he will be feasting in Valhalla. I shall visit him there.”

“Will you take me with you?” Scáthach asked.