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not told you who I plan to wed, so there shall be no need for them to keep you long.”
    “How will ye keep yer word to me, if I do nae know where to seek ye?” It was a bold question, one that slightly shocked the queen. Obviously, the members of her court took her word without any questions. But she was fleeing from that position, and she wouldn’t have any influence at court if she married without Archibald Douglas’s consent. The man was the lieutenant general and ran the country while James II was still a boy. Joan Beaufort might be the king’s mother, but she was also English, and there were many in Scotland who didn’t want her influencing her son. There were even more who considered the young king past the age of female coddling, at nine years old. Deirdre felt herself sympathizing with the woman, because she knew what it felt like to be told she was worthless in the eyes of the men who surrounded her. It was a sting that burned even on the coldest nights.
    “Yes, that is a good thing to ask.” The queen considered it for a long moment. “Once I have wed, the news will spread quickly, and you shall be welcome at my husband’s castle. I give you my word. You may seek me out, and you will have your reward in coin or as a position among my ladies.”
    It was a good offer, to serve such a high noble would bring an alliance to the Chattan, one that would help erase the shame she had cast on her father’s name. It wouldn’t wipe it completely away, but Deirdre discovered her thoughts returning to what she had pondered during the daylight hours.
    Choice.
    It sat shimmering in front of her. All she had to do was grip her courage and step forward.
    “It’s an agreement.” Deirdre succeeded in not muttering “Yer Majesty” after her words. She felt rather awkward not giving the woman the respect due her station, for those manners had been instilled in her early. Society needed its rules, or there would be savagery such as the Vikings had brought with their raids a couple of centuries past.
    The ladies serving as the queen’s escort clasped their hands with excitement, their eyes shimmering in the light of the candle. They clustered about their mistress, drawing her away from Deirdre as they began to whisper.
    Deirdre walked over to the bucket and looked down at the small patch of floor she had not washed. The rag was still sitting on the stone, and she smiled at it, relief flooding her in a wave so large that she felt as though her knees might give way. She suddenly realized how heavy her burden had been for the past year. It felt as though a yoke was being lifted away.
    Kaie had been correct. She had been angry too long. There was suddenly a future full of possibilities. The only tarnish was that she would have to trust the queen to keep her word and not forget her. That set her to worrying once more, for she had not trusted anyone since Melor had revealed his true intentions. Her instincts told her to refuse to place her faith in any person, for any reason, but the cold water sitting so quietly in the bucket for her to return to sickened her more.
    She was not lazy, but she was weary of being shunned. Her life at the abbey promised her nothing but more of the same until the day she breathed her last. There was uncertainty in trusting the queen, but she was a woman seeking the man she loved, and that was something Deirdre understood. The queen was giving up much to have her choice of what her future might be.
    Deirdre wanted that choice too. It burned inside her belly, refusing to be quieted even as Deirdre thought of her sister Kaie. She doubted her sibling would be pleased to discover her going with the queen. Deirdre suddenly stiffened as she considered the possibility of failure. If the queen was captured and returned to court, there would be no reward for her. Only more shame when she was forced to seek shelter from the abbey once again or turn whore to feed herself. A lump tried to clog her throat, but