She understood, too, that he could have been anything he’d wanted. He had a quick, curious mind, clever hands, and from the way he’d played music, the soul of a poet. And a way with business as well, she reminded herself.
In Geall, in her time, he would have been prosperous, she was certain. Respected, even renowned. Other men would have come to him for advice and counsel. Women would have flirted with him at every opportunity.
But she and he would have met, and courted, and loved, she was sure of it. And he would have ruled by her side over a rich and peaceful land.
There would be children, with his beautiful blue eyes. And a boy—at least one boy—with that little cleft in the chin like his father.
And on nights like this, late and quiet, they’d talk of other plans for their family, for their people, for their land.
She blinked herself back when his fingers brushed her cheek.
“You need sleep.”
“No.” She shook her head, tried to refocus on the diagrams again—to hold off those minutes that drained away her time with him. “My mind was wandering off.”
“You’d’ve been snoring in a minute.”
“Well, what a lie. I don’t snore.” But she didn’t argue when he gathered up the papers. She could barely keep her eyes open. “Perhaps we’ll rest a little while.”
She rose to snuff candles as he moved to close the drapes. But when she moved back toward the bed, he was opening the doors and stepping out.
“For heaven’s sake, Cian, you’re next to naked.” Plucking up his shirt, she hurried out after him. “At least put this on. You may not mind the cold, but I mind having one of the guards see you standing here in your altogether. It’s not proper.”
“There’s a rider coming.”
“What? Where?”
“Due east.”
She looked east, but saw nothing. Still, she didn’t doubt him. “A single rider?”
“Two, but the second’s being led by the first. They’re coming at a gallop.”
With a nod, she strode back into the bedchamber and began to dress. “The guards are instructed not to pass anyone in. I’ll have a look. It may be stragglers. If so, we can’t leave them outside the gates and unprotected.”
“Invite no one,” Cian ordered as he yanked on his jeans. “Even if they’re known to you.”
“I won’t, and neither will any of the guards.” With a small pang of regret, she put on her circlet and became queen again. And as queen, she lifted her sword.
“It’ll be stragglers,” she said. “In need of food and shelter.”
“And if not?”
“Then they’ve ridden a long way to die.”
When she stood at the post on top of the wall she could see the riders, or the shape of them. Two as Cian had said, with the first leading the second horse. They wore no cloaks though there was a chill in the air, and a hint of the first frost.
She glanced at Niall who’d been awakened when the guards had spotted the riders. “I’ll want a bow.”
Niall gestured to one of the men, took a bow and quiver from him. “Seems fruitless for the enemy to ride straight at us. Two of them against us? And unable to pass through the gates unless we welcome them.”
“Likely they aren’t the enemy. But the gates aren’t to be raised until we know. Two men,” she murmured as they rode close enough for her to be sure. “The one being led looks to be injured.”
“No,” Cian said after a moment. “Dead.”
“How can you—” Niall cut himself off.
“You’re certain?” Moira murmured.