Her grandmother’s words rang strong and clear in her head, and she lifted her chin with pride and walked forward to meet her father.
The bishop lifted his head when she came to stand in front of him.
“I have been—” His ringed hand flew to his chest and he gasped. “Oh my God! It can’t be.” He shook his head. “Is that you, Blythe?”
Tears instantly filled Zia’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks upon hearing her mother’s name. “No, Father, it is your daughter Zia.”
The bishop struggled to get out of his chair as tears raged from his eyes, and Zia reached down to help him. He immediately grabbed hold of her.
“My daughter? My beloved Blythe gave me a daughter?”
Choked with tears, Zia could only nod.
The bishop’s slim hand touched her face tentatively, as if trying to prove to himself that she was real. “You look exactly like your mother.”
“I didn’t know if you would remember her.”
He shook his head and kept hold of her arm. “I could never forget the woman I love. It broke my heart when I was forced to leave her, and my heart broke again when I heard that she had died. I wanted to die too, but it seemed life had different plans for me.” He smiled through his tears. “And now I know why.”
“You’re not angry?”
His smile turned sad. “I could see why you might think that, but I’m relieved that you had the courage to face me anyway.”
“I wanted to meet you,” Zia said. “I wanted you to know I was your daughter and that I prayed every day to the Heavens, since I was young, to bring my father home to me.”
“If I had known, I would have left the Church and come for you. Nothing would have stopped me.” He shook his head. “I should have been stronger and fought harder for your mother. I should have clawed my way out of the cell my parents locked me in.”
“They locked you away?” Zia said incredulously.
“Until I agreed to study and commit my life to the Church,” he said sadly. “And once I learned of your mother’s demise, I knew there was nothing left for me. I would never love another woman as I did your mother, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her.”
“You and Mother suffered a cruel fate.”
“But look what our love produced,” he said, his whole face lighting with a smile. “Sit…Sit and tell me all about yourself.”
Artair nodded to Zia and slowly backed out of the room, leaving father and daughter to discover each other.
Artair sat in the great hall at the table before the hearth, enjoying a tankard of ale for the first time in days. He took his time, didn’t have to rush, didn’t have to worry. Zia would be his wife, and she would be protected not only by him, but by her powerful father. And though he had no confirmation of this from the bishop, he knew it to be so. One only had to see the look of love in the bishop’s eyes to know that he would see no harm come to his daughter.
The magic of love had worked magic.
“You look mighty content for a man whose wife may be burnt at the stake,” Lachlan said, joining him at the table.
Artair filled a tankard for him. “I believe all is going to work out well.”
Lachlan leaned across the table and whispered, “Learned how to cast a spell, did you?”
“Learned how to perform magic,” Artair said with a gleeful grin.
Lachlan looked aghast. “Are you sure you’re my brother? He’s too sensible to believe in magic.”
“The magic of love proved me wrong.”
“Good Lord, another brother lost to love,” Lachlan said, laughing. “Where is the love of your life?”
“Talking with Bishop Aleatus.”
“What?” Lachlan near choked on his ale. “I thought that meeting wasn’t until later, and what are you doing sitting here so calmly?”
“To answer both questions, Cavan arranged for a change of time, and I know something you don’t,” Artair said smugly.
“And you’re not going to tell me, are you? You…” Lachlan muttered a string of oaths only his brother could hear.
Artair just laughed feeling free to really enjoy.
Cavan entered the hall from outside, swinging his cloak off his shoulders and dropping it on the table next to where his brothers sat. “By the happy look on your face, Artair, I would assume the meeting with the bishop and Zia went well.”
“It’s still going well,” Artair said.
“You didn’t stay with her?” Cavan asked, surprised.
It was Bethane who answered, entering the hall. “It wasn’t necessary for him to stay. All goes well and will continue to do so. Isn’t that right, Artair?”