Foamy crests folded and slid shallow against the smooth, flat sand, before Isoldeβs booted foot. A winterβs sun pierced rays of warmth into the misty morn and Isolde felt waves of light against her face as she knew there was more story to be told.
A lot had transpired in a year, and even as Brigaine and the other servants about Dunlace Castle were hustling about collecting greens and making ropes and wreathes for the upcoming Yuletide, the queen was feeling a familiar stir of wanderlust. Tristan and she had been wed on the Beltaine, just past, and had shared a magical several months togetherβ¦longer than they had ever spent. Yet, as they had agreed, he had returned to Arthurβs service in Britannia and his last correspondence to her, came from Brindenmoor, in Scotland. It was often he had spoken to her about his beloved home.
She yearned to go there. Just then, the mournful sound of a foghorn from a ship, no doubt bound for Europe, drew her attention. This started her mind conniving.
************************
(later~ the next day)
Sir Rory held Emeraldβs leather reins as he stood mounted, in front of the castle waiting diligently for his queen. She had given little warning to the castle folk, that she would travel to Scotland for Yule, but they smiled, knowingly, for it had been many years coming ~this romantic interlude between these twoβ¦.and now, even in marriage the soul mates were apart.
βHow long will you stay,β Rory asked after grabbing her bags and satchels and tying them securely on his steed. βI have not found him, yet, milordβ¦I may be home sooner than you think!β she laughed. βIβm just hoping to find him in the country, you knowβ¦it is hasty of me to set off without telling him. It is time, though, I think, that I visit Brindenmoor. I have a letter here to go off on ahead of me. Hopefully Tristan will meet me at the port in Leith. If not I will be finding a room.β
She smiled at her determination. It felt good to begin an adventure once again. She hoped Tristan would be happy.