by Eliza Knight
“This is not the end,” he murmured.
“I hope not.” She bit her lip, feeling slightly self-conscious at having just confessed as much. Her gaze slid to the safety of his shoulder rather than revealing all the emotion she felt through her eyes.
“I meant more than just kisses, love.”
Slowly, she shifted her eyes back to his, allowing him in. “Aye. I want ye.”
“More than that.”
Her mind raced with the jumbled thoughts of her own and his crashing, and the emotions she felt that pummeled her and made it hard to quiet the sounds. “Tell me. Tell me out loud.”
“I want ye for my own. Together, we’ll fight off everyone who would try to destroy wee King David’s life. Anyone. And every night, we’ll finish the day together. As man and wife.”
“Married…” she mused. The idea… Fear and excitement all at once. When she’d married before it had been about an alliance between the Mackenzies and Sutherlands. There had been no love in it. Julia had been determined to serve her family. But when he’d died… she’d decided to never marry again—unless she could have what her parents had. Love. Was that something she could have with Alistair?
“Aye.” Emotion made them both tense, as words that were on the tips of their tongues were held back for fear of rejection. “Do ye wish to marry me?”
Julia paused, marveling at the sensation of love that swirled in her gut. When had that happened? Was it when he’d first sparred with her in Moray’s chamber? When he’d followed her? Teased her? Kissed her? Or when she’d feared for his life at the pools? Or when he’d lovingly cared for her after the dart left her mindless for days? Probably all of it.
“Verra much. I want to marry ye.”
She curled up beside him, her gaze toward the loch and the lights she could see shining in the distance from the tower of Eilean Donan. Zounds, but she hoped they arrived in time. They’d already lost enough light that Melia could have arrived and done the damage she’d set out to do in the beginning.
Hoped they could save her mother and toss Melia into a deep dark hole.
Hoped that a life with Alistair truly was within her reach.
8
They walked along the shore, leading the horses to keep them rested for their swim, rather than riding them. With a young charge in tow, Julia and Alistair had determined that finding the shallowest place to cross would be the least dangerous. Once they found a shallow crossing, the plan was to put the king up on the horse while she and Alistair swam across.
Dew soaked the tips of their boots and the hem of Julia’s gown. The wee king walked stoically beside them, as all royals were taught from birth, but whenever he saw a bird or a pretty flower, he stopped to admire them, the way any child would. Watching him made Julia smile, and it made her sad at the same time. He was an innocent still, so young and impressionable. Thank goodness Moray was regent, and there were plenty of good people, including the Queen Mother, to support King David, but if he were to fall prey to the wrong hands, or a more sinister regent, what then? All his beliefs since the day of his father’s passing were going to be skewed depending on the views of those who cared for him.
“Is that a birlinn?” Julia asked, shielding the sun from her eyes so she could get a better look.
Ahead, she spied what could have been a large fallen tree, or a small boat, maybe a canoe, hard to tell with the rising sun glinting off the water and making the world seem so bright, and all around the shapes of things became black blobs of haziness.
Alistair, too, shielded his eyes. “Aye, I think so. A canoe mayhap.”
Julia glanced at him, urgency flooding her veins. “We need to take it.”
“Aye.” Lifting the king up onto a horse, they hurried forward to find that a small, roughly made fishing canoe had indeed been left by its owner, not too long ago. Though it had been flipped upside down to keep it from floating away if the tide came in, the bottom surface was still slick with loch water, as though they’d only just gone.
Julia scanned the shore, rises and any place a man might hide, and found nothing but the gently waving grasses and trees. She tried to close her mind off to every sound, straining to hear any whisper of a thought from someone hiding out there, but came back with nothing.
“We need to hurry, else they come back,” Alistair warned. “Unless ye can hear…”
Julia shot him a look. “I canna. And ye need to keep that to yourself, sir,” she flicked her gaze toward the king, “else the whole world will think ye and I have both gone mad.”
“Understood, my lady.” He winked at her, and they shared a brief smile before he was telling the king their plan.
“I love boat rides,” the king said.
“And we hope this one doesna disappoint, Your Highness,” Julia said.
Together, she and Alistair flipped the boat right side up and pushed it toward the water.
Before it was too deep, they lifted the king inside, and Julia joined him, followed by Merida, who had grown quite fond of the lad. Having him ride in the boat was safer than on top of a swimming horse, and would keep them all mostly dry.
Julia kept hold of the horses’ reins, leading them into the water as Alistair pushed the boat. As soon as it was drifting, he climbed in and picked up the oars, dipping them into the loch and propelling them across the shore. Little sprinkles of water danced on Julia’s hand where she held it against the rim of the boat. Mist burned off the loch’s surface with the heat of the sun.
“Do ye think I could get a hound like Merida?” the king asked, his arm wrapped around the dog who so very much enjoyed the attention.
“I do.” Julia grinned and nodded toward the towers of Eilean Donan in the distance. “Our clan breeds her kind, and that is where we’re headed. We’ll see if there is a litter, or one coming soon.”
“I would like that.” The king beamed and buried his face in Merida’s neck.
“’Twould be an honor for ye to have one, Your Highness.” Julia tossed Merida a hunk of jerky she’d been saving for her. The hound was being so incredibly patient with the wee lad, almost as if she knew just how important he was.
The king grinned from ear to ear, and nodded, his hand resting on Merida’s head, who looked equally proud to have served her king as Julia was in regaining him from the hands of a madwoman.
Julia just prayed they got to the castle in time. No one at Eilean Donan knew of Melia’s treachery. She would be admitted without question and given access to Lady Sutherland, possibly—and most likely—alone. Julia hoped it wasn’t too much to believe that her mother had fully recovered in the time that Julia had been gone from their holding.
Alistair met her eyes from where he sat on the opposite end of the small boat. He might not have the ability to read minds as she did, but he definitely was adept at reading her. She could tell by the expression of concern on his face he must have known what she was thinking.
“When we arrive,” she said, “will ye take the king to the hound hold? I’ll send my brother Tad down to help.”
Alistair nodded, understanding that she wanted the king to be protected and in a place where Melia would never look. He’d be surrounded by guards, both human and hound alike, and once her brother was with Alistair, the king’s guard could explain what had happened, and they could quietly alert the rest of the castle to the threat while Julia went in search of her mother.
“Aye.” He winked at the king. “What will ye name your new hound?”
“Well, it depends.” The lad tapped his chin. “If ’tis a male, I will name him for my father, Robert, and if ’tis a female, I shall name him after my mother, Elizabeth.”
Julia couldn’t help but grin at the honor the lad was bestowing on a beast, and suppress a chuckle at what his mother might think of a hound being named after her.
Suddenly, the king looked at her, his eyes filled with both curiosity and sorrow. “Do ye miss your father?” he asked.
Julia startled. The lad had
lost his father so young, he must have thought all fathers died when children were little.
“Ye will meet him shortly. I missed him while I was away.”
“He yet lives?” The king’s eyes widened. “He must be verra old.”
Julia bit her lip to keep from laughing and Alistair snorted trying to hold his in.
By the time they reached the shore, Sutherland and Mackenzie warriors, the clans to which the castle was held, lined the shore.
“Sister?” Tad stood in the center of the line, and as soon as he’d uttered the word, the men stood down. Her brother was tall, though not as tall as her father, and wide, full of muscle. His ginger-colored hair was long, and he had a beard that she often grabbed hold of and tugged to tease him at the length. He had eyes the color of tree bark, that were serious one minute and dancing with merriment the next. He reached for her, pulling her into his embrace, and she couldn’t help but sink into him for just a second.
Her brother eyed Alistair cautiously, and, a little more curiously, his gaze fell to the boy.
“What’s going on?” Tad had a look on his face that said he didn’t like what he saw, found it extremely suspicious.
And that expression matched his thoughts. She’s had a bairn, in secret, and with this great oaf.
Julia said nothing until they’d disembarked the boat. Alistair climbed out first, handing her down, and then lifting the king, who slipped his hand into hers. As they approached the shore, Alistair was immediately surrounded by Sutherland warriors. She kept her hands on the king’s shoulders, showing the men that the lad had her protection. Merida nipped at the ankles of a few men who crowded a little too close to Alistair. There was time to tell them all later that Alistair would be joining their clan as her husband, but now there were more pressing matters.
“Brother, we’ve a special guest.” She looked down at the boy, who stared her brother full in the face.
“I’m the King of Scotland, King David II, and ye are my subject.”
Tad raised a brow, looked taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. The men all started to bow, but Julia stopped them.
“Dinna.” Her tone was sharp, and they quickly stood straight. She glanced up at the castle, unable to see who might be watching. “We must keep his identity secret for the time. All of ye,” she said staring around at the warriors, “hold your tongues. Has Lady Melia returned?”
“Aye, she’s with mother. Lovely of her to pay a call after hearing of mother’s illness.”
Julia shook her head frantically, dread filling her belly. She had to get to her mother—now. “Nay, she is the one who poisoned mother!”
Tad started to whirl around. But Julia grabbed his arm.
“Take the king with Sir Alistair, his guard, to the hound hold. Take the men with ye. Send a messenger to Da if ye must. I will deal with Melia.”
Tad looked ready to argue, but Julia left him no choice when she thrust the boy his way. “Go.”
Julia took off at a run, and she was slightly surprised to see that Merida was right beside her. She ran across the bridge, feeling sluggish as she went, as though the length of the bridge only grew longer the faster she tried to run. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she knew, but still it was frustrating.
At last she reached the small bailey, ducked through the wide great oak doors, too panicked to acknowledge the men on the ramparts who called down a greeting, and ran up the stairs, past several startled warriors. Into the barracks she flew, and then up another flight of stairs to the great hall.
Her father stood with several men before the hearth, startled to see her. He took in her stricken look, and before she could even ask where her mother was, he was pointing toward the winding staircase.
“Upstairs,” he called, and hurried toward her as Julia slipped into the alcove that led up to the laird’s chamber.
The door was barred; the handle jiggled worthlessly in her hand. Beyond the door there were the sounds of scuffling and grunting, as though two people struggled.
Oh, dear God, her mother… They were fighting! She could hear her mother asking why, begging Melia to just sit and talk, and wasn’t certain if it was aloud or in her head.
Julia imagined her mother, weakened from Melia’s previous attempt on her life, struggling to sit up. Searching for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon. Finding only a cup full of tisane and a candlestick. Julia prayed this was only in her mind, and that her mother could somehow reach a deadlier weapon.
“Melia! Mama! Open the door.” Julia pounded against the wood with the flat of her hand while she kicked at the bottom, then moved back to kick at the handle, hoping to somehow gain enough force to break the bar that blocked her out.
There was a thud, and soft murmurs, but still neither woman acknowledged her. She pounded some more, felt the touch of her father’s hand on her shoulder as he resumed her punishment on the wood—and then they both paused when the sickeningly sweet voice of the murderess called through the door.
“Wouldna ye like that, wee princess? Say goodbye to Mama.”
Melia’s laughter oozed through the timber panels. The sound was neither jovial, nor evil, but rather eerily singsong, as though Melia were finding great joy in whatever she was doing beyond the barrier.
“Dinna touch her! Open this door!”
9
Within two slams of his body against the door, Ronan Sutherland splintered the door and heaved himself through the shattered frame with Julia, a few warriors on their heels.
They both stilled immediately, when instinct bade them fight. Julia’s heart pounded so loudly, the whooshing in her ears drowned out all other noise.
Her mother lay on the floor before the hearth in nothing but a nightrail. Blood dripped from a gash on her forehead, and she looked to be asleep. Pale and frail.
Worse still, Melia stood over her mother, a sword drawn and held at the back of Lady Sutherland’s neck, and a grin of satisfaction on the vile bitch’s face. The emerald necklace she’d stolen from Julia glowed bright green against the fabric of her gown, settling between her breasts. Julia could feel the gem’s power pulling her in closer, as though the stone desired her above Melia, who was clearly the anti-protector.
But the only way to get it off that woman’s body was if she were dead. And Julia couldn’t kill her until she got her away from her mother.
If the gem had gifted Julia with a special heightened sense—like hearing others’ thoughts—and she was supposed to be the protector of Scotland, what power had been gifted to Melia as a contender? Was Melia able to read thoughts too?
As if in answer to her question, Melia lifted the hand that did not hold the sword, and showed she was holding the tiny crossbow that she’d used on Julia before. Though Julia wore her armor, there were plenty of places where she was not covered, and if the miniature crossbow was powerful enough, the poisoned darts could pierce through the leather she wore.
“When I got the call from the stone, I suddenly could make poison from anything. And I figured out how to make this quaint delivery weapon.” Melia gazed upon her tiny bow with pride, adding a fresh dart. “It really has helped me tremendously. And your dear mama was so kind as to help me test it out at first. I must say, I am underwhelmed with your power, Lady Julia.”
“Ye dinna know what power I possess.” Julia could barely speak through her clenched teeth. Beside her, her father was edging closer to her mother. The men at their backs stood rigid, ready to take on Melia when called.
“Does it matter? I’ve defeated ye more than once now.”
Julia was not interested in bantering, and clearly neither was her father. He started to charge Melia but with one pluck of her finger, a dart was flying his way.
One of the guards jumped in front of the dart, and Julia screamed. The dart landed in the warrior’s chest. He crumpled to the ground, eyes closed, and Julia prayed it only left him sleeping for a short time like it had done to her.
“Anyone else
care to give my little friend a try?” Melia asked, waving it around?
Now was the time to distract Melia from her desire to kill Lady Sutherland.
“Give me the necklace.” Julia held out her hand and stalked forward. The power of the gem, and the bond she herself had to it, sent a wave of fire up her arm. “I will not let ye destroy this country or take another life.”
At Julia’s advancement, and perhaps also feeling the stone heat, Melia was distracted enough to remove the sword from Lady Sutherland’s neck. “Too late. I hold its heart in my hand. And the king, wherever ye’ve stashed him, will go up in flames.”
“Ye’d kill a young lad?”
“Is he truly a lad? Or a vessel? A symbol of all that is wrong in this country.” Melia shook her head. “The king should have married me when he had the chance. That little whelp could have been my child. I could have been regent.”
Julia narrowed her eyes, not understanding at all what Melia was talking about. Had she been a lover of Robert the Bruce, or had she only wished she was?
Julia was more inclined to believe Melia had high aspirations that never would have come to fruition. There was a madness about her eyes Julia was surprised to have never seen before.
“Give me the necklace.” Julia took another step forward. Behind her, her father’s racing thoughts suddenly stilled, and she hoped it was because he’d seen that the sword was no longer pressed to her mother’s neck, but the tip had been put onto the wooden floor beside her. “Allow my father to go to my mother.”
“Are ye jesting? Ye simply dinna understand the situation,” Melia said, rolling her eyes and lifting the sword once more. “My, ye might be brave, but ye’re dumber than the wood beneath our feet.”
As the fiery pull of the stone grew in heat in Julia’s body, a searing pain shot across her forehead. She gripped her temples and cried out. With a vengeance, she could hear all of Melia’s thoughts, loud and clear.