The Stone of Destiny

by Caroline Logan

  “Whoa, there.” He hooked an arm around her back to take some of her weight. “Looks like you could use a rest. Or a beer. Or both?”

  When Iona had mentioned an inn, Ailsa had been uncertain. It had been a long time since she was around a crowd of people, and the last time she had been chased away. But the squat little building was the most lovely thing she had seen for a long time. Harris led her through the door while Iona paid a young man to take their horses to the stables around the back.

  Immediately, they were hit by the pleasant smell of baking bread. The tavern had an interesting array of mis-matched tables and chairs that had been scavenged over time. Old, bare flagstone slabs covered the floor and the walls, giving the impression of being underground. The roaring fire in the middle of the room combatted the cold that seeped in through the stones nicely. A band played a lively tune in the corner and many of the inhabitants were already rather merry. Iona caught up with them and together they squeezed through crowds of revellers until they found a table at the back, on a platform to the right of the bar. For a while they scanned the pub for possible threats, but no one seemed remotely interested in them.

  They must be used to strangers here, since the road is so close by, Ailsa thought. Still, she finger-combed her hair over the left side of her face and lowered her head.

  “Let’s have some fun,” smirked Iona before dancing off to the bar. “I’ll get some food for us too.”

  Ailsa flexed her calf muscles and winced. Thank the Gods the chairs are padded.

  “Having a good time?” Harris enquired, steepling his fingers together.

  She hunched over the table and looked murderously at the other people while she scraped her nail along a blemish in the wood. She could feel a knot forming in her backside and it was making her grumpy.

  “Clearly,” answered Ailsa, leaning back in her chair to survey him, wincing as she moved. “Why are you so cheerful? There are people hunting for you who would very much like to kill you. And you’re sitting across from someone who would like to do the same thing, depending on how annoying you’re being,” she continued, pointedly.

  “Ouch,” Harris laughed, his eyes scanning the room. When he saw her watching him, he let out a huff and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t be scared all the time. How would I get anything done? Besides,” he grinned, “I have you to protect me. And may I add, how lucky I am to have such a beautiful bodyguard.”

  “Shut up,” growled Ailsa. “It’s not funny.”

  “What isn’t?” Harris looked confused.

  “It isn’t funny to call me beautiful. I’m obviously not,” she said, gesturing at her mark.

  “That—” He leaned forward, “—does not stop you from being beautiful. In fact, it makes you interesting, which is actually better than beautiful.” He smiled like that was the end of it.

  Was that a compliment? In truth, she was wholly unconcerned with whether someone found her attractive or not. When she was younger, she had wondered if she would be pretty without her mark. She had nice eyes, but she had a heavy jaw and one of her bottom teeth was crooked. However, any trace of vanity ended when she was trekking through mud and wondering where her next meal would come from. Being beautiful was for princesses in castles. If threatening was all she achieved with her appearance, then so be it.

  You had wanted Gris to think you were beautiful, a voice whispered in her head. She cursed inwardly. Some things were best forgotten.

  Frowning, she turned to watch Iona sashay back to their table, carrying a cloth-wrapped lump under her arm and three mugs of ale.

  “Here,” she announced, setting down the drinks and then handed them the object. Inside was a freshly baked rosemary loaf with cheese on top. Harris was the first to tear a chunk off and scarf it down. His eyes almost rolled up into his head in pleasure, prompting Ailsa to grab a piece herself.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, taking a swig of ale after her first bite. The beer was decidedly disgusting, like liquid, citrusy, goat’s cheese, but eating the bread helped her choke it down quicker.

  “Would you believe that someone at the bar just proposed to me?” Iona laughed.

  Why am I not surprised? The redhead was truly exquisite all curves and long legs. Ailsa doubted that any of the men in the inn would even notice her, especially since she was about a head shorter than Iona. Not that she wanted them to look at her.

  Urgh, a day around Harris and I’ve become as vain as he is.

  “Oh no, sister,” he said, grabbing Iona’s tankard from her hands. “Mustn’t drink too much or you won’t be your glorious self tomorrow. Wouldn’t want King Connall to see you all haggard.” He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

  She gave him a haughty look. “Don’t worry, brother. I always look glorious.” She went to snatch the drink back, but he held it away. She narrowed her eyes and when he didn’t relent, she grinned and flicked up her finger. Immediately, the beer in the flask leapt out and splashed him in the face.

  Ailsa couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped her. Selkie magic, she supposed. She clamped a hand over her mouth as Harris wiped his face. Iona, taking pity on him, flicked her finger again and the liquid from Harris’s face fell back into the glass.

  He grinned and pushed the drink back in front of her. “Fine. Do what you want, Your Highness. But if you make a bad impression tomorrow, you’ve only got yourself to blame.”

  Iona stood up and deftly swapped her tankard for his. “I don’t want face juice.”

  With a groan, Harris pushed his chair back and went to the bar to retrieve a replacement for himself. Ailsa looked sideways at Iona as she took a drink. She debated about whether she should ask personal questions or not, but in the end her curiosity got the better of her. “So, you’re a queen?”

  Iona wrinkled her nose as she popped another bit of bread into her mouth and chewed. “I wouldn’t say queen…” she said, swallowing. “We don’t have a royal family like Eilanmòr. It’s more of a democracy.”

  “So that would make you…” Ailsa pressed.

  The other girl tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Ambassador for Foreign Affairs.”

  “Affairs is right,” muttered Harris, sliding back into his seat. For his comment, he received a smack to the back of the head.

  “And what about you?” said Ailsa, turning to him.

  He raised his tankard in his sister’s direction. “Brother of the Ambassador for Foreign Affairs.”

  “Court Jester,” Iona clarified with a wink.

  For a while, Ailsa listened to them cheerfully bickering. Seeing the siblings together, she wondered if it would have been like that with her own brother. Memories of tears and empty, searching hands danced before her eyes, making her stomach drop.

  Don’t think about the day he was taken, she chided herself. There have been too many ghosts haunting me tonight.

  She blocked out their playful squabbling and attacked the bread with her teeth, watching people come and go around the room. For a moment, she swore that she saw a tall figure peeking in through the windows, but he obviously decided to try elsewhere for a drink because he never entered the bar.

  After drinking her beer, Ailsa was starting to feel sleepy and her body hurt less than before. She stretched out her legs and rolled her shoulders with a grinding crack.

  “Do we have rooms?”

  “Yes, they were already booked for us when I asked the bartender. They’re just up the stairs.” Iona nodded to the steps in the corner. “You can have a room to yourself. Harris and I will share.”

  “Thanks,” yawned Ailsa and went to pick up her pack.

  “Here, let me help you,” said Harris, swiping it from her. She harrumphed but was too tired to argue. Together, they climbed the wooden staircase and found the rooms, side by side.

  “Will you be okay by yourself tonight?” He looked at her with genuine concern before handing her the bag. “I know it’s been quite a lot to handle.”

  “Yeah, I’
m fine,” shrugged Ailsa sleepily, “Just a bit sore from riding. To be honest, I’m trying not to let myself stop and think too much. Being here, it’s bringing back a lot of memories. One day at a time though, right?”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She fought the urge to snort, he was just trying to help. “I’m your hired muscle, right? I’m supposed to worry about you.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Ailsa.” Harris ran a hand through his copper hair, parting the strands and making them glow in the faint light. “I know my sister appreciates having someone around to help. I’m not the best with a weapon myself, so it’s comforting to know we have you with us.” He looked away and shrugged. “I know I joke around, but I am glad we met you.”

  Ailsa blinked up at him. Was he being nice? She made a non-committal noise and opened the door to her room.

  “Oh, and Ailsa?” called Harris, who was now walking back down the corridor.

  She stopped and turned back to look at him. “Yes?”

  “If your ass is still hurting later, I’d be happy to massage it for you.” He winked and carried on down the stairs.

  Ailsa huffed and slammed the door shut behind her, earning an annoyed thump from the guests in the room above. She blew out the candles, wrenched off her clothes and slipped under the sheets. He was absolutely infuriating.

  Two more days, she thought, then I’ll be on my way back home.

  It already felt like ages since she had left the beach, bringing unwelcome memories and thoughts to the edges of her mind.

  Think of something else. What will I spend my money on? Ailsa started to imagine every bag of sugar and every type of seed she’d buy with her pay. But it had been a long time since she had been in a proper bed and not long after she’d visualised heaving sacks of oats and spelt, she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  In her dream, Ailsa could see a golden-haired woman with a crown of branches. The woman held out her arms.

  “Come to me, my child,” she whispered.

  When she didn’t move, the woman’s face became angry. “You’ll never escape.” Behind her, four large wolves appeared with glistening fangs.

  Ailsa turned and ran through the forest, the wolves hot on her heels. She could feel their breath on the backs of her calves. Suddenly, there was a thud and the sounds of pursuit ended abruptly. She stopped and waited. Then she heard it.

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  Throughout the woods, the footsteps echoed. Ailsa turned to run again but realised her feet couldn’t move. When she looked down, they were encased in mud. It shifted around her legs as if alive; creeping up her skin and clothes, gnawing and sucking. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she struggled to wrench herself free.

  I’m going to die, she thought as she sank further into the ground. She tore at the dirt in front of her face, scrambling to find purchase. Her breath came out in desperate sobs but the mud continued to crush her body in a vice grip. As it pinned her arms, she looked up for someone, anyone, to help her.

  That’s when she saw them.

  Two large, red eyes glowing from between the trees.

  Ailsa woke with a gasp, and sat up to remove the blankets that had become tangled around her ankles. She’d had the same nightmare many times before; the blonde woman was a new addition, though. She had probably seen her in the inn somewhere. Ailsa leaned against the headboard and allowed herself to wake up fully.

  Although the dream left her with a residual feeling of terror, she felt strangely hopeful. Today, they would be travelling to Dunrigh. She had often wondered what it looked like but had decided not to risk venturing too near in the past. Ten people and a goat in a wee village she could handle. Thousands of men and women, packed closely together, watching and gossiping? She’d have been hounded in the streets if she were lucky. At worst, a mob would have lynched her on the spot. Regardless, she was curious about Dunrigh. There must be something worthwhile about the city, if so many people decided to stay there?

  The mouth-watering smell of bacon drifted up to her nose through the crack under the door. The light peeking in through the little window told her that it was just after dawn. No doubt it would be a grey, dreich day, as usual.

  Ailsa heard a faint whistling sound coming from Harris and Iona’s room next door. Unsure of who or what was making the noise, she rose to investigate.

  The siblings had not locked their door, either in carelessness or anticipation of her visit. Inside, she found a narrow room, a twin to her own. The fresh smell of sea salt and citrus wafted about the room. Hers probably smelled like sweat; she hadn’t bathed last night.

  Iona must already be downstairs. Harris, however, was still fast asleep and seemed to be the source of the whistling.

  He snores? Ailsa grinned to herself. She’d have to file that useful information away for later. Stepping fully inside Harris’s room, she closed the door quietly behind her. Leaning against the door, she studied the unconscious lump in the bed.

  He’d managed to find an undershirt and trousers to sleep in. His messy hair curled around his face, which had formed an unpleasant expression: his mouth was hanging open and drool was pooling onto his pillow.

  It was still hard to believe that only yesterday she’d witnessed Harris change from a cute, injured seal into the slevering man that slept before her. She wondered, not for the first time, how his transformation actually worked.

  Then, thinking about how infuriating he had been the night before, she stepped around the foot of the bed, creeping quietly across the rug-covered floor. Peering down at his sleeping form, she couldn’t contain her smirk.

  Beside the bed, a glass of water sat on top of a side table. With nimble fingers she lifted the tumbler from its place and held it in one hand.

  Let’s test some theories.

  Ailsa dumped the water on his face.

  Harris thrashed and, still half asleep, let out an almost scream. He wiped the water off his face, spluttering in surprise.

  “Sorry, Harris,” said Ailsa in a honeyed voice, mischief glinting in her eyes. “I just wanted to see if you would turn back into a seal.” She backed away from the bed.

  He squinted groggily around the room until his eyes fixed on her.

  “YOU!” he growled, sitting up. He would have looked menacing, Ailsa thought, if not for the hair plastered to his forehead and the lines his pillow had left on his cheek.

  “Obviously, I was wrong.” Ailsa’s attempts to stay out of his reach failed when Harris dived towards her with a wail of fury and they thudded to the floor.

  “Let me go,” she protested. “I’m sorry I got you wet!” She tried to escape his grasp, but he held on strong.

  “Here, you can have some,” he grumbled, shaking his hair at her. She grunted and pushed at his chest, but he just grinned wickedly.

  “You deserved it, you wretch.”

  “Don’t dish it out, lass, if you can’t take it.”

  “What in the Hag’s name is this?” Iona shouted, appearing at the door. She towered over them with her hands on her hips, glaring down at their entangled bodies.

  It was Harris who started giggling first. With one look at the hair streaked across his face, Ailsa let out a quick bark of laughter. With a gasp, she covered her mouth with her hand. She got up, adjusted her clothes and then marched from the room.

  “See you at breakfast,” Ailsa threw over her shoulder.

  What the hell was that? Ailsa thought. She would need to be more careful. She couldn’t afford to start liking her new companions—and that was a very bad idea. Because when you like people, they have the power to hurt you.

  When Ailsa was young, other than her brother, Cameron, she’d only had a few friends. He had alternated between playing the doting older brother and wanting nothing to do with her. The best days had been when he let her tag along on adventures with his friends. The neighbourhood children were talented at sneaking away from their parents a
nd didn’t have the same prejudices. Ailsa had spent her summers wandering around the woods, playing bandits and maidens with a gang of youths, long before the forest embodied her fears. The children knew their parents disapproved of Ailsa, but this had only made her friendship more appealing. They used to hide her round the back of their cottages and feed her treats like a pet. Then, when they played their games, she was always a lovely, good, faerie princess or a wicked pirate queen with her motley crew of cutthroats and scoundrels. Cameron had loved to parade her around them.

  But it all came to an end the spring her mother died. Then Ailsa became a wandering orphan: an outsider not tolerated by the villagers. Afraid she would hurt him next, her brother had been taken away and sent to live with distant relatives. She still remembered the sorrow in his panicked eyes as he was led away from the cottage, kicking and screaming her name.

  Later, towards the end of that summer, Ailsa returned to her house to find the door kicked down and the walls smashed. She gathered up her belongings, including a few of her mother’s trinkets, and moved on to the next town.

  Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to think of the only other time she’d had a friend. He didn’t deserve to be remembered.

  If you start to care, you’ll be disappointed when they leave. You can only rely on yourself.

  They ate a quick breakfast before departing on their horses. Ailsa had also stolen a towel from the inn, cut it up and wedged it down her trousers, around her bottom. It provided a little cushioning, allowing her to remain on the gelding for the rest of the day. The trio even ate lunch in the saddle in order to make good time. The sun appeared from time to time between the clouds and the day remained gloriously dry.

  Meanwhile, Ailsa tried in vain to contain her growing excitement, as Iona and Harris chatted about the delights of Eilanmòr’s capital as they travelled.

  “The whole place sings with music. It’s great for dancing.”

  “I hope we have a choice of clothing when we get there. They have so many colourful dyes.”