The land ahead sloped gently upwards and it was clear they would be soon passing over more heather-covered hills, thankfully devoid of trees. Bubbling burns snaked through the earth on either side of them, their sounds mingling with the songs of the birds.
“Do you want to keep going?” asked Ailsa as she gazed up the path. The wind blew bitterly, even through the wool of her cloak. She hugged her arms tightly against her body.
“We’re running low on food and our clothes are a bit damp.” Harris crouched down and plucked a buttercup from beside their boulder. He eyed it absently before picking the petals off. “Let’s stay here tonight, I don’t fancy going much further today. A bit of rest will do us some good.”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
“Wait,” Angus cut in, “Are you sure you’ll be alright here? I know it’s the edge of the forest, but if that thing comes back—”
Ailsa’s heart lurched involuntarily but she squared her shoulders. “We’ll be fine.” It never followed her away from the forest. That I know of, she amended, biting her lip.
“I don’t sense anything.” Harris straightened, contemplating the horizon. “Except hunger. We need some food.”
Ailsa lifted the axe from her belt. “I’ll get it. I want a chance to kill something.”
He smiled at her. “That’s the spirit.” Passing by, he touched her ear and she gave a slight start. He chuckled as he walked away to find some firewood, Angus following him. When she lifted her hand to the place his fingers had brushed, she found a tiny, pale yellow flower tucked behind her ear. She placed it back where it was and trooped off to a thicket of bushes to catch dinner.
Chapter 29
The hunt was fruitful; she managed to catch a fair-sized capercaillie, which Angus began to prepare upon her return. Harris stole some of the grey tail feathers Angus had plucked and inserted them into his hair, creating a silvery crown upon his scarlet curls. When the bird was ready, Harris took it from the prince, stuffed it with some wild garlic he’d found nearby, and skewered it with a spit above the roaring fire.
“This is going to be the best thing you have ever tasted,” he crowed. “Better than all of that fancy castle food.”
Angus returned from one of the streams, having washed his hands of blood. “Actually, we’ve had capercaillie before—”
“Shh, he thinks he’s a master cook.” Ailsa flicked him on the knee as Angus came to stand beside the fire. “Just let him have it. As long as I don’t have to cook, I’m happy.”
Angus shrugged and grabbed a large stick from the ground beside him. He circled the campsite, twirling it around. “How are we doing for time?”
Harris clicked his tongue, concentrating on rotating the bird. “I don’t think we’re too behind; maybe a few hours at most.”
“Hopefully there won’t be anything else out to kill us.” Angus thrust forward with the stick, swiping it through the air like a sword. His motions were calculated and practised. “Though the boat was probably faster.” He stopped his exercise and stared at the vegetation under his boot. “Do you think we’ll make it back in time?”
Ailsa exchanged a glance with Harris. Would they be back before the King died?
The selkie lowered his voice and poked at the embers with a twig. “I’m sure we will. He’s waiting for you.”
“Yeah… You’re right,” Angus mumbled. He raised his branch again but didn’t commence his drills again.
Ailsa pulled off her cloak and stood up from her spot beside the fire.
“Hey, Angus? Would you teach me how to do that?” She gestured to his makeshift sword.
His body relaxed. “Yeah, sure. Grab a stick.”
Ailsa took her time selecting a decent, straight one from underneath one of the scattered trees. Once she’d chosen hers, she stalked back towards him swinging the branch from side to side.
Harris watched from his position by the fire, clearly delighted by the prospect of dinner and a show.
“First rule,” Angus stated, “Don’t swing your sword around like that. It’s too showy and your opponent will likely hit it out of your hand.”
She eyed him, doubtful. “But you did it.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was trying to be showy. In a real battle, you keep your sword at the ready in front of you.”
Ailsa stopped swinging with a huff and held the stick out in front of her with both hands.
Angus nodded in encouragement. “The trick is to stay balanced. Keep a wide stance—not that wide—and you won’t be knocked over. Plus, you’ll have a lot more power for your own attacks.”
She widened her legs and crouched lower, just like she would if she was about to attack with her axe. He drew closer, tucking his left arm in and swinging his branch down slowly on hers.
“Typically, you would have a shield in one hand and your sword in the other. You bring the sword down on your opponent like this. Don’t worry too much about where you aim for. Get in as many hits as you can. That way you’ll injure them before they can attack you.”
Ailsa shifted her stick to her right hand and struck at his shoulder. He sidestepped out of the way before it could impact and retaliated. They did this, back and forth, until she managed to land a blow to his arm.
“Good,” Angus nodded, breathing hard. “Now try to drive me back.”
Ailsa narrowed her eyes and went in for the attack. She knew she was fast, but she lacked his skill. She compensated for this by throwing her energy into quick, sharp thwacks. Angus blocked each one with his own branch or his left arm. Frustrated, she whirled faster, hoping to tire him out. Every movement was reflexive; she didn’t have time to plan strategies. She just let her body move. Still, Angus dodged and ducked. Finally, she drove him back to a tree, causing him to stumble over one of the roots just enough to let his guard down.
“Ha! I’ve got you!” She lifted her sword high in the air, ready to bring it down on him. Before she could do so, he took advantage of her unguarded body and brought his stick up to poke her chest with the end.
He chuckled. “Sorry, not today. You’re dead.”
“Urgh.” She threw down her branch, fuming. “I hope you know that in a real combat situation, you’d have an axe caving your head in by now.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he snickered, getting to his feet.
“What is this?” Harris called out. “Here I am, slaving away over a hot fire, cooking your dinner and the two of you are rolling around in the dirt?” He scowled at them as they approached.
Ailsa flopped down to the ground with a sigh, relishing the combination of cool air and hot flames. “Angus was just showing me all his weaknesses so I can kick his ass next time.”
Harris clicked his tongue. “Ah, but you wouldn’t need to know how to swordfight if you just learned some tricks from me.” He grinned. “I’m more of a stealth attack sort of person; they never see me until it’s too late.” He made a few quick hand movements to back up his claim. Ailsa thought it just made him look like he was having a fit.
She raised an eyebrow. “Harris, you are the least sneaky person I know.”
He tapped his nose. “Maybe that’s what I want you to think. Maybe I’ve been secretly watching you for a while now,” he said, leering at her.
“Creep.”
“He travels by belly roll, Ailsa,” Angus cut in, grinning. “I extremely doubt it.”
Harris just raised his nose haughtily in the air. “My awesome intelligence and outstanding wit make me an excellent travelling companion.”
Now both Ailsa’s eyebrows were raised. “Sure.”
They tucked into the capercaillie, which was surprisingly tasty. They sat in silence as they ripped the meat from the bones, the juices dripping down their chins and splattering their clothes, not that it made much difference because they were so filthy anyway. Once sated, the trio reclined on their packs and let the heat of the fire melt away the evening chill.
Angus turned to the side, unable to move very quickly b
ecause of his fullness. He had a bit of ash smeared on his cheek, but Ailsa felt too lazy to say anything about it.
I’m sure I look a mess, too.
Angus sat up, suddenly rummaging about in his sack. Finally, he lifted a hand, producing something from the bottom of his bag.
“Oh. I forgot I had this. My cousin stuck it in as I was leaving.” He removed the cloth with a flourish and held his hand out for Harris and Ailsa to take what was inside. She reached over and found a thick, sticky biscuit.
“It’s a honey waffle.” She took one and the package was passed to Harris. She sniffed at the treat and closed her eyes. The smell was sweet and floral. It brought back so many memories that she couldn’t breathe for a minute.
“Ailsa, are you okay?” asked Angus.
She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes. It’s just… honey reminds me of my childhood. My mother used to keep bees and we would collect honey to sell.” She sniffed again at the biscuit, then took a little bite. Her mouth filled with the smoky, saccharine flavour.
Harris moaned in appreciation as he munched into his own. “That must have been great as a kid. Endless sweets!”
Ailsa nodded in agreement. “It was. We used to put honey in everything. In the soap, in the candles, you could even put honey on cuts so they wouldn’t become infected.”
“Did you ever get stung?” Angus asked around a mouthful of biscuit.
She chuckled. “Yeah, a few times. It’s okay after the first one though. Visitors would come and watch my mother collect the honey. They thought it was amazing how she was immune to the stings, but really, she was just used to it.”
“Your neighbours must have liked it; not every village has something like that.”
She bit her lip. “Our neighbours wouldn’t touch it, not with me around. They thought I would give them a disease.” Ailsa looked down at the treat in her hands, suddenly feeling full. “My mother had to go to nearby towns without me. She’d be gone for days at a time, but she’d tell our neighbours that if they came near me, I’d curse them. We were on our own for the most part, my mother, brother and me.”
Harris stopped his chewing. When she met his gaze, his eyes were unreadable. “You said you had no siblings,” he accused.
Her jaw clenched and she dragged her eyes from his to stare to the flames.
They sat in silence for a moment, until Harris made a noise of impatience in the back of his throat. It almost sounded like a growl. The sound pulled her from her thoughts, though the memories of her past life—a better life—still swam before her eyes.
“His name was Cameron. When my mother died, a woman… took him, sent him away. I haven’t seen him since.” She heaved in a deep breath. “It was the worst time of my life.”
“What happened to your mother? How did she die?” Angus asked in a gentle voice.
“Ever since I can remember, she’d had health problems, but they’d come in bouts. Muscle weaknesses, tiredness. Then, one winter day, it got much worse. She’d spent hours working outside in the freezing cold and then she couldn’t get up the next day. She was coughing and had a fever, but worst of all, she couldn’t control her muscles.
Then, one morning, she woke up and she couldn’t see. Over the winter, her sight came and went. She developed slurred speech, she’d sometimes forget who I was. A few doctors came by and even a couple of the villagers. They made me go into the other room while Cam looked after her. Then she got sicker.” Her voice had wobbled on the last word and she took a moment to steady herself before continuing.
“A cold. She got a cold from one of the villagers. It had been passing between them and one of them had been coughing when they came to visit. She was already so ill…” Her expression hardened. “Everyone said that I gave her the disease because I was a changeling. But really, they did it.
“I managed to stay in the house until the summer, but they eventually chased me out. I haven’t been back since.” She wiped a hand over her face. “I was fourteen.”
“I’m so sorry.” Angus placed a hand on her shoulder. Surprised by the contact, she flinched but he did not let go. “I know it’s not the same, but I lost my mother too. I know how it feels, at least.”
“Thanks.” Ailsa pinched the bridge of her nose to try to dispel the stinging in her eyes and gave herself a mental shake. She had told herself she would never talk about this with anyone and here she was, spilling her guts. She hardly knew these men. Now they were staring at her with pity. Trying to deflect their attention, she shrugged and forced a half-smile.
“Anyway, I think we need cheering up. Harris, tell us a story?”
He scrutinised her for a beat before grinning mischievously. “Well, how about the time I was betrothed?” Harris leaned back again on one of the packs and crossed his arms over his chest.
Angus couldn’t hide his surprise. “You were betrothed? To whom?”
“A very appealing lady selkie, I’ll have you know. She had handsome whiskers.”
“So why didn’t you get married?” Ailsa asked.
He sighed, throwing his arms up in the air. “She said some fisherman trapped her on land. You see, if someone puts gold on a selkie, they have to stay with that person until it’s taken off.”
She fought to appear uninterested. “So, he kidnapped her?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Looked like a wedding ring to me.” Leaning forward, he fixed them with a teasing look, eyes twinkling. “And she seemed pretty content to leave it on.”
Ailsa couldn’t help but scoff. “She ran away from you?”
He brought a hand to his chest. “Ack, my heart has never been more wounded.”
“More like your pride,” she sniffed, fixing him with a wide-eyed stare. “Or did you love her?” What if he did? Ailsa wondered if she was being too mean, interrogating him like this.
“No, no. It was really for the best. It was a political engagement.” He shrugged. “I had actually met her only once, when my mother dragged me to the fisherman’s home to rescue her. There she was, all curled up with her husband’s head on her lap and a dog at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream.” He chuckled. “My mother was furious but, in the end she had to give in. The girl had the gold after all. When she took me home, my mother threatened to find another girl for me, but I think she’s mostly forgotten about it now. Too many important female selkie things to think about, like saving the world or making friends with Eilanmòr’s royal family.” Having successfully distracted Ailsa, he turned his attention on the prince. “So, Angus, has your father ever tried to sell you off? Isn’t that what second sons are for?”
Angus ducked his head and snorted. “Yeah. Once.”
Ailsa raised a smile. “Who to?” A noble woman? A princess?
“My brother’s wife.”
Ailsa’s mouth dropped open at the same time as Harris whistled, a look of disbelief etched on his face. Angus played with his beard as his cheeks reddened.
Sensing that he was going to have to elaborate, he groaned before continuing. “Right. At the time, our countries were on friendly terms, but my father wanted to make the alliance stronger. He sent my brother to Visenya to escort Princess Vashkha back to Eilanmòr. Duncan told me later that he knew he wanted to marry her as soon as she strode onto the boat, carrying her own luggage. When they returned and told my father, he just shrugged and said it didn’t matter which one of us she marries, as long as it was done within the month.”
Harris reached over and patted Angus’s knee. “We have that in common then: jilted grooms. Were you mad at your brother?”
Angus ducked his head again. “Relieved actually. She wasn’t exactly my type…”
“Was there someone else you liked?”
He regarded them from lowered brows, his blush deepening. “Yeah. It was at training camp. We looked after each other, worked together, fought together. Eventually I realised I liked him.”
“Oh.” Him. Ailsa did her best not to look at Harris. She didn’t want A
ngus to feel like they were judging him if he caught them exchanging glances.
Angus continued, his cheeks now quite scarlet. “Of course, when training ended, we had to leave each other. I tried to convince my father to take him on as a guard, but he caught on pretty quickly to the reason behind my request.”
“Was he okay with it?” asked Ailsa.
Angus sighed. “He told me that he didn’t care about my… preferences… as long as I did my duty. I wasn’t his heir, so I guess he thought it didn’t really matter. When my brother’s wife became pregnant, he eased up a bit more.”
“But what about the man?” she asked, concerned.
“I don’t know.” His voice became wistful. “He’s probably still living with his family. I think that when my brother becomes king, I’ll try to find him. Who knows, he might have forgotten about me. He might have a wife of his own by now…”
Ailsa’s heart broke a little at that. Not only did Angus have the disapproval of his family to contend with, he might have to deal with losing his first love because of it. She would never understand people who took something as pure as love and made it into something shameful.
Harris had been quiet throughout the exchange. Finally, the selkie leaned forward and flashed Angus a grin. “Well, plenty more fish in the sea, I would know after all.” He winked. “When this is over, Angus, you and I can go out on the town. I’ll find you a man.”
The prince sagged a little in relief and turned to Ailsa. “What about you?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I’ll help too. I wouldn’t leave you to Harris’s bad taste.”
“Thanks,” Angus chuckled.
Harris stretched and yawned loudly, ending the conversation. “Well, I think I would like to go to sleep now, so no snoring, you two.”
Ailsa harrumphed in disbelief, but Harris had already tucked himself into his bed roll. She sighed.
“I think I’ll stay up for a bit, keep an eye out.” Someone needs to.
Angus pulled out his own bedding. “Well, wake me up in a few hours and I’ll take the next watch.”
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