The Stone of Destiny

by Caroline Logan

  “—hidden somewhere, but some soldiers were sent to retrieve it,” the man was saying as he munched through the mashed potato on his plate.

  “No,” his partner, a pretty blonde with glasses, argued. “I heard they weren’t soldiers, they were fae—”

  “Fae? Who’s been filling your head with that nonsense?”

  “Kennie—”

  He laughed. “Kennie is a drunk.”

  She pouted, annoyance creeping into her voice as she replied, “Well, yes, but he worked at the castle during the coronation. He said that Prince Angus went to find the Stone of Destiny and two fair folk went with him.”

  “The prince would never be allowed to do that, it’s too dangerous—”

  “Well, he’s a spare, isn’t he?” she muttered.

  Ailsa fought to control the growl under her breath.

  “And that’s why the fae got sent with him. A selkie and a changeling.”

  “A changeling?” The man looked around the room, as if to check for anyone listening to their conversation. Ailsa narrowly missed meeting his eyes, ducking her head just in time. Her cheeks burned as she continued to listen.

  “Don’t changelings eat people?” he asked.

  “You’re a bampot. Changelings are good luck,” the girl stated, primly sipping on her wine. “Faeries leave their children in place of dying babies so that the mother doesn’t have to lose a child. When they grow up, they grant their parents’ wishes.”

  Ailsa wasn’t sure whether to snort at the absurdity or to stare in awe at the young woman. Changelings are good luck? That was certainly a refreshing opinion.

  “Anyway,” said the girl, “I heard that Prince Angus fell madly in love with her.”

  “Who?”

  “The changeling.”

  Now Ailsa did snort, drawing the attention of the young couple. She coughed into her hand, pretending the beer had gone down the wrong way.

  Her and Angus?

  She could imagine his face, as clear as if he were sitting beside her. Her heart sank at the image, remembering too late what she had left behind.

  The couple’s conversation moved on to the boring topic of their future wedding and Ailsa stopped listening. She ate her food in silence—cullen skink with crusty bread—and when she was finished, she deposited the plate and her glass at the bar. The barman gave her a warm smile.

  “Want a room?” he asked, nodding to the stairs at the back.

  She hesitated, fingering the strap of her bag. She had planned to camp tonight, but a sudden clap of thunder made her change her mind. She reached inside her pack and brought out a few coins, being careful to ensure no one saw the bulging purse she carried. The barman smiled again and swapped the coins for a key.

  “First door on the left.”

  She gave him a nod of thanks, doing her best to keep her face covered, and walked towards the stairs.

  The room was plainly fitted and smelled of soap. Half an hour later, she had managed to start a fire in the grate and had shed her outer clothes, leaving on only her undershirt and leggings. She lay on the double bed, allowing the heat to penetrate her skin, listening to the sounds of people in the tavern below. Slowly, the sun’s light faded outside, replaced by a veil of darkness, the moon and stars covered by the thick clouds that had been lingering all day. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into a dream—

  Tap, tap, tap.

  A knock at the door had her flying upright.

  She ran a hand through the hair that had managed to knot around her face. She must have been asleep for a while, although it didn’t feel like that long. There was another tap and she rolled her shoulders.

  “Who is it?” she shouted, cursing under her breath.

  The barman had probably realised he had a changeling under his roof. Maybe he had come to tell her she couldn’t stay here anymore, she thought glumly.

  But it wasn’t the barman’s voice that answered.

  “It’s Harris. Open up, Ailsa.”

  Chapter 63

  Judging by the wet hair plastered to his forehead, it was still pouring outside. For some reason, he had not bothered to raise his hood against the elements. Raindrops clustered on his eyelashes, sparkling like diamonds in the firelight.

  “All the way here I rehearsed what I was going to say when I saw you, but…” he rubbed his neck in consternation. “It seems like my mind has gone blank.”

  “Well,” she mumbled, “I guess you had better start by coming inside.”

  Relief passed over his face before he stepped in and threw the door shut behind him. The lock clicked into place and he turned to examine her.

  “I brought you this,” he murmured, pulling something out of his pocket. He opened his hand to reveal a tiny white flower and Ailsa’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Like the one in the story,” he whispered, his lips tilted up into a half smile.

  “I know,” said Ailsa, forcing her face to be impassive. “Why are you here, Harris?”

  “You left without saying goodbye,” he said in place of an explanation. His tone was easy, calm, but from the way he was clenching his hands, he was anything but.

  “I thought it would make it easier,” admitted Ailsa.

  “Why? Because you knew it would be too hard to leave me?”

  There it was, the joking again. This wasn’t a game. A growl came into her voice as she said, “I’m leaving Harris. The journey… It was fun, but I’m supposed to be back home, on my beach.”

  He stepped forward, eyeing her like a dangerous animal. “I want you to stay.”

  “Why?” Her lip curled. “You’ve only known me for less than a month.”

  He let out gasping laugh, running a hand through his hair. She watched the action, her fingers itching.

  “A day would have been enough. I like you Ailsa. I’ve known that from the begin—”

  “Don’t you dare!” She thrust a finger in his direction, stepping forward until she was right in front of him. “Don’t you dare tell me you like me. I can’t stay Harris. I don’t belong here—”

  He cut her off. “Neither do I!”

  She threw her hands up. “Of course you do! Look at you,” she grumbled, gesturing in his general direction. “You fit in. You’re only going to make this harder—”

  Now he was angry. His eyes thundered as he ground out, “Good. You are being a coward.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulders. “You are being a coward and I’m not going to let you. You could go back home and then what? You’ll be alone for the rest of your life. And one day, when you’re old, and wrinkly and dying, you’re going to think of my face and get so pissed off because we didn’t do this more.” He pulled her roughly to him and captured her lips with his in a searing kiss.

  As soon as it had started, he pulled back. She was panting but he continued speaking, still holding her shoulders tightly. “And I don’t want you to feel pissed off when you think of me. I want you to think ‘wow, we had a wonderful time together.’ Or better yet, you won’t even have to try to remember me, because I’ll be right there with you, holding your hand.”

  He kissed me.

  Ailsa fought to collect herself. “Harris, I can’t—”

  “Don’t you want to know how things could be, if we were together?” he growled.

  “But what happens when I’m old and I look horrible? And you’re sitting there, still looking the same, feeding me soup because I’ve lost all my teeth?”

  He smiled. “I wouldn’t care. Besides, we could die before then.” Her brow furrowed and his grin stretched wider. “I know that sounds harsh, but the thing is, we don’t know what’s going to happen. We could have sixty years together—or six. Shouldn’t we make the most of every moment we have?”

  “I don’t know, Harris.”

  He let her go, allowing her the space she had been craving. It was easier to think when he wasn’t holding her.

  “We could at least try?” he pleaded. “And if you don’
t think it’s working out then that’s okay…” He paused and her eyes snapped to his again. “Don’t you like me?” he murmured.

  She bit back a laugh. This was ridiculous. “Yes, you idiot, but—”

  “Please, Ailsa,” he said quietly, evenly.

  “You might regret it…”

  “Never,” he vowed, his voice hushed. “I will never regret any time I get to spend with you. Please. Come back with me, Ailsa.” He held out a hand, like a question. “Just say yes.”

  She hesitated, the sound of their breathing filling the silence. “Yes.”

  “Good.” His face brightened. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he told her.

  Now she felt unsure. “But you just did—”

  He stepped closer and she could feel the heat of his body. “That wasn’t a real kiss.” His voice was husky and the sound warmed her cheeks.

  “A real kiss?” Ailsa felt faint. He reached out a hand to finger a lock of her hair lying on her shoulder.

  She backed away, until her heels hit the door.

  As Harris approached, she smelled his familiar, citrus and sea salt scent, enveloping her like a cloak. Just like the beach. He rested a hand on her shoulder and the breath hitched in her throat. His emerald eyes locked on hers, holding them in place as he leaned in. Wrapping one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, he pulled her into his warm body, just embracing her. Her breath left her in a whoosh as she realised this was all he would do for the moment.

  They stood like that for a while, just breathing each other in. Ailsa wondered how she felt to him. Was she soft or hard like he was? Did she feel tense? She thought about her body, attempting to unlock the muscles from her feet to her neck, as he rubbed her back in soft strokes.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he repeated in a murmur. This time it wasn’t a command, but a warning. She could pull away if she wanted to. He wouldn’t stop her.

  Slowly, she lifted her head from where it had been leaning against his shoulder and gazed up at him. Inside his eyes she found barely concealed excitement.

  He gave her a tentative smile.

  Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back slowly. Harris rubbed a thumb over her jaw, coaxing her slightly higher so that she stood on her toes. She felt his hot breath, first on her chin, then her cheek, then her forehead as he planted a soft kiss there. He moved his mouth further down and kissed her on her eyelids, her nose, finally biting the delicate flesh of her ear. As his teeth grazed her skin, she let out a low moan.

  The sound snapped the leash he had on himself and his lips crashed down upon hers. Her pulse pounded through her veins as he pressed himself more securely to her body and moved his mouth over hers.

  The kiss felt like a claiming, like a contract. They had danced around this for weeks, but finally their intentions were laid bare. With each push of his lips on hers, a tiny bit of granite tumbled from the stone wall around her heart.

  Deepening the kiss, he licked along the seam of her lips, delving his tongue in when she opened to him. She lifted her hands to twine in his flaming hair.

  Playing with fire, she thought and inwardly winced at the absurdity of it. She felt giddy; unhinged. When the hand on her back drifted further down, sense all but fled from her mind.

  Harris broke the kiss, but his mouth lingered on her face, kissing around and down, lower, under the hollow of her jaw.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since before we got to Dunrigh,” he chuckled, and she felt the curve of his mouth against the skin of her neck. “I’ve been waiting to hear all the noises you’d make…” As he finished, he bit down on the skin between her shoulder and her collarbone, eliciting a groan from her lips.

  “What noises can you make?” she wondered, and he raised his face, the grin wiped away. “I wouldn’t be so sure you’ll have the upper hand, Harris.” He stared at her for a beat, taking in the smirk she was valiantly trying to keep in place, despite her heaving breathing.

  “Oh Gods,” he whispered hoarsely, before claiming her mouth again. She allowed him to back her up, gasping when her heels hit the wall. He pushed her into the wood, pressing his body around her small frame.

  He leaned his forehead into hers, with his eyes closed. One finger slid rapidly against her hip bone in time with his breaths. “I think I could die from this.”

  “Stop talking,” she growled, pulling his lips back to hers.

  More, more, more, her thoughts chanted as their tongues fought for dominance. Now was not the time for words.

  Harris’s hand stroked down her back, leaving sparks in its wake. She gasped a little into his mouth as he quickly caught her behind her knee and hooked her leg over his hip, angling his body so that it fit between her limbs. With a smirk, she pulled his hair, drawing from him a few choice curses between kisses.

  One of Harris’s fingers slipped around the waistband of her trousers, and between the heated gasps, Ailsa wondered how far she would let this go. At some point she would have to put an end to this. Wouldn’t she?

  She was saved from her inner debate by an insistent knocking at the door. She lifted her face to peer over Harris’s shoulder, but he grumbled, capturing her ear again between his teeth.

  The banging grew louder.

  With a groan, Harris shoved himself away from the wall, releasing her body. The air from the room cooled her fevered skin, making her shiver.

  He stood before her, breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists.

  “This isn’t over.” He promised, the crack in his voice betraying his emotion. He pinned her to the wall with his gaze. She nodded and he turned to open the door.

  As his fingers clasped around the handle, the thumping got louder still, as if the visitor would break down the door, had it not been locked. A sinking sensation hovered in Ailsa’s chest and she took a step forward.

  Something was wrong.

  Too late, Harris’s hand turned, releasing the lock on the door. It exploded inward, under the weight of the other person’s fist, sending splinters everywhere. Harris was thrown back, landing first on the bed, then bouncing to the floor.

  Chapter 64

  Ailsa was frozen, her eyes round with shock.

  A tall, muscled figure stalked into the room, the lamplight illuminating their features.

  Or it would have done they hadn’t been wearing a skull mask.

  Ailsa gasped and reached for her axe, but she was pushed to the bed before she could react. Strong hands held her stomach down against the mattress. The stranger lifted a knife to the side of her face, parting her hair with the blade to reveal her mark.

  “Ailsa!” Harris cried, rising from the floor and running at her assailant. She watched in horror as the knife swept up, cutting him on the shoulder.

  “No!” she struggled to get free as blood spilled from Harris’s wound. He held a hand to it and charged again. This time, the Avalognian landed a hard blow with the hilt of the weapon to the side of his head. Harris’s legs crumpled under him and he sank to the floor, eyes rolling back into his head.

  “I remember you,” said the raider. Ailsa lay on her back, her torso exposed and vulnerable. The stranger lifted a hand to her own face, and pulled the skull mask away, revealing mahogany skin, a curled lip over sharpened teeth and brown eyes full of hate and recognition.

  It was the raider she had fought with on the beach.

  “I was in that boat for two days before anyone found me. No food, little water. And would you like to know what I did to pass the time?” The woman grabbed the front of Ailsa’s tunic and pulled her to her feet, her face inches from her own. “I thought about how I would pay you back.” She smiled cruelly and pushed her towards the door. Ailsa’s gaze slid from Harris’s broken form to her axe, sitting beside the hearth, useless now.

  As they left the room, they heard a cry. An elderly man, clearly someone who worked in the inn, leapt in front of them brandishing a wooden chair. The raider growled, before shoving Ailsa to the floor and pressi
ng her boot hard into her back. She watched from under her hair as the Avalognian grabbed the chair from the man and, without any preamble, plunged her knife into his neck.

  Ailsa felt the raider moving in slow motion as she waited one beat, two beats, before withdrawing her blade and watching the man sink to the floor. He groaned and clutched his wound as he fell, his face landing inches away from Ailsa’s. She watched as bubbles of blood formed around his lips, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, as his life force seeped out of his body. His eyes met hers, empty and unblinking. Before she could watch him die, she was pulled to her feet again.

  “Move.” The woman commanded, before shoving her roughly towards the stairs. She chanced a look over her shoulder, but the man was no longer moving.

  The scene downstairs was so different to the previous afternoon that Ailsa felt she had walked into another world. The tables had been overturned and there were mugs and plates shattered everywhere. The people around the room fell into three categories: raiders, the people they had captured, or those that had fought and whose bodies now littered the floor.

  As if moving through honey, Ailsa’s eyes found the corpse of the blonde girl, her glasses askew. Bright red blood leaked from her neck wound—her fiancé was nowhere to be seen.

  They were planning on having a summer wedding…

  The woman pulling her along stopped in front of the group of terrified Eilanmòrians and pushed Ailsa’s head down so she had to kneel with them.

  Her voice came out whip-like and loud. “Report.”

  A hulking figure stepped forward, his face still covered in his skull mask. “Nine bodies in here, twelve out in the village.” Bodies? With a start she realised he was referring to their captives as if they were nothing but meat.

  “Resistance?”

  “Just what you see on the floor.” He gestured to the corpses and smiled. “Plus a few locked in rooms upstairs.”

  “Good. We’re leaving. Burn this place to the ground.”

  “But Brenna, what about plunder?”