“Aye, I know. Losing the lass has been hard on him. Hard on us, as well. We’ve been havin’ to train day and night. I dinna even think real battle would be this tiring. Since the lass came to Dunquest, Laird Graham has been a changed man. But now that she has gone, he seems to have become harsher than he was before.”
“I do hope things will change soon.”
“Aye, me too,” Peter said as he knocked on the door.
Sitting at his desk, Galen tallied the coin he needed for the King’s taxes. Discovering his taxes were two months overdue, he was grateful the tax collector was a kind man. Building up his campaign was beginning to cost them, and so far he still waited for Neville Campbell to respond to the inquiry he had sent days ago about funding. The past several days he had kept busy laying out plans for more crop growth along the southern portion of his land, near the village that was currently unoccupied. The increase in crops in the summer would help bring in more profit to the clan as well as more food. Digging himself out of the financial debt his uncle had created had not been easy.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It must be Moira with lunch, he thought as his stomach growled. Standing from his chair, he opened the door for the old woman, but in the doorway stood Peter holding his tray of food.
“Peter? I had expected Moira. Is something amiss?”
“My apologies, my Laird; Moira asked me to delivered this to ye, but that was no’ the reason I am here. Ye have a visitor; a fearsome lass who has demanded an audience.”
As much as Galen wanted to believe the lass had returned, he couldn’t allow himself to hope. Weeks had passed and there had been no sign of her. For a fleeting moment, thought of her crossed his mind, but any optimism immediately vanished when a bright and bold red-headed lass pushed her way past Peter and entered the library.
“Good day, Lady McFadden. Tis always a pleasure. What bring ye this far north?”
Without responding, Braelyn looked over her shoulder as she waited for Peter to exit the room and close the door behind him. Once they were alone she turned back to him and smiled.
“Ye, of course, my Laird. My father has no’ heard a reply to his inquiry regarding a contract, so I have taken it upon myself to retrieve his answer,” she responded, as she took off her tan-colored wrap and placed it over the arm of the chair near the hearth.
Her long reddish locks hung across one shoulder, complimented by the brilliant blue gown she wore. A necklace with a single teardrop-shaped jewel hung low between her bosoms, making it hard for Galen to avert his eyes; losing all sense of discretion.
Dragging her feet upon the floor, she moved closer to him as if she were dancing to a tune that only she could hear. Her eyes stayed fixed on his. The blue color of her eyes matched the crystal waters of Loch Awe in early spring, and the freckles that dotted her cheeks were like the constellations in the night sky. Her beauty was vexing, and there was no doubt that she was a woman who could easily get what she wanted.
“Ye are referring to the betrothal contract.” He presumed.
Braelyn innocently smiled.
“My Laird, I dinna pretend to no’ understand yer reservations. There have been many things said about me. Some of which are true, but mostly false. I only ask that ye dinna be so quick to judge me based on my reputation. I am a kind and loving woman.”
Braelyn stepped closer to Galen, delicately placing her hand upon his shoulder. Her fingers playfully drew lines down his arm. Galen, like a statue did not flinch at her touch; nor did he reciprocate.
“The truth is, my Laird, I am a lonely woman. And in need of a good mon. We come from good families. By uniting our clans, ye would be the most powerful laird in the highlands. With my dowry, ye will gain more than three hundred acres to add to yer meager few, and in addition to that a powerful army for ye to command. I am yer match, Galen. I would make ye a good wife. Ye know there are also many benefits to a marriage.” Braelyn raised herself to her toes and whispered in his ear; her lips merely touching the lobes. “My body would also be yers to command. To do whatever ye wish.”
Braelyn relaxed her feet back to the floor and came to stand in front of him. With her head lowered she gazed at him through desperate, pleading eyes, as if she were daring him to kiss her.
Galen exhaled, allowing all of the air to leave his lungs. What she offered was hard for any man to turn down. Not to mention the particular way she flaunted her curves made it difficult enough to resist wanting her. His groin began to ache, though he ignored its betrayal.
Galen felt as if he was standing on a precipice. He needed to jump or back down. Thinking of his predicament of late, Galen was finding it more and more difficult to deny her. The world as it had been and his mysterious lass were gone. Though in his heart, he knew he would never love Braelyn the same way, time was running out for him. He would do his duty and consider taking Braelyn as his wife for the good of the clan.
“Ye are right as always, my lady.”
Before Galen could even complete his thought, Braelyn wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her, pressing her lips against his. Galen grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away.
“Just think about it,” she asked, as she wiped her thumb across her lips. “I am to travel to the market today. I will return in two days for my answer.”
As Braelyn walked out the door, Galen returned to his chair and began eating the meal Peter had brought him, though he was left with little appetite. If he married Braelyn the match would ensure his clan’s prosperity, and the increase of funds and land. It was hard to turn down. He had to consider her offer. Galen could not be selfish. He had a clan to lead, and sacrifices had to be made.
After finishing up his meal, Galen headed down the hall to his mother’s solar. The last memory he had of Ella inside this very room swept across his mind like a flash of light. He could practically taste her sweet petal-soft lips on his. Damn it, he thought. I have to stop thinking about her.
Inside the cluttered room, he looked for a small wooden box hidden in the top drawer of her desk. Taking out the box, he placed it on the table. Opening its lid, he gazed down at a small ruby ring with a gold band. Picking up the ring in his large hands the ruby glistened in the light like burning embers. Before belonging to his mother, the ring had belonged to his maternal grandmother, and her mother before that. The ring had been in his family for generations, and was given to him for the day he found his bride.
He replaced the ring inside the small box, and placed the box in his pocket. As he was about to close the drawer, Moira burst into the room.
“My Laird, I have kept my mouth shut these past five years, but in this I can no’ longer keep silent. I have known ye since ye were a bairn and yer uncle was laird of his keep. I have fed ye, clothed ye, and washed ye. Ye have grown to be a fine mon and a fine laird, and I have never questioned yer motives or commands until now. But if I may speak freely, what the hell do ye think ye are doing considering marriage to that trollup? What of the lassie? We have all watched ye mope around here like a damn mule for o’er two weeks after she left, and now ye make this foolish decision to all of a sudden get married?” Moira’s voice echoed off the walls.
Galen could hear whispers in the hall from maids who had huddled together to eavesdrop on their conversation. Hearing Moira’s lecture reminded him of his days at the priory. Day after day the monks lectured him about his often rash, spontaneous behavior. Her bold statement would have cost her time in the stocks, but hearing it was almost refreshing.
“Ye are overstepping yer boundaries, Moira. Do ye think I have no’ tried? I have looked beyond the reaches of Scotland for her. I have used every resource I have. She is gone, Moira. She left of her own will, and from now on, if anyone mentions her, they will have to answer to me. This union between Lady McFadden and I would be good for the clan. I must think of them first.”
“And what of ye, my Laird? Is that what is good fer ye? Is that what will make ye happy? My Laird, for a mon who cla
ims to see everything, ye are as blind as a stuffed goat. I may be an auld woman, but I know love when I see it. And she loved ye. She would no’ have left in such a fashion unless she had a good reason. A woman does no’ abandon her heart so easily. All I ask is that ye listen to yers. Now that I have said my thoughts, I will leave ye to yers.”
Moira turned on her heel and walked away. Damn auld woman! Galen stormed out of the room and out the back door, needing fresh air to gather his thoughts. Arriving at the stables he forcefully pushed the door open and tossed his saddle on his horse.
“Accept my blessing on your upcoming marriage, my Laird,” Peter said from the stall next to him, as he laid down hay for the horses.
“I did no’ agree to such marriage. I have no accepted the offer.”
Angered, Galen grunted and jumped on the saddle. Like a raging storm, he rode out of the stable and through the gates, past the guards to blow off steam. Riding always calmed his nerves, but Moira sure had a way about her to get on his.
Galen rode for miles through the thick snow. As the sun started to descend in the sky he pulled on the reins to slow the horse. Stopping in front of a large oak, he dismounted and went to the pines to relieve himself. Once finished, he adjusted his trews and walked back to the horse. But as he neared the oak tree he saw something black lying upon the white snow.
Bending down, he picked up the object and dusted the snow off of it. It was a black leather satchel. Anxiously, he untwined the ties that held it shut and dumped the contents out onto his hand. The stones!
Galen looked around, searching for its owner, but she was nowhere to be found. She had been here; this was her satchel. But it made no sense. Every time he had seen the lass, she’d had the bag tied to her belt. It seemed she never went anywhere without it.
Questions filled his mind as to what could have transpired here. Was she taken? Was she hurt? He’d searched for her for weeks and did not leave one stone unturned. Even if he wanted to search for her now, he would have no idea where to look.
Galen looked back at the stones in his palm believing he was meant to find them. This was a sign.
Leaning against the tall oak tree, Galen pressed his hand against the trunk for support to think of his next move. He could continue north in hopes to find her, or he could divert east towards the port and question whether she had boarded a vessel. While his mind kept him busy, the bark suddenly softened behind his fingers. Galen snatched his hand away and watched as a beam of light appeared from the trunk as bright as a star.
“What the bloody hell?”
As the light grew brighter, Galen stared into the center. The brightness did not hurt his eyes. The light was not from the sun, nor was it caused by fire. Trying to narrow down the possibilities of what it could be, Galen raised his hand to it. It felt cold and appeared to go beyond the trunk of the tree. Like a rush of adrenaline, a surge of excitement and energy ran through him.
Galen eyed it suspiciously. Bending down, he picked up a rock and tossed it into the light. He did not see or hear the sound of the rock hitting the hard wood of the tree, nor did he see it fall to the ground. It had disappeared into the light. With a deep breath, curiosity pulled him toward it. He took another step forward, then another and decided to enter the light.
Galen stepped out onto rocky ground dusted with powdery snow. He turned and the light had vanished. Only the old bark remained.
Galen surveyed his surroundings. Where ever he was, it was not where he had been. Around him was a wooded forest. Its eerie glow of greenish blue mist suffocated the light. Large leaves from exotic plants he had never seen were bold and vibrant, as if they glistened. Even the bark on the trees had rich shades of brown like seedlings and not hundred year old trees. Colors seemed to shimmer around him like magic, and each plant, tree, and winter flower glowed. It was as if he’d stepped into a painting, where everything was pure and clear. He had never seen such vibrant colors.
Up ahead, Galen thought he saw something that resembled a path and began to follow it. Within moments, he had left the covering of the woods and entered a hilly pasture. Large white birds took to the skies. They were like nothing he had ever seen. The unique beauty of this place was indescribable.
Scanning his surroundings, he saw a vista of mountains in the distance covered by a blackened sky, like a wicked storm hovering over the land.
Whatever this place was, he was definitely not in Scotland any longer.
~ Chapter 20 ~
Standing in front of the doors to the fortress, the feeling of home felt like a wave of relief carrying away all of the tension that had built up over the past several weeks. Here, everything made sense. Here, Ella’s strength shined like a glowing aura. This overwhelming sense of empowerment gave her more courage than she’d ever thought possible.
Pushing the doors open, she stepped into the foyer. It felt as if she had never left. Since she had returned to Andorian land, there had not been any sign of Alaris or the members of the Order. Walking down the endless hall, Ella desperately searched each room in search of Darius. As magistrate, she needed his support more than ever to convince the remaining members of the High Council of her plan.
Ella came to the last room; the door to the temple. It was shut, and she could hear voices from the other side. Slowly and quietly, she turned the knob and opened the door just enough to peek inside. Inside the room, she saw Darius as well as the other members sitting around the table. In the center of the room, two guards held a prisoner. Alaris was nowhere in sight, thank the heavens.
Ella boldly pushed the door open and took her seat on the platform.
“You’re back. We were beginning to worry. Were you successful? Did you bring the child?” Darius asked.
“No. There will be time to explain. Who is this man?” she asked, looking at the shackled prisoner in the center of the room.
“This filth is a warrior of Greylyn. We found him heading south through the hills of Wyncrest far beyond the territory of Greylyn. I was just about to carry out his sentence,” Darius explained.
“Release him,” Ella firmly ordered.
Darius and the others looked at her strangely. Ella could not help but feel detached from the others, sweeping her gaze over each face, many of whom shared her fate. Ella looked to the two guards who stared at her in bewilderment, as if someone had hit them both over the head and they were seeing stars.
“Has my order fallen on deaf ears? I said release him.”
The two guards looked to each other and then to Darius. Removing their hands from the prisoner, the man fell to the ground.
“Unchain him,” Ella barked with irritation as the two guards quickly followed her order. “Now go,” she said to the prisoner, who bowed and scurried out the door gasping for air, as if he were in a room without oxygen.
Ella waited for the man to leave before addressing the council.
“I don’t usually question your orders, but why did we just allow a Greylyn warrior loose on our lands?” Darius asked.
“Alaris has deceived us,” Ella announced. A humming wave of low whispers filled the room. “I must ask, prior to you joining the Order. Does anyone remember their past?”
“Tis a fool-hearted question! Surely you know the answer to that. Upon admission to the Order, we gave our life to its cause. Our previous lives do not matter. Why are you asking such questions? We willingly gave it up,” Darius said, the first to reply naturally.
“Did we? Willingly?”
Darius looked at her as if he did not recognize her. She knew this revelation would not be easy to accept, but she had to find the words to convey her message, to get across to them what Alaris had done. Suddenly, nervousness engulfed her. If she admitted she was not a Fae they could very well rebel against her.
“Each one of you vowed to give your life to the Order. And by doing so, you also vowed to follow me. As successor to the crown, I am charging Queen Alaris with treason against the Order.”
“What of the wa
r?” one of the members of the council asked.
“There is no war other than within our own kingdom,” she replied
Questions came spewing out from all members of the Order. What had she done? How do you suppose we take Alaris into custody? Are you under the influence of Queen Talara?
Ella lowered her head for a moment. It was time to tell them the truth.
“I have come from the mortal world. Alaris has used us. All of us. She stripped away our memory so that we would not know the truth. She created this Order to help her rule this kingdom.”
“The truth about what? Certainly we have the right to know what she is being charged for!” one asked.
“That we are human-born. It is why our gifts are greater than the others. It’s why we don’t bear wings and why we cannot heal the forest. We were bewitched. We were not born with these gifts. Alaris has molded us into perfect warriors so that her army would be stronger than that of Greylyn. I have spoken to Queen Talara to stop this war, but it is Alaris who must be stopped.”
Their eyes widened in disbelief. Everyone, except Darius. Ella could only see nervousness in his eyes. Narrowing her eyes to him, she watched as he nervously fidgeted with the strings on his robe. He was hiding something.
In an angry whisper, she said, “You knew?”
Darius stood and bolted for the door.
“Stop him!” Ella hollered, and two members of the Order stood to block the doorway. “How long have you known?”
Darius backed himself into the corner. Angry faces stared at him, waiting for an answer. One of them drew his blade.
“Since the beginning,” Darius coldly replied.
The council members looked to each other in disbelief as Darius confirmed what Ella had claimed. Several of the members grabbed Darius before he could escape.
Legend of the Fae: A Highland Fantasy (The Dark Fae Saga Book 1) Page 12