Son and Throne (Kaitlyn and the Highlander Book 11)

by Diana Knightley

  Magnus finished searching the men and unsaddling their horses. He set their horses free and they ran off, high spiritedly, but then stopped and stood, seemingly confused about what to do next.

  Magnus and I climbed on our horses. He leaned over and kissed me.

  “For the first time we arna bein’ followed, dost ye feel better?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We will ride tae the clearing, tae see if Lady Mairead has arrived, tae see if there is a sign.”

  It took hours to get to the clearing. Coming from the south, we passed it at first because there was so much more snow, but found it on the second pass. The RF-transmitter was still there. No sign of anything else. No footprints. No messages. No nothing.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I daena ken.” He lowered the transmitter, checked its settings and raised it back up into the tree.

  We both sat quietly and appraised the situation.

  Finally he said, “Tis unsettlin’ that she haena come.”

  I exhaled. “Yet. Not yet.”

  “Aye.” He turned his horse and I followed him away from the clearing.

  Forty-seven - Kaitlyn

  We had a few days of nice weather. Our camp was in a gorgeous protected valley southeast of Balloch. There was a riverbank. Magnus caught fish, and got us one of those hares he had been merciful to before. He taught me to ride, really ride. And we hunted together. We had chores: he took care of the horses, I kept our home straightened, but it was pretty boring most days, and life was a lot about making the very next meal happen. So I sat with him and we fished, and I helped him with the horses and he helped me with the cooking. We washed things together that needed washing, dipping our frozen hands into ice cold water that was running down from the mountain top.

  We kept to ourselves, far away from villages.

  We were only passing through. Waiting to leave.

  We were out of rations, out of coffee, but Magnus was capable, he had meat for us every day.

  And then came the day that I marked in my journal: No more milk.

  My chin trembled. I wrote: I’m sorry Isla, I tried.

  And I cried, wrapped around my knees, Magnus sitting nearby, but not really able to console me. I was a tragedy of the commonplace, a first world problem. A mother whose milk had dried, but her baby would survive. She would be fine. There was milk. Just not mine.

  And so I was sad.

  And because I couldn’t hold her I was very sorry about it all. And because it was feeling like I might never see her again, that I might never see Archie again, I was feeling desperately sad. I cried and cried.

  Finally Magnus said, “Och,” and got up to his feet.

  “Magnus?”

  “I am goin’ for a walk, I will return in a few moments.”

  And he left.

  And I sat there feeling like I couldn’t even feel.

  He returned a while later and sat down across from me. His face was grim. “I need ye tae stop crying.”

  I startled. “Why on earth?”

  “Because tis a recrimination of me, and I canna bear it, Kaitlyn.”

  “It’s not a recrimination, it’s just a broken heart. None of this is your fault, it’s—”

  He broke off a stick and tossed it in the fire. “Tis m’fault. I did this. I miscalculated.” He stood up. “I am tae blame, I ken it, and I can hear it in yer cries. Ye are blamin’ me, and ye arna wrong. Tis cruel but ye arna wrong.”

  “Magnus!”

  He stormed to the tent, angrily unzipped the door, crawled inside, and zipped it up behind him.

  I was fucking shocked.

  “Magnus Campbell!”

  “Nae,” came from inside the tent.

  “What do you mean, ‘nae’?”

  “I mean, I am nae answerin’ ye right now as I am angry and ye best—”

  “Magnus Campbell, don’t you ‘ye best’ me. Don’t you dare!” I angrily unzipped the tent and barged in.

  He was sitting in the bedding. “I daena want ye tae come in right now.”

  “Well you don’t get to decide that, it’s my tent too.” I huffed and crossed my arms. “This is bullshit, you don’t get to be mad at me — for what, because I’m crying? That’s part of my drama, you fucking married me, get used to it. I have to get used to your strutting around here all the time like a big manly man, you can deal with me being fragile sometimes.”

  “I daena strut.”

  “Yes you do, and you spread, you take up too much space. Sometimes, if you’re standing doing something, you keep standing there doing it, even if I need to get past. I have to go around. I always have to go around.”

  “I daena want tae talk tae ye, I am too furious.” He lay back on the bedding with an arm over his eyes.

  “About what? Fuck your fury.”

  “Dost ye want tae come at me when I am furious? I daena think ye should.”

  “Should? What, the great and mighty Magnus doesn’t want his wife to come in the tent with him, the mighty Magnus is too furious? Well, sorry, I don’t want to be alone, so you’re stuck with me.”

  We were both breathing heavy, fuming in silence.

  “Ye ken it, I am at fault, I miscalculated.”

  “I did things too. I’m the one who jumped on the vessel.”

  “Tis still my fault. Twas my mistress tryin’ tae kill ye that—”

  “Your MISTRESS!!! Oh my god Magnus! Did you just fucking call her your mistress? Don’t you ever say that, ever to me. Oh my god — I will accept that she was Archie’s mother — fine, I accept that, but she was not your mistress. Ever, never ever.”

  “I only meant that if it were nae for me, ye wouldna hae had tae—”

  “Yeah, fine, if it weren’t for you I would not have murdered Archie’s mom in the forest of the eighteenth century. Does that feel better? Happy now? That was your fault.”

  His foot was jiggling as if it wanted to pick him up and run him away.

  “I am sorry if my crying sounded like I was blaming you. I suppose, in our marriage, I may have cried to make you sad or to take pity. I get that that could be one way I will try and win the upper hand, and upon reflection, I am not proud of that. But honestly, this is not one of those times, this is me, brokenhearted, because I can’t hold Isla or feed Isla. It has nothing to do with you as this is not anyone’s fault. I’m crying at the unfairness of the world, not in blame.”

  He scowled. “I am tae blame. Ye are wrong in it.”

  I watched him quietly for a moment. “Then we are at an impasse.”

  “I suppose we are.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Naething, I want ye tae say naething. It winna help.”

  “And not cry and be quiet and just let you blame yourself for this?” I scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

  We both sat quietly for a moment and then staring at the tent ceiling he said, “I gravely miscalculated. I believed Lady Mairead would comply, that she wanted me tae survive. I greatly overvalued m’self. And tis a death sentence for ye.”

  “It’s not just me, you’re in the same boat.”

  “I ken, but I daena care about m’self. Tis what I hae done tae ye that I...”

  I sighed. “What else could you have done?”

  “I could hae strung Lady Mairead up by her wrists in a dark dungeon and made her tell me how tae rescue ye.”

  I chuckled. “I do like the sound of that, but I would have died.”

  “Nae, I could hae come with the same settings, I could hae come but with the knowledge of how tae rescue ye. Instead I was cocky and impulsive. I had the chance tae strap on a parachute, tis what they are called?”

  I nodded.

  He finished, “Instead I jumped without one.”

  “Oh, my love, you are feeling it.”

  “I am, tis why I canna listen tae ye cry. Our bairn need ye and I hae taken ye away from them.”

  I reached for his hand, ent
wining our fingers between us, our hands resting on the tent floor of a very wrong century. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He shook his head. “I warned ye when we spoke of getting married, that tae love me was a death sentence.”

  I gave him a sad smile. “You sir, are being very dismal. You did say that, but I married you anyway, and in our vows we promised to love each other till death do us part. Everyone has that in their vows. If you manage to stay married that is the final outcome, the death of one or the other. Now that I think about it the whole thing is pretty fucking dark, but also there’s nothing special about you. I told you I would love you until death do us part and there’s nothing about that that I regret.”

  “Ye are missin’ yer bairn.”

  “Yeah, I am. She’s in one century, I’m in the other. These things aren’t making me special either. History is fucking full of mothers who have empty arms and bairn who are orphaned. My heart is broken. But guess what? I’m alive, she’s alive. We’re just in an impossible situation. There is grieving to be done. Grief has highs and grief has lows. But I promise you, my grief about Isla isn’t blaming you.”

  We sat very still and just sat thinking.

  “Ye daena blame me for strandin’ ye here?”

  I stared off into space for a moment, thinking about it. Then I said, “My silence was me checking. I checked all the corners of my heart, room by room. There is no blame hiding anywhere there, not tucked in drawers, not under the floorboards. None. Do you know what is there?”

  “Nae.”

  “A bed, right in the middle.” My voice cracked. “And Isla is sweetly sleeping in the center and you and I are there beside her and Archie is climbing across us saying, ‘Wake up Da!’ And you and I have our fingers entwined and we are smiling at each other and that smile is always our promise— do you know what the promise is?”

  “I want ye tae remind me.”

  “That we will always do our best to come home.” I smiled at him. “Were you trying to bring me home?”

  “Aye.”

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t blame you my love, not at all. And Isla is alive, Archie is safe. And if we have to keep waiting, then we will keep waiting, and if we never get to go home, well then...” I shook my head. “We’ll keep hoping.”

  “If we can stay alive until the date when the vessels arrived we could take one then.”

  “That’s six years...” I watched his face, sad and desolate, and changed my tack. “But you’re right, that’s something — the vessels will come. If no one has come for us we can get one, we can travel to the day after we left and though it will have been years, Isla wouldn’t even know we had been gone.” I added, “Yeah, probably.”

  I looked down on him. “I’m really sorry.”

  “I am sorry as well, mo reul-iuil. For all of it.”

  “I know, my love.” I folded forward and curled under his arm. “You can’t solve this with action, you are in the ‘waiting place.’ It sucks, but it’s true. I accept your apology, by the way, that might have been the biggest fight we ever had.”

  “Twas bigger when ye came with me tae the past the first time.”

  I pulled my head up with my eyes wide. “Remember when I told you I was going to live in the forest and you said you were going to live in a tent? This is just like that.”

  “Perhaps, except ye hae decided tae live in the tent alongside me and there inna enough chocolate.”

  “You sure you don’t have anymore chocolate?”

  “Nae, ye ate it in the first three days.”

  “I hate myself sometimes. More fish?”

  “I think we should move toward Edinburgh.”

  “Is that a place in this time period?”

  “Aye, and Sir Colin said there is a Queen. If I remember m’history twould be Mary Stuart, though she is at this time verra young. We hae enough gold tae take a room. The transmitter will work there as well as here. We can buy food. I am verra tired of fish, I would like some bread.”

  “It’s a deal, let’s do that, beginning tomorrow, for tonight I want to introduce you to the fun of makeup sex.”

  “What dost that mean?”

  “Sex after a fight, it’s good because it’s a way of asking for forgiveness.”

  He smiled. “We hae forgiven each other, but I would like tae try harder in the askin’.”

  Forty-eight - Kaitlyn

  I had been fishing. The stream we camped near had a wide low rock. I stood on it, holding the fishing pole Magnus had fashioned. This was something that had become routine but also terrifying. What stood between me and food, between Magnus and food, was this pole and my abilities.

  Luckily it was something I could do.

  I was so tired of trout.

  I was growing used to being alone out here now. Magnus would go to hunt. We had the two-way radios and he never went too far. I loved our life now. There was something really beautiful about this stage in our lives. We had never ever ever in any lifetime been alone like this, day in and day out.

  But, my arms were empty, and there was a longing. In the beginning when I was alone at the edge of the water I would cry, but overtime my grief got all cried out. Like there were no more tears left. Magnus and I felt our grief settle, past the acute stage and into chronic. We both felt responsible. But also it was something that we couldn’t help. Not really. Some days I soothed him, kissing his temple, telling him things like, “You did everything you could,” and on some he comforted me. His strong arms holding me. His whispers warming me. Together we talked and laughed, but there were spaces where we held hands and were quiet.

  I would put my forehead against his shoulder and we would just breathe. Loss was all around us, weighing us down, but we were so fucking lucky to be together.

  I stared out at the stream, holding my pole, rhyming babbling brook with things like ‘I mistook,’ and ‘what I would cook,’ rapping to keep my mind busy. “Yo yo yo, streaming stream... Why ya gotta be so mean? Why ya can’t give me a fish — it is my most fervent wish, but actually now that I imagine, what I really want is giant cannon, to shoot me to the moon! You know what’s on the moon? Cheese, cheesy wheezy wheeze, man I want some cheese...”

  My pole jerked, the familiar tug of ‘something for dinner.’ I pulled the fish to shore and landed it beside the other. Two trout would do for our calorie consumption for the rest of the day. Though Magnus was looking thin. I peered down into the eddy and saw another trout, right there... I cast my line into the water again.

  “Trouty, Trouty, big and pouty, I’m gonna eat you, hungry hungry Katie goin’ to...”

  That’s how I was alone, like that, silly rapping down by the river while I imagined Magnus was writing poetry while he chased rabbits. Though who was I kidding? Magnus was still, quiet, patient. He would just sit and wait for the rabbits to hop into his lap.

  I loved that about him, his mountain-ness, his fucking depth. While my depths were shallow as the stream that I was standing beside, my emotions bubbling to the surface — he was calm as the mountain.

  But we were both carrying sadness, and I could see his behind his eyes, a reflection of my own. We both missed our children. Together we both carried the loss of everything: our family, civilization, convenience, and he carried the loss of his throne, of being king, of being the one who handled things and did it well.

  Right now we had each other.

  It was enough.

  I caught that third motherfucking trout. Because I was queen of the stream, the best of the fishers. I was a lean and mean fishing machine — the greatest of wishers.

  He called me on the radio. “I hae a surprise for ye...”

  “Is it—?“

  “Nae, m’apologies, but I found buachiar and some greens and berries.”

  “Awesome, I love mushrooms. I have breac.” I lifted the string of trout to my shoulder and carried it home.

  I called it a feast, but it was only to be nice. We cooked the fish, and ate it with our
fingers. The berries were too tart, but it was a nice change of pace. The green leaves were peppery tasting. It was a relief to have something different on my tastebuds.

  Our routine was this: Eat leftovers first thing. Then hunt and fish, eat lunch, wrap up the last of the fish in a cloth, depart camp, travel for about three hours — today it had been mostly downhill, not as cold, and gorgeous, a trail through the woods, thick and lush, like a prehistoric forest.

  Magnus had a way of knowing the direction and following the land. He led us to another stream, and then we set up camp, just as it was getting dark.

  We climbed into the tent and ate the last of the fish. The transmitter on, the tent zipped up, inside our warm sleeping bags, I asked, licking fish juice from my finger tips, “What would you eat if you could have anything?”

  Magnus thought for a moment. “Dost ye remember the dish Chef Zach made the night we watched the movie with the fightin’?”

  I tried to imagine what movie it was... “Superhero fighting or space fighting?”

  “There was the large green man, and the—”

  “The Avengers, that’s one of my favorites.”

  “Mine as well, though I hae only seen three movies, I daena think it matters which one I put first.”

  I laughed. “True, what did we eat that night?”

  “Twas a meat pie with a flaky crust.”

  “Oh my, I remember that meal. That was delicious. Do you remember the carrots? Sweet, oily, and hunks of salt broiled onto them, like every flavor. Yeah, that was a memorable meal.”

  “There was a salad as well. Made of dark green leaves with tiny slices of orange.”

  “You joked it was a scurvy salad — man, now I’m getting really hungry.”

  “We should think of somethin’ else. Like your breast, ever so close tae my hand.”

  I shifted my top over a half inch so that his hand was on my breast. “Imagine that, so it is.” I giggled. “Funny how your wish is my command.”