Son and Throne (Kaitlyn and the Highlander Book 11)

by Diana Knightley

“...twenty-nine, thirty...”

  I put out my hand.

  He dropped from his seat to his knee, took my hand in both of his, looked up at me as if he wanted to devour me, and kissed my knuckle. “Mo reul-iuil, tha gaol gam ort.” He grinned up at me. “Tis good enough for your purposes?”

  “My knees went a little weak, so yes, but maybe in English too.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I helped him up because he was a little wobbly from the partying. And then I curtsied to Mary of Guise’s table while Magnus bowed.

  All the ladies applauded enthusiastically as Mary of Guise passed me the ribbon. “Well done, Lady Kaitlyn! Well under a minute!”

  I hiccuped and tied the ribbon around Magnus’s neck with a big jaunty bow to the side.

  And the night went on like that — fun, game after game, musicians playing, all of us dancing, and a few of us drunkenly singing. Until late at night Magnus and I stumbled up to our room.

  I collapsed onto the bed. And Magnus collapsed beside me. He said, “Ye were laughin’, I hae missed hearin’ ye laugh.”

  “I missed hearing you laugh too.”

  Fifty-seven - Kaitlyn

  Stirling Castle was gorgeous, even bigger and more imposing than Edinburgh, steeped in history, and it was only 1552. Clinging to the edge of cliffs, like it was part of the stone and rock jutting up from earth, it sprawled — full of rooms. We rode through the big imposing gate and were given a tour, including the armaments which were the reason we were here. Mary of Guise’s military engineer wanted her approval of his designs. We were shown to our rooms and again treated royally, something I could totally get used to.

  Magnus and I had a large room, with windows that looked out over the courtyard, with a four poster bed with quilted, silk brocade curtains. We set a transmitter in the window behind the shutters, though we were actually past hoping, now it was just something we did out of habit.

  Our days were full of meals and small talk, walks around the grounds. The men went on hunts and we all played at archery. The younger people played at games that involved much laughing and chasing and being embarrassed and caught by the opposite sex. There was a great deal of it that was silly and naive and quite a bit that was sure to end someone in the middle of the #MeToo movement.

  There wasn’t a lot of talk of consent in this world, but as I was an old married lady I got to watch and gossip with Mary and her ladies, and if young ladies needed help in finding a match, it was our job to embarrass everyone roundly while putting the young ladies with their match at any cost.

  Mary of Guise would say, “Mistress Seonnie, you must carry this to young Master Cornet, I demand it.” And the poor girl would have to carry something to the man and would have to converse with him while her cheeks turned red in embarrassment.

  As the days passed I realized the nature of the real game: can the virgin stay virtuous while the older women put her in harm’s way and the older men tried to see what they could accomplish, while the young man, who really wanted her, tried to win her while being completely outmanned, too embarrassed, and all but impotent to succeed?

  Whenever possible I kept Mistress Seonnie beside me to protect her from the lascivious attentions of some downright horrible old guys. I tried to get Master Cornet to join us as well, and to strike up a conversation, only to have one or the other rush away in embarrassment. Then the games began again. I was irritated. But with virtue at stake and so many people watching, and all of us bored, it was understandable why it took so long for their courtship to actually happen.

  There were parties. Poets and musicians visited and performed. Dignitaries arrived. The intrigues were manifold. Every new person arrived with gossip and stories to accompany them.

  Magnus and I spent a lot of time fornicating in our awesomely curtained bed. I felt like a queen on the best days, or like a member of the queen’s mother’s entourage on the worst days, both would do.

  Magnus was sitting on a long low wall in the sun watching a friendly fencing match. He winced at a particularly bad thrust that ended in Master Cornet’s stumble. I was standing beside him, enjoying the sun on my face, but too hot in my dress.

  “He is not able to perform because Mistress Seonnie is sitting right there with Master Gaufrid giving her attention,” I said. “Plus he’s not that good.” I had been watching fencing for so many days that now I was practically an expert.

  He said, “Aye, he is terrible and he is goin’ tae lose the young Mistress Seonnie. Master Gaufrid is speakin’ tae her father on the dowry.”

  “I hate that. Is there time? Is it lost?”

  “Nae, but the young man best move faster than he is, Master Gaufrid is too verra auld for the young mistress. Nae one wants the match, but a match will come. She is of age for it.”

  “Poor baby, I’ll tell Master Cornet he needs to go faster or he will lose her. He is so stupid, so so stupid.”

  Master Cornet mis-stepped again with a weak thrust that caused both Magnus and me to wince.

  The tournaments began.

  We were lucky to have some gorgeous days with little rain, and the games were set up on a wide green lawn. I entered the archery events. I had been practicing and with Magnus’s help in training, I had gotten really good. I loved aiming for the target, drawing the bowstring, concentrating, and letting the arrow fly. Breathless. Until the judge announced the results. Time after time my arrow flew sure and hit right in the center.

  I would turn around to see Magnus beaming in the seats, applauding like crazy. The only person he applauded for more was Mary of Guise, and that was just good form. It took three days, from the first qualifying round to the last, for me to come in second place overall. Mary of Guise came in first, so I was pleased with the results.

  My prize was a white silk scarf that I tied around Magnus’s arm as he took to the field for the finals of his own event, sword fighting.

  He had already run a footrace, thrown a stone put, tried his hand at caber tossing, and fought five times, and this was the last battle, against the reigning champion, John Stewart.

  On the sidelines, Magnus held his blunted sword, watching across the field as John Stewart prepared for their fight.

  I said, “You can take him, he’s small.”

  “Aye, but he is a worthy opponent, he is quick on his feet, not an auld man such as I.”

  I smoothed his shirt across his chest. “Well, while that is true, you can still win, just watch his double-step on the downward arc, it means he’s about to change direction.”

  The corner of his eyes wrinkled with his smile. I knew the ‘why’ of his grin, he didn’t need to say it. I said, “Have a good fight.” I kissed him and went to sit with Mary of Guise and her ladies, one of the best seats in the house.

  The fight started out well. I loved watching Magnus, sure and strong. He and John Stewart were well-matched and so it got exciting and theatrical, they both knew how to work the crowd. Their swords arced and swung, and then they would prowl in a circle around each other, taunting each other. Jesting.

  Then Magnus had two good swings and the upper hand. Parts of the audience began to chant, “Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!”

  He swung his blade down, missed, and dazedly looked around at the assembled people, still chanting, “Magnus! Magnus!”

  I stood up from my chair.

  Magnus wasn’t focused on the fight at all. John Stewart swung his blade down and hit Magnus hard on an unprotected shoulder, causing him to stumble back. John Stewart took his two steps and started to swing again, but at the look on Magnus’s face, he faltered. Magnus looked at his shoulder, a tear on his sleeve, as if he was confused. He took a step back, then another, and dropped his sword to the ground.

  No one was chanting anymore. I raced onto the field.

  “Magnus! Are you okay?” I checked his shoulder. It was going to have a nasty bruise. “Magnus do you hear me?”

  “Och, they were chanting.” His eyes were roaming
wildly around the field.

  “I know. Focus on my face, look in my eyes.” I brushed the hair from his damp forehead. “I know.” We looked into each other’s eyes. “Focus, breathe. Are you breathing?”

  He drew in air and pushed it out. “Aye.”

  We continued to look into each other’s eyes until it seemed like he was on top of his breaths. “Are you ready to continue?”

  He shook his head. “Nae. I canna...”

  “Will you need to forfeit?”

  “I hae never done that afore, but aye, I will forfeit.” He strode to the middle of the field to speak to John Stewart and end the match.

  I returned to my chair. Mary of Guise asked, “Will Lord Magnus be able to continue the match?”

  “No, he can’t, he’s forfeiting.” The older man refereeing their fight announced, “John Stewart is the winner!”

  Applause rose from the crowd.

  Magnus walked up to Mary of Guise and bowed before her. “My apologies for forfeitin’ the game, your highness. I found m’self unable tae continue.”

  “Lord Magnus, you looked as if you were fighting a different battle than the one before you.”

  Magnus, with his head bowed, said, “Aye, twas a battle from m’past. I was made tae fight tae the death as a crowd chanted m’name. That battle was playing afore me as if I was dreaming.”

  Mary of Guise shook her head sadly. “Lord Magnus, I have felt this myself. Four years ago, at the siege of Haddington, I lost sixteen men around me. Sometimes when I close my eyes I relive the battle. It is difficult to try to rid my mind of that memory.” She smiled consolingly. “I understand. You are forgiven for not continuing the match.”

  “Thank you, your highness.”

  Magnus came and sat beside me. He tucked in around my arm and squeezed it tight.

  I whispered, “I understand all of the reasons you couldn’t go on, and I just want you to know that I love you.”

  “I love ye as well, thank ye for helping me find my breath again.”

  “You’re welcome, we’re a team, you and I, we’re in this together. And the truth is, you no longer need to prove your sword-fighting skills. Practice fighting is a young man’s game. You have proven yourself, time, and time again. I think that from now on, you need only to throw that big rock in the air. That was fun.”

  “You liked watchin’ me do that?”

  “Aye, your muscles heaving? Huge fan.” I kissed his forehead. “I truly am your hugest fan.”

  “I ken ye are. Somedays tis all that gets me through.” He added, “We begin the journey home tomorrow, are ye glad of it?”

  I gave him a sad smile, the ‘home’ part was enough to make me wince. But he knew all the trouble of that word, he was living it with me. We didn’t have to mention it every time, it had been over six months — he knew. These days, except for the occasional bouts that welled up in my tears or his silence, we kept the sadness in the unspoken in-betweens.

  I said, “Yes, but I’m glad to be anywhere as long as you’re there too.”

  He nuzzled his forehead to my cheek and then we finished our embrace, straightened in our seats, and applauded as John Stewart received his prize.

  Fifty-eight - Hayley

  Hammond had ordered a hospital tent erected, and I was watching Fraoch get set up in a bed, when Quentin and James rushed across the fields from the clearing. “Miss anything?” Quentin called as he neared.

  I stood at the edge of the tent. “You missed everything, fucking everything!”

  Quentin said, “I had to get the family set up, they’re all safe, you’re welcome. Why’s Fraoch in a stretcher? You cool, Fraoch?”

  “I am nae cool, Quentin—”

  “He was beaten by Lady Mairead’s soldiers, he was threatened at gunpoint by Mags, he is not okay—”

  “What the hell? Magnus was—?”

  “On a murderous rampage... Look, just follow me. The doctor needs to get him settled.”

  We stood off even farther to the side while the doctor placed equipment around Fraoch’s bed. Another man, who looked as if he had fallen from the walls, was brought in. They were expecting about eight people by the number of beds.

  Quentin and James looked clean and fresh. “How long were you gone?”

  “We took two days, long enough for a shower, expecting Katie, but she never showed. Magnus never came. So we returned. Don’t tell Magnus we didn’t wait a week.”

  “Yeah about that...” I put my fists on my hips and blew hair off my forehead. “Right after you all left, like literally right after, like she was waiting for you to go, Lady Mairead had Fraoch arrested and beaten and dragged from the castle.”

  “Why the fuck?”

  “She said he was Magnus’s brother, before you ask, not by Lady Mairead, but by Donnan—”

  Quentin’s eyes went big.

  James said, “Who’s Donnan?”

  Quentin said, “Magnus’s dad, fucking pay attention, he was a total dick, Katie had to kill him in self-defense, and the uncle of the guy who’s been attacking the castle for days on end.”

  “Okay, okay, dude. Man, Mags has the worst fucking family.”

  Quentin and I both huffed exasperatedly.

  “I asked Katie to come help as you—”

  James said, “Where is she by the way?”

  I said, “Please let me talk, please, please oh please let me tell you what happened, so we can figure this out, okay?”

  “Okay, go.”

  So Katie and I were going to intervene with Lady Mairead when Bella stepped out of the woods—” I said to James, “In case you’re not up to speed on her, that’s Archie’s mom.”

  “Mags’s mistress.”

  I was about to say something when Quentin said, “Fucking cut the shit, James, you know the story, shut the fuck up.”

  “Yeah, sorry, uncool.”

  I said, “Bella came all violent at us, and I thought she was going to shoot me but then Katie stabbed her and killed her.”

  Quentin said, “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah, and then Bella’s vessel activated and Katie grabbed hold of it and time-jumped somewhere.”

  “Fuck. Do we know where?”

  “We do now, kind of, not really, but first I ran to the middle of the field, Lady Mairead was there, plus Roderick and Fraoch. Magnus had escaped from Roderick and was holding all of them at gunpoint. I threw myself on Fraoch because I thought Mags was going to kill him and—”

  “Magnus wouldn’t kill him.”

  “He shot Roderick, mid-sentence.”

  “That guy was an ass though, he deserved it.”

  Quentin said, “So where is Katie?”

  “Apparently Lady Mairead activated some vessels remotely, sending them to the past, before the vessels originated. You remember that, right Quentin — before the vessels?”

  “Yeah, I remember, how far past the date of the vessels?”

  “Like no one knows, could be years.”

  “What is Magnus going to do?”

  “He already left, he went there to find her.”

  “So they’re both in the past with no vessel?”

  James said, “Wait, what’s happening? I’m trying to keep up but this shit—”

  “Boss and Katie are in the past, before the vessels exist. That means they don’t have a vessel.”

  “Shit. I don’t know much, but that doesn’t sound good.”

  I said, “Lady Mairead is going to try and figure it out. She’s going to go rescue them.”

  We all stood and looked down at the ground.

  Quentin said, “And we trust her, why?”

  I said, “If she wants Magnus to survive, she’s the only one who can.”

  Quentin said, “I do not like that she’s our only hope.”

  Fifty-nine - Hayley

  Fraoch called me to his makeshift hospital bed.

  I went over and held his hand. “That was so scary. Are you okay?”

  “Nae, but I
will be. Tis naethin’ but a beatin’.” He chuckled and then moaned and gingerly held his ribs. “Dost I look pretty?”

  “You look awful, frankly, your beautiful face.”

  “I will grow a longer beard tae distract from m’injuries.” He chuckled again.

  I said, “I think your painkillers are working.”

  “I feel verra drunk.” He reached up and patted my cheek. “Ye are a bonnie lass, would ye like tae bed me?”

  “No sir, I might break you more.”

  “Och, I am too verra strong tae break.” He waved a hand to accentuate the thought and winced. “Och, I might be too broken tae bed ye properly.”

  He picked up the edge of the sheet and glanced down. “I daena ken if my winglygibbon made it through, I canna feel it.”

  “It all made it through, you’re just drugged up, and thankfully numb.” I clutched his hand to my cheek. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

  “I did as well, m’bhean ghlan.”

  “I will never forgive him.”

  “Och, ye canna hold it against him.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “Of course I can! Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because he was in the midst of battle, m’bhean ghlan.”

  “Well, fine, you can forgive him if you want, but I won’t, not ever. And frankly I think you should listen to me. Forgiving someone who held a gun to you, threatening to murder you, is not okay.”

  Fraoch said, “Nae, m’bhean ghlan, I think ye should listen tae me on it. Og Maggy had gone intae intae the darkness of battle. Tis nae easy tae pull yerself from it once ye hae descended intae it.” I watched his expression as he spoke, he was earnest. “And tis harder for Magnus than most. Daena tell him I said this, he is verra good at killin’. He has been trained tae it and driven tae it. He has been made tae take lives and has tae descend intae that darkness verra often. I think sometimes for a man there is a path tae it and Og Maggy’s path is more direct than most. He was killin’ tae protect himself, tae protect his family, and while he was killin’ he was told that I was the greatest threat tae them all. I am surprised tae be alive.”