Chapter Twenty-Three
–Ellie–
IHAD NEVER felt as many fluctuating emotions as I did when I witnessed the truth of how I died in my last life.
The truth behind my murder.
Something the Hereafter showed everyone in the Sutherland courtyard, including the king himself. How the pact ignited in this century. How it began with me, and ended with me.
Or so we thought as the gem over my dragon’s heart faded away along with Dugal Sutherland’s life. While one might have thought Elspet had a heart as she hung her head over her son and seemingly wept, we should have known better.
If she did manage to shed a tear, it was brief and clearly for the power she had just lost, rather than grief for her son.
Or so we assumed when she lifted her head and narrowed her tear-free eyes at me.
Sinister, black, blazing dragon eyes full of hatred and immense power as she stood, and began chanting.
Bracing for the impact of whatever she was about to throw my way, I spread my wings to protect all those behind me, including the King and the Macleods. And yet again, the unexpected happened, and it was beyond remarkable, not to mention incredibly courageous.
My niece, Marjorie, of all people, roared, “Nay!” and raced to defend me.
If that weren’t shocking enough, she shifted into a little emerald-green dragon, skidded to a halt in front of me, and spread her wings as if trying to defend us all despite her small stature.
Terrified, I went to wrap my wings around her, but miraculously enough, something, or someone, protected her first, when the Viking blade-turned-dagger slammed into Elspet’s chest, ceasing her magic dead in its tracks.
Her eyes widened in shock as she stared down at the blade with magic yet again more powerful than hers, and slowly dropped to her knees, chanting to try and save herself as she wrapped her hand around the hilt, but it was clearly no use.
Instead, her words began slurring, darkness ebbed and flowed around her, and her gaze widened in terror, fixed on something only she could see, unable to stop the Hereafter from coming for her.
A Hereafter that was kinder to some than others.
While I hated her for all the harm she’d caused, I could only hope she found a better side of her soul wherever she ended up, because moments later, she released a blood-curdling scream, slumped to the ground, and breathed her last breath.
Shocked by the swift turn of events, dumbfounded silence settled over the courtyard until murmurs began in the crowd, and someone exclaimed, “Look, the wee one wears the gem now!” and another exclaimed, “And he wears the mark now, but who is he?” Another called out, “’Twas he who threw the dagger.
‘Twas he who took her down once and for all!”
Not Lady Sutherland but a mere ‘her’, making it clear how much her clan disliked her.
“My wee lass,” Lilias cried, as I shifted back, sensing no more danger, there for my sister, who stepped in front of Marjorie and took her in with eyes as wide as ours because nobody knew she was half dragon.
And Lilias didn't care in the least. All she cared about was that her daughter was okay, no matter her form. “Are ye alright, my bonnie lassie?”
Marjorie seemed quite in awe herself, and peered down curiously at the brilliant emerald over her dragon’s heart. “Aye, Mother,” she replied in the way of the dragon, allowing all to hear because she was that powerful even upon her first shift. “’Tis lovely, is it not?”
“’Tis,” a young voice answered as the crowd parted to murmurs of, “he’s the boy who felled Elspet,” and others, “he’s the one with the mark on his wrist now.”
Tavish joined me and slipped his hand into mine as my father, Malcolm Sutherland, appeared, the age he was when he supposedly died in the twenty-first century beside a young boy with jet-black hair and pale, silvery-gray eyes.
King Robert fell in on my other side, and Broderick and Sloan beside him, riveted by the scene unfolding.
One could have heard a pin drop as Marjorie’s dragon and the boy approached one another with wonder, taking in each other with such fondness there could be no doubt they knew each other. Loved each other despite their young age.
Not romantic love, not yet, but perhaps someday.
“Ye’re inner beast is every bit as bonnie as I told ye she would be, lass.” Looking at Marjorie with adoration, he dropped to a knee and held out his hand. “Thank ye for being such a good friend when I needed ye most.”
“And thank ye.” She leaned her dragon’s cheek into his tender touch, only for fire to ignite and roll over him, then roll over her as well, a beautiful display of soft, loving flames. “For ye have been there when I needed ye most, too, Blaze. My verra best friend.”
I felt a fresh surge of shock ripple through the MacLeods just as it did me. Blaze? The pup belonging to the Wolves of Ossary, who helped us so much?
“You mean helped Marjorie so much,” Chara whispered into our minds. “I think ‘twas always wee Marjorie. And I think there’s even more to Blaze than meets the eye.”
Seeming to back up what Chara said, Marjorie spoke.
“Might I see all of ye, then?” she asked Blaze as his flames continued curling over her affectionately. Something no wolf shifter should be able to do.
“Unless he started life thrust amid powerful dragon magic,” Broderick said, eyeing Blaze with not just affection but pride and awe, figuring him out.
“Nay, not yet,” Malcolm said, resting his hand on Blaze’s shoulder when the boy looked hopeful as if he wished he could do as Marjorie asked, but knew he couldn’t.
“’Twill be some time before Blaze, the verra first of his kind, will be able to embrace not just his inner wolf and human but his inner dragon. ”
Understandably, gasps rippled through the crowd.
Speaking louder still, using the strong, authoritative yet kind voice of a just ruler, Malcolm turned to the crowd, to his long-lost clan, and shared his tale.
Shared it with the young who had only ever seen his portrait hanging in the castle, and with those who had been here years ago, and remembered him being cast out.
Time had passed more quickly in the future, giving my sisters and me time to grow up, so he had aged more.
He spoke of my mother, Marjorie, with such awe and respect there could be no doubt he’d loved her dearly, sharing all she had sacrificed for the greater good of her clan.
All she'd sacrificed in hope the dark, sinister yet powerful magic that had lain dormant inside her could be transformed into something good and lasting, and so it had.
“When Dugal died, the magic born of the pact transferred to his only living offspring.” He smiled lovingly at Marjorie.
“A wee lass whose inner beast lay dormant, much like her grandmother's magic once had, until the time was right.” His attention returned to everyone else.
“Now, instead of a witch being found amongst the MacLeods, ‘twas a witch dragon found among the Sutherlands and mayhap her fated mate among the MacLeods.” He looked fondly from Blaze to Marjorie. “Time will tell.”
He paused a moment and looked at everyone again, many in the eyes, with pride and encouragement.
“So ye see, in the end, my late wife and true love, Marjorie, succeeded in creating something good and lasting for all of us. For the Sutherlands.” His voice rose so all might hear and feel his words.
“And for the MacLeods, so we might finally put to rest a pact that, whilst intended for good, was at root, built on greed and power.” He shook his head.
“Now ‘twill be nothing of the sort if our good king wills it.”
Malcolm fell to a knee and lowered his head to King Robert. “And so, I believe what becomes of our clan after the misdeeds of Elspet and her son Dugal should be left in our king's capable hands. What say ye, clan?”
They all fell to a knee and lowered their heads without hesitation or shifting to their dragons in defiance, each man saying, “Aye,” before the older generation who had known Malcolm when he was laird started calling him, “M’laird,” once again.
All fell to a knee and lowered their heads without hesitation or shifting to their dragons in defiance, each to a man saying, “Aye,” before the older generation who had known Malcolm should have become chieftain started following up with, “M’laird.”
As they did so, the younger warriors followed suit, giving Malcolm the title that had been so ruthlessly ripped from him, until the entire crowd, women and children alike, referred to him as their laird, bestowing upon him a great honor.
But the King had the final say.
King Robert observed and listened as little Marjorie shifted back, wearing the same mark on her wrist as Blaze, and they held hands, looking at him with complete trust and faith in his judgment.
Trusting him to see peace come to this land, however strange the situation.
The king wasn’t rash in his decision, either, but seemed to weigh it, or at least pretend to, because I got the sense he already knew what he wanted to do.
After a healthy pause and careful consideration, he finally stepped forward and spoke loud enough for all to hear.
“Given what I have seen tonight of Malcolm Sutherland and the vast lengths he was willing to go to for his kin and clan, and now hearing ye, his people, recognize him as laird, I feel confident in my decision. Given ye are leaderless, I think he should take his rightful position as yer chieftain. One, I believe, was stolen from him by corruption, greed, and I dare say, outright evil.”
Many an “aye” arose before all went silent, and King Robert continued.
“Although I suspect I need not say it, I would like Malcolm not only to become chieftain, but all to agree his daughter, Lilias, and her wee one, Marjorie, be henceforth given the respect due them.” His gaze swept over everyone.
“To that end, Lilias is to be the true mistress of this castle until Malcolm takes a bride.”
His gaze dropped to Marjorie, and he offered her the same smile he’d given her earlier when telling her she was more special than she thought.
“And wee Marjorie will be treated like the gem over her dragon heart decreed. She is the true power of this clan, because her heart is pure, and I dinnae doubt she will only ever put Clan Sutherland’s and her beloved country’s needs before all others. ”
When many a “here, here’s” of agreement resounded, King Robert silenced them when he continued, gesturing for Broderick to step forward and Malcolm to rise.
“Then,” he continued, his voice still strong and carrying as he looked them in the eyes as they stood before him, “I would see ye both agree to a renewed pact for all to witness, signed by us three, speaking to peace at last betwixt yer clans and the vast strength ye and yers offer at my back. At Scotland’s back. ”
“Aye,” both said without hesitation, nodding at each other.
“’Twould be my pleasure, Laird MacLeod.” Malcolm held out his hand to Broderick and offered a warm smile. “Verra much so.”
“’Twould be mine as well, Laird Sutherland.” Broderick clasped his arm, hand to elbow, in the way of the Scots and met his smile. “Verra much so, indeed.”
“Excellent!” King Robert met their smiles before grinning at everyone else. “Then let us make our way inside out of the cold, sign a pact, and enjoy a celebratory feast I hear is going to be quite spectacular.”
Many a smile and sounds of agreement met his suggestion before Robert made a gesture for everyone to be quiet when Marjorie approached him. He crouched so she could whisper in his ear, still very much a little girl despite the day’s events.
“Och, my wee lassie,” he said softly, murmuring a prayer to the heavens before he stood and spoke again.
“It has come to my attention, thanks to young Marjorie reminding me forgiveness is always best, no matter what one faces in life, that whilst not always kind, her father and grandmother deserve a proper burial. She feels it should be upon the flames as Blaze’s kin does and the Vikings of old.
‘Tis her fondest wish that their spirits drift to the Hereafter in hopes of finding the same peace we found here today amongst the living.” He nodded once with approval. “So we shall before all else.”
And so we did, thanks to a little girl’s kind heart, despite the difficulties she’d faced at the hands of those she wished to see sent to the Hereafter properly, amid prayers for safe passage.
While strange in its own way, given all Dugal and Elspet had done to us MacLeods and those we love, it was surprisingly freeing as snowflakes drifted down and wiped away the darkness with a fresh layer of pure, cleansing white, and we, too, found forgiveness.
We let it all go with the sparks that drifted up, caught on the wind, and blew out to sea. With the last of their ashes as they traveled to the Hereafter, may something good come of their souls as Marjorie wished it.
Eventually, when all were ready, we headed back into Sutherland Castle.
I had thought it was going to be my prison for life, but no more. I entered hand in hand with my fated mate, Tavish MacLeod, reunited with him across time and space and most certainly the Hereafter, and history continued to unfold.
This time, a history well worth making, and that only became clearer as the evening wore on.