Chapter 15
How is it going on in there? Aonghus’s eyes strayed down the empty passageway again from where he stood, hands still bound, beside the silent Sir Sean.
Keirah had been escorted at once by Sir James at the king’s summons behind the solar’s closed door while all the clans remained waiting in the throne hall anxiously.
Unable to be at her side, he shuffled his feet anxiously; he trusted King Alexander with all he was, but Sir James, not once.
He hadn’t been separated from Keirah’s sight since the inn.
Had he ever grown so worried before? No – his original plan having raged his mind a thousand times was now gone.
He couldn’t…no, wouldn’t leave her behind once all was sorted out.
Was there a future with her as a husband who was forbidden to consummate with his wife but would be a protector always?
It was quickly becoming a forefront consideration, even if her mere touch awoke every speck of desire in him.
Was she frightened in there? A tiny wobble had shown in her hand which had brushed his jaw before she was led away by Sir James, but so much like her, there was a stern determination in those thistle-colored eyes as well, as if she had her own plan.
The door opened; there stood a plum-faced Sir James. “MacCade!” The knight stepped forth, dagger in hand. “Approach at once.”
Leaving Sir Sean, he came face to face with the high-ranking knight in the passage. “Keirah will not speak to the king without you present.” There was the fierce plan she had.
She made him feel more alive than anything. Lover never but protector ever? Aye!
Sir James vowed while spinning the blade’s hilt in his fingers threateningly, “If you or the traitor called a fate-seer threaten King Alexander in this solar, I will gut you both with my dagger.” Just try it, prick. “Now move.” A knight flanked him on each hip as if he were a prisoner of war.
***
Not possible.
She would never speak without MacCade present. He was the sole reason she had gotten here, and to leave him in the passageway like an outcast caused a fevered rage to fire her blood when Sir James declared it after she had been whisked away toward the private solar.
Wringing her hands hidden beneath her cloak, while sequestered, her eyes darted over the king’s assembly, including Lord Constable Sir Roger De Quincy, gray, liver spotted, and fierce.
That had to be William Wishart the Lord Chancellor of the Clergy, a bishop, clad in his robes, almost two scores old, stern, and looking upon her as if she were a bad omen.
Lastly, by the hearth stood squatty Lord Chamberlain, William Earl of Mar, who judged crimes in the burghs and held his hands on the royal purse strings; aye, he had a tight look to his features a man of frugality would convey, or else he was trying to refrain from airing flatulence. Where was her Highland bull?
There! At the sight of her mercenary entering, she gave a small incline of her brow his way.
She owed MacCade her freedom; his deed was going to be rewarded even if it took her final breath.
His eyes locked on hers with such an intensity.
Did it ever fail to draw a fiercer beat within her heart?
Nae, he had an effect unlike any on her.
“My lord king,” she began while looking toward King Alexander, “permission to speak?”
“Granted.”
“I am your most humble servant and have waited a very long time to converse with you regarding King H?konsson and the threat to our shores.” More moons than could be counted.
“Before we commence,” the king demanded, seated in the center, his advisors flanking him on both sides, “Sir James, you keep your post alongside Sir Sean, outside the chamber threshold.” Good, the king had granted her request given when the knight had left to find Aonghus.
Sir James’s face appeared as if he were the one now trying to restrain flatulence. “My lord king, I would ask we remain,” he said, disdainfully.
Her eyes veered back and forth between them.
Oh my, King Alexander might have her loyalty and earnest respect, but by his battle tactics you never crossed him.
A violent example caused a shiver in her soul at the memory – when the King of Scots had ordered the siege on the isles after initial negotiations had failed with King H?konsson.
“Sir James” – the king’s face turned a dark crimson – “you ask, but the edge to your tone seems to question my judgement at hand.”
Sir James began a tiny shuffle in retreat toward the shut door; he looked like he was walking on a lit hearth and not the floorboards. “Pardon, my lord king. I shall be directly outside.” He gave a rough look at Aonghus. “If you should require assistance with these traitors, summon me.”
Sir James then took some wrath out upon his minion. “Sir Sean, step lightly, now!”
When the door sealed, her full attention returned toward the king and lords present. She and Aonghus, still bound, stood before the king. Time is now – don’t mess this up!
“Keirah MacThistlen, you have made a grand impression before a hall of commanding Scots, a feat not easily taken,” the king proclaimed.
“I have been told you were prevalent in King H?konsson’s court and care for a great amount of time.
Only a fool would trust such a traitor directly, but it seems I may be such a monarch after the display made in the hall. Tell me what you wish to speak upon.”
A sizzle by the torch darkening the granite from its flames lent an eerie air to her words. “The fates have shown me a path yet to come,” she began; somehow, she felt Aonghus’s gaze on her when she took one step forward. “A storm, my lord king Alexander.”
“Storm?” The king settled his hands upon his knees, leaning forward with a heavy interest.
“Aye.” She raised her hands in dramatic fashion.
“A relentless storm unlike any seen before will crash these shores – our shores, not King H?konsson’s,” she added, her voice vehement.
“The rage in wind and waves and lightning will crush his immense fleet belonging to one hundred and twenty ships into a tinder of sticks to be picked at my lord king’s pleasure. ”
At the captured looks on her, she continued, “Time will be your greatest ally in the battle yet to come.” Sweeping her palm at him, she advised, “Your instincts are keen, my lord king; in this very chamber we now find ourselves in, you gave your strategy before your advisors. There were those who questioned the tactic.” The gazes popped wide at her unveiling a fact only known by those present in the larger private assembly that had taken place a fortnight past. “Do not question but embrace. Hold King H?konsson at length. Stall him in any and all means possible. The nature belonging to our Scotland, she will see to your favor and victory.”
A long silence settled over the room.
The king leaned back to smooth his hands over his beard in thought before he demanded, “Tell me of your gift regarding the element in being a fate-seer.” Absolutely!
***
Keirah explained her instinct in senses and how it came to be possible, showing him her signet ring, and the path to Lord Kollungr’s abduction then Aonghus’s initial rescue; once done, she held quiet.
Alexander was so different than H?konsson.
The Northmen’s ruler’s air of superiority was cresting to the highest after having expanded his kingdom to include newly acquired Iceland and Greenland into Norwegian territories, opening the door to the largest amount of conquered lands.
However, Alexander was young, thirsty for power, and beginning his reign, but his father had taught him the art of patience.
Brilliant! The circumstances they were about to endeavor upon that patience would be paramount for all lying ahead.
After biding his time to consider everything she had conveyed, Alexander finally met her gaze. He looked…um, commanding, excellent!
“Keirah, what you have spoken this day, you have only presented to me?” the king questioned.
Her chin rose high. “You are the first to hear these words upon the tempest, aye.”
The king’s eyes drew keenly on all those surrounding to order, “Only those present shall know. A word of this does not leave this chamber; any who fail at this endeavor” – his expression turned dark – “will feel my full wrath.”
A chorus of male ‘Ayes’ echoed the stone walls.
“My lord king,” she said, her eyes finding Aonghus, “may I speak plainly a moment more?”
“You may.”
Time to shine some light on the rough-cut gem of a Scotsman.
“There is another certain matter regarding the mercenary present, Aonghus MacCade.” She took a step forward.
“I mentioned he pulled me from the Northmen’s grasp that eve in the forest, but there is more I wish to shine a most ardent light upon.
He chanced his life for mine, more than once, upon our dangerous journey to ensure I was able to stand here before you and deliver this knowledge for all to come.
Through his staunch efforts I was cared for at each turn, as his loyalty to you is beyond reproach.
I have been in a king’s court for many years – granted ’twas King H?konsson, however, I have seen the difference such loyalty may offer in battles or tactics.
MacCade is a quality rarely seen.” She unleashed a firm inward nod.