Chapter 32
“You will find, Lord King, the twenty thousand Northmen who shadow your shores” – Sir Kolbein’s tone suffocated the room to Keirah – “will bring hellfire upon those in your kingdom! Your choice is cast.” So is yours, Northman – you should have sailed away.
The icy stare the knight owned glimpsed at her a hard moment before he tore from the room, leaving the door gaping open in his wake after he refused King Alexander’s gracious offer once again.
The bishops filed out, appearing rather dejected, while a tense blanket hung in the air; she met Kollungr’s stare.
They were about to test the Lord Chamberlain’s theory. Would it work?
Sir James returned, with Torsten and Sv?rn lurking in the doorway waiting for their keeper, Lord Kollungr.
The northern lord smoothed his palms over his fur-lined shoulders as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Well, my lady, it appears all is lost.” He glanced down to remove a speck of lint from his wrist before he met her unwavering gaze.
Strong, Keirah, be strong, be silent, be still – he has to think it is his idea.
He met her gaze. “Or is it, my lady?”
Grind. She heard Aonghus’s jaw as his teeth clenched in contained wrath. “To what do you refer, Lord Kollungr?” the Lord Chamberlain advanced, hiding his eagerness.
“Lady Keirah knows my lord king.” Kollungr glanced at the Lord Chamberlain.
There was the look Fálki gave when his thoughts were, ‘You underling.’ She bit her tongue.
Let the falcon spread his demonic wings.
“See, Lord Chamberlain, my lord king H?konsson was none too pleased my lady has strayed unto your shores. He seeks an audience with her upon his ship.”
“The others have not spoken upon this request,” the Lord Constable hissed, his face turning a violent crimson shade.
“‘The others’ do not hold the intimate terms I do with my lord king; would you care to argue this point, my lady?” The falcon’s piercing gaze flashed back at her.
They both knew it was true – he always had the king’s ear.
But Fálki, this will also be your downfall.
King H?konsson trusted him as none other and he broke that with the coin held by her knight.
“Nae, you are superior above those who have just taken their leave,” she confirmed, a bile rising in her throat – back trapped by his talons.
Her eyes darted toward Aonghus; he would be at her side, her knight, love, and protector.
It won’t be as it was before. Different.
She was different. Hadn’t the demonstration in the bailey just proved this?
Aye! If only her damn pulse rising from panic would take heed.
Somehow her tone remained calm. “Forthwith, what do you propose, Lord Kollungr?”
“Perhaps if you return with me before my lord king H?konsson he may grant a slight leniency to the terms King Alexander has placed,” Kollungr replied, his lips harboring a sheen from saliva at his prospect.
“However, I cannot promise he will hear all…” Of course not.
She tightened her toes in her slippers. “But he will hear what you seek in the missive Sir Kolbein refused to deliver.” Kollungr nodded toward the folded parchment ‘lying dead’ on the table; yep, that was how she felt. “What say you…”
“My lord king,” Aonghus’s voice boomed through the room, “may I confer with my lady a brief respite?”
The king’s face reserved, he nodded, and Aonghus motioned her to follow him out the open doorway.
Sv?rn and Torsten stepped aside, the pair wearing matching smirks any weasel would be proud to own.
As soon as they cleared the gateway, he grabbed a hold of her arm, almost dragging her toward a concealed corner half-hidden down the passage overlooking the great hall.
Before she could speak, he broke her troubled thoughts.
“My silence does not mean I concur, Cluaran,” he advised, concern weighting his words.
“I cannot protect you in the dead center of King H?konsson’s ship upon open seas with a captor nippin’ at your heels.
I will not chance you in such a manner – damn the Lord Chamberlain’s proposal to offer you upon a gilded platter before Lord Kollungr or King H?konsson or… ”
She raised upon her toes, her lips capturing his to silence them in a severe kiss.
In the bailey, had MacCade’s belief in her cast away fears she held?
Aye, every last one. Her knight at that moment showed her again how much he loved her, still sought her touch, as he did now with his palm tightening upon her back.
They parted. Her breath moist upon his mouth, she murmured passionately, “I love you, Aonghus MacCade, for all you are and all you say, yet everything set in our path, this, is grander than both of us.” She pleaded with him upon the truth they were entrenched in.
“We have nae choice; fate has dictated.”
His brow furrowed in worry which lined his words: “This glance regarding the treaty, are we present at King Alexander’s side?”
She brushed her fingers over his worried brow. “Nae. Oddly Sir James is not present either; however, Callum is there in his stead.”
“Cluaran,” he replied, fearful, “they could overpower me the moment we set foot beyond the bailey, force you upon your back against your will. I cannot risk…”
“This would not be if the bishops remain present,” she replied, confident.
“They are the enemy, but honor runs to their roots. We are married in the eyes of God, and the bishops are God-fearing clergy. They would see us safely to King H?konsson’s side even with Lord Kollungr lurking near.
Once we are before King H?konsson, the same would hold true.
The king would hold us for ransom, of this I am certain.
He has the same trait as King Alexander to see beyond the elements of emotion and stay the strongest course to his advantage, always. ”
A dire look crossed his handsome face. He appeared ready to refuse but paused a second, altering the direction of his gaze toward something over her left shoulder.
What was he looking at so intently? She glimpsed behind.
There. In the great hall’s center was Edina, the lassie’s wee arms open wide and twirling a circle right under the re-hung chandelier as if silently saying, I dare you to try again!
Look at that shining spirit – incredible.
“Fierce,” he murmured, “She is fierce.”
Keirah smiled. “For certain; she is Scottish – fierce runs in our blood.”
He gave a sigh, then re-met her set stare to state, “Keirah, this will decide the future lands of Scotland, long after we are gone and it is passed to the wee ones we now look upon.” He bowed his brow. “Cluaran, aye, we proceed. I will find a way to have our feet settled back onto Scottish shores.”
She grabbed his shoulders, kissing him reverently. Together, Aonghus, we will fight for Scotland – together.
***
Her stride more confident than her thoughts, she heard Aonghus state their terms. “Lady Keirah will stand before your lord king, but the condition must be met that I remain by her side.”
She watched Lord Kollungr nod in consent, then give a look at her knight. It was the same expression the Northern lord had before killing those he laid the blame upon for theft of the gold coins. Her heart dropped. Aonghus may fear for her, but he was more in danger.
“Then ’tis agreed,” the king concluded.
Sir James bellowed, “I seek to be present as well!” The king’s highest guard locked eyes on her before he turned toward…
“My lord king, I implore you, grant my request so I may ensure this Scotswoman is earnest in her efforts. I have been more than clear proclaiming my fears she is simply a traitor to your crown.” Aye, squawking the same as a damn rooster.
“I agree with Sir James as actin’ escort to the delegation,” Lord Chamberlain popped in, his doubt showing once again at her trustworthiness.
King Alexander nodded consent.
Lord Kollungr looked at Sv?rn and Torsten to state, “Make the preparations; we sail upon the next tide at dawn.” The trap was set – but were they the ones caught?
***
Settled before the roaring hearth within their bedchamber, she found the flames licking the peat brick to oblivion. Was it a sight she held a kinship to? Aye, there was her and Aonghus, the final tall brick, which fell into the flames just as what happened a few hours past in the solar.
With the cold wind blowing the arrow slit, she lowered her icy hands closer toward warmth.
What would Alec or Callum think when they found out?
If only, after the assembly, they hadn’t discovered the brothers had been called away by a summons from the warriors of Clan MacCade for a pressing matter.
Only Sir Brayden knew, whose eyes appeared ready to pop from their sockets.
Lady Maise had an honorable knight coming into her arms if he survived their meeting with King H?konsson. On the heels of learning their fate, Sir Brayden approached King Alexander and Lord Kollungr wanting to venture with them. What a loyal friend!
A clanking sounded from pewter dishes containing half-eaten supper upon a tray as a wee chamberlain retrieved them then ran out the door with a terrified expression.
It had to be from spying Aonghus sharpening Vengeance’s blade while he was seated across from her.
Rip. A stone caressing deadly steel – it was a fitting accompaniment to the mood.
Her knight broke the silence after the lad vanished. “Cluaran, your daggers – the straps are holding well in order?” Rip.
She swallowed hard. “Aye,” she replied softly. “The leather upon the ankle strap has been replaced; all will be in workin’ order.”
Another grind across the blade. “Good.” He kept his eyes on hers to ask, “When you step into a conflict, Cluaran, what takes you in a shadow-glance? The violence must release a stern reaction.”
“Aye.” She nodded, practical. “As with other disasters unfolding, at times the fates reverse. Some within smaller spans, or it may be one larger moment in time – or they do not reverse at all” – her tone was haunted – “and are cast forever.” She paused.
“’Tis very rapid in my mind’s reveal, thus I may grow a most painful reaction from the cost of measure. ”
“Painful?”
Yep, like a thumbscrew to the temple, crossing with being on the rack all at once. “Wee bit.”
The stone stopped; worry wore his gaze, heavy as his chainmail tunic that hung on the peg near the door. “’Tis not the first, MacCade, and it shall not be the last, I am certain.” Bring on the thumbscrews!
The stone and Vengeance were set onto the table while his question caused her to lean back in her chair from shock. “What if another choice were cast forthwith once the siege is done and the Northern enemy is vanquished?”
“To choose a path not as a fate-seer but….” She could not form the word as the want to make it happen filled her soul. “To simply be a lass.” She sighed the sentiment with awe, then she added practically, “Nae glances, nae cost in measure; I would be as others…”
“Keirah,” he broke in, “you shall never be as ‘others’.” She cocked a brow in question.
“There is a way in your manner; I reflected upon this the first moment we set foot into the chamber we now sit in. A spirit in you which draws an extraordinary reaction from those who surround you. This has naught to do with harnessing a fate-seer’s element unto your grasp, ’tis only you.
” She smiled. “If a fresh choice lay at your grasp, what would be your consideration forthwith? Has much thought been given toward the matter?”
He asked! She leapt up, dashing over toward him, appearing to have sprouted wings.
Onto his lap she landed, cupping his smooth jaw in her palms. “For hours and hours, my MacCade!” she gushed.
“The considerations flood my thoughts till all turns into a watery blur from emotion. To be with you, fully with you, I yearn more than words may declare! I long for your touch, for us, for a wee lass with the fierceness we see in Edina to grace our lives, or a wee lad with these” – she paused to brush her fingers over his lashes – “eyes the richest blue that places the ocean unto shame. Our own clan, our own path. My heart never considered such hope for these things till you pulled me from that storm. You are my calm now just as you were that eve, MacCade. ’Tis a rather unique trait you carry – one who may be my castle of calm may also unleash a fire of passion in my soul.
Aye” – tears ran her cheeks – “I have considered this a great deal, but alas, the hope dies with the needs beholden to the kingdom.”
His fingers, rough from warfare, gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Place the kingdom from your thoughts,” he challenged. “If ’twas you and your heart’s desire, what would the choice be?”
“Us.” The word flowed from her lips. “A thousand dawns, a hundred winters, endless shores, I choose us at the end of each.” Her head shook as her heart cracked at the dire reality. “What of the king or the kingdom? The battle must be seen to.”
“True; however, you care to strike an accord, Lady Keirah MacCade?”
She arched a brow. “Terms?”
“Once the storm’s battle is done, if your feelings still hold true to what has been declared, we…” His palm strayed to her breast as her breath caught. They would succumb to their passions, which always flew about the air between them like sparks from a flame.
Her brow rose higher. “Aye, but MacCade, what do you wish for most?”
“You showed me a realm I never thought possible: hope for what lay ahead after years sour in reflecting upon my past by the dark shadow it cast when Callum banished me.” He pressed his brow to hers.
“’Tis your choice, not one I may behold.
If this is to be our path forth…” He paused to brush his thumb over her nipple, hardened beneath the gown’s layer at his touch; her breath caught.
“Or if you wish to remain with the instinct in sense given…” He moved his palm, cupping her delicate jaw.
“I shall honor your choice, nae matter what is chosen. Cluaran, my strongest consideration is I only seek to be by your side, always.” His lips closed over hers in a pact to his vow as her arms wove about his neck.
To have all – bodies, passions, and souls, MacCade. That is the choice – always.