Chapter Seven #2
I had fallen in love with this castle the moment I saw it.
Like many in Scotland, it was tall and angular with multiple wall walks, boasting a rugged appeal that spoke to me.
Surrounded by dense woodland yet close enough to the ocean to hear the waves in the distance and smell salt on the wind, I had longed to call it my own, despite it being so very far from my homeland.
Longed to walk its halls and feel its history, wondering even then, if it was part of my Wyrd.
Moreover, I had wondered who its chieftain might be.
Soon after, my fate had carried me down a woodland path, and I met Lachlann, knowing instantly he was not the one for me. Not because of our age differences, which mattered little, but because he didn’t call to my heart.
That happened many months later when I happened by the castle and saw Declan standing on the very battlement I gazed at now.
I had been walking over the drawbridge with children from the village when my talisman warmed, and something, or as it turned out, someone, drew my gaze upward.
Almost as if he had sensed it too, Declan stopped talking to a fellow clansman, looked down, and our gazes connected instantly.
And now here I was, soon to live in this castle permanently, married to the man who spoke to my heart and would soon become chieftain.
If not for Lachlann’s ultimate role in all this, I might almost find joy in the moment, but alas, Declan and I coming together would mean a cruel twist of heartbreaking fate for my new father by marriage.
I feared more unfortunate twists were ahead, too, when the fire hissed, popped, and spat much as it had upon my exchanging vows with Declan, drawing my gaze to the flames.
Once again, I felt the heavy weight of fate on my shoulders as I drifted that way and stared deeper, fingering the talisman at my neck.
Crouching before it, I stared deeper into the flames, past the sizzling reds and blazing oranges to the blues and vivid greens until I saw the light sage of my sister, Tove’s eyes staring back.
Then I saw more.
From what I could tell, she sat before the fire in her cottage back home, her eyes sad as they met mine through the flames.
Her voice whispered on the sparks that Father had grown ill, and Freya would soon be on her way back to Norway.
She would keep me informed. I knew, however, as her face faded back into the flames and drifted away on the smoke, the next time I heard from her, she might bear bad news indeed.
In my youth, I might have shed tears over such news, but my father had become hard and unloving since then, forcing me to come to these shores alone, so I felt next to nothing as I crawled into bed.
If anything, I felt detached from emotion.
Someplace else in my mind, while staring into the dimly lit room for hours, until I must have finally drifted off because I dreamt of Declan.
He pulled me into his arms and at last closed his mouth over mine.
I felt the warmth of his body against me.
Tasted his flavor on my tongue. Felt his practiced caresses against my bare flesh, flaming the ache growing between my thighs until I stirred awake as the sun crested the horizon, only to find I was not alone.
Oksana was curled up at the foot of my bed, and Florie tended to my fire.
“Good morning,” I murmured sleepily, sitting up. “What are you doing here, my friend?”
Breathing deeply, I tried to shake the dream I had been having, yet it wasn’t easy. Declan might not have touched me, but he was still buried deep inside me. Still bringing me pleasure at the mere thought of him and what it might feel like when we consummated our marriage.
“Good morn,” Florie said over her shoulder, prodding the embers and adding wood.
“Stewart came knocking early to let me know what was happening, so I could see you first and help you get ready if I so desired, which I certainly do. The weather has somewhat improved, so the king wishes to set out sooner rather than later.”
I could tell by the way she cleared the emotion from her voice that she was upset about me leaving, and I felt the same.
Joining her, I rested a comforting hand on her shoulder and managed a wobbly smile because I would miss her too. “Thank you, Florie. I would like that.”
“’Twill be so verra dangerous for you,” she warned when I knew she had meant to keep quiet about it. Her brow knit with worry when she stood and looked at me. “You ken that, aye?”
“I do.” I looked at her with reassurance. “Yet I would remind you I’m a shield-maiden and can protect myself.”
“Aye, you say as much, and I’ve heard the rumors, yet I have never seen you wield a blade.” She took my hand in hers. “I’ve only ever seen you heal with these hands.”
“Then let me show you something.” Going to my trunk, I pulled out my sword and shield of varying shades of green, surprised by how much I had missed the weight of them in my hands. “My parents gifted these to me when I was fresh out of childhood.”
Remembering the sheer power of them in battle, I held the blade at the ready and executed a few expert thrusts, using the shield in tandem with the sword so swiftly that Florie’s eyes widened.
“’Tis truly impressive,” she exclaimed, watching as I swirled a few times in rapid succession, swiveling the blade while thrusting and slicing, making clear I could more than handle myself if I had no choice but to battle.
“Apologies for doubting you,” she went on. “’Twas more worry for your wellbeing than anything.”
“’Tis fine,” I assured her. “Fortunately, King Alexander has requested I bring them with me, certain it will help me when weeding out the good Norse from the bad, as he put it.”
“And what of our fellow Scots?” She frowned and shook her head. “Stewart told me what the king requested you wear today. Will they not see those weapons and attire, you, as a threat?”
“He would have them see me as the legend I was, and the Scot I have become,” I divulged, lowering my voice, lest I somehow be overheard. “I think, more so, he would have them see me at his command. Show them that a just Scottish king can tame one of Norway’s fiercest shield-maidens.”
“And how do you feel about that?” she asked, keeping her voice down as well.
“There is little I will not do to bring peace to these shores for the Norse already here,” I said with certainty in my heart.
“If the king feels this is the right course of action, then I trust his judgment.” Meeting her eyes, I nodded once slowly, certain she would understand.
“As he is my liege now in every sense of the word.”
Though I didn’t elaborate, I knew when surprise flashed in her gaze that she understood what I was saying without saying it. I was married to one of her countrymen now.
What she did not yet know was which Mackay I had wed, but soon would.
“I trust you will see to Laird Mackay when we are gone, for he will soon need it.” Blinking back tears, I swallowed hard and took her hand. “In my opinion, you are every bit as good a healer as I, and he will need you. Meanwhile, his son will see after me…” I gave her a pointed look. “Always.”
Her eyes glistening with unshed tears at news of Lachlann being sicker than he appeared, she nodded.
“Of course I will, Astrid. Just as he did for my family and me years ago when he saved us from a fire.” She placed her hand over our joined hands and offered a shaky smile, giving Declan and me a well-disguised blessing.
“And I couldnae be happier that Declan will watch over you as devotedly as he does his father’s people. ”
“Thank you,” I whispered, offering a small smile of reassurance in return. “Stay safe whilst we are gone, my dear friend.”
“You as well,” she replied, giving my hand one last squeeze before informing me that she was having water heated so that I might bathe before traveling.
And so, I did, before I dressed as the king had requested, swung my white bear fur around my shoulders, and headed belowstairs into the next leg of my fate.
It was a journey that would prove to be so much more than I imagined.