Chapter two
Edinburgh, Scotland
It wasn’t every day that a bastard, landless warrior, was summoned before the King of Scotland.
The air in the king’s chamber hung thick with tension and anticipation as I rocked back on my heels and surveyed the other three warriors to my left and right who’d also been beckoned.
Each of us wore our clan’s colors. Their hardened, guarded expressions revealed little of their thoughts.
The four men were all known to me, but what did we have in common?
I stared at King Alexander’s empty chair on the dais, wondering once again why he’d sent for us and when he would deign to appear and tell us what he wanted.
I had no doubt he wanted something. I’d had enough dealings with him, having accompanied Munro to court, to know our king was cunning and manipulative, yet generous with rewards when you pleased him.
Yet none of this knowledge told me what the king required of me now, and I’d feel much better standing in this buzzing hall of courtiers if I knew how he intended to use me.
My patience was wearing thin. It always smelled here and today was no different.
Even with the high windows open in the cramped audience chamber, stale ale and musk clung to the stone walls.
I looked to my left, blocking out the hum of gossiping women and the annoyed sighs and grunts of the king’s men.
Conn Ogilvy leaned forward, giving me the same cocksure look I’d last seen on his face when I’d faced him in a tourney last summer.
I knew him better than the other two men.
We’d ridden into battle together when Munro and Conn’s brother, Laird Ogilvy, had joined forces to defeat the Mackays.
Conn was an excellent swordsman and a decent enough man, with a voracious hunger to secure a stronghold of his own, which was why he took to tourneys as I did.
That’s also how I knew he wasn’t above fighting dirty to win a match.
He’d tried against me and failed, but I’d seen him use underhanded tactics to defeat others.
Still, I inclined my head to him in a friendly enough manner.
He wasn’t a bad man, in my assessment. He was polite to the lasses and kind to children, and there was a part of me that understood the gnawing desire that ate at you to have something of your own, though I would never cheat to get what I wanted, as Conn did.
I turned my attention to Dugga Johnstone.
He was a right-hand to a great laird, just as I was, and he had scruples, unlike Conn.
What else? I sifted through what I’d heard over the years and the bits of knowledge I’d gained about him.
We’d faced each other in contests, though never in battle.
He was exceptional with a sword. That much I clearly remembered.
I still had a scar on my right shoulder from Dugga’s blade slicing me open in a skirmish, and I could still recall his fury at his squire, who’d mistakenly handed him a sharpened sword for the match instead of a dulled one.
I like to think of myself as quite skilled with a sword, but there were too many warriors to count who were adept with their weapons. That was not why we’d been gathered here.
“How long are we to be made to wait?”
The irritated question drew my gaze to Siward Armstrong.
“My lord—” the king’s squire began.
“I’m nae a lord,” Siward interrupted.
“I beg yer pardon,” the squire stammered. “The king will be along shortly. He was speaking with the queen.”
The hall grew quiet during the exchange between Siward and the squire, whether out of curiosity about what the border reiver might say next or whether the squire would give away any details about the new queen.
I didn’t know or care. I disliked court gossip and maneuvering, and I was happy to learn what the king wanted with me, or, more likely, with Munro, my laird, and then to depart.
I frowned, trying to recall what I knew of Siward.
It came to me just as the loud creak of a door opening behind me cut through the silence.
His twin brother, Kinmont, was responsible for the nasty scar on Siward’s face.
Something about a fire poker held there to teach Siward a lesson.
Siward and Kinmont had battled for control of the debatable lands when their da had died.
They’d been tasked to track a lost sword, bring it to their uncle, and the winner would take control of the clan.
Siward had found the sword, but his brother’s sword had found Siward’s gut.
He was a warrior without clan, land, warriors, or coin.
I had a clan, but none of the rest.
“My daughter is ill,” King Alexander boomed as he passed us on his way to the dais.
His ruby cloak billowed behind him with each hard, fast stride.
He thudded up the stairs, settled into his seat, and picked up his gleaming golden goblet, pausing with it tilted to his lips as he scrutinized each of us.
I stood still, not even breathing, as his gaze fell on me.
When his attention shifted from me to Conn, I let out my breath.
The goblet clanked against the wood as the king set it down and leaned forward.
His ruby cloak puddled around his boots as he hunched, and I could see the creases in his tunic where he’d slept in it, if he’d slept at all.
Dark circles under his reddened eyes and his haggard expression showed sleep had eluded him.
Mayhap it was Mary’s illness that had kept him up, or mayhap King Alexander was trading sleep for trying to make an heir with his new queen.
He swiped a hand over his beard and let out a long sigh.
“Everyone out, but these men,” he bit out, waving his hand toward the crowd around us.
Shuffling feet and murmurs erupted as the gathered court moved to obey.
Whispers moved through the crowd as they departed, skirts rustling and boots scuffing across the stone, then the heavy thud of the closing door sealed us in silence, punctuated only by the pop and crackle of the fireplace.
Relief filled me, and I unclenched my hands and flexed my fingers to bring feeling back.
Whatever we’d been called here for, I knew from years spent surviving that most news was best learned in private, so you could take it in and digest it before facing your enemies.
“I find myself in an impossible position,” the king growled. “I’ve lost three children and will nae lose another, bastard or nae. Mary is my daughter.”
“Is someone threatening her, sire?” I asked, unable to suppress the protective instinct that surged in me for my kind, or, honestly, for most people in need.
“Aye,” he said, staring at me, studying me. “My new queen. She wants Mary wed and gone. Personally, I think my young new queen is jealous of my daughter.”
The king was probably right, but I kept that to myself. Mary was bonny, and Queen Yolande was not. Mary was beloved by the people at court, while Yolande was disliked simply because she was not our old queen, may her soul rest eternally.
“Mary has women’s problems, I’m told, and she refuses to wed because of them.
” He cleared his throat. “I could force her, of course, but I’m nae a monster.
But I’ll have to be harsh with her soon if what ails her is nae healed.
I need an heir, and the healer tells me the best way to ensure Yolande gets with child quickly is to make her happy. ”
He then stood and descended the dais, striding before us for a moment before stopping in front of me to speak again. “Ye are each renowned trackers.”
I nodded because he was staring directly at me.
He toyed with a thick golden ring on his finger for a moment before speaking again.
“I need a woman found. She’s a healer. Whispers on the wind say her skills in the arts are unparalleled, and one of my warriors, whom she saved some time ago, confirms she has exceptional knowledge.
He knows only her first name, Katreine, and recalls her as young and verra bonny, with brown hair and eyes streaked with gold.
It’s thought she’s a Summer Walker, so she will be hard to find. ”
I wasn’t that concerned. It was true that the Summer Walkers were roamers, gypsies without a home or allegiance, but there were ways to find even those who did not wish to be found, and I would gladly serve my king.
“Dalton, the injured warrior, also recalls that she has a mark on her right shoulder that resembles a star.” He swept his gaze over all of us as he spoke.
“I ken I’m taking ye away from yer duties, and I will reward whichever one of ye brings her to me.
Each of ye is without yer own stronghold, lairdship, and warriors.
The man who brings her to me will receive all of that, along with coin. ”
I froze at the news, hardly daring to believe my ears or my good fortune.
Then my blood surged through my veins as my heartbeat quickened.
Here was the opportunity I’d been working toward for years, something to offer a lass so I’d be worthy of being wed.
But I needed to be cunning, quick, and careful.
These men had desires and hopes, too, and the king was deliberately pitting us against each other.
“Sire,” I stepped forward and dipped my head respectfully. “May I depart now?”
The king’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes narrowing. “Ye do nae want to take on the challenge?”
I shook my head. “On the contrary, Yer Majesty. I wish to get started so I may win.”
A thunderous laugh erupted from the king as he seized my shoulder and clamped it. “Here is the enthusiasm I was hoping for! Away with ye, and may the gods ride beside ye.”
I was already pivoting toward the door when Conn’s voice cut through the air.
“Might I depart as well, Sire?”
“And I!” Siward snarled.
“Out. All of ye! Bring me that healer!”
My boots hammered against the stone as I charged down the corridor. Heavy footfalls pounded in my wake.
“The woman is mine, James!” Conn growled.
Without breaking stride, I hurled back, “Nae while I still have breath in me.”
“That can be arranged!” Siward bellowed as I burst through the door into the courtyard.
I’d need to watch my back and stay ahead of these two.
Siward would slit my throat in my sleep if given half a chance, and Conn would lie and cheat to best me.
This wasn’t just about finding some healer.
This was about surviving long enough to claim what I had been striving toward my entire life.