The Scottish King's Destiny

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Caerith Castle

The Library Chamber

“Ifound you a wife.”

King Dravic did not look up immediately.

He sat in a deep chair near the hearth, one arm resting along the worn leather of its side, the other holding a book open across his lap. The fire across from him burned low and steady, its glow turning the edges of parchment gold, as if even ink softened in its presence.

This room was different from the war room. It was peaceful and that was the very reason he came here… for peace.

Books lined the walls in uneven towers of knowledge gathered over generations.

Scrolls lay tucked into carved alcoves. A thick rug covered the stone floor, trapping the cold that tried to creep in from the castle beyond.

Candles stood in iron holders along the mantle and tables, their flames bending slightly each time the draft whispered through unseen gaps in the stone.

It was not a room made for such news.

Tavish stood calmly by the closed door, as he often did when he brought news that could not be softened by distance or time.

“It is your duty to wed and produce an heir,” Tavish reminded.

Dravic shut the book closed with a sharp snap and dropped it roughly on the wooden table beside him.

“I need no reminding of my duties,” Dravic said, annoyed.

Beside the hearth, Adira looked up at Dravic, her embroidery needle paused mid-stitch.

Dravic met her inquisitive gaze. Though she could not speak or hear, there were ways she managed to communicate: observation, expressions, and movement.

It had been almost three months since she had been here, since he had decided to keep her, not as a prisoner, though he had no plans of allowing her to leave. What then was she to him?

A companion. One he could trust and speak to without worry of betrayal. One he could spend time with and not feel alone.

“My king,” Tavish said and held his tongue as soon as Dravic raised his hand, signaling silence.

Dravic rose from the chair in one smooth motion and went to Adira and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture she had come to know meant all was well, she need not worry. He did not turn away from her until she smiled briefly, confirming she understood.

Only then did he turn and walk a few steps toward Tavish. “War looms. This is no time for a marriage.”

“It is the best time,” Tavish argued. “We know Tharne, Warlord of Drogath, would not dare sail his ships across the Sea of Shadows during winter. The rough sea would destroy his vessels. He will wait until spring.”

“And build alliances,” Dravic said, and went to a sideboard beneath a window and filled a goblet with wine.

“Something we need to do. Dar and his wife Elara can help with that, being emissaries to Driochmor. It is time to make certain that all of the forbidden land will fight for the kingdom. And if not, then I need to know who my enemies are.”

“That would mean changing the edict your grandfather, King Halric, wrote into law.”

“I have little choice with Tharne having sent a spy to Driochmor, offering them freedom to practice their magic throughout Scotara should he claim victory.”

“But can you trust magic?” Tavish asked.

“A question that lingers in me,” Dravic admitted.

“But I do trust Dar, a Hunter and a man who has proven himself honorable. He and his wife serve me well. They also will continue their search for the healer who defies death. Now that I know Tharne searches for her as well, it is imperative we find her. And with winter setting in, I would not be surprised if he has more spies throughout Scotara ready to feed him information as soon as the sea calms.”

“What of Kaelan, who so conveniently claims to be your cousin?”

“I will learn more from him before I decide what to do with him, though his wife Bria may be useful along with her great-grandmother Wynn, both being from the Wise Clan.”

“So, they say,” Tavish said. “You must be careful who you trust.”

Dravic glanced briefly at Adira before saying, “A wise king trusts no one.”

“I am pleased to hear that and take no offense to it,” Tavish said with a smile.

“You were first a good friend and now my royal advisor, but even a most faithful friend or advisor can be bought for a price.”

“I know of one or two who have, but I would never betray my friend and never my king.”

“That is good to know,” Dravic said and took a swallow of wine.

Tavish could not help but grin, saying, “What about the fairy Fiora?”

“That blasted little creature,” Dravic said, shaking his head.

“She flits around the castle like she rules it. She avoids all traps set for her. Laughs at them, she does. She says it is for my own good that she remains here. And Kaelan has the audacity to say better me than him. She is an absolute menace. But if I fail to capture one tiny fairy, then I am not fit to be king.”

“And what will you do with her when you catch her?”

“That depends on how long the war with her lasts,” Dravic said and hurriedly shook a finger at Tavish as soon as he grinned. “Do not dare laugh. This is war and I do not intend to be defeated.”

“Aye, my king,” Tavish said, hiding a chuckle as best he could.

“Go,” Dravic ordered, “and leave me in peace to plot my revenge.”

“I cannot do that, my king,” Tavish apologized. “You may think you succeeded in distracting me from my original reason for being here, but it is imperative we discuss your future wife.”

“And here I thought I’d been successful.”

It was the last thing Dravic wanted to do but Tavish was right. He could not avoid it, but he could delay it.

“I am not ready to wed,” Dravic said.

“Ready or not, you must wed and soon, especially with war not far off. A winter wedding would bring some joy to Caerith, if not all of Scotara, to be followed by news that your wife is with child. It will secure the future of the kingdom.”

“And if the kingdom falls to Drogath?”

“I do not believe you would let that happen but if by chance it did, the woman I have chosen for you comes from an island south of Scotara where she can retreat to and where she can raise, hopefully, a son who will one day reclaim the throne.”

“And she is aware of this?”

“Her father is and has sworn to protect the bairn if it comes to that.”

“I will think on it,” Dravic said.

“I would not take too long. Lord Kendrick, along with his daughter, Corvina, will arrive here in a couple of weeks to secure the arrangements and see his daughter wed.”

Dravic did not keep the anger out of his voice. “And if I do not approve of her?”

“She is the best of the lot, easy on the eyes from what I am told and a gentle soul. Believe me when I tell you the other choices are simply nightmares.”

Dravic caught Adira’s sudden movement and the way her eyes cringed in pain. He placed the goblet on the sideboard and went to her, dropping down beside her. He saw that her finger was bleeding and gently took her hand in his.

“Get Feena,” Dravic called out without turning his head.

The blood continued to pool on her finger and would soon run over. He looked around for a cloth, any cloth, but the only cloth there was her embroidery, and she had worked on it for several weeks, he did not want to see it ruined.

He reacted without thinking and slipped her finger into his mouth to suck at it and stop the bleeding. Something he had done often enough when he pricked his finger on something.

Her finger was warm, her blood tangy and he sucked on it meaning to stop the bleeding nothing more, and yet…

Warmth spread through him, unexpected and immediate. He would have lingered in the gentle feeling, but he heard heavy footfalls outside the door and quickly slipped her finger out of his mouth and felt her shudder.

He looked at her then and saw confusion in her eyes, and she tilted her head, her brow narrowing as if she sought an answer from him.

He had no time to explain or understand it himself, but then how would he if he could? She could not speak or hear.

The door burst open and Tavish rushed into the room with Feena, the elderly woman Adira had arrived here with and a trusted friend of hers.

Dravic stood. “She pricked herself on the stitching needle,” he said and walked away without giving Adira a second glance.

“Let me see that finger,” Feena said gently, taking hold of Adira’s hand.

Adira barely looked at her. Her gaze slipped past Feena to the king.

He stood with his back partly to the room, one hand wrapped around the stem of the silver goblet, staring out the window where thick snow continued to blanket Caerith.

He had walked away without so much as another glance in her direction.

Strange, since he always looked back as if making sure she understood and followed whatever it was he attempted to communicate to her.

“There now,” Feena said as she gently cleaned the tiny wound. “Such a fuss over a wee prick.” Her lips curved into a fond smile as she rested her hand lightly against Adira’s chest, letting her know all was well.

Adira acknowledged her familiar gesture with a faint smile. Yet nothing felt well. Something felt different, though how she was not sure.

There had been a time when merely being in the same room with the king had left her trembling.

The memory remained painfully clear.

His dark blue eyes had watched her without mercy as he had taken a dagger and sliced her forearm.

She had not understood why. She had only known pain and terror.

Then, the following day, she had watched his face darken when the wound was uncovered.

She had glanced at Feena, easily understanding her gestures and facial expressions and had seen worry in both.

She had been certain she had done something wrong and she would not live to see another sunrise. She had been wrong. Very wrong.

Instead of casting her into the dungeon—or worse—he had kept her close, much too close to feel safe.

A sleeping pallet had been laid near the hearth in his bedchamber. At first, she had believed it was another way to keep watch over a prisoner.

Feena thought otherwise. Every day Feena had spoken to her as she tended her wound, smiling, touching her arm or resting her hand against Adira’s chest to reassure her all was well.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Adira had begun to believe her, though mostly because the king had never treated her cruelly again.

She still continued to fear him on occasion, especially when she felt the room tremor when he raised his voice. It was as if the stone walls themselves feared his power.

Little by little she had come to understand his gestures. A hand resting lightly on her shoulder told her she need not worry. Pointing his finger to a chair or a place beside him followed by a nod, meant he wanted her to remain there.

When the narrow bed had replaced the pallet where she slept beside the hearth in his bedchamber, she realized he intended to keep her there.

At first, she feared the thought of remaining there, but Feena, knowing her so well, managed to understand and provided her with some wise advice.

With gestures to her ears and mouth, Feena reminded her that she could not hear or speak and with more gestures that followed, Adira understood that Feena was saying that she was far safer here in the king’s castle than anyplace else.

So, she did her best to accept her new home, but she missed the forest. That was where she truly felt at home.

And there were times she would have preferred being alone in the bedchamber she was given.

She wondered why she had been given it since her nights were spent with the king.

She understood why when one evening a woman arrived and the king sent her to her small chamber.

Adira did not judge him for it. He was after all a man and men had needs from what Feena managed to explain to her and from what she learned observing people. So much could be learned watching people.

After one such night, she had been summoned to his chamber and passed the woman leaving. She was half-dressed, her cheeks flushed, and smiling broadly. She was quite pleased, quite happy.

The king, on the other hand, appeared no different and she wondered over it. Why had the woman been pleased and not the king? Unless he simply did not show it. He was stoic most of the time, which would have made it difficult for her to come to understand him.

However, it was when they were alone that he seemed to relax, let his guard down, which made her wonder if he kept her near because no matter what he said when alone with her, she could never betray his confidence.

Her gaze settled on him once more.

He still had not looked her way.

That, more than anything else, told her that something troubled him.