Chapter 10
The sky is a hazy black, the perfect canvas for the aurora borealis as it paints its colors in idle, twirling strokes. Clouds blot out the stars, but don’t come close to dimming the ribbons of light dancing lazily in the sky. It casts the dock and small city in vibrant greens and pinks.
It’s my first time on this island, and much like Olundy, it feels like I’m coming home.
There’s a nip in the air, but also the savory smells of roasted pork and something …
sweet. My stomach growls, and I press a hand to the hollowness.
I devoured the measly supplies Lach had packed for our trip hours ago.
Faint, tranquil music is audible above the lapping waves as our boat glides to the dock. Lachlan grabs the black pelt cloak and drapes it over me, tying it under my chin, before placing a brief kiss onto my lips.
“This is one of the colder islands,” he murmurs, before hopping over the side of the boat with ease and holding out a hand for me. “Dinna want ye catching a cold.”
The music, coupled with the smell of food, tugs me off the boat and down the dock. Lachlan barely has time to tie up our boat before he’s jogging after me.
Dim light from the iron street lanterns illuminates gray stone buildings.
The stones shimmer with pinkish hues from the northern lights still rolling above.
Clouds part and blankets of stars become visible, glittering in the inky sky.
Buildings flanking either side of the street are similar to the ones in Orkney, but …
older. Large leaded glass windows give glimpses into stores or dining rooms and remind me of old postcards from Edinburgh.
I see why the island is called Scota.
It’s like I stepped into the past, an ancient one. It’s rustic here. The city is no more than a large village, really. But I love it.
Lachlan’s hand wraps around mine, and he leads me farther along, closer to the music I heard when we landed.
A single-story stone building with a thatched roof has its doors thrown wide open, allowing the music to spill out into the deserted street.
We walk across the threshold, and I inhale deeply, savoring the aroma of the delicious food on the long wooden tables placed around the dining area.
I clench my jaw to keep from drooling. The food smells incredible.
A flash of silver-blonde hair gleams from underneath one of the many lanterns swinging from the ceiling and draws my attention.
Cynane’s silver eyes pierce me from across the room.
She’s seated in the middle of one of the long tables surrounded by several fur-covered warriors, like she’s holding court.
“Sk?l! Our queen graces our island at last!” she calls loudly from across the room. Her smile is dazzling, and a hint of mischief twinkles in her eyes.
The music cuts off, and chairs scrape across the wooden floor as people try to get a better look at who she’s talking to. I toss a hand up in greeting before striding across the room, Lachlan right on my heels.
Eyes follow me as I cross the room. They dip their heads in greeting and thump their chests with fists.
I feel like I belong here. There’s a foundation of respect, a line of leadership regarded that my victory in the rebellion secured me.
Several warriors murmur Lachlan’s name. Their eyes gleam with reverence when they take him in.
He’s well known here and admired, if the blushing smiles from the females tell me anything.
The warriors seated at the long table beside Cynane slide down on the benches to make room, and I take a seat across from her.
She takes a long pull from her mead horn.
And I immediately notice the hand clasped around it.
It’s swollen, the knuckles purple and blue with bruises.
A few cuts spread across most of them still look to be bloody.
“Is everything ok?” I ask, eyeing her damaged hand.
Cynane follows my stare and smiles fiendishly, flexing her hand.
“Everything is as it should be. I’m thrilled to be back in the training ring, as is everyone else.” She nods at the warriors around her, and that’s when I notice their swollen black eyes and split lips.
“Is that courtesy of you?”
Her eyes blaze as she bites down on her injured lip and then spits the blood onto the floor.
“A few of them might be,” she snickers, her nose wrinkling delicately.
I nod, impressed at her handiwork. Cynane knocks her mead on the wooden table top to garner the attention of the barmaid in the corner of the dining hall.
“The queen and her captain could use some food and mead, Imelda!” she calls to the barmaid, who smiles and nods in answer.
“Now, what can we do for you, your majesty? I assume you’re not here to check trainings already?” She leans back and studies me with an arched brow.
“You would be correct. But is Boudicca here?” I look around at the other diners for a shock of red hair. “I need to speak with her as well.”
Cynane shakes her head. The long silvery white strands catch the light and shimmer as they wave side to side.
“Nae, Boudicca prefers to train at night,” she rolls her eyes, “what she can see at night, she can see even better in the light.”
Lachlan chuckles, the rich timber of it tugs the corner of my lips up.
“I forgot that about her.” He looks at me, still grinning broadly. “Boudicca is more lethal blind and one handed than most of our guards are at full strength.”
My mind instantly flashes to Tane. We might need her help with more than one thing, then.
“Alright then, we’ll have to meet with her afterwards.
” I clear my throat and lean forward. “We managed to restore magic to part of the realm.” Cynane’s eyes widen and she glances at her still damaged hand.
“But we haven’t restored magic to the entire realm.
We need to find quartz that has an odd green color to it.
The quartz we found was fashioned into my throne so it could be disguised as something important or—”
“The Wayfinder,” Cynane blurts out, interrupting my explanation, as she slams a palm on the table.
“The what?”
“Odessa had a large quartz obelisk erected on the west side of the island in the fjords. She said it was so passing ships could see the light at night and not run into them, but fish and even the birds won’t go near the thing.”
I look hopefully at Lachlan, who nods.
“That sounds like what we’re after.”
“How big is it?” I ask, concern about another accident washing through me.
Cynane tilts her head and squints. “It’s about the size of a very tall man.” She gestures to Lachlan.
“And how long does it take to get to the stone?”
“Not long by boat, but you’ll have to come in when the tide is out. During the high tide, the water almost covers the obelisk completely.”
“Seems like a pretty useless thing for a ship spotter to do?”
Cynane works her jaw from side to side. “Exactly.”
Imelda places two massive plates of roasted pork and leafy greens in front of us. While a younger woman places two large horns of mead next to our plates. I smile gratefully at both of the women.
“Thank you so much.”
Imelda drops into a low curtsy, but when she notices the young woman staring open-mouthed, she elbows her lightly in the ribs. She drops into a curtsy, her cheeks blooming with color before dashing away. Cynane snorts and I turn back towards her, not quite understanding what has happened.
“Everyone has eyes for your captain, Lena,” she mock whispers, leaning over the table.
Lachlan merely shakes his head, rolling his eyes heavenward before picking up his fork and diving into the food.
“It appears they do.” I chuckle, making eye contact with several women still staring at him.
“I wouldn’t be too worried about him abandoning you and his duties anytime soon. We haven’t had a mating bond settle in years, probably something to do with the magic.”
Cynane takes another swig from her mead. I glance sidelong at Lachlan, admiring what the young barmaid no doubt enjoyed.
If I restore magic, would there be a mating bond between us?
I hadn’t thought about what the venom would do to all magic, not just the restoring or healing kind, but the magic that allows for mating bonds.
She sets her mead down and leans back in her chair as she steeples her fingers in front of her. “So what are you going to do with Wayfinder?” Her question has me pulling my eyes from his handsome face and forcing the idea of mating bonds far from my mind.
“Well, we need to destroy it, so we’ll take it back with us to the capital until I can figure out a way to do it safely.”
Lachlan’s brow furrows as he shakes his head again. “We’ll ha’ to find another way. We canna bring that thing all the way back to the capital.”
“How do you destroy it?” Cynane asks, picking up her mead again.
“Raven stone.”
She scoffs. “We have loads of that here.” My brows raise and Cynane continues. “A long time ago, someone carved a hole into the mountain, so there’s an entire room made of that black stone.”
Her words spark an idea in my mind.
“What if we pull the stone into the mountain?” I ask Lachlan. “The raven stone had negated the venom in the room that Luna was in because the rune worked to put her to sleep.”
“Aye, but wouldn’t ye ha’ to seal the room off somehow?”
Cynane throws the rest of her mead back and wipes droplets of it off her chin with the back of her hand.
“There is a door for the room.”
I stare open-mouthed at her. Why the heck is there a door for a mountain?
“You do?”
“People used it for rituals, so they needed to be able to close it off.”
This could solve our problem. But her words have piqued my curiosity. “What kind of rituals?”
I take a bite of the food, enjoying the melding of flavors.
“Death rituals.”
The food gets trapped in my throat as I gasp while swallowing.
“What?” I ask, between coughs. Lachlan roughly pats my back as he chuckles.