Chapter 35
Iwalk along the shore alone. The waves rush up the black sand, kissing my bare feet as I trail along the edge. My boots sway back and forth, gripped loosely in my hand with each step I take.
I need to think, to breathe, and it’s best to do it here.
Had I been back in the human realm, I would have sought solitude at the fairy tree already.
I sit on the sand, out of reach of the tendrils of water that race towards me, and look out across the sea.
Six days.
We have six days, and I can’t keep it together for one.
I miss my parents and Gran. I miss Elowen.
And once again, I feel lost.
How am I supposed to lead them all into a battle we might not come out of?
My thoughts circle around and around. Growing darker, and more hopeless with each passing second.
“I thought I might find ye here.” Torin’s voice cuts through my death spiral.
I turn back to see him slipping his boots off and walking barefoot my way.
“Needed to think,” I murmur, grasping a handful of sand and letting it slip through my fingers.
“Don’t we all,” he replies, sitting beside me.
His cropped chestnut hair looks slightly longer than the last time I saw him in the human realm, his eyes more weary. Torin knew the whole time about this place, yet I don’t feel a fraction of the anger towards him I had felt towards Lachlan.
We sit beside each other in silence, the waves against the sand fill the silence.
“Your Gran was lucid before I brought her here.”
I don’t reply, but I slide my eyes from the sea to the side of his face. He keeps staring straight ahead.
“She knew her time was ending, but that ye had somehow saved this place. She was adamant I bring her to the cairn—to home.” His throat bobs with a swallow. “She was so proud of ye. Kept saying how ye had done it and that ye were the best queen this realm had ever had.”
My eyes burn, and I squint, swinging my gaze back at the ocean. Toying with the medallion around my neck, I feel as if I’m holding both my mom and Gran close.
“Ye are a wonderful queen, Lena. Ye will lead us all into a better world. Ye just have to believe in yourself.”
A tear trickles its way down my cheek. “I’m so afraid,” I whisper.
Torin leans over, wiping the tear from my cheek and looking into my eyes. “What are ye afraid of?”
My nose wrinkles at his question. What is there not to be afraid of?
“I’m afraid of everything. What if I fail? What if we all die? What if I lose everything?”
Torin nods, his eyes beseeching mine. “Aye. That is a lot to be afraid of. But that’s a good thing. It means ye have something worth fighting for.”
I snort, loudly. “That means nothing if we all die..”
He grimaces and pats my thigh. “So ye ha’ no choice, then. Ye canna control what ye canna control. Might as well give it your best shot for the people ye love…for the people who matter. What do they fight for? Greed?” He scoffs. “Greed willna push ye to great lengths like the love you fight for.”
His words ring true, but there’s a distance in his eyes.
“That’s not all you want to say, is it?”
A small smile curves his lips and he turns to look at me. “Ha’ ye forgotten already how to control your emotions?”
A weary exhale escapes me.
“Mindfulness is nae just about feeling your emotions, but also about ye controlling them. Your feelings are something ye can control. They are reactions. But when ye lead, lead with proaction.”
The weight of all that responsibility pushes down on me.
“But what if I don’t want to lead?”
Torin cocks his head to the side, and I can feel his eyes upon me. “Then who would ye ha’ to take your place?”
Any of my friends would make a remarkable leader. Evander has always wanted to be captain of the guard, but being in charge of the entire kingdom would take him away from the position he’s worked his whole life for.
Tane is already struggling so much, the weight of this would crush him. Mathilda would be an excellent queen, but this extra responsibility would take her away from where her heart truly lies—Tane.
Luna—would be a nightmare. She would be great, yes. But too firm of a hand. And Mina, she’s already been through so much in her lifetime for me to saddle her with all of this.
Lachlan would no doubt do it if I asked. But what would he think of me? If I bowed out of my birthright? He wouldn’t think less of me knowing him.
But I would know that I was a coward.
I shake my head. Accepting that there is no one else. I have to do this. “I was chosen.”
“That ye were,” he replies. “Now let’s see if we can get those feelings in check.”
Hours pass, the sun dips below the waves, and the moon takes its place in the sky.
My heart beats steadily, in line with water that rushes upon the shore. A calm mind. The thoughts no longer whiz by in an incoherent stream of doom.
Torin groans as he stands, wiping the sand off his linen trousers. He holds a hand out to me, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
Torin smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling in the familiar way that Lachlan’s do. “It was my pleasure.”
We walk arm in arm back to the Great Hall.
“What will you do now?” I ask him, as we walk along the buildings that are still being rebuilt from the fires.
Lachlan has been helping with the rebuild in his free time. And I stop walking, staring at the newly rebuilt tavern in front of us. A builders mark is etched into the intricate carvings around its front stoop.
A lock and a key.
My breath stutters out of me at not only the craftsmanship, but of what his mark is. Us.
Torin’s voice pierces through my longing. “I was hoping ye could tell me. Things are settled back at the Hall. The horses are being seen after, the housekeeper comes once a week to keep it tidy. The estate is managed by the bankers that see to the bills getting paid, so I’d like to stay here.”
We walk beneath wooden scaffolding that’s been erected along the sidewalk. Buildings are still heavily in need of repair. But the scars from battle no longer dim the beauty of this place, or its people. There’s a power in the rebuild, a new strength that I hadn’t noticed before.
“What do you need from me, then?”
Torin chuckles. “You’re in charge, lass. Ye give the orders.”
I purse my lips, trying to bite back my growing smile. “What would you like to do?”
His face reflects his quiet thinking as we enter the iron archway of the Idir tree garden.
“Well, I’ve been a captain, a guard, and a warrior. I’d like to be a gardener.” He glances at the reddening color of the trees around the small garden. There’s an admiration there, like a painter appreciating a shade of paint.
“Then a gardener you will be,” I order.
We pause, looking up at the great branches of the Idir tree. The branches are no longer bare. Small buds cling to them. A sign of life, of magic returning.
We saved it, after all.
My smile spreads as I stare up into the branches and to the stars blinking into existence above us.
We continue to walk arm in arm through the capital and I notice things I hadn’t before. People smile and wave at us as we pass. Genuine smiles, with bright shining eyes. Hope reigns here.Brightening the streets like the lanterns that flare to life as we pass.
Torin tells me about his life before and the Jacobite rebellion he was a part of. I had always thought he had to of been part of something like that. But to hear his stories about the clans and Culloden, he’s a masterful storyteller, and it grips me as if I was there myself.
Laughter and conversation reach our ears as we traverse the steps into the Great Hall. Torches flare along the stairs, casting our walk in a warm glow. The smell of roasted meat makes my stomach ache as it floats down to us.
I spy my court gathered at the entrance of the throne room. Broad, happy smiles on each of their faces. They’re up to something…
“Surprise!” they cheer, as we get closer.
“Surprise,” Torin whispers into my ear.
I turn my head to him, my mouth agape. “Lach knew ye would need to be surrounded by your people to face this next challenge, but thought a gift would go over nicely as well.”
My brows raise in surprise. Lachlan’s eyes are damn near glowing in the meager light as Torin passes me off to him.
“What is going on?” I ask, looking at everyone as he pulls me into the throne room.
“We thought ye needed something to remember how powerful ye are, my queen,” he whispers into my ear. The proximity of him, or maybe the words, sends a shiver down my spine. Heat pools low in my belly. But he spins me around to face…
My throne.
Well, actually, my mother’s throne. The white marble is an identical match to the stone that makes up the entire Great Hall. It’s exquisite, the timeless arching back and arms so ornately carved it takes my breath away.
But it’s more than beautiful. It’s the history, the sentiment of it all, that has tears spilling down my cheeks.
This was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her—and now—it’s mine.
Lachlan leads me up the few steps to where the throne rests on the dais. Stroking a hand across the arm and back, I circle the chair with him before he leads me right in front of it. He stares down at me, his gaze heating.
“You’ve forgotten who ye are, Key.” His words are spoken so softly no one else can hear them. “Allow me to remind ye.”
He gets closer, nudging me back and into the seat. As I slowly lower onto my throne, my eyes never leave his face. He sinks to one knee in front of me, as do the others.
I am meant to be here, I was raised to be here, and I am queen.
A breath makes its way out of my chest.
Lachlan gazes up at me. A loving smile stretches across his face.
“I ha’ already sworn my fealty to ye, but allow me to remind ye. Ye ha’ my sword under your command. My heart is yours, as well as my soul, for all eternity. I love ye. More than all the stars in the sky.”
Out of all of his words, it’s only three that piece me back together.
“I love you too.”
He leans towards me, taking my face in his hands and pressing his lips against mine. Electricity travels across my skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Cheers erupt behind him and he laughs, pulling away.
“Let’s get ye to your party.”
He stands, pulling me up with him.
“Party?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“Aye, every war needs a feast beforehand.”
Striding into the dining hall, we find the celebration is already in full swing.
Cynane, Boudicca, Agatha, Artemisia, and even Joan are at tables close by with members of their districts. A startling slam against the table draws my attention as Leif hammers a pitcher of mead against its wooden top.
“Long live the queen!”
The room erupts in agreement. “Long live the queen!”