Page 16

–Aspen–

I KNEW THE moment we stepped outside and saw the disgruntled expression on several faces that things wouldn’t go as expected. Moreover, I felt it from Broderick before he cursed under his breath.

“What is it?”

I asked, sensing one of his men on the ramparts had spoken to him telepathically.

“’Tis more than just the king and his men.”

His brow furrowed, and he scowled fiercely.

“It seems he didnae leave the Sutherland laird at the border after all but dared to bring him onto my land and straight to my door.”

“Dared because he is your king, son,”

Broderick’s father warned softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“And you best not forget it, or your people will suffer the consequences.”

“It will be okay, Broderick,”

I said, keeping my voice strong despite my fears. Gentle because I sensed it would soothe him.

“Let’s just take each moment as it comes. I can handle it.”

I met his eyes.

“Just like your clan expects you to handle it and keep them safe. Better still, keep them calm.”

If nothing else, that last part was the most important because I not only saw but sensed how uneasy everyone was becoming.

As did Broderick, it seemed, because after his eyes lingered on mine for a moment and he saw the strength he was looking for, he spoke to the gathering crowd, assuring them all was well and any guest of the kings must be guests of theirs and treated accordingly.

Right now wasn’t the time for squabbling or ill manners, but for respect of their monarch and his traveling companions, whether from a rival clan or not.

Despite my growing trepidation, I couldn’t help but wait with bated breath to finally meet an authentic figure from history and the grandson of Robert the Bruce, no less.

A man born to the Bruce’s daughter, Marjorie, when she married Walter Stewart, 6th High Steward of Scotland.

Yet when the small group of men on horseback made their way into the muddy courtyard, my eye wasn’t drawn to the king with his notable bearing but to the imposing man by his side, whose steady gaze locked on me just as swiftly.

I didn’t need to ask to know he was Dugal Sutherland because I felt it in a way I couldn’t explain.

Like a surge of familiarity mixed with dread.

As our eyes held, it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked about him, and I understood why now.

It wasn’t a matter of hoping I would never end up with him, but because something deep inside me already knew what to expect when I saw him.

I knew he would be close to Broderick’s age, handsome with sun-kissed brown hair, and his eyes would be an intense, stormy grey that he used to intimidate people with when it suited him.

Like Broderick, he was tall and broad-shouldered, but I suspected most male dragons were.

“That doesnae mean you’re destined for him,”

Broderick grumbled into my mind, keeping how unsettled my recognizing Dugal made him off his face.

“Because ‘tis more than clear our dragons are meant for each other.”

I couldn’t agree more, but that didn’t ease either of us as the men dismounted and Broderick clasped arms, hand to elbow, with the king, who grinned at Broderick with affection.

“’Tis good to see ye again, laddie.”

He gestured at the others with him.

“I had no choice but to bring Laird Sutherland, so I trust ye and yers will make him feel as welcome as ye do me?”

Though he seemed jovial enough, there was no mistaking the warning in Robert’s eyes. This wasn’t a question but an order.

“Aye,”

Broderick agreed without missing a beat. He nodded once at Dugal, acknowledging his presence as well as the Sutherlands' recent infraction at a tavern on MacLeod land, however subtly.

“’Twill be good to catch up about our tavern lasses, aye, Laird Sutherland?”

“’Twill Laird MacLeod.”

Dugal nodded once in return, undoubtedly testing how much Broderick could withstand when his appreciative gaze returned to me.

“But then, why talk tavern lasses when we might speak of far finer things, aye?”

“Indeed,”

the king concurred, intercepting the building tension between the two men when his warm brown eyes turned my way. He offered a charming smile.

“Ye could only be the lass in question, for none are so bonnie.”

The king would be one year shy of sixty and had aged well, all things considered, given the difficult era and his role in it. Although not as tall as the MacLeod men or Dugal, he was relatively tall with graying, reddish brown hair, a beard, and deep starbursts of lines around his eyes, speaking to a man who liked to laugh.

“Aye, this is Aspen,”

Broderick said before I had a chance to respond, making himself clear to Dugal.

“Without a doubt, my fated mate and soon to be my wife.”

“Is that right, Aspen?”

The king held out the crook of his elbow and perked his eyebrows.

“Mayhap ye will be so kind as to escort me inside where I hope there will be a warm fire and good whisky so ye can tell me all about it.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Going with my gut, I slipped my arm into Robert's and did my best to protect Broderick and his clan because he seemed determined to push his luck.

“Laird MacLeod has been a wonderful host, and I can only hope to spend more time with him as we get along well.”

I shrugged my shoulder.

“As to becoming his wife, I only just got here.”

I could tell by the feel of Broderick’s inner dragon he didn’t like that answer, but I refused to push things if it harmed him and his clan.

“Indeed ye did only just arrive, aye?”

the king agreed, eyeing me with a sharp glint of knowing approval, telling me he knew what I was up to and appreciated it.

Thus far, he wasn’t dealing with a frightened basket case from the future who would make his life difficult.

Instead, I was putting others ahead of myself, and he seemed to understand that, just one of the many reasons he was a good king.

After greeting several men in the great hall, the king requested we dine alone with Dugal and Broderick’s immediate kin so we might discuss things.

The Sutherland laird had been relatively quiet since arriving, taking everything in, including me, in a way I knew Broderick didn’t like.

The last thing he wanted was the Devil in his Den, so to speak, and I didn’t blame him.

Dugal could glean a lot about his rival clan while on their territory.

Especially when they didn't know he was coming.

Outside of a dirty look here and there when the king wasn’t looking, all were cordial enough, including Lucas, thankfully, because I sensed on more than one occasion how close he was to causing trouble.

We ended up in the same dining hall where I first ate with Broderick and his family. The king sat at one end of the table and Broderick at the other. Robert insisted I sit beside him with Dugal on his other side, putting the Sutherland laird across from me. Broderick’s parents and cousins sat in the other chairs.

After food and drink were set down, including venison, a thick savory stew rich with vegetables, and freshly baked bread, Robert declared we would eat then discuss business afterward. So far, I hadn’t spied Dugal’s tattoo, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. After all, I had purposely kept mine hidden under my sleeve.

Despite my best efforts not to look at him, choosing to focus on the king or Broderick instead, it wasn’t long before Dugal engaged me in conversation, and I had no choice but to meet his eyes. Again, that strange feeling of familiarity and dread washed over me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So ye’re from the future like some of the other MacLeods?”

Dugal prompted, as unaffected by that as the king, but then dragons, wizards, witches, and sorcerers existed here, so why not time travelers?

“I am,”

I confirmed, trying to leave it at that, but he wasn’t finished, his curiosity ultimately having less to do with where I was from and more to do with what I was.

“And ye are half witch, half dragon?”

he said, despite my getting the sense he knew full well I was both. It also appeared the king knew witches existed, too, because he seemed nonplussed in a day and age known for being overly superstitious.

“So it seems,”

I confirmed.

“Yet ye have never shifted,”

Dugal murmured, considering me.

“How curious.”

Although tempted to ask how he knew that, I refrained because it would only confirm he seemed as familiar with me as I was with him. Fortunately, no doubt sensing I wanted out of this conversation, Broderick’s mother engaged the king and, therefore, everyone else in talk of the border.

“We seem to be gaining ground but ‘tis hard to achieve as much as I would like with the Sassenach holding such important castles.”

Robert shook his head and gave Broderick a look that had everything to do with our situation.

“It has never been more vital that we stand strong and unified as countrymen and take back those strongholds because the Scots holding them are no Scots at all but traitors, loyal to King Edward.”

Before he acceded to the throne, King Edward III, formerly known as Edward of Windsor, was noted for his military success, among other things, including being one of the longest-reigning monarchs in English history.

“How fares my brother and cousin at the border?”

Broderick asked, giving Dugal no chance to engage me in further conversation.

“I gather they fight well on yer behalf?”

“Aye, always.”

Robert nodded with approval.

“Sloan and Tavish are fine warriors. Among the best and most appreciated. May their brethren prove as devoted to king and country?”

He pushed his empty plate aside, crossed his arms over his chest, and continued before Broderick could reply.

“Which leads us to the reason behind my visit, might my stay last the eve so I may travel fresh on the morn.”

“Of course,”

Broderick replied, his voice level enough despite the growing tension I felt in him when he purposefully didn’t look Dugal’s way.

“Should I assume ‘twill be everyone ye traveled with?”

“That will depend.”

Robert’s gaze settled on me.

“’Tis claimed ye wear the mark of an old pact betwixt the MacLeods and Sutherlands. Is that true?”

“It’s more of a tattoo than, say, a birthmark I was born with,”

I clarified because somehow it seemed worse had it been with me from the beginning.

“But, yes, there is...something there that wasn’t before.”

“Might I see it?”

I nearly looked at Broderick for approval but knew I had to remain in control of the situation because if he was, I didn’t see it ending well.

“Sure,”

I replied to Robert, pushing up my sleeve before resting my wrist on the table, palm up, only for Robert’s and Dugal’s eyes to widen, telling me all I needed to know.

“’Tis the verra same,”

Robert exclaimed, urging Dugal to show his, which was, damningly enough, not just identical to mine but in the same spot.

“And telling indeed.”

He looked from me to Dugal.

“’Tis as the pact betwixt yer clans claims, aye?”

“A pact I knew nothing about until yesterday,”

Broderick ground out.

“One easily fabricated.”

He gestured from Dugal to me.

“Was a sorcerer not mentioned? Might this not be magic at work somehow?”

“A bloodline long gone until now,”

Dugal countered.

“So if any sorcerer were to blame for such a coincidence, would it not be Aspen herself?”

He scowled at Broderick and gestured from me to himself, too bold by half, given he was enjoying my hospitality in my castle.

“Might she not be attempting to find her way back to her mate despite ye trying to keep her because ‘tis clear ye are. ‘Tis clear, at least to a fellow dragon, ye have soiled her when ye had no right.”

Fortunately, I had asked what the difference was between a sorcerer and a witch or wizard. So, I knew sorcerors tended to be sages—those of vast wisdom—who possessed darker magic and were more capable of manipulation than most.

“Excuse me, but nobody soiled me,”

I cut back, not about to be talked about like that. Circumventing how far Broderick and I had gone, I frowned at Dugal.

“And whatever might come of all this, I am not your mate.”

“Nay, but ye are the one from an age-old pact betwixt our clans.”

Dougal gestured from his tattoo to mine.

“’Tis clear as day.”

“Have ye proof of it then?”

Broderick’s mother, Chara, asked.

“For as ye well ken, ‘twill take proof for this discussion to continue.”

“Aye, he claims he does.”

Robert looked at Dugal.

“Hand it over to her, lad, for if any magical agreement is truly binding, our lass, Chara, with the ancient bloodline of a unicorn coursing through her veins, would know it above all others.”

Say what? Yet it made perfect sense somehow, didn’t it? As crazy as it sounded, I supposed in a land made up of fairytales with my Scot of Yesteryear mere feet from me, why not throw a unicorn into the mix?

“Here it is.”

Dugal pulled a weathered, ancient-looking scroll from his satchel and handed it to Chara with a rather righteous look aimed at Broderick before his gaze settled on Chara.

“I encourage ye to read it thoroughly and see the truth of it, then, for the sake of our clans and a new age of peace betwixt us, see yer son does right by the obligations of his forefathers.”

“Ye are mistaken if ye assume I have control over my son when he is a grown man, capable of making his own decisions,”

she spit back, her unwavering gaze never leaving Dugal’s face.

“And whatever his decision, I will support him, but more importantly, he will always have the backing of his father, the former chieftain, and the entirety of his clan.”

“Then may he make the right decision,”

Dugal said, too confident for my taste.

Yet, as the king had implied, the decision seemed to hinge very much on Chara's words. Was the scroll and pact authentic?

We soon found out.