Page 19 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Chapter Eleven

Neala watched from the battlements of her home as Maeve and Breana were reunited with their sister and tried not to allow the sick feeling in her stomach to overwhelm her.

Shame flooded her, but it was not enough to smother the other emotions that were swelling and battling in her breast, threatening to tear her apart as she tried to find herself within the chaos.

Of course she was glad that Maeve and Breana had their sister back.

Of course she was glad that Nessa was safe and no longer under the control of the False King after what had been a long and stressful month for everyone.

She'd have to be a monster to not see the positives in what had just happened, and she genuinely did.

And yet…and yet, the sorrow and some of its darker cousins were winning the war as she surveyed Nessa from above.

It was hard to make out what the girl looked like from up here, but if she was anything like her sisters, Neala had no doubt that she was beautiful.

Was that why she had been chosen to be the future queen?

Was that why Ansel had made her his fiancée?

Neala's stomach twisted. She knew that it was ridiculous to be thinking this way.

She knew she should not be thinking of Ansel at all.

Despite that, she could not help but wonder—how had it come about?

Had Ansel decided on the marriage as soon as he had arrived back at Blackthorn Castle, maybe as some kind of revenge on Maeve for shaming him?

That didn't sound like him, but she supposed it was possible.

Of course, there was the other reason—the one that she had refused to let herself think about ever since the news of Ansel's betrothal had reached her.

Perhaps he and Nessa had been courting since long before Neala had met him.

It wasn't as though Ansel and Neala had ever had time to discuss such things, nor even to discuss what their own budding relationship had really meant between the two of them.

Perhaps Ansel and Nessa's betrothal had been arranged long ago.

Perhaps he even… loved her. The tightness in Neala's stomach worsened, and she clutched her hands to her belly to fight off what felt like physical pain.

Whether it was true or not, she knew that Ansel would do his duty.

If he were to take Nessa as his wife, then he would do so with his whole heart, just as he did with everything he put effort into.

Had he kissed her yet? Had he done more than that?

Neala tried not to imagine it, but in the corner of her eye she could see it—Ansel, his lips pressed against Nessa's pale neck while he held her in his arms, whispering the words in her ear that Neala had never heard but had so longed for.

Tears burned at Neala's eyes, and she scowled, cursing herself for her own idiocy.

She needed to stop this at once. She turned from the battlements as the sisters, Cailean, and Eoin went inside, and headed back inside the castle herself, fully intending to go and join them.

However, her feet led her in another direction.

The library had already greatly changed in the last month, with storybooks and fascinating tales filling the shelves, but Neala wasn't interested in books at the moment.

She walked back through the library and right into the hidden room that still held the chest with the McNair sigil emblazoned on it.

Neala took a deep breath and settled down on the small chair inside, taking care not to accidentally let the door close. She had no desire to end up trapped in this room again. She reached over and opened the chest.

It was mostly empty now. Many of the books and papers had been filed in the library, while many of the tapestries and paintings now hung proudly on the walls around the castle.

However, a few odds and ends still remained in the chest, the precious remnants of their family that had no other place to go.

Neala had insisted on keeping their mother's diary here, and she reached for it now as she had so many times in the past month and flipped it open, seeking comfort from beyond the veil.

I was already approachin' me twenty-fifth birthday when Robert took a fancy tae me.

Me parents despaired I'd never wed, and I was of the same opinion!

I had nae interest in sellin' meself tae some man.

But Rabbie was different from the start.

He saw me as a friend, nae just a woman.

I remember once, when we werenae quite courtin' yet, when all he wanted tae do was settle down and play a game of chess…

Neala's heart pulsed with pain, but there was a sweetness to it too. With a sad smile on her face, she turned the page and kept reading.

Ansel watched from the battlements of his home as night fell, and he worried that he'd made a deadly mistake.

He was now fully recovered from the poison, though his back and shoulder still ached whenever he moved.

In the few days that had followed, his life had been turned upside down, and there was no way to go back.

Baldric had explained it all. Elspeth was indeed a White Sparrow, and her entire employment here at the castle had been as a plant to spy on Ansel's father.

Several of the other maids, kitchen staff, and others who had come and gone had also been members of the organization, including two of the maids who had started their work just a few weeks before.

"I was already angry with the way things were," Baldric had explained with a gentle urgency.

"Ye must understand. Me father was a supporter of the McNairs, but he had tae hide that until the day he died.

He thought they had all perished and that there was nae hope.

All he wanted tae do was protect me and me mother. "

"I dinnae understand," Ansel had confessed. "Are ye sayin' yer mother—me aunt, me father's own sister—secretly was against his victory?"

Baldric had sighed. "It was complicated for her.

She kent her brother had done wrong, but she was a frail thing.

She never truly understood the monster he'd become, and, of course, that was in the early days, before things got as dire as they are now.

But me father taught me the truth. He taught me how Scotland was, and how it could be.

He told me there was a rebellion, and that one day, we could be free again, though he didnae ken how.

Mother died nae long after yer father stole the throne, and, as ye ken, Father went seventeen years ago, when I was just fifteen.

I was brought here, named an Ashkirk, and taught the glory of Edric's power.

But I never forgot, Ansel. I held it close tae me heart. "

Ansel's head had ached as he'd tried to absorb the new information, but he hadn't tried to object. Instead, he'd nodded, encouraging Baldric to continue.

"Ten years ago, when I accidentally discovered who Elspeth truly was, it was like a sign from me father," Baldric had explained. "And since then, I've been actin' with them, feedin' them information where I could, doin' whatever I can tae mitigate me uncle's terrible actions."

A realization had struck Ansel like lightning. "Ye kent," he accused. "Ye kent who Neala was."

Baldric hadn't dropped his eye contact. "I did, though she had nae idea about me. It was Elspeth's secret, ye see. And I couldnae tell ye. I love ye with all me heart, but I didnae ken if I could trust ye—nae until I figured out that ye'd let her go."

Ansel had jerked in surprise.

His cousin had smiled. "The others believed ye, but I've kent ye most of yer life.

That day in the rain, I finally saw ye takin' the chance tae be who ye really are.

And now–now ye ken who I really am. And it seems that the White Sparrows and the McNair princess have saved yer life.

So me question is, Ansel, now that ye ken the whole truth, what will ye do? "

That question had haunted Ansel for a few days until he'd come up with the plan.

He'd known it was the riskiest thing he could do, and he'd even told Baldric not to get involved, but of course his older cousin was having none of it.

Ansel and Baldric had plotted right under the king's nose, and tonight they were pulling it off.

Tonight, Ansel would defiantly act against his father, protect the White Sparrows who had protected him, and most importantly, repay Neala for everything.

He could not change who he was. Ansel was still his father's son and heir, and he would never be able to change that. He could not be a revolutionary. He was not Baldric.

But he could do this one small thing.

Now, he strained his eyes, peering out into the darkness, waiting with held breath for Baldric's signal.

When he saw it, he'd know that their daring, reckless plan could be successful.

There would be consequences and fallout from this, but both Ansel and Baldric had experience of covering their tracks when the king was involved.

He was sure that they would make it out of this unscathed so long as everything went to plan.

Still, he waited. It was going to be a long night.

"Neala? Are ye in here?"

Neala jolted awake, dropping the diary in surprise. She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep. She quickly got to her feet and scooped the little book off the ground, tucking it safely away in the chest.

"I'm here!" she called back.

The owner of the voice came into view. It was Ewan, an understanding smile on his face as he peeked around the slightly open door. "Readin' yer mammy's diary again?" he guessed.

"Ye caught me," Neala admitted. "I wish I'd kent her."

"I'm lucky I did," Ewan replied. He beckoned, and Neala exited the little room to stand beside him.

"She was one of the finest women I've ever kent in me whole life.

I respected yer father and cared for him, of course, but it was yer mother who made me the most proud to be a member of their household. Ye're a lot like her, ye ken."

Neala shook her head. "Nay. Everyone says Cailean is like her."

"He is," Ewan agreed. "In his face and his eyes and in some of the ways he makes decisions. But ye, Neala? Ye have her heart."

Saying that, he held out a folded piece of paper. It had no seal upon it, but it was clear that it had already been read.

Neala took it. "What is this?"

"It's a message from Blackthorn Castle, presumably from yer cook friend who still works there," Ewan explained.

"Or that's what the messenger said anyway.

Though I'll admit, I read it— under orders, I'm afraid; we need tae make sure that more than one pair of eyes fall upon any messages from that place—and it doesnae seem like it was written by the woman tae me. "

Neala frowned. She didn't like that her private correspondence was being read, even if she understood why. She didn't object, though, instead unfolding the letter and reading over the contents.

Her heart stopped as she recognized the writing.

She tried very, very carefully not to let her expression change, knowing that there was no way that she could possibly explain to Ewan why she was so shocked.

Thankfully, if her emotions had shown on her face, Ewan didn't seem to notice.

In fact, he patted her once on the shoulder and turned to go.

"I'll speak with ye more at dinner, aye?" he said, then strolled away, apparently blissfully unaware.

Neala didn't answer. Her hands shook as she stood stock still, waiting until he was completely gone before she let her eyes flick back down to the note.

It was Ansel's writing. He hadn't signed his name, nor had he used his seal, but it was unmistakable anyway.

She'd seen his precise, sloping words too many times to mistake them for anything else.

She winced as she remembered the last time she'd read words written in his script—on the plans for the catapults that were meant to slaughter her brother and his entire rebellion.

But he'd still let her go. She'd seen him that day, the real him. Hadn't she?

She'd sent the antidote and the message with one thought in mind: she could not bear to be in a world where he was gone. But what did that mean in the long term? The rebellion could not succeed while an Ashkirk lived.

Troubled, she finally let herself read the words.

I received your gift. In turn, ken that your friends are safe. I hope you are as well.

Thank you.

That was it. Just two vague lines that could mean anything. Neala's eyes remained dry, but her throat itched, and something pinched at the back of her nose as she took a few deep breaths to try to gather her emotions.

Why had he written to her? Neala read the words over and over again.

Her heart relaxed a little as she realized that this meant he must have received her antidote and that it must have worked.

She had been horrified when she heard the plan, and even Cailean had seemed discomfited when it had been suggested, but the rebels as a whole had voted to go ahead with it.

Neala had been desperate when she'd found and sent the antidote.

Your friends are safe, he'd written. He must mean Elspeth and the Sparrows. He'd keep their secret, then? Neala had hoped so, but having it confirmed was an enormous solace.

Folding the paper neatly, she tucked it away in her bodice. She felt the paper crinkling there against her skin, and she had to stop and let out a steadying breath.

This was good, but it was an exchange. That was all. Ansel was alive, and Neala had to be content with that. They'd likely never see each other again. It was only right.

But she knew that when night came, and she closed her eyes, he'd be waiting in her dreams.