Page 28 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Chapter Sixteen

Neala sat on the old wooden bench at the edge of the pond as the snow settled on the surface like a light dusting of sugar.

The pond was at the very edge of the castle grounds, and her mother had written of it often in her diaries.

It was where the late queen had come to think, and over the past few months, Neala had adopted that habit for herself.

She wondered how often her mother had sat on this very bench, wondering what to do next.

She'd tried to move on and forget. Despite her conversation with Elspeth three months before, she'd hoped, vainly, that she might hear from Ansel once more.

Surely, now that the king had slaughtered Baldric, it would be the last straw?

Surely she hadn't been wrong that the little doll had been a message?

But neither thing had turned out to be true.

As the days, then weeks, then months had passed, Ansel had gotten further and further from her.

News spread that he still stood by his father's side, helping lead battalions and set up the new war camps that Cailean and the council were now strategizing to overcome.

Elspeth had been right, then. Ansel had made his choice.

Still, though, she could not get him out of her mind.

In her heart and soul, she could not believe that he was preparing to kill her family, kill her , in his father's name.

Even though she'd been extremely busy these past months—returning briefly to the monastery with the Sparrows as an escort, returning to McNair Castle and making plans with the council, and greeting and negotiating with the many, many new allies who had come through the doors—Neala was flooded with impotent frustration.

There was a glaring problem before her that she wanted to overcome, and she hated having to accept that there may never be an answer that soothed her aching heart.

"May I sit?"

Neala looked up and smiled. Cailean was standing next to the bench, though she hadn't noticed his approach. She patted the space next to her in invitation.

"I kent ye'd be here. What's on yer mind?

" he asked. "We missed ye in the war room tae read the news from Bruce Castle.

Kier is leadin' his men and launchin' an attack on the war camp in West Breddech tomorrow.

We'll have gained more land by eveningfall, I ken it.

The False King must be cowerin' in fear. "

"That's wonderful," Neala replied. She meant it with her whole heart, but she could not keep a little flatness from her voice.

Cailean frowned, obviously picking up on it.

Before he could press, she kept speaking.

"It'll be over soon. Another month or two, maybe less, and we'll ken one way or another where Scotland's fate rests.

I've nae doubt ye'll lead us tae victory. "

" We'll lead the way tae victory. Ye and me, the McNairs," Cailean replied, nudging her affectionately with her shoulder. "The people love their princess."

She smiled again, though the ache within her multiplied with every second that passed.

Soon, they'd overwhelm the war camp barrier enough that there would be nothing left between them and Blackthorn Castle.

They needed a little more time to prepare, but with the number of allies they had now, Neala believed they'd be holding the False King and his people at swordpoint before the spring.

"What will happen tae them?" she asked, staring out over the pond once more. "If… when we win, what will we do with the Ashkirk men?"

Cailean considered. "We'll offer most of them a choice, just as we did with the men of Darach and Bruce and with all of the False King's old allies who now fight under our banners.

Those who are willing to reject Ashkirk and surrender or even fight by our sides will be welcomed intae our new Scotland tae rebuild their lives.

Those who remain faithful tae him or threaten me people and me country in any way will face justice, whatever form it has tae take. Ashkirk himself, of course, must die."

Nessa shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold winter air. "And the prince?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Cailean turn to look at her, but she did not move her eyes from the pond.

"He is the Ashkirk heir. He will face the same fate as his father," Cailean replied matter-of-factly. "He may have survived the poison months ago, somehow, but he willnae survive me sword. We will bring justice for our family and for our people once and for all."

"He doesnae need tae die," Neala said, tightening her fists on her lap. She turned to face Cailean now and saw his expression slacken in surprise. "The False King, aye, his poison can never be cured while he lives—but Ansel doesnae need tae. He can change."

"Change?" Cailean asked. "Neala, he is Edric Ashkirk's son."

"As yer own queen and her sisters were the daughters of James O'Sullivan and yer captain of the guard was the son of Malcolm Darach.

People can atone for their past, Cailean—is that nae at the heart of everythin' we stand for?

" Neala's voice grew louder, her words faster, as she tried to make him understand.

He shook his head. "It isnae the same. Each of them turned their back on their pasts and came intae a new future. Ansel Ashkirk chooses his father's tyranny over and over again. He doesnae just support his crimes, he commits them. He must be ended."

Neala crossed her arms across her chest, looking sharply back at the pond so that Cailean could not see her eyes.

"Why are ye tryin' tae save him?" Cailean asked at last. "Why are ye doin' this again? I almost understood it when we took back the castle. Ye didnae want tae risk me life, and ye didnae want anyone else tae die that night. But now? What possible reason could ye have tae bargain for his life?"

"I just dinnae think he deserves tae die," Neala replied, though she could already feel that it wasn't going to work.

She'd already had this argument too many times.

"He's proven that there's good in him. He let me go.

Nessa says he tried to reduce bloodshed in his raids.

For all we ken, he may even have been involved in the plan Baldric made tae free Morag and the others. "

The last bit had been a risk, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from blurting it out.

Cailean gave her a suspicious look. "Why would ye think that? What do ye ken?"

Neala bit her lip, regretting letting the words slip out.

However, she answered, "The wee toy soldier, the one I ken ye're keepin' in yer room now.

Baldric didnae find it in the castle. Ansel did, years and years ago.

He gave it tae me, but I–I must have dropped it when I fled.

Ansel is the only one who could have returned it tae ye. Cailean?—"

But Cailean was shaking his head, a severe expression on his usually kind face.

"Neala, stop. Even if what ye say is true, it doesnae mean anythin'.

Baldric could have found the thing anywhere.

Ansel could have sent it back as a taunt.

There are a thousand reasons other than the claims ye're makin'.

And even if ye were right, ye must remember that we are fighting for the lives and souls of our people, the entirety of Scotland.

I cannae—I willnae —risk the entire future of the country we've fought so hard for on the basis of a child's toy. "

Neala felt her argument crumbling to dust around her. She felt small and stupid, unable to explain her own certainty, unable to make him see. What if she was wrong? It was possible.

"Ye mentioned Eoin and Maeve and her sisters," Cailean told her firmly.

"But it isnae the same thing. When they were given a choice, they chose tae be here.

Even Nessa, though she was brought here, chose to stay.

Ansel Ashkirk has chosen his father again and again, even when offered a path out, first by ye and then, if ye're right, by his cousin.

We must all face the results of our choices. "

Neala gritted her teeth. "There must be another answer," she insisted.

Cailean groaned and ran his hand through his hair, obviously irritated now. He got to his feet, and his voice raised a little. "Neala, enough . Enough! Ye've spent yer life as a Sparrow. How can ye be such a fool?"

"It isnae foolish tae hope for the best in people," a new voice interrupted them quietly. "Ye all are the ones who've taught me that. She may be wrong in her hope, but that doesnae make her a fool."

Both Cailean and Neala looked up to see that, of all people, Nessa O'Sullivan was approaching.

Neala's wrongfootedness grew worse at the sight as she tried to understand what was happening now.

Of all the people in the castle who might defend her, Nessa was the last one she had expected.

After all, Neala had been hostile toward the girl at first and indifferent to her ever since.

She hadn't meant to act that way, but every time she saw Nessa, she pictured Ansel.

It hurt more than she'd ever be able to explain.

Cailean blinked a few times, then nodded his head. "As ye say," he agreed. "Though I will add that hope cannae work miracles." He sighed. "Neala, I'm sorry for speakin' harshly. I dinnae understand the draw ye have tae the prince, but I need ye tae understand he is the enemy."

"Nay," Neala replied, getting to her feet too, her eyes now on Nessa. "Forgive me. There's nae need tae talk about it more."

He was right. Ansel was the enemy. No matter what she wanted to think. And yet, those words had triggered something in her mind, something she couldn't quite reach.

Cailean gave her a swift, sad smile, then addressed Nessa. "Did ye come lookin' for me?"

"For Neala, actually. Darren and I were with Ann and Ferda just now, and Ann was askin' for her. Will ye come?" Nessa directed the last words to Neala.