Page 36 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Her confidence held until they reached the execution yard.

Men from the few clans still openly loyal to the Ashkirk crown were gathered, as were many others who Neala did not recognize and did not care to know.

She kept her head held high as the guards led her to the center of the crowd, where a block was waiting.

Edric and Ansel stood behind it, Ansel holding a large, gleaming sword.

It sparkled with deadliness, and Neala's knees grew weak beneath her.

Ruadh caught her elbow. "Dinnae let them see ye fall," he whispered in her ear, his voice covered by the murmuring of the crowd.

They led her to the block, and she knelt in front of it without giving them the satisfaction of forcing her.

Her stomach tightened, and blood rushed through her head, distorting the sound around her and making her feel dizzy.

She could feel her pulsing heartbeat in her throat, and tears burned the corners of her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She would go to her death with dignity.

But when Ansel stepped forward and she saw the neutral look on his face, it was almost too much to bear. To die was one thing, but to die at his hands? She wanted to screw her eyes shut, but she forced herself to look. She couldn't show weakness now.

"Watch, friends, as me son destroys the spawn of me greatest enemy!" Edric announced with maniacal zeal. "The last woman of that accursed line falls today—and her demon brother will be next!"

Several of the Ashkirk men cheered, but even in her terrified state, Neala could see that others were watching silently, the young guard who had tried to help her most prominent amongst them.

There was a strange mix of emotion in the air, but she could not wrap her head around what any of it might mean.

Ansel stepped forward. "Have ye last words?" he asked in a voice as quiet as the wind. "It's customary tae ask."

Neala's stomach lurched and nausea flooded her. It took her a few tries and a few deep breaths before she was able to speak. "Only this. We'll win," she said simply. "Ye ken we will."

He stared at her for a long, long time. For many moments, the word seemed to disappear around them entirely.

There were only Ansel, Neala, and that sword shining between them.

Their gazes met, and Neala's heart thrummed like a bird as she gazed into those strange, beautiful green eyes for the last time.

"I ken," he whispered. He turned away from her and gestured. "Father. I willnae do this. I willnae lay a finger on this lass."

Murmuring broke out over the crowd, but Edric stepped forward, his expression making it clear that he had half-expected this. He laughed a dark, cruel laugh. "Is that so?" Edric asked. "Tell me, lad, was the power of her body so strong that it has turned ye weak?"

"Weak or not, I willnae lay a finger on the lass, nae matter how ye insist," Ansel replied steadily. He held out the sword. "But ye're right in one thing. This has all gone on long enough. It's time for it tae end once and for all. Take it."

Rolling his eyes, Edric snatched the weapon from his son's grasp. "I'll deal with ye later," he hissed. He turned to Neala and raised the weapon. "Now, I'll show ye how a true king behaves."

He swung down, and despite herself, Neala closed her eyes as death came hurtling toward her.

The clang of the swords connecting rang out like a bell.

Neala opened her eyes and saw Ansel, now holding his own sword, had blocked the blow. A collective gasp rose around them, and furious disbelief pulsed from Edric as he stumbled back from the force of the parry.

"Traitor!" Edric howled. "Men! Take him! Kill him! Kill them both!"

The Ashkirk soldiers surged forward and Neala tried to get to her feet, stumbling off balance as the ropes tied around her wrists made it difficult.

Ansel darted to her side, his sword expertly slicing through the bonds without hurting her.

They stood beside each other, facing the coming wave of soldiers.

Neala's heart sang. She was unarmed and, despite Ansel's skill, there was no way they could win. But at least she'd die with him at her side, fighting against the False King.

Before their attackers could strike, though, there was a chorus of other clangs around them.

The redheaded guard from earlier, Ruadh, now stood between Ansel and one of the attacking soldiers, his sword out.

Several other soldiers were surrounding Neala and Ansel, raising their weapons in defense of their prince.

Neala gasped as she realized that close to half of the king's men had taken Ansel's side and were now facing down men who had only moments ago been their brothers.

The fight that followed was as swift as it was brutal.

Neala grabbed a dagger from someone's belt, glad to have some sort of weapon.

She'd always preferred a short blade to a sword anyway, though she wasn't sure how much use it would be in this chaos.

Nevertheless, she gripped it tight, ready to defend herself.

The soldiers defending her, though, never gave her a chance to use it, acting as a bloody barricade to keep the attackers away.

She turned to say something to Ansel, but cried out in alarm when she saw he was no longer by her side.

"Ansel!" she shouted, ducking instinctively as someone swung at Ruadh who fought in front of her. He ducked too and parried the attack, fighting back with an impressive amount of skill. "Ansel, where are ye?"

She thought she'd lost him in the crowd entirely, until the booming voice of Edric Ashkirk echoed through the air around them, somehow carrying over all the noise of the battle.

"Fine, traitor! I'll kill ye meself!" Edric howled.

Neala spun toward the sound and dashed forward through a small gap in the barrier. The world paused as she took in the sight before her. Edric rushed toward Ansel, the executioner's sword gleaming in his hands, while Ansel calmly faced him and did not move.

With a final roar, Edric pounced. Ansel moved so fast that Neala barely saw it, dodging to the side and slicing out with one expert movement.

Edric screamed, and that scream turned into a gurgle as he collapsed to the ground.

Those closest to them stopped fighting, gasps and shouts of surprise and confusion replacing the sounds of battle.

The ripple carried back through the chaos, and all around them, the fighting stopped, and all eyes turned to the center as everyone seemed to hold their breath.

Ansel knelt down by his father's side, pushing him so that he rolled onto his back.

The king's face was pale, and his eyes were roving wildly.

His chest rose and fell, but each breath was more shallow, and it was clear to everyone that the end was imminent.

Neala's head spun as she tried to comprehend the impossible thing she was seeing.

"Dinnae try tae speak," Ansel told his father when the king's mouth worked soundlessly. "It'll just cause ye pain. I didnae want it tae end this way, but perhaps it was always meant tae."

He looked up and caught Neala's eye. He did not smile, but she saw the relief in his eyes to see her standing there, and she felt it echoing in her own heart.

Ansel looked back down to his father. "I should have acted years ago.

I should have been as brave as Baldric, or as Neala, or as any of those Sparrows or rebels who've stood against ye all these years.

Ye've been a monster for as long as I remember.

These are yer last moments, and I want ye tae spend them kennin' this one thing.

I am yer only legitimate son. I am yer only heir.

And I will ensure that, when Cailean McNair arrives here, it is only tae accept the throne that we stole from him. "

The struggling king groaned.

"Rest now, Father," Ansel told him. "Perhaps in the next life, ye can seek forgiveness. But in this one, it's over. Just as I promised. Yer name will be forgotten and Scotland will thrive."

Edric Ashkirk died there, surrounded by silence, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.

Ansel stood. Unable to prevent herself, Neala rushed to his side, throwing herself into his waiting arms. Holding him tight, her heart at last settled into the beat that it was made for, matching his, and even when he released her from the embrace, it was only to take her hand and keep her by his side.

She knew then that she would never leave him again.

"He's dead," he announced, his voice carrying over the silent crowd. "The tyrannical reign of Edric Ashkirk is over. I ken some of ye, perhaps many of ye, were still loyal tae him, but he is gone. Before ye take yer vengeance, listen well."

Several of the soldiers who had defended Neala moved to the front of the crowd, subtly but securely creating protection around Ansel.

They were ready to protect him if they needed to.

Neala remembered watching him train these men what seemed like a lifetime ago, and she saw that loyalty and kindness reflected back at her from them now.

She still could scarcely believe what was happening, but despite the bloodshed and chaos that had been raging only moments ago, she had never felt so safe.

"I am Ansel Ashkirk, the only son born of Edric Ashkirk's only marriage, and his one true heir," he announced. "By the law of the land, the law of my father himself, I am yer leader now. If Edric was the king to whom ye swore yer loyalty, then that throne now belongs tae me."

Neala's breath caught. Surely Ansel had not simply staged a coup? Surely he would not fight Cailean and claim the throne for himself? But her breathing eased as he continued.

"And as yer new king, I tell ye this: the rebels will soon be at our door.

In a matter of hours, Cailean McNair will lead his army tae destroy the last remains of the Ashkirk legacy.

Ye may fight me if ye wish. Ye may fight them when they arrive.

But many of me men have already proven their loyalty, and when I surrender tae the McNairs, they will surrender with me.

Accept that it is over. Face the justice that the True King is bringin'. "

Someone cried out, "And when he puts us all tae the sword?"

Neala shook her head. "He willnae!" she insisted.

She covered her mouth and glanced at Ansel, but he nodded at her to go on.

"Cailean willnae kill anyone who surrenders tae him with a genuine intention tae atone.

He doesnae wish for any more death than there has tae be.

The McNair name stands for justice and peace.

If ye dinnae fight, if ye commit yerself tae the new freedom of Scotland, then ye will live. "

"But if ye fight," Ansel added, "Ye will die. Either by the rebels' blades—or by mine."

A crystalline pause followed that statement. Then, one by one, soldiers started to drop their swords. Weapons fell to the ground as men disarmed themselves, and those who had been fighting each other only moments ago moved to help the injured.

It was over.

Neala turned to Ansel, full-hearted and almost giddy as the reality hit her, but that joy turned to ash in her mouth as she saw the sad smile on his face.

What she'd said had been true. Cailean didn't want any more death than was needed. But she also knew that he'd made his allies a promise and that there was one more life that had to end. She stared at the dead king on the ground before them, and her stomach tightened.

It looked like Edric Ashkirk would have his final victory after all.