The Highlander's Quest: A Sutherland Legacy Novella (The Sutherland Legacy Book 0)

by Eliza Knight

  It took an effort for her to let go of her mother’s hand and walk across the chamber, but she managed it without tripping and called that a victory. The wardrobe creaked on its hinges as Julia opened it, recalling how as a lass she’d played inside the wooden structure, touching all of her mother’s clothes, boots, slippers and, every once in a while, opening her jewelry box to admire the few trinkets she found there.

  “In the back, there is a notch. Can ye feel it?” She coughed, and when Julia was ready to give up finding the notch to turn around and help her mother, she said, “I’m fine, keep looking.”

  Lady Sutherland was not one to be disobeyed, and so Julia continued to feel along the back wall of the wardrobe until she found a tiny nick in the wood. “I found it.”

  “Good, stick your finger into it and slide the panel open.”

  How had she not found this secret panel as a child? The melancholy of her mother’s illness dissipated for a moment, replaced with excitement. She slid the wood out of the way, though slowly, as it was very tight.

  “Come get a candle so ye can see,” her mother called.

  Julia grabbed a candle, shuffled the hanging garments out of the way and saw a treasure trove of objects that one did not typically see in their mother’s wardrobe—unless one’s mother was a secret guard.

  Weapons and armor had been hidden behind the wood paneling. Swords, daggers, a bow and arrow, long pins, satchels with the contents hidden, and a beautiful leather-and-iron-studded corset vest with pauldrons to cover the shoulders, and matching forearm and thigh braces. There was even a small leather mask that would cover the bottom half of her face, only revealing the eyes.

  “Mama,” Julia breathed out in surprised, stroking the items with wonder. For all twenty-nine years of her life, these things had been kept a secret from her. “Why have I never seen any of this?”

  Her mother let out a small, scratchy laugh. “When ye were young, I went out on missions while ye slept, or had ye whisked up to the nursery.”

  “But why? Ye taught me to fight, why not let me see ye in this magnificent armor?”

  Julia turned to face her mother, watching as the older woman bit her lip, gnawing over what she wanted to say. “I suppose there was a part of me that dreamed ye’d never take up the sword. I wanted to protect ye, love. There was also fear. Children often say things they shouldna without realizing it. Your da and I couldna risk ye saying ye’d seen me in armor, when there was rarely anyone at the castle to know just who I was.”

  That made sense, and Julia couldn’t fault her mother for trying to protect her and their kin.

  “Why are ye showing me now?”

  “Because, it is your time, my darling, and I want ye to have it.”

  “But what if ye need it?” Julia regarded her mother. Tears brimmed in the older woman’s eyes.

  “I am passing my legacy on to ye, Julia. Now it is ye who will guard the king.”

  Julia reached forward, her fingers brushing over one of the bracers. At the contact, a shock much like what she felt sometimes when she touched metal after a storm passed through her veins, and she cried out at the jolt.

  “Try it on. I want to see ye in it.”

  With deference, Julia took down the leather corset vest with pauldrons first, slipped it over her head, and fitted the pauldrons to her shoulders.

  “It tightens on the side, so ye never need anyone else to help ye put it on.”

  Julia lifted her arm and tugged at the laces on the side, tightening the armor until it fit and tucking in the extra length of laces.

  “My God, child, it looks incredible on ye.” Her mother’s face beamed with pride.

  Julia glanced down, wishing there was some way to see her reflection, but satisfied with the proud look on her mother’s face.

  “I can only hope to fill your shoes halfway, Mama.”

  “Ye will fill them more than twice, I’m certain.”

  Again, a jolt went through her limbs as she pulled the bracers and face mask from the back of the wardrobe and put them on. Fully dressed, daggers tucked into the bracers, a sword in the scabbard at her hip and another strapped to her back, Julia turned in a circle for her mother’s approval.

  “Ye’re almost ready. There is one more thing. My hair pins.”

  Julia untied the face mask, letting it hang by her neck, and reached back into the wardrobe. The mask was going to take some getting used to as she found it hard to breathe with it on. She plucked the long pins that were held in place against the back paneling by leather loops.

  “They are sharp,” she said, pricking the tip of her finger.

  “Aye, they are weapons themselves, but there is something that ye can put on their tips that will help put your enemies to sleep.” Her mother struggled to sit up, and Julia rushed forward, putting the pins down on the side table as she adjusted the pillows.

  “Are ye all right, Mama?”

  “Aye, I’ll manage. Now, go back to the wardrobe. In the back, ye’ll find a tiny satchel. The scent is unpleasant.”

  Julia found the one she spoke of right away.

  “’Tis filled with poisonous mushrooms. They have aged much and will be more potent. If ye boil the mushrooms, the juice can be used to slip into an enemy’s drink or meal, but mind the amount, as it can be deadly. Also, the pins,” she picked one up from the side table, “can be dipped in the liquid. Let them dry, and then put them in your hair. When ye stab a man with the pins, the poison will get into his blood. It willna kill him, but if ye ever find poison mushrooms in the forest, the fresh juice could.”

  Julia listened carefully to her mother’s instructions, seeing the older version of herself in a whole new light.

  “How many have ye…” She found her voice fading, her question on the tip of her tongue.

  “I never kept count,” her mother answered, avoiding her eyes, which could only mean that her mother knew just how many she’d killed, and didn’t want to tell her.

  Were there so many? Was she ashamed?

  Julia leaned in and gently hugged her mother, not wanting to cause another coughing fit.

  “I am proud to be your daughter,” she said.

  “And I am proud to be your mother.” Her mother stroked her hair, and then very calmly said, “Ye can do this. I know ye can.”

  Julia was grateful for her mother’s confidence, because she certainly wasn’t feeling it so much herself.

  Later, in her room, Julia undressed, washed, and when she lay on her side on the bed, felt a sting against the front of her left hip.

  What in blazes was happening today? Shock after shock and now this?

  The candle beside her bed was still lit, so she flung back her covers, yanked up her chemise and looked at the red, enflamed mark. She must have been bitten by something. Zounds, but it hurt like the devil. She touched the mark, surprised that it felt warm. That was not a good sign. When bites were warm, they often got infected.

  Rising from bed, she went to her wardrobe and pulled it open. She studied the vials in a wooden box she kept for healing purposes and found one to rub on her skin.

  The sting subsided enough that she fell asleep, only to be awakened shortly thereafter by what sounded like the whispers of a dozen people in her chamber. She bolted upright, the light from her banked fire enough to see that she was quite alone. The whispers ceased abruptly.

  But as soon as she lay back down, the murmurs sounded once more, causing her to bolt upright again.

  Then, silence. Then more whispers. A vicious, taunting cycle.

  Julia covered her ears with a groan, but the croons grew louder, and it was then she determined—they were coming from inside her mind.

  Had her mother’s poison somehow gotten into her skin?

  Dunfermline Palace, Fife

  Alistair Campbell listened intently at the chamber door.

  Ordinarily he would not consider himself to be a great spy, but in the past sennight, he’d become quite adept at eavesdropping, and d
oing so unnoticed.

  Inside the chamber was the Earl of Moray’s steward, Hugh, and a lady who Alistair had not recognized. She’d lured the steward up to her chamber some hours before, and when the man had not returned, Alistair took it upon himself to see what mischief the steward was getting up to.

  The Earl of Moray was now, without a doubt, the most important man in the country besides wee King David, as he had been appointed as regent upon the king’s death.

  Both the earl and Alistair had been at the king’s bedside when he passed away, and both of them had rushed to the royal bairn’s side before anyone else could get to him. The queen had been beside herself at the death of her husband, but while she mourned her dearly departed king, she now had more to worry about—as did they all.

  Whenever a child inherited the throne, the danger to his life was multiplied exponentially, and for King David, the danger was no less.

  For his part, Alistair was in charge of the Earl of Moray’s safety. He was his personal guard, and he took his job very seriously. For several months now, he’d had his suspicions where the steward was concerned. Hugh was a bastard not only to anyone with breath, but especially behind the back of his employer. The steward was often cruel to the servants, and even more so to the orphaned children who served the castle for a bit of food and a roof over their heads. Anyone who could be cruel to children had a black heart. But beyond his propensities for vile behavior, there was something more about Hugh that had disturbed Alistair of late.

  Alistair was fairly certain that the steward had been skimming the coffers, but that was the least of his offenses. Before the king’s death, Alistair had been hearing rumors of Hugh dealing with the English. With the ongoing war against the Sassenachs, to have dealings with them was treason, and the highest offense any Scot could make against his fellow man.

  If word were to get out that Moray’s own steward was dealing with the English, given the earl’s past, Moray would be ripped from his new position as regent and sentenced to death for treason himself, even if he’d had nothing to do with it. That was the way of the world. One’s past could always sneak up behind a man and condemn him for deeds he was innocent of committing.

  Aye, there had been a time, over two decades before, when Moray had sided with the English, but it was only because he’d been captured by the bastards and sought a way to survive. As the nephew of King Robert, Moray’s very life was at risk, had he not agreed to an allegiance to the English king. That had only been for a period of two years, until Moray had been rescued and brought back to the Scottish fold. Moray had been the very picture of a loyal vassal ever since, dedicating his life to his king and Scotland.

  Now, the little piss-pot Hugh was trying to undo everything.

  For the better part of the time Alistair had been standing at the door, there had been a lot of moaning and groaning going on. Lord help him, but Hugh certainly appeared to have quite a bit of stamina. Seemed unfair that a vile man like that shouldn’t have a limp cock.

  Finally, the moaning stopped and it sounded as though they were talking. Hugh was rather overly confident in the thickness of the doors, it would seem. He grew louder, boastful, until Alistair could hear nearly every word.

  “He knows nothing,” Hugh slurred, followed by the soft murmur of his companion. “I could easily get ye the jewels, my love, a pearl for each ear and diamonds that would nestle beautifully between your perfect breasts. The earl will never know, as he gave the task of taking inventory of the crown jewels to me.”

  Dear God, the man was going to rob the crown jewels for a harlot?

  “Before the year is out, I expect a title,” Hugh continued. “And then ye can suck the cock of a lord. Would ye like that, my beauty?”

  “Ye’re already a lord in my eyes,” she said firmly enough for Alistair to hear.

  Who the hell was she?

  “Ye know what ye need to do then?” Hugh asked.

  “Aye.” And she murmured something unintelligible, followed swiftly by more moans from Hugh.

  Again? Alistair rolled his eyes and grimaced in disgust.

  Besides stealing the crown jewels, what the bloody hell was Hugh up to? For ballocks’ sake, Alistair couldn’t be in more places than one. He’d have to follow the harlot around in addition to Hugh, not to mention the earl and the king. Well, sleep was overrated, he supposed.

  At the sounds of voices approaching in the corridor, Alistair melted into the shadows, keeping himself still and unnoticed as a lord and lady passed by on the way to their chamber.

  Since the king’s death, Dunfermline, once a quiet and peaceful palace, had become a beacon for anyone seeking favor—and every one of them could be considered an enemy of not only Moray but the king as well.

  Mo chreach, but the next few months were going to be complete and utter hell. Right now, he had enough information about the crown jewels to go to Moray and accuse Hugh of going against his master, but that was only scratching the surface. There was definitely something bigger happening here, and he had to get to the bottom of it, before letting it be known that he was onto the bastard.

  Alistair was not going to let anything happen to Moray or the king.

  2

  “Name?”

  “Lady Julia Sutherland.”

  The guard atop the gate paused a moment, looking at her, and then studying the large hound by her side. She never traveled anywhere without Merida.

  Overlarge, and with a sleek black coat, the dog often frightened anyone who saw her, which was partly the purpose of having her as a companion. Merida was a war dog, with the stamina of a retriever, the hunting ability of a terrier, and the power of a great large breed. She was a special mixed breed that Julia’s father had stumbled upon and begun breeding at Eilean Donan. He’d given Merida to Julia about four years ago, after she’d been a bride for less than a day. Her husband, one of their clan, had died in a raid. Rather than marry again, she’d chosen to devote herself to her clan instead.

  Julia never went anywhere without the hound now.

  The guard shouted to someone behind him, then said to Julia, “Proceed. We’ve been expecting ye.”

  Julia had been prepared for that. When she’d left Eilean Donan the week before—after her brother Tad returned early in the morn—her mother told her that she’d already sent a messenger ahead to inform the regent of her arrival. The man would be expecting her to pay her respects to the king in the name of Lady Sutherland, the young king’s aunt, who was too ill to attend him.

  The earl had known her mother well throughout the years and, from what Julia knew of him, was kind. Towards the later years of the Bruce’s life, he’d allowed those close to him to know his sister for who she truly was, the earl included.

  The gates yawned open, allowing Julia to see that the inner courtyard of Dunfermline was a thousand times busier than she ever would have imagined. Julia dismounted and handed the reins off to a stable lad, then clicking her tongue to Merida, made her way through the throngs of people toward the front doors of the castle. Beneath her gown, she wore her mother’s armor, which was fitted enough to appear inconspicuous beneath the flowing layers of her green and blue plaid arisaid.

  It had been quite some time since she’d been to court, and the times that she had been were few and far between. Already the crowds were pressing in, the noise, making her uneasy. Intensified by that were the whispers that occasionally still sounded in her mind since that night at her castle. Beside her, Merida growled low in her chest whenever anyone got too near, only to be hushed by the snap of Julia’s fingers.

  Once inside the palace, a servant eyed the hound and looked ready to tell her to leave Merida outside, but then thought better of it at the low rumble of a growl.

  “Hush now, pup,” Julia murmured. “I am looking for the Earl of Moray.”

  The servant, eyes still on Merida, pointed toward the stairs. “Third floor. Second door.”

  Julia made her way up the winding stairs, encountering
a number of lords, ladies, servants and other people on the way. Dear heavens, with the castle this crowded, how was she ever to keep a watchful eye on the king?

  She found the second door on the third floor and was about to knock when the entry swung wide. She came face to chest with a mountain of a man who glowered down at her with such scorn that Julia might have backed up, were it not for how irritated his obvious contempt made her. His dark shoulder-length hair was slightly curled. And every angle of his chiseled features seemed to be arrowing down into his frown. A shadow of a beard lined his tanned jaw, and his aquiline nose appeared fashioned for looking down on others. The only part of his face that wasn’t dark and broody, were his eyes, glittering green and full of suspicion.

  “The earl is not accepting visitors.” The man’s gaze bore into her own, and his wide, firm mouth turned back into what looked to be a permanent grimace. Despite that, she couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was, if not a bit frightening. “Best get back to the village.”

  Julia opened her mouth to tell him to get out of her way when he held up his hand, silencing her with that single gesture—more so from shock than actually obeying his command.

  “I’m in no mood to be trifled with, wench. Best be on your way.”

  Merida growled at Julia’s side, seeming to grab his attention for a moment, his eyes squinting down toward the hound.

  “And take that beast with ye.”

  Julia stood her ground. “I’m expected. Step aside.”

  At that, the unfortunately handsome brute raised an ironic brow. “Ye’re expected? By whom? The cook?”

  Julia gritted her teeth, her fingers touching the tip of a dagger that was just enough past her wrist to brush her palm. She considered flicking it out and giving him a good taste of just how frightening she could be. “The Earl of Moray, ye great oaf. Now get out of my way before ye embarrass yourself further.”

  “Embarrass myself?” the warrior sputtered. Momentarily, his brooding expression changed to one of confusion.