The Stone of Destiny

by Caroline Logan

  “Shh!” Iona cautioned but no one was paying them any attention. Everyone was fixated on the young man. She continued in a half whisper, “Remember, King Connall’s condition is a secret. And no, that is Prince Duncan’s younger brother, Prince Angus.”

  “Well, whoever he is, he’s a genius!” crowed Harris and with that, he strode off to join the melée. In no time, Harris was near the front of the circle, clapping along.

  “If he breaks his neck, it has nothing to do with me,” huffed Ailsa. “I delivered you both here safe and sound. Now he’s on his own.”

  The two girls remained at a safe distance.

  The music quickened and Prince Angus lost his latest partner. Harris took the opportunity to jump in front of him. The prince grinned and offered Harris an arm. Instead, Harris grabbed both of the man’s hands so that their arms were crossed and started to spin him around as the tempo of the music increased once more. Hoots and whoops came from the crowd. Guests called to Prince Angus to knock the stranger down. The two men whirled so quickly they became a blur of dark and red curls. Ailsa was grateful that Harris’s kilt was heavy. Nonetheless, it threatened to fly up and reveal more than she cared to see.

  The music reached its crescendo until, with a final note on the fiddle, it ceased and the two men lost their grip and were flung onto their backsides. They both landed, laughing, and the crowd cheered.

  Prince Angus stood and offered Harris a hand up before clapping him on the shoulder. They made their way over to Iona and Ailsa, with arms loosely around each other’s shoulders.

  “Do you ever wish that you could fast forward through the next few minutes?” muttered Ailsa as they approached.

  Iona gave her shoulder a light pat of sympathy and greeted them. “That was some wonderful dancing.”

  “Well, feel free to join in on the next one,” boomed Prince Angus over the music, smiling from ear to ear. This close, Ailsa could see that the man was around her age and much too unkempt to be a future king. He had the distinct carefree bearing of a younger sibling.

  “Sister, Ailsa,” cut in Harris. “May I please present Prince Angus, second son of King Connall of Eilanmòr. Prince Angus, this is my sister, Iona, and our guard, Ailsa.”

  The man bowed gracefully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but please, it’s just Angus. No need to put on all that pageantry for a second son.” His grin was open and warm. “So, you have a guard?”

  Ailsa groaned inwardly, sure he was about to make a joke about her looking incapable, but he merely squinted at Harris.

  “I thought you’d be able to look after yourself. Want me to teach you some combat skills?”

  Harris clapped him on the back. “I don’t need to be able to defend myself when I’ve got Ailsa.”

  Angus paused and looked her up and down. “She does look like she’s thinking of stabbing me. A good trait of a guard.” He held up his hands. “No offence.”

  Ailsa shrugged but felt pride swell in her chest.

  Suddenly, the prince’s eyes lit up. “I love this song!”

  He rushed back to the dancefloor, whooping and grabbing the hands of two blushing women on the way.

  “That,” said Harris solemnly, “Is the man I’m going to marry one day.”

  This earned him a slap around the head from his sister. “Please remember he’s a member of the royal family. Don’t make jokes—”

  He lifted a palm to his brow and closed his eyes in a mock swoon. “Don’t you joke about my feelings. I have found my soulmate. Ailsa, tell her she cannot keep us apart.”

  Ailsa made a show of playing with her nails, pausing only to shoot him an annoyed glance. “Keep me out of this. I will say one thing: if you and Prince Buttercup over there do decide to tie the knot, I’ll start following Prince Duncan around with my axe.”

  Harris stopped his melodramatics and looked at her, perplexed. “Why would you—”

  “Because if he died, Angus would be king.” She shoved his shoulder. “And there is no way I’m having you as my queen.”

  Iona let out an unladylike snort of laughter but quickly regained control as a rather frazzled Lady Moira appeared beside them.

  “Lord Harris, Lady Iona, would you please follow me. Prince Duncan would like to see you now.”

  We’re about to finally meet the heir to the throne, thought Ailsa as she followed the two selkies. I just hope he doesn’t dance like his brother.

  Chapter 17

  Lady Moira escorted them behind a large tapestry of the MacFeidh stag. It obscured an antechamber in which many people, dressed in their finery, were sitting around a long table. A man at the centre rose. He was unmistakably Prince Duncan. Like Prince Angus, he was bearded, though his hair was a lighter, golden brown. He wore the MacFeidh tartan but in the form of a great kilt, the fabric arranged regally around his body and over his shoulder. His body had known hard labour, possibly even battle, and he stood, sword at his side, as if he was coiled to spring to attack at any moment.

  Lady Moira dropped into a low curtsey. “Your Majesty, may I present—”

  He held up a hand and almost growled, “Please, Moira, it’s still ‘Your Highness.’ Currently, I remain just a prince. No need to throw too much respect at me before my father has died.”

  She hesitated, “Of course, Your Highness, I just thought, with your father being ill—”

  “Ill, but not dead yet.” He sat back down. “You can continue making your introductions.”

  “The ambassadors from Struanmuir, Lady Iona and Lord Harris.” Giving Ailsa a furtive glance, she mumbled, “and… friend.”

  Harris clearly wasn’t having that because he extended an arm, his voice booming across the room. “Your Highness, may I please introduce our guard, Ailsa MacAra.” The other people around the table began to whisper amongst themselves.

  The Prince shifted in his seat and fixed his eyes upon her. “Well, Lady Ailsa I—”

  “Just Ailsa. I’m no Lady.” She lifted her chin.

  A grey-haired man, two seats down from Prince Duncan, spluttered and rose from his chair. “Excuse me, young woman, do not interrupt the Prince when he is speaki—”

  “Never mind that, General Fraser. It seems everyone is being misaddressed tonight. I don’t particularly care about manners as long as I know I can trust the girl to protect our emissaries.”

  “You don’t mean to allow her to sit in on the council meeting?” asked the General incredulously, his face growing red.

  The prince considered her for a moment and then leaned forward on a forearm. “What say you, Lord Harris? Is she trustworthy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well then, this girl may join us, if it is agreeable to her. As she already knows the situation, there is no reason to dismiss her.”

  The general’s moustache twitched. Others around the table seemed to be disgruntled but didn’t voice their concerns.

  “Please. Sit.” Duncan gestured to the three chairs in front of him. Servants stood behind them and pushed the chairs in as they sat.

  Look at me now. She could scarcely believe she was coming face-to-face with the man next in line for the throne of Eilanmòr. To his right sat a stunning young woman with ebony hair and bright, bronze eyes rimmed with long lashes. She rested her hands on her very pregnant belly. Lady Moira took the chair to his left but kept her head ducked. The other nobles clustered around the table seemed to be a mixture of relatives and military.

  “I might as well start from the beginning,” Prince Duncan began, his voice clipped. “My father was returning from a visit to Mirandelle when he became sick.”

  “So the Mirandellis poisoned him?”

  His jaw twitched. “What poison could do that to a man? No, they had left Mirandelle a couple weeks prior and were exploring the islands to the east using my father’s ship. They had been skirting around the island of Nerebus—”

  “The Island of the Gods?” Iona interrupted.

  Oh great, thought Ailsa, not just fa
eries but Gods too.

  Prince Duncan nodded solemnly and continued. “He decided to go for a longer trek through the forest. My father and a group of sailors were gone for a few days when the crew grew worried. They sent a search party and found them only fifteen feet away, just inside the forest’s boundary. Three lay dead, with two survivors: my father and a cabin boy. All were covered in patches of dead, blackened skin, like you saw and had many broken bones. It was like the life had been sucked out of them. The crew asked my father and the boy what had happened but neither said a word.”

  Harris leaned forward, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “Was it an animal?”

  “Maybe, but they would not speak of it.” The prince scratched his beard, taking his time to select his words. “ One night, the cabin boy pulled himself to the side of the ship and heaved his broken body into the sea. He didn’t even try to stay afloat. He drowned before anyone could rescue him. My father tried to do the same a night later.”

  Prince Duncan’s lips twitched and he took a steadying breath. “Everyone was watching him carefully. They had to restrain him with rope. Upon arriving back to the capital, he was speaking and appeared to be recovering, but still wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened. ‘An evil’ was all he mentioned.”

  “Has he attempted to kill himself again?” questioned Iona.

  “No, he says he wants to die, but that he must wait till the Stone of Destiny is found so that I am protected. I put him in the greenhouse to try to cheer him up, but to no avail. I just hope that he can hold on until Vashkha has our child.” The regal woman beside him laid her fingers on his shoulder and he took them into his own. The love between the prince and his wife was unmistakable. Ailsa shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the subtle, yet obvious, show of affection.

  “Is there no hope that he’ll heal?” Iona said, her words full of sympathy.

  Prince Duncan flexed his hands. “The healers believe he’s bleeding on the inside, where his bones have been broken.”

  Harris scrunched up his face in thought. “There used to be magical healers long ago. I suppose you would call them angels, but they were part of the faerie race. They would turn up to heal the wounded after battles. When the war between Eilanmòr and Mirandelle ended, they disappeared.”

  The other man nodded. “We tried looking again, when Father returned, but they’re long gone. Our only choice is to keep him comfortable in his last days. I know that he’ll find peace when you return with the Stone.”

  Harris nodded swiftly. “We’ll find it.”

  “What are your plans?” The prince leaned back and took a sip of his wine.

  Harris straightened, all business. “My sister will stay here to help while we go up north.”

  “You’re not taking this girl, are you?” spluttered General Fraser.

  Harris lifted his chin, his gaze defiant. “I have asked Ailsa if she would come with me, yes,” he admitted in a clipped tone.

  The general was now even redder than before. Ailsa thought that, with his large ears, he looked like a boiling teapot.

  “Isn’t there someone else that can go?”

  “No, there’s not.” Harris glared fiercely at him.

  The general turned beseechingly to Duncan. “If I may, Your Highness, I do not think it’s a good idea. Let me send a few of my men to accompany Lord Harris. They’ll be more trustworthy—”

  Ailsa bristled, but Harris clapped his hands down on the table. He looked livid. “If you insult my friends then you insult me, sir!”

  The sour man glared contemptuously back at him. “My men are trained and ready to sacrifice themselves for the cause—”

  “I don’t need a pack of overzealous idiots looking to die for King and Country with me!”

  General Fraser looked ready to boil over. “We don’t need a Changeling betraying us and taking the Stone to Nicnevan!”

  Prince Duncan held up a hand and silence fell immediately. However, it was his wife, Princess Vashkha, that spoke.

  “What silly superstitions you Eilanmòrians have.” Her voice was sharp and heavily accented. “In Visenya, such marks show the child has been blessed by the Gods.” She rubbed her belly soothingly as she spoke, making the jewelled panels in her dress twinkle as she passed a hand over them. “If the girl accompanies you, the mission will be a success.”

  Ailsa stared, completely stunned by the kind words of the princess. Maybe I should have moved to Visenya.

  Duncan paused for a moment, glancing from face to face before raising his chin. “It has been announced that my father is hoping to pass his crown to me soon, though the rumours say that he wishes to retire. The simple act of the coronation will not be enough to protect me. They do not realise how precarious the situation is. We need the Stone.” His eyes were as hard as steel as he stared them all down. “If this girl accompanies you—”

  “Your Highness,” Harris cut in, “She has the advantage of knowing the situation, being good with an axe and is without friends or family to confide in.”

  Great, thought Ailsa, being an orphan finally pays off.

  Harris folded his arms and then threw the general a cold look. “I won’t be bringing any of your men with me. Ailsa will accompany me.” He looked at her apologetically, “But only if she agrees.”

  Now they were all staring at her, waiting for her reply. She thought of her beach back home and how easy it would be to slip back and forget about this whole adventure. Ailsa was sure she could even ask for any supplies she wanted. But the general’s words stirred up an old rage within her. Everywhere she went, she was met with the same prejudice, except from Iona and Harris. Hadn’t she wanted to prove herself?

  She gave General Fraser a wide smile. “Count me in.”

  Prince Duncan stood up, rigid-backed and resolute. “I don’t care how you get the Stone, as long as it’s done quickly and discreetly. Lord Harris, I trust your judgement. Please take the time you need to prepare and take whomever you wish.”

  Ailsa followed Iona and Harris’s lead, standing from the table and curtseying to the Crown Prince and Princess. Together, they were just about to exit the antechamber when the prince spoke again.

  He seemed a little more vulnerable, his eyes revealing a bleakness within. “But Harris? Don’t fail.”

  The selkie bowed and answered earnestly, “That word doesn’t exist in my vocabulary.”

  Chapter 18

  “You’ll need to be as stealthy as you can. Which is why there will be no horses, I’m afraid.” Iona was speaking rapidly, her mind clearly whirring with calculations.

  They had returned to their rooms before the ceilidh was over, intent on discussing the plans for the journey. Now that Ailsa had made the decision to join Harris, she felt a bit more keen to be involved.

  She hugged her arms around herself as they walked. I’m going to regret saying this. “No horses? Do you want this to take forever? I mean, I’d prefer to walk but…”

  Harris shrugged. “Better to be done slowly than not at all.” His expression became dark, like a maelstrom on the sea. “I can’t believe that man. Does he even realise that I sat on my first war council when he was still swinging a practice sword?”

  War council? She’d have to file that away for later. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching warily as a muscle ticked in his jaw. She’d never seen Harris this irate before. “You know, I really don’t mind if you think there would be someone better suited to the journey than me.”

  “I am not having one of General Fraser’s blundering halfwits with me when I’m trying to be covert.” He wiped a hand down his face as if to rub off some of the fury. “At least I know that you can handle yourself. And to be honest, you’ll be far better company.”

  Ailsa didn’t want to admit it, but she was secretly pleased he had so much faith in her. Being trusted was like a powerful drug. It made her lightheaded. If she wasn’t careful, she might get addicted to this friendship. She considered the word: fri
endship. Had things really changed so much in a few days? She felt a bubble of laughter rise at how unlikely it was but one look at the rage simmering on Harris’s face had her pressing her lips together.

  “This situation has, however, raised the stakes a little more.” Harris stopped outside their rooms.

  Iona placed a hand on the doorknob but turned back to face her brother, her voice unconvinced. “How could the stakes be any higher? The fate of the whole world is resting on your ability to find the Stone and bring it back to Dunrigh safely.”

  His face was deadly serious. “If we fail, I’ll have proven General Fraser right. And if there’s one thing I won’t be able to stand if the world falls apart, it would be the self-satisfied smirk on that asshole’s face.” He headed into his own chamber, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “So, no pressure, Ailsa.” Iona rolled her eyes and opened their door. “The fate of Eilanmòr and my brother’s fragile pride is at stake.”

  Ailsa said nothing as she went to wash her face in the basin. For once, she couldn’t agree with Harris more.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Ailsa awoke to sunlight on her face. It was such a rare treat in Eilanmòr that it made her feel more cheerful than she had been in a long time. The soft, warm bed and Iona’s shallow breathing from the other side of the room, were like a quiet, soothing melody telling her she was safe. She laid back and tried to match her own breathing with Iona’s.

  Breathe in. Things will get better.

  Breathe out. You are trusted.

  Breathe in. Harris needs you.

  Breathe out. But what if you fail?

  The last thought came unbidden but ruined the peace she had felt moments before. Her legs twitched as she thought about the enormity of the task ahead.

  Harris is relying on me to get him there and back with the Stone. But if I fail, the whole country is at risk. Why did he ask me to go? I can barely walk around the countryside by myself without getting attacked. Maybe I should say I can’t go? She groaned under her breath. But then General Fraser will be proven right.