Destiny Stone (Phoenix Throne Book 3): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance

by Heather Walker

  “Ready.”

  The mound caved in under their feet, and Hazel, Fergus, and the horse all came to rest standing on their legs in the passage of another underground palace.

  Chapter 29

  Fergus shook his hair out of his eyes. “Right, then.” He led the horse down the passage. He peered into banquet halls and assemblies where Faery in rich costume feasted, danced, and made merry. “This’ll ne’er do. We mun’ find the stable.”

  He hunted around, but the passage only turned into more convoluted labyrinths of rooms, halls, chambers, libraries, and state bedrooms decked out in royal style. “What do we do now?” Hazel asked.

  Fergus opened his mouth when a loud voice echoed down the passage. “Cameron!”

  The pair spun around to see the King striding toward them. Alasdair Sinclair flanked him, along with crowds of admirers and attendants. The Queen leaned on his arm sparkling from head to foot in gems and pearls.

  The King scanned Fergus up and down. “What do ye mean by bringin’ that horse in ’ere?” Then he caught sight of Hazel, and his features hardened.

  Hazel cringed under that hostile glare, but Fergus came to her rescue. “This horse, Yer Majesty, as ye can see, is carryin’ the Stone o’ Scone. ’Azel and I found it, and she got it back. We brought it ’ere tae gi’e it intae yer care tae return it tae Scone Abbey.”

  The King frowned even deeper. “Oh? And the other matter?”

  “It’s finished,” Hazel replied. “It’s over. The curse is lifted. I lifted it.”

  “And at great personal cost, too, I might add,” Fergus chimed in. “She almost lost her life doin’ it. Ye’ll no ha’e any bother aboot those holes again, thanks tae her.”

  The frown vanished off the King’s face. He started back. “Oh. Well, that’s awright then. I’m indebted tae ye both. Ye’ll stay ‘ere a few days until I can put this matter tae rest once and fer all.”

  “We cinnae do that,” Fergus replied. “We’re grateful fer yer hospitality, Yer Majesty, but we’re both anxious tae return home. Ye understand, I’m sure.”

  “O’ course, o’ course,” the King replied. “I ainly mention it tae tell ye since ye cinnae get near Urlu under the circumstances. I suppose ye didnae hear since the campaign.”

  “Why?” Fergus asked. “Why can we no get near Urlu?”

  “The Burgees,” the King replied. “The Burgees released from the hole last time—they ne’er returned tae Loch Nagar. Perhaps the witch sent them ’ere tae attack the source o’ the curse. I dinnae ken, but they ne’er returned tae Loch Nagar. They assaulted Urlu instead. Yer people ha’e been fightin’ ’em e’er since we left.”

  Fergus rounded on Hazel. “We mun’ return straight away. We cinnae leave ’em tae fend fer themselves. They need our help.” He shoved the horse’s reins into the King’s hand. “Ye’ll excuse us, Yer Majesty. We mun’ depart. My apologies for shunnin’ yer hospitality, but under the circumstances…”

  “We don’t have to leave,” Hazel interrupted. “We can stay here for a few days.”

  Fergus exploded. “A few days! The Burgees could destroy the castle by then. What were ye just tellin’ me aboot how ye cinnae await tae get back and be one o’ ’em?”

  Hazel stood her ground. “We don’t have to go back. We don’t have to go back now or even in a few days. We don’t have to go back at all. There are no Burgees attacking the castle—not now.”

  “What do ye mean?” Fergus asked

  “They’re gone. I got rid of them.”

  Fergus’s jaw dropped. “When did ye do that?”

  “Just now, just when His Majesty the King told me about them. I destroyed them. They’re not there anymore.”

  Fergus and the King exchanged glances. Then Fergus’s shoulders slumped. He should have expected this. She could destroy those Burgees just thinking about it. She didn’t have to confront them or even see them. She found out about them, and poof! They were gone. That’s how powerful she was. Thank Heaven she got her power under control when she did. She would be lethal if she didn’t.

  “Weel, then,” the King interjected. “There’s no more reason fer ye tae spurn me hospitality.” He snapped his fingers, and four servants appeared. “Take this horse tae the stable, and deliver the Stone o’ Scone tae me personal audience chamber within the hour. See it’s no damaged. Sinclair, I’m placin’ ye in personal charge o’ this Stone tae see naught becomes of it until it returns tae Scone Abbey.”

  “Aye, Yer Majesty. Ye can count on me.”

  Sinclair winked at the pair and led the horse away.

  “Take these two upstairs and put ’em in the best room in the hoose,” the King ordered. “I dinnae wish tae see yer faces afore the grand ball tonight. Understand? And do me a favor, Cameron. See ye attend the ball dressed in some more suitable clothing.”

  He marched on down the passage and left Fergus and Hazel staring at each other. The servants whizzed around them in clouds. They hustled the pair upstairs and separated them into two adjoining rooms. Fergus caught sight of Hazel disappearing behind a door. He never got a chance to kiss her or even touch her hand before the door slammed between them.

  The servants took over so fast he barely stopped them from undressing him. “Hang ye! I’ll do it meself. I’m no a bairn.”

  They left him to unbuckle his own kilt, but they didn’t leave the room until he stood naked next to a steaming bath tub. He lowered himself into the water and let the tension and mayhem of the last few weeks melt off him. He would give anything to be back in Urlu right now, but that would come in time. He could trust Hazel that his brothers and their wives and friends were safe somewhere out there.

  Where was she? She was right across the hall. Was she up to her ears in hot water infused with scented herbs? Was she thinking of him? His heart skipped a beat. She was his mate. No matter what else happened, she would come back to him. They would join their hearts into one, whether they did it here, there, or wherever.

  All the scenes from the last few weeks played out before his eyes. He saw her naked in her bed back at her little cottage. He saw the red dragon rocketing over the landscape drunk on her own power. He saw her limp and helpless in the forest after she collapsed in his arms.

  He craved her more than ever, now that he possessed her in all her myriad shades and attitudes. She was all his, body and soul, and he would never let her go.

  He must have fallen asleep thinking about her. The door clicked open and startled him awake. He sat up in the tub to find a servant boy laying out a clean set of clothes for him, along with a dress sporran and a silver-hilted dagger.

  “His Majesty sends ye this fer the ball tonight.” The boy held out a velvet box lined with pale blue satin. A silver kilt pin sparkled on the pillowy softness, and a gleaming emerald nestled in the setting at the top.

  Fergus climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Ye’ll extend me thanks tae His Majesty. He’s too kind tae me.”

  The boy took out another box. “Laird Sinclair sends ye this, wi’ his fond regards fer yer wedding.”

  “Me wedding?” Fergus exclaimed.

  The boy popped the box open and held it out. Fergus stared down at an ornate gold medallion set in the Cameron family crest. Gems studded the arrows united with a ribbon of bright silver.

  “I cinnae accept this,” Fergus murmured. “It’s too fine fer the likes o’ me.”

  “I dinnae expect Mr. Sinclair’ll likely take it back,” the boy remarked. “Both he and His Majesty ha’e sent decorations tae Miss Green o’er the way.”

  Fergus’s head shot up. “Ha’e they, now?”

  “Aye.” The boy set the two boxes on the chair next to Fergus’s tartan. “I’m sure His Majesty means tae surprise ye, but I believe he plans tae marry ye twa afore he allows ye tae leave his territory.”

  “What makes ye say that?”

  “He got up this ball specially fer ye twa,” the boy replied. “There ne’er was a ball planned afor
e ye twa appeared wi’ that horse and stone. I can tell ye that.”

  Fergus let out a shaky breath. “I’m in yer debt fer tellin’ me. I’ll no reveal yer treachery tae His Majesty nor Sinclair neither.”

  The boy broke into peals of laughter. “Ne’er ye mind aboot that. The maids’re o’er the way preparing yer lady fer the same, so I dinnae think it’s any state secret.”

  He slipped out of the room. Fergus chuckled to himself while he finished drying off and getting dressed. So that’s what this was all about. The King intended to honor Fergus and Hazel for getting the Stone back, and this was how he planned to do it.

  Fergus took special care with his attire. He pinned the kilt pin in place and the medallion to his chest. He adjusted his new kilt, belt, and sporran in the looking glass until he satisfied himself that he could appear before the King looking his best.

  He combed his hair and trimmed his beard so he didn’t look so much like a rouge that just straggled out of the forest. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Angus for preparing him for this moment. Fergus didn’t mind any imperfection in his appearance before his own brother. The King of Faery was a different story. Only the best would do.

  The boy came back an hour later. “It’s time. Ye’re ready. Mr. Sinclair’s outside. He wishes tae escort ye and yer lady downstairs if he may.”

  “He may.” Fergus followed the boy out of the room, but instead of Sinclair, he came face to face with Hazel coming out of the opposite room at the same moment. He pulled up short and stared.

  She wore a full-length gown of spun white silk. Billowing overskirts of gauzy organza puffed around her waist, and shimmering ribbons decorated her from head to foot. Diamonds and gold threat set off the hems and neckline, and blood-red rubies matched her hair. Pearls and golden chains draped around her coiled braids, and her eyes sparkled when she smiled at him.

  A matching medallion in the Cameron family crest, only much finer and more ornate, shone on her breast. A delicate gold chain draped around her slender neck and ended in a drooping tear-drop ruby set in her cleavage.

  Fergus caught his breath. This was his lady, his queen, the other half of his being. She completed every space in him. She was Faery. She was Urlu. She was a witch of the highest order. She owned this world and the next. She could travel anywhere, anytime, and dominate. She was unstoppable, but only he knew how tender and vulnerable and delicate she could be in her private moments. Those moments belonged to him alone.

  Alasdair Sinclair appeared at Hazel’s side. He cleared his throat. “Aye. Ye’re made fer each other, an’t ye? Come and take yer lady on yer arm, lad. The company’s waitin’ on ye downstairs.”

  Fergus crossed the hall, and Hazel slipped her hand through his arm. She filled his whole world. Faery joined them in a bond stronger than anything Angus could give them. They would return to Urlu and make their home with their own family, but they would always belong to Faery.

  Sinclair led the way downstairs to the great assembly hall. Thousands of Faery lords and ladies packed the hall to watch the happy pair enter and approach the throne where the King waited for them.

  Sinclair accompanied them to the front of the crowd, where he split off and left the couple alone. Fergus conducted Hazel to the steps leading up to the throne, and there he stopped.

  The Faery King stood tall and imposing far above him. The King wore his crown of state set in massive gems. Golden spires jutted upward from his head. His sandy brown hair curled around his shoulders. A heavy crimson cape draped to the floor, and a scepter of purest gold lay across his arm.

  His eyes twinkled down at the pair. “Approach.”

  Fergus braced himself and climbed the steps. He never let go of Hazel, and the two came to a halt on the last step in front of the King. A merry smile twitched the monarch’s lips. He handed the scepter to a minister at his side and took from him a thick golden chain. The links hung off his hands, and many-colored jewels sparkled between the sections.

  The King crossed his dais and draped the collar around Fergus’s neck. “I cinnae make ye Captain o’ the Black Watch in Menzies’ place. I cinnae make ye naught when ye mean tae leave tae yer own country. I therefore confer on ye the rank o’ Marshall o’ the Urlu district. Henceforth, Marshall Cameron, ye’ll answer tae me fer the interests o’ Faery concernin’ all that takes place in yer district. Ye’ll communicate wi’ me alone concernin’ these interests, and ye’ll act as me personal representative in all our dealin’s wi’ the Urlu Folk.”

  Fergus blushed to his eyelashes over all these dignities. “Ye honor me too much, Yer Majesty.”

  “On the contrary, lad,” the King replied. “I cinnae honor ye as I’d like, and so I ha’e no choice but tae honor ye but a wee bit. It’s the best I can do, seein’ as ye’re intent on returnin’ out o’ me jurisdiction.”

  Fergus bowed his head. “Yes, Yer Majesty. Thank ye, Yer Majesty.”

  The King turned to Hazel. “And ye, lass. I dinnae think I can honor ye at all compared tae what ye’ve done.”

  “If it please Your Majesty,” she replied, “do not honor me at all. I simply cleaned up a mess I made myself. I deserve no honor for that.”

  “Ye deserve honor for that, me lass,” he returned. “Mony wouldnae ha’e been able tae do e’en that, and ye rose from hard straits tae do it. Cameron says ye were reared in a country where ye ne’er knew ye were Faery, and ye’ve risen tae yer power tae accomplish what none other could. Fer that, ye deserve more honor than a simple mon like me can gi’e ye. Ye’ll ha’e tae accept me undyin’ thanks and gratitude, and a place in our country fer the rest of yer life.”

  Hazel sniffed back tears. “Thank you, Your Majesty. That is all I ever hoped for.”

  The same servant boy appeared at the King’s side holding a cushion of midnight blue velvet. The King picked up a matching gold collar set with equally entrancing display of gems and gold decoration. He placed it around her neck, where it eclipsed her ruby pendant—if that was possible.

  “I confer on ye the rank of Protectress o’ all Faery. I charge ye tae use yer power tae guard our people e’erywhere. I rely on ye tae answer yer people’s call whene’er they face danger and tae come tae their aid wi’ all yer resources. Ye’ll answer tae me when I discuss matters concerning Urlu with young Cameron here, and I count on ye twa taegether tae keep the powers of magic in check in our realm. I ken ye’ll guard this trust and do honor tae yerselves and yer country.”

  Hazel bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will guard it.”

  “Now,” continued the King. “I think it ainly fittin’ ye leave our country joined in marriage tae complete the cycle ye started on yer journey. If ye both agree, ye’ll do me honor tae come taegether ’ere in our hall, in the sight o’ yer own people.”

  Fergus glanced at Hazel at the same moment she looked up at him. For a fraction of a second, they searched each other’s faces. Fergus already knew what he wanted, and he read the same certainty in her face. He faced front and squared his shoulders at the King. “We’re ready, Yer Majesty. We both agree, and we’d like naught better than tae take our oath afore ye and all this assembly.”

  The King burst into a happy grin. “Excellent. Ye may face each other.”

  Fergus turned to the woman who owned his heart. He took her hands in his, and the rest of the hall vanished out of his mind. The King’s voice spoke out of some distant forgotten place in his own soul. “Ye twa o’ Faery, see each other ’ere and now afore all yer people. Dinnae take each other lightly, but honor one another all yer days under the sky. Bring yer best tae all yer dealin’s, and gi’e each other an easy word whene’er yer heart be heavy.”

  The words sent a shiver down Fergus’s spine. Hazel’s hands shook in his grasp, but this ceremony only completed that long-ago union in Hazel’s house. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her. This ceremony merely acknowledged that fact in the sight of all Faery.

  The King’s voice thundered over the crowd. “See these t
wa, ye Folk o’ Faery! This mon and this woman join in sacred union tae gi’e their lives tae our people. They bring their magic, their strength, and their blood tae feed our nation and make Faery a living, breathing race upon the Earth.

  “Fergus Cameron, do ye take this woman as yer mate under God? Do ye swear afore yer people tae honor her and Faery, and tae do yer utmost tae build a world o’ strength and goodness fer Faery?”

  He swallowed hard. “I do.”

  The King turned to Hazel. “’Azel Green, do ye take this mon as yer mate under God? Do ye swear afore yer people tae honor him and Faery, and tae do yer utmost tae build a world o’ strength and goodness fer Faery?”

  Hazel’s clear eyes bored into Fergus’s soul, but he already knew what she would say. She already took him as her mate under God. She already honored him and Faery, and she already gave her utmost to build a world of strength and goodness for Faery. That’s all she ever did, all her life. She just didn’t know she was doing it.

  Her voice rang out clear and strong over the assembly. “I do.”

  He squeezed her hands. He could barely breathe from the overwhelming emotion crowding his heart in a desperate flurry to get out. He wanted to shout and laugh and burst into tears all at once. All their hardship and care ended in this.

  “I now pronounce ye married and joined in the sight o’ Faery,” the King told them. “Ye may kiss each other.”

  Fergus hesitated, but Hazel didn’t. She circled his waist with her creamy slender arms. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. The instant her lips touched him, he caught her in his embrace and held her close. He kissed her hard, much harder than he intended to, but she only broke away laughing.

  The assembly erupted in cheers. The King stepped back to his place and took his scepter from his minister. Fergus took Hazel’s hand, and they descended the steps. The crowd surrounded them. Gusts of loud talking, laughing, shouting and crying welcomed them into that royal company.