Page 45 of A Legacy of the Light

King Raghnall delivers his command with a gentleness that’s deceiving, a friendly remark veiled in threat. It takes me a second to register what he’s said.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty?”

I look at him fully, and he stares down at me with dark, fathomless eyes.

“I know you had breakfast with him this morning. I would hope this is nothing more than the beginnings of a budding friendship. Tavish has had a tendency to get . . . distracted by beautiful things. I will not have the order of my court disrupted by your stay.”

A trickle of fear settles in the pit of my stomach. How would the king know we had breakfast together? I have no intention of starting anything with Tavish, even less so now, and I doubt he would be interested in me. But his father’s warning throws me off balance.

“I . . . of course, Your Majesty,” I stammer, suppressing my growing unease.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. I’d like to get to know you better while you stay. I’ve not come across many humans. You’ll dine with me tomorrow evening.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. Firstly, I’m getting pretty pissed off with his demands. He might be a king, but he’s not my king. Secondly, I couldn’t think of anything less enjoyable than spending an extended period of time in his company.

“Tavish will join us, of course.”

Not seeing a way out, my only option is to accept his demand disguised as an offer.

“I’d be honored,” I reply flatly.

We near the doorway leading to the private quarters that’s permanently guarded. On our approach, the guards bow deeply at the waist as we sweep through one at a time. King Raghnall doesn’t offer me his arm again, and I’m grateful for the physical distance.

“Is Elsie short for anything?” he asks. The questions he’s asking are not what he really wants to know. He’s attempting to be nice to get what he wants, without realizing his actions are entirely transparent to me.

“It’s short for Elspeth. But I really don’t like to be called that.” I keep my reply short, only giving him the barest of information.

“Elspeth. An old Scottish name.” He looks down at me again, his eyes flicking down to my neck, where the chain of my pendant is visible.

I pull my braid from behind my back over my shoulder. His gaze hardens and his jaw clenches at my subtle move to keep the Craobh away from his view. If I had any inclination to give it to him before, that look has killed it. He will have to pry it from my dead body if he wants it. Which I’m sure he could do with barely any effort.

Realizing I haven’t replied, I quickly say, “Yes, it is. My Granny was from Scotland, and tradition was important to her.”

“I see.” Raghnall scrutinizes me and I have to look away, hating that I folded under his intense assessment.

“What is your family name again?” he continues.

“It’s Aitken.”

“Hmm, another old name. It seems there is more to this story than we might think. No?” he remarks.

“There could be. I won’t know anything more on how we came to get the Craobh until I can speak to my Grandpa,” I comment. I feel a sense of relief as we round a corner and I recognize the hallway. We’re almost at my rooms, and Tavish is further down the hall.

Hearing our approach, Tavish turns and smiles at me. His expression falters slightly when he sees that I’m with his father.

“Elsie, Father, good evening.” He offers King Raghnall a small bow.

“Good evening, Tavish,” the king replies. He turns to me. “Elsie, I look forward to your company tomorrow evening.”

Without another word, he levels me with a look that says ‘I’ll be watching’ and turns down the hallway, taking a left at the far end. He moves at a much quicker pace than he had walked with me.

“What did he want?” Tavish asks me.

“Honestly, not a clue,” I lie. “I bumped into him when I left the library and he offered to escort me here. He didn’t really say much other than ask me about my name and what I found out in the library.”

Tavish looks back down the hall where his father just went, a deep scowl on his face. “Huh,” is his only reply. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” he queries, turning back to me.

“No, my head was buried in books before I realized the time.” At the mention of food, my stomach growls and I clamp a hand over it.