The Wellspring (Kaitlyn and the Highlander #12) - Diana Knightley Page 0,71

this condition. I pulled my feet under me, tae carry m’self, but as I walked a few steps I got breathless and coughed and then allowed them to drag me along.

I was taken into the elevator, conquered, hangin’ between two men as we rose tae the top floor and my royal residence. I was dragged down the hall past open doors, trashed rooms, a door split through the middle. There were holes through some of the walls.

M’castle had been in this state afore but had been expensively rebuilt. I had been fightin’ against the ruin of time for years, and I was furious tae see it destroyed in a matter of days.

They left me slumped over on the rug of the sittin’ room in m’own residence. I found the strength tae turn ontae m’side tae count the soldiers’ boots. There were four men, another commandin’ them. Farther away on the side table, I could see one of our family photos, taken just after we were reunited, its glass shattered. Beside it, my chair, its cushion sliced through. Just four days ago it had been a comfortable place tae sit while drinkin’ a whisky at the end of the day. I dragged myself across the rug tae it, and pulled myself up intae the seat.

The commander sneered. “I didn’t tell you that you could take a chair.”

“Tis m’own chair, in m’own residence, within m’own castle.” I was panting from the effort and shielded my eyes in my hand. “Why am I here?”

“I’ve brought you to speak to the king.”

“Good, tell him nae tae keep the rightful king waiting, Magnus the First.” I tried for commandin’, but m’voice was a croak.

I watched the wall of videos: reporters looked frantic, explosions shook the ground, the kingdom had fallen, tanks were rolling down the streets. I needed tae get on m’feet and fight, but I was weak, pain was shooting through my chest.

I dropped my head back and slept for a moment. Not by choice.

“Wake him.”

I was jerked awake and sat staring at a new man. He was smaller, balding with tightly cropped hair, and had a sneer on his face. He wore casual clothes in bright colors, a shirt that was decorated in a print that looked like palm fronds, a pair of loose slacks in a bright green, as if he were on a golf course in Florida. His smile was slithery, remindin’ me of Donnan, or Lord Delapointe, and I really hated m’mother’s choice in men.

He dinna look as if he were at war, he looked as if he was on vacation at that place Kaitlyn had taken me many years ago, Disney place if I remembered the name. His shoes were white and glossy and hard tae look on.

He was wagin’ war in m’kingdom, standin’ on m’carpet, ruinin’ my royal palace, while wearin’ white shoes.

I watched him as he stood watching me, scrutinizin’, and squinting his eyes to do it. “Finally we meet.”

I remained quiet.

“I am Padraig I, king of Riaghalbane.”

“Tis nae true.”

“What? My name is Padraig—”

“…king…” I could barely get out the word.

“I am Padraig Stuart, born in the year 2390, later Padraig I of the kingdom of Riaghalbane, crowned in the year 2419, after you, not at the same time, get it?”

His eyes squinted.

“Because I am an heir to your throne, I have come to help you, Magnus I, as a friend.”

I coughed a couple of times and pulled in a staggered breath.

He watched me intently. “You look pale, Magnus, are you feeling well enough to have a little talk?”

I tried to sit up in my chair, but twas too much work, I leaned back again.

He pulled a chair away from my writing desk and sat down.

“You are in a dire situation here, so dire, I can’t really express how dire.” He tapped his finger on a stack of papers. “There are three challengers who want to battle the great and mighty Magnus I in the arena, here, all cousins—”

I groaned.

“Yes, I agree, some unholy hell has been unleashed, and now your cousins have come a-calling.” He returned his attention to the stack of papers. “They want to fight you in the arena, have you read their requests? Have you even bothered to respond?” He pressed the papers flat, licked a finger, and peeled the top one from the pile, holding it very close tae his face tae read. “Dated yesterday, so that might be why you missed it… It reads, ‘I, Uilliam Paterson, second cousin, hereby request