Whenever-kobo (13 page)

I cut off the latest guest trying to congratulate me and ran. Catching Callum outside the door, I grabbed his arm and shoved into him. “A word, if you please.”

“Not now,” Callum said in a furious tone.

“I deserve a word.” I spun on my heel and headed to the bailey. “It’s what I need. Isn’t that your sacred duty? To give me what I need?”

Callum stalked after me, and I left the walls of the castle. The evening cooled my cheeks and I breathed in. “I hate this.”

I glanced up at him in the darkness. The strains of the music still reached us from the open windows, but the murmurs of the crowd had died out. “Still think the King has rights over us?”

Callum peered out in the moonlit darkness. “King Mael does what’s best for the Kingdom. As king. Just because it’s not what we want doesn’t mean it’s not right for the country. When I was a kid, I fought the idea of constraints too. Then you grow up.”

“He’s not my king.” I bit the words out, lifted the loose emerald I’d lifted during the fight and smacked it into his arm, aiming for the injury he’d sustained during the battle.

Callum stared at me with shocked eyes and sucked in a breath, but he didn’t cry out.

I winced and gave a small moan for him, pulling back the bloody emerald. Now I had the King’s blood on it and Callum’s. Two royals. Surely that would be enough. Stretching on my tiptoes, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his.

Pressure. Heat. Lightning. Our warm, quick, angry kiss tasted of goodbye.

His hands fell to my hips and his fingers tightened as if to pull me close or push me away. I didn’t give him time to decide. I jerked back and said, “I’m not staying here. Come with me or not.” I lifted the borrowed skirt, spun on my heels, and ran all out without fear or caution. I fled toward the church as if my hope of a future depended on this moment.

“Wait, Hayley, wait,” Callum said from behind me.

My headstart and fierce intent were the only things that kept him from catching me immediately. Moonlight and stars lit my path. Grass brushed my ankles and uneven ground threatened my pace, but I didn’t stop until I reached the church.

I crossed the threshold.

Candles lit the empty chapel. With the aid of their burning glow and the moon shining in the windows, I headed up the aisle. My shoes tapped on the floor, reassuring me of progress in my moment of desperation. The groan of the door let me know Callum was close behind me. Reaching the pulpit, I climbed, clutching my side, gasping for breath. I reached the altar and began the words to take me away. “Send—”

“Hayley. Wait.” Callum came up the aisle, his hand out. The candlelight highlighted his features and his expression matched the urgency of his tone. “Wait.”

“Tell me King Mael’s wrong.”

Callum shook his head and climbed the steps. “We can reason with him. Get his blessing. I’ll swear fealty if he lets you leave.”

“I don’t need his blessing. It’s not his choice. I’m not his. I’m mine.” I grabbed his arm. “Come with me. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I have a duty here, a vow until he releases me.”

“Fine, then back up.” I smacked the bloody stone on the altar. “I have part of the sword. I have Cétchathach blood. Send me home.”

Callum clamped a hand on my wrist. His tone sounded sympathetic as he said my name. “Hayley.” A quiet pause followed. “Home is gone. The stone sends us where we’re needed. We’re needed here. It’s done. What Sean spoke of was true. My cousin who left never returned. Never.” His voice softened. “I should have told you. But I didn’t and it’s done. We have to make the most of it here. Because no one returns.”

Confused thoughts raced through me and I shook my head. Desperation ran under my skin. My family needed me. I needed them. I may not have fully appreciated that or our small house in the Trallwyn suburbs before, but I did now. “Send me home.” I said the words loudly and clearly, in English, and then in Irish. “They need me at home. Send me where I’m needed.”

A rush of wind, in the formerly still night, whipped around me, jerking me from Callum’s grip. The moon doubled in size. I fell to my knees, clasping my waist, bent double, caught in the painful twist of time. The force stopped and I collapsed forward, gasping for breath, sweating. This time had been even worse than the last. I heard nothing besides the ringing in my ears and I had to force my eyelids open.

Again, the church waved in on itself and then righted. Ahead of me sat rows of pale wooden pews. Sunlight streamed through the open windows and pale grey walls surrounded them.

The pain eased and a groan came from my right. Callum knelt on the smooth marble, agony crossing his face, and his arms clutching his waist.

I’d sucked him into the time warp. I struggled to my knees and put my arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you come with me.” I stiffened and hit his shoulders with my fists. “No. I’m not sorry. And you’re welcome.”

Callum grabbed my wrists and trapped them by my sides. He lowered his head to my shoulder. He gasped in a breath and said, “Hayley.” Bright sunlight touched his cheek and the taut lines of pain left his face. Wonder crossed his features along with a hint of freedom. “We left.”

“We left. We’re here.”

The church looked different. Cleaner. Newer, but still the same flowery scent. I waved a hand. “What is this?”

Callum helped me up and his whole body jerked. He stared at a banner hanging from the rafters. “1013 Dedication to our Lord.” He read the oddly shaped words with ease, a part of the translation process.

My hands shook as I got it. “1013. Ireland. 1013.”

Callum nodded. “We must be needed here.”

“We’ve lost 300 more years! We’re going in the wrong direction! I need to go forward. To my life. To my family. I’m needed there.”

Callum touched the empty altar. “We’ll need the sword or at least part of it.” He held out his hand. “We’ll find my family. They’ll help us.” His eyes held a layered depth of emotion and belief.

I nodded and slid my hand into his, feeling the roughness under my palm. Holding his hand felt right and I threw myself at him.

Callum’s arm tightened around me, and he put his mouth to my ear. “Will you stay with me? Work with me while we’re here?”

I nodded against his chest, ignoring our issues, and held on to his solid strength. We’d get through this.

The church door opened, the sound accompanied by a gust of wind. Callum let me go and spun toward the entrance. He moved me behind him, as if protecting me from a threat.

A middle-aged woman entered, carrying a gold knife. She wore a dark tunic with fine embroidery on the hem. A small boy stood behind her, along with a knight and two women dressed in rough, somber tunics. The knight grasped the hilt of his sword.

“Hide,” Callum said.

Before I moved, the group dropped to their knees.

The knife extended flat on the well-dressed woman’s palms. “I am Queen Orba. I offer you whatever I may provide.”

The boy said, “I am Prince Jamie Cétchathach and I offer you whatever I may provide.”

The two ladies and the knight behind them made the same pledge.

Callum lost his battle stance. He took the stairs down to the nave, leaving me to follow.

The Queen rose first. “From when do you come? We are much in need.”

“I’m Callum Morrigan Cétchathach, son of King Brian Cétchathach.”

The boy’s head jerked, sending his cornfield-colored hair into his eyes.

The Queen rushed forward, searching Callum’s face. “You have been sent to save us.”

The knight and the two women stayed kneeling. Both bowed their heads and said, “Prince Callum.”

The Queen’s pointed sleeves fell away from her wrists as she gestured to the exit. “You are needed. The King is stricken ill.” She grasped Callum’s free hand in both of hers and gifted him the knife. “Should Jamie take the throne at this young age, the country will be torn apart by those who would have his power. You can save us.” Her scrutiny landed on me, and her eyes narrowed. “Who is with you?” She asked as if noticing my presence for the first time. Her gaze lingered on my necklace and a frown traced her forehead.

The Queen didn’t care to have competition for her agenda. I wondered how it was easier to read people in this time than it was in my own. Maybe the power came with the ability to translate.

Callum said, “This is Hayley Ainslie McLaren.”

I threaded my fingers through his, smiled, and said, “He’s the son of the future king and I’m his wife. Hayley Ainslie McLaren-Cétchathach. You can call me Princess Hayley.”

The Queen didn’t move, but Jamie bowed. I curtseyed in response and winked at him.

Callum’s grip loosened, and he stared down at me. I squeezed hard, trying to tell him without speaking to go with me on this. And while he didn’t confirm our fake marital vow, he didn’t contradict my lie.

The Queen said, “You must come up to the castle at once.” She clapped and spun to the door. No one else said anything.

We all followed her and Callum whispered to me, “You lie so easily.”

“Is that a criticism? After Mael?”

“I attend a lot of political functions. Lies come second only to the soup.”

“I’m saving us from whatever medieval marriage intentions this branch of your family has in store.” We stepped out into the fresh air. I gestured to the Queen and her entourage up ahead. “Tell them what you like.”

The Queen hung back and narrowed her eyes, as if trying to decipher our whispers. Her mouth twisted and she focused on Callum. “There is urgency to see the King due to his illness. He has a sword wound. The heavens weep, but it won’t mend.”

“What does your healer say?” Callum asked.

Genuine sorrow shadowed her face. “He prays and has treated the wound but he holds no great hope.”

Pale green grass extended through the churchyard, but there were no Celtic crosses, no low wall. The seabirds squawked, the hexagonal rock columns jutted, and the waves crashed. All were the same but this world was different. I drew in a breath and leaned into Callum. “Scratch that,” I whispered, “I’m not risking it. Back up my story. I won’t have another King Mael decide our futures. And I won’t be separated from you.”

Callum’s jaw worked as if he was trying to say something, but he stopped himself. He knew that if he said the King had any rights over us, I’d lose it. Whoever had brought him up on those beliefs needed a shake. Or, maybe it was a European versus American thing. All guys need re-education to some degree, but Callum needed more than most.

The Queen paced back to us. “There’s no time to waste.” She looked at me but addressed her words to Callum. “I don’t understand. Your wife, she traveled with you?”

“She is a traveler too.”

“Ah.” Her eyes assessed me under a frown.

I could tell she really wanted to ask
what use are you to me
. I said, “We have great tales to tell, after Prince Callum has seen the King, and we’ve eaten and rested.”

The Queen’s mouth tightened and she nodded, leading the way. Clearly she didn’t share a southern mom’s need to feed us.

We were not going to get along.

The castle had changed too. It stood a fourth the size of what it would grow to be in 1313, with significantly less surrounding buildings. People dressed roughly, going about their day. They stopped and curtseyed to the Queen but their eyes stayed low, their curiosity restrained. As we climbed the slanted bailey up to the door, I saw builders in the distance constructing the wall. The view was fascinating, like flipping a picture book backwards and seeing the image devolve. I hoped I’d get to tour the castle in my century, before I returned home to Texas.

The Queen motioned to a servant, a young, capable-looking woman who wore a white cloth over her hair. “The saints provided us with visitors. Prepare a chamber for Prince Callum and an adjacent room for his bride. Send for water for their baths.”

The servant’s eyes widened and she curtseyed low and backed away.

The Queen touched the boy’s shoulder. “Go with her, Jamie.”

He glanced at me with bright blue eyes and scurried away.

We continued on, following the Queen. She stopped before a large wooden door and pushed it open. The room was hot and the man lying in the bed looked much older than his wife. His body stretched the full length of the bed and his wounded leg, wrapped in a bandage, was propped on a pillow. His face, lined with age, was sweating. The air around him smelled of decay and sickness.

Callum walked forward.

The Queen turned to me, “Come. Leave them a moment.”

I obeyed her. In the corridor, she motioned to the nearest servant, a younger woman this time with flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes. She said, “Prince Callum’s wife requires appropriate clothes.” She motioned to the sick room. “Prince Callum is a traveler come to save us.”

The young woman gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth.

The Queen nodded. “Get on with it then.”

The servant hurried over to me and led the way with quick short steps. “I’m Rachael, milady.”

“Hi, Rachael, It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for helping me.”

Rachael nodded and bobbed a curtsey, sneaking glances at me along the way to the chamber. The room she took me to had the unused air of a guestroom despite the warmth brought in by the vibrant tapestries hanging from the walls. I’d seen modern replicas of famous tapestries. They had pale, faded colors and threadbare patches, nothing like these.

A half-sized tub stood near the fireplace. Servants rushed in around us carrying water. It steamed from the top as they poured and looked heavenly. They set out linen clothes, soap and a comb. Rachael unbraided my hair, and then left me.

I sank into the water and my skin turned red at the heat. I lay like that a moment, assessing how I felt. My knees showed pink-blue bruises from landing on the marble in the church, but overall I was okay; exhausted as if it were midnight, but okay.

I scrubbed my hair and skin with a bar of soap that smelled of roses and rinsed with the remaining jug of water. When I got back home, I’d never complain about sharing a bathroom with the boys again. A modern shower in a climate-controlled room sounded like a miracle. I dried off quickly in the chilled room, standing as close to the flames as I dared. As I pulled on a clean shift, I noticed a new pink scar below my waist with a thin blue scar underneath. The same shade of blue I’d seen on images of Celtic warriors. Both were in the location of the striking pain when I transported. I rubbed a finger against them, thinking somehow they made this seem more real.