The King.If her hearthad been speeding before, now it tripped along in a staccato rhythm that nearly made her dizzy. She reached for Angus’s hand and held onto it. Nessa didn’t know it, but from that moment on, her life had become firmly grounded on a one-way track; one she had no hope of escaping. Even though she would one day travel back to 21stcentury Inverness, she would never really leave this place, or the man she was about to cross paths with against odds so great she would one day know that Fate must have had a hand in it.
TheKing was tall. This was the first thing Nessa noticed about him. Many of the men were, but somehow he stood straighter, prouder than the rest. He was dressed in a simple sleeveless tunic and loose-fitting pants, but the fabric couldn’t hide his powerful build or the graceful, very masculine, lines of his body. He had a bronzed, sun-kissed complexion, and tattoos on his face: a sweeping, curved line with three dots underneath, one on each high, chiseled cheekbone. More tattoos graced his arms, intricate designs with lines and spirals. His dark brown, nearly black hair was long, reaching past his shoulders, and tied back at his nape with a piece of leather. There was a wide band of gold just above each well-muscled bicep, and a gold amulet hung from his neck. He was a physically beautiful man, but as he drew to a halt in front of her, hand resting lightly on the handle of a sword at his waist, she felt the full, undeniable, energy of his presence. A strange fluttering began in her stomach and she had to remind herself to breathe.
Dark, piercing eyes met hers, and the air seemed to grow electric with the force and vitality that surrounded him. He emanated strength and dominance with an intensity that she’d never felt before, and she knew instantly that his men would follow him anywhere, into any battle, even to their own deaths. And women would likely kill one another for just one night in his bed. A true alpha male if ever there was one. The men in her time were downright domesticated in comparison. Who was this King? The possibilities scrolled through her mind, but until she knewwhenthey were… She almost bit her lip, but instead set her mouth and jutted her chin forward, determined to look much braver than she felt.
The King made a quick appraisal of Angus, who was looking around with an almost giddy smile—but thankfully not speaking—then, accurately assessing the situation, ignored him and turned his gaze to Nessa. She locked eyes with him for only a second before she had to look away. He was making her feel strange, like the butterflies had escaped her stomach and taken flight within her whole body. She swallowed hard and forced her eyes to meet his again. She didn’t want to show weakness, not when she had to be strong enough for Angus too.
“You aren’t a goddess,” the King said with a slight curve of his lips, as if he hadn’t actually expected her to be. His voice was deep and a little bit husky, vibrating in her chest. So the womenhadthought she was a goddess who had come out of the well. His imperious gaze raked over her body from head to toe, and she was suddenly painfully aware of what she must look like. She was sopping wet with her hair plastered to her head, wearing her everyday clothes: jeans and a t-shirt. Awett-shirt. Looking down, she could see that her white bra was completely visible under the fabric clinging to her skin. The water had been cold, and her nipples were now standing pertly at attention.
Not that she felt exposed, exactly. Some of the other women were wearing much less, baring their waist or thighs. But no one here would have ever seen modern clothing, and she couldn’t imagine what they must think or how they might react.
She swallowed the lump in her throat just above the clamoring butterflies. “No…no.” That one word—spoken in Pictish for the first time to truly native ears—felt awkward on her tongue, as if she was only just learning to speak. Much later she would come to understand the very circular nature of time and human connection, and words would seem among the most trivial of things.
“I’m not a goddess. Just a…w…woman. And this is my uncle, Angus.” She pointed her thumb at Angus, not taking her eyes from the King. Damned if she was going to be the only one to take responsibility for being here and preventing the Goddess of the Underworld from getting her fresh lamb heads. Angus could take his share of the blame.Did they actually put the heads in the water, or just leave them by the side?
Angus piped up again, as if her acknowledging him was all the reason he needed to speak. “Look Nessa, those are our people; our ancestors. They’re the reason our family has held on to the knowledge of the Keepers for centuries. Years and years.Somany years!”
Angus was pointing at the crowd, speaking to her in English as if they weren’t even there. As if an ancient King that could easily have them made intosacrificeswasn’t standingright there in front of them.
She gritted her teeth. She’d always prided herself on her boundless patience with her eccentric and often unpredictable uncle, but then she’d never actually been in a life or death situation with him before.
“But we’re the lasttwo, and we’rehere”, she reminded him through her still gritted teeth. “There isn’t going to be anyone in the futurekeepinganything now.”
Except of course Gram, but she was fading, and wouldn’t be with them for very much longer. Nessa swallowed the overwhelming sadness that came with that thought. She had to get back to Gram very soon. She couldn’t let her die alone…
“Which is why you weresupposedto stay behind”, Angus told her matter-of-factly. “No help for it now, though.”
Nessa gave him an incredulous look.
“I didn’t know your…machine thing…wasactuallygoing to work!”
“Of course it…”
“You will speak only in my tongue!” the King commanded, loudly, and Nessa jumped. He was watching them through narrowed eyes, angry that he couldn’t understand their words. Those damn butterflies rose briefly to her throat before dropping back to her stomach with a sickening swoop. That voice did strange things to her. Or maybe fear for her life did strange things to her. Either way, she felt like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin.
“They say you climbed up from the hallowed well”, he nodded towards the women with the baskets. “Who are you, and where have you come from? What business do you have here?”
Nessa did bite her lip this time, and looked down at her wet sandals.Think! What would be a reasonable explanation? There would be no explaining this situation without lies, and she hated lies. They always came back to make trouble later on. That was why she always tried her best to stick to the truth and nothing but the truth. She was a horrible liar, and this was probably life or death.
“Wedidcome up out of the well”, she hedged. “But I’m not a goddess,nordo I know any goddesses personally. I’m Nessa Brodie, and like I said, this is Angus, my uncle. I’m from…she hesitated…panicked. She couldn’t be from anywhere nearby, or they might try to take her back there, where of course no one would recognize her.
“I’m from Fife.” Aye, Fife. That was a good way south. She squeezed Angus’s hand as hard as she could, hoping he would understand and not contradict her.
“Ow!” He pulled his hand away, shaking it and looking at her with irritation. “Watch what you’re doing!”
The King’s eyes flicked to Angus, and again he seemed to dismiss him as any kind of threat. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have believed her lie, either. She could see it in his eyes. Eyes she couldn’t seem to look at for too long without feeling a little hot and restless. After all, she was looking at someone from another time…another world. This was a man not bound by the tight rules and niceties of her modern civilization. He was absolutely primal by her standards, and she wasn’t sure what he might do. She needed more information, and she needed it as soon as possible. She cleared her throat nervously.
“May I…may I ask your name?”
“Myname? You claim not to know who I am?” He crossed his arms, making the muscles there bulge and the black ink ripple.
“I’m sorry…I’m a bit lost…”
He glared at her, and for a long moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I am Bridei mac Bili, King of Fortriu, and you had better have a very good reason for hiding in my well. I have no mercy for spies or traitors.”
Her eyes suddenly opened wider. Oh.Ohhhh…No way! No way was she standing beforethatKing! The way he said his name brought it to life as never before, with a slight roll of the ‘r’ and a barely spoken ‘b’.Bri-dye mac Bee-lye.
