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“Tis yers if ye allow m’wife and me tae leave unimpeded.” He tugged at his ear again.

“I had come tae take it, prepared tae fight for it, and now ye hae saved me the trouble. What dost ye want in return?”

“Naething, I want tae go back tae bed. I want my wife tae be safe. I want tae figure out how tae get home.”

“Ye canna get home?”

“We hae but one horse, tis a long journey. I am hopin’ m’lady’s brother will come and help us travel, but he will need tae find us...”

The king nodded.

Torin said, “But ye must decide what ye want tae do and it needs tae be quicker than this, apparition, or I am goin’ tae fall tae the ground afore ye finish. Ye are a ghost claiming tae be a king, so tae go unconscious in front of ye would be disrespectful.”

The king sized him up. “And if I say nae, if I say I will take the castle from ye and I will hae ye strung up for having attacked it without my permission as King of Scots, what would ye do tae stop me?”

“I would fight ye. I canna let it happen, I hae sworn an oath tae keep the princess —”

My eyes shot to his face.

He muttered, “Och nae.” He swayed. “Tae keep m’wife safe.”

The ginger man’s eyes settled on my face, inquisitively studying me again.

The king narrowed his eyes. “This is nae necessary, I owe ye a debt of gratitude, Torin, for taking the castle before I arrived. Ye hae saved me the trouble. I will hae a contract written and we will wait for ye tae recover tae sign it. We shall make an arrangement between us, ye will give me the castle, I will help ye home.”

He peered into Torin’s face. “Dost we hae an agreement?”

“Aye.”

“Good, is there something ye need?”

“M’lady hasna been able tae leave the room and we are hungry.”

“I will make certain food is sent.”

The king turned, the other men bowed as he passed, then followed him out of the room.

Torin said, “Help, mo leannan, I am goin’ down.”

I grasped his arm, trying to steady him, but he collapsed onto the bed. It creaked and swayed dangerously.

The amount of shifting and grunting and groaning for him to swing his legs around and lie back on the bed was incredible. I’m sure if it hadn’t been so dire it would have been funny.

Once done though, I sat on the stool beside him. “So that was really Robert the Bruce?”

“Nae, twas a figment… an apparition, demanding tae be addressed as a king.” He rocked his back to get comfortable.

“I don’t know, he seemed real.”

“If ye hae had surgery upon yer shoulder by monks in a priory in the medieval Highlands and a king walks in… tis an apparition — that ghost was an arse, stormin’ intae m’room while I am trying tae sleep.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You have done a ton of sleeping, Albannach, it’s freaking me out.”

“I hae tae sleep for the three-day healing slumber, everyone kens tis the cycle of healin’. When I was gored by the boar, I told ye, ye remember?”

“Yes, it sounds terrible… Was it really bad like this?”

“Aye, I was near death, and nae wife tae care for me. I collapsed at the inn, but Max knew I needed a proper Highland healing slumber. Three days. Then he threw a glass of ale on me and told me tae get up, twas enough. So I did.”