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The king said, “Are ye Anglish?”
“Nae, definitely not, never. Albannach through and through.”
“Ye hae an interesting way of speaking, Torin, I canna place it.”
Torin said, “Clackmannanshire.”
The king picked up his bread and slathered it with butter, while gesturing toward the big man with the ginger hair. “Niall was speakin’ on ye—”
I had to lean forward to see him on the other side of Torin. Niall was freckled across the nose, square-jawed, not as lean as Douglas and not as heavy as the king. His hands rested still on the table, scarred across the knuckles. He looked younger than his caution. When he almost smiled it was brief, then his face returned to stoic calm.
Torin said, “Niall? I daena believe we hae been introduced.”
The man nodded once. “Niall Campbell, son of Cailean Mòr, may he rest in peace.”
Torin said, “And why were ye speakin’ on me?”
Niall smiled, “Excellent question, Torin, ye are a member of clan Campbell, though I hae been tae Clackmannanshire and never met ye… I was tellin’ the king that yer wife looks much like someone I once knew.”
I spoke up, “That is unlikely. I am sure I’ve never met you before.”
His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “Nae, tis not ye, but a man. Perhaps a brother?”
Torin said, “She has a brother, Maximillian.”
Niall shook his head. “I haena heard of him. Could he hae been a cousin? Are ye related by blood tae the Lost King, Mag Mòr?”
Douglas scoffed, “We are goin’ tae speak on him again? Tis only a legend!”
“Nae,” Niall said. “He was a king. Crowned at Scone in 1292—”
“That was only twenty years ago.” Douglas waved it away. “Tis a story told tae bairns.”
Niall said, “M’father was his advisor. His son fought alongside Wallace.”
“How come he inna on the throne if tis his by rights, och nae.” Douglas turned to the king. “Niall is on it once more.”
The king said, “I hear it, ye hae been arguin’ over it for years.”
Niall’s mouth tightened. He kept his hands still.
The king lifted a hand. “Niall, not taenight. If there was a king by that name, he is gone, as Balliol is gone. I am king now.”
Douglas raised his mug. “This we know tae be true.”
The king looked at me. “Lady Alexandria, are ye of that blood?”
Torin answered before I could. “She inna related tae Mag Mòr. I would ken.”
I laughed nervously. “No. I am just the wife of a… lowly, um—” I rolled my hand at him. Everyone waited. I drank instead.
Torin finished it, the corner of his mouth up. “I am her laird. We are newly married. She haena gotten used tae the word.”
The king said, “Most men daena take their new brides while they sack a castle.”
“I am not most men,” Torin said. “Sometimes a castle canna wait.”
The king laughed. Torin did not.
