We walk beneath wooden scaffolding that’s been erectedalong the sidewalk. Buildings are still heavily in need of repair. But the scars from battle no longer dim the beauty of this place, or its people. There’s a power in the rebuild, a new strength that I hadn’t noticed before.
“What do you need from me, then?”
Torin chuckles. “You’re in charge, lass. Ye give the orders.”
I purse my lips, trying to bite back my growing smile. “What would you like to do?”
His face reflects his quiet thinking as we enter the iron archway of the Idir tree garden.
“Well, I’ve been a captain, a guard, and a warrior. I’d like to be a gardener.” He glances at the reddening color of the trees around the small garden. There’s an admiration there, like a painter appreciating a shade of paint.
“Then a gardener you will be,” I order.
We pause, looking up at the great branches of the Idir tree. The branches are no longer bare. Small buds cling to them. A sign of life, of magic returning.
We saved it, after all.
My smile spreads as I stare up into the branches and to the stars blinking into existence above us.
We continue to walk arm in arm through the capital and I notice things I hadn’t before. People smile and wave at us as we pass. Genuine smiles, with bright shining eyes. Hope reigns here.Brightening the streets like the lanterns that flare to life as we pass.
Torin tells me about his life before and the Jacobite rebellion he was a part of. I had always thought he had to of been part of something like that. But to hear his stories about the clans and Culloden, he’s a masterful storyteller, and it grips me as if I was there myself.
Laughter and conversation reach our ears as we traverse the steps into the Great Hall. Torches flare along the stairs, castingour walk in a warm glow. The smell of roasted meat makes my stomach ache as it floats down to us.
I spy my court gathered at the entrance of the throne room. Broad, happy smiles on each of their faces. They’re up to something…
“Surprise!” they cheer, as we get closer.
“Surprise,” Torin whispers into my ear.
I turn my head to him, my mouth agape. “Lach knew ye would need to be surrounded by your people to face this next challenge, but thought a gift would go over nicely as well.”
My brows raise in surprise. Lachlan’s eyes are damn near glowing in the meager light as Torin passes me off to him.
“What is going on?” I ask, looking at everyone as he pulls me into the throne room.
“We thought ye needed something to remember how powerful ye are, my queen,” he whispers into my ear. The proximity of him, or maybe the words, sends a shiver down my spine. Heat pools low in my belly. But he spins me around to face…
My throne.
Well, actually, my mother’s throne. The white marble is an identical match to the stone that makes up the entire Great Hall. It’s exquisite, the timeless arching back and arms so ornately carved it takes my breath away.
But it’s more than beautiful. It’s the history, the sentiment of it all, that has tears spilling down my cheeks.
This was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her—and now—it’s mine.
Lachlan leads me up the few steps to where the throne rests on the dais. Stroking a hand across the arm and back, I circle the chair with him before he leads me right in front of it. He stares down at me, his gaze heating.
“You’ve forgotten who ye are, Key.” His words are spoken so softly no one else can hear them. “Allow me to remind ye.”
He gets closer, nudging me back and into the seat. As I slowly lower onto my throne, my eyes never leave his face. He sinks to one knee in front of me, as do the others.
I am meant to be here, I was raised to be here, and I am queen.
A breath makes its way out of my chest.
Lachlan gazes up at me. A loving smile stretches across his face.
