Page 39 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

What does a man like him need a dagger for? she thought.Ah, that’s it: he doesn’t need one.

It was probably just an accessory to him. A hilt that could be adorned and hung on his belt in the same way that a lady would drape a bejeweled necklace about her neck.

Kenna stood and stretched, marveling at how many oatcakes she had been coaxed into eating and wondering how large she would be by the time she left the house.

‘Tis so hot in here.

She went over to the single window and threw it open. There was no breeze that night, she may as well have left the window shut for all the good it was doing, but the thought that a passing breeze might soon find her was a comfort. The window overlooked the garden just to the side of the house and, if Kenna stuck her head out far enough, she could see around the corner of the house to the stone archway marking the entrance to the courtyard. The street beyond, from what she could tell, was empty.

Bored with the still night, she wandered back to the shelves, determined to examine everything they contained. She traced her fingers over carved music boxes and woven baskets while her eyes roved across beautifully painted portraits and landscapes.

Eventually, her fingers came to rest on a thin box emblazoned with beads and bits of ribbon. It reminded her of a box her mother used to have, filled with her very favorite trinkets and letters. She used to take things out now and then and show them to her children, explaining the meaning behind each thing and why it was so precious to her. When her mother had passed, her father had placed the box in the sunniest solar of the castle, allowing his children to go and lift the lid whenever they needed some comfort from a mother who could no longer embrace them.

Unable to help herself, Kenna tipped open the lid of Sutherland’s box and looked inside. It was filled with bits of half-covered parchment.

Half-written reports or letters, Kenna guessed silently without looking at them too closely.

Then something caught her eye. A big, swirling letter ‘K’.

With shaking fingers, she grabbed the box and brought it to one of the side tables. She pulled the parchment out and held it up to the candlelight.

“Enclosed is a report of the Queen’s current funds while she remains in Aberdeen. Though she is likely to secure more funds from the lairds nearby should she need them, ‘tis unlikely that she could afford a long campaign without sending a request to Edinburgh fer financial assistance…” Kenna read aloud, scanning the rest of the parchment, so full of numbers and notations that she only halfway understood, before, at the bottom, it read, “May the Lord shine favor upon ye and yer rebellion, fer ye are doing His work. K.”

Kenna reached for the next paper, filled with notes and thoughts on the Queen and her court, little obscure tidings that were yet to be pulled together into a comprehensive letter.

The next was a letter from the Earl of Huntly himself. It wasn’t signed with his name, but she would have recognized his quick and sharp scrawl anywhere; she had seen it so many times before on the letters that had always been scattered across her father’s desk. It was dated back to earlier that year, and he was requesting Sutherland’s assistance in the event that the Queen did not leave him be.

The next bit of parchment was another letter, written in handwriting that was even more familiar to her than that of the Earl of Huntly’s.

It simply read: ‘Tis done. Hope to see ye soon. John.

“Kenna, let me show ye my new blade! The smiths here in Aberdeen are beyond compare. Just look at—” Sutherland froze when he saw her standing there, the box open beside her.

“‘Tis ye,” Kenna said, her hand shaking as it clung to her brother’s letter. “Ye are the one who has been leaking information to the Earl of Huntly. ‘Twas yer message they intercepted last night!”

The Earl sighed and tucked the dagger into his already overworked belt. “It does not suit to go through a man’s things uninvited. Many would go so far as to say that the action is quite rude, even if the lass doing the thing is as bonny as ye.”

“Ye rotten bloody bastard! The Queen trusts ye. They all trust ye. Yet here ye are, betraying them.”

“I betray no one. What I do is for the good of all of Scotland. Just imagine the damage that a lass like Mary could do to our great nation if she continues to sit on the throne. She is young, she is rash, she does whatever she pleases, and she does not care about the consequences. She simply does not ken how to rule, and Huntly is only taking the necessary steps to show her that her authority is not as strong as she thinks,” Sutherland said with the casual attitude of someone condemning a piece of art rather than the Crown.

“Queen Mary has the right to do whatever she pleases because she is the Queen.” Kenna hissed, but she did not want to be bogged down by the politics of the issue. There were more pressing questions that needed to be asked. “Why sign yer letters with a ‘K’? What is the meaning behind it?”

“Let us play another game,” Sutherland said with a grim smile as he sat down again before the three cups.

“To what point? I asked ye a question, and I demand—”

“The game is to illustrate a point, dear Kenna.” He sighed and cast her an exasperated look. “Please, sit. Here, the same silver coin back under the cup. Now here we go again, twisting here and there, shuffling them about, mixing them as quick as I can. It requires excellent focus, but if ye pay close enough attention, ye can always find the coin. Go ahead, pick one.”

Kenna pointed at the cup on the right, and the Earl lifted it.

“Ach! Ye found it. Clever girl. Here, ye won the coin.”

Kenna didn’t accept the coin from his outstretched hand. “What was this meant to show, Laird Sutherland? Are ye saying ye are the silver? Moving so quick that ye think yerself hard to be found?”

“Heavens no. The silver is too easily found fer it to be me. Think for a moment on what I told ye earlier, Lady Kenna. Mary loves this game. Her focus is unparalleled; she seldom loses. If ye tell her that there is a bit of silver, she watches the cups with more intensity than a wolf watches a deer. No, I canna be the silver, Kenna; that must be ye.”

“What?”