The revelations that came out of her visit with Freya had settled in the pit of Merida’s stomach like a giant boulder, heavy and unyielding. She wished Freya were wrong, that the hairs that had sprouted along Merida’s arms and jawline were due to some poisonous shrub, or maybe something she’d eaten. Anything but the result of a horrific spell.
A bear? How could that be? It was too terrifying to comprehend.
Even more harrowing? The idea that it would not matter if she became a bear, because if she could not get her parents to fall in love, she and everyone she loved might very well not exist once the Vikings invaded.
Merida let out a strangled cry.
She had to succeed. There was no other choice.
She nudged Angus’s flank, hastening his stride as they made their way back to MacCameron Castle.
She still had not figured out how to get Elinor to return to the DunBroch camp without drawing suspicion. Maybe she should just drop all pretense and make the case for Fergus as the only acceptable suitor.
The princess would laugh in her face and then banish her from the castle.
Merida’s back went ramrod straight as another thought occurred to her.
The one thing Elinor could not refute was that Fergus’s survival skills were unmatched. If Merida could convince her that Fergus was better suited to teach her how to survive her trip to the Lowlands, she would not have to contrive these schemes to bring them together.
Of course, convincing Fergus to play the role of teacher was another matter entirely. But based on the teasing she had witnessed the previous day, Merida was not so sure he would turn down the opportunity to get underneath the princess’s skin. There was something between them, although she was sure both would deny it.
Merida caught sight of the curtain wall surrounding MacCameron Castle through the trees. The path had become familiar over these past few days. Just then, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She immediately recognized the colors of the DunBroch tartan.
At first she thought one of the clansmen had snagged his plaid on a wayward branch, but as she moved in closer, she realized the plaid was attached to a person. Merida slid off Angus as quietly as possible. She removed her slippers and gingerly moved toward the figure. There was only one member of Clan DunBroch of such substantial size.
Had her father really left himself this exposed? He must have learned to be stealthier in his later years, because the man who had taught her how to conceal herself from the enemy would never have left himself so vulnerable.
Merida inched forward, leaned over Fergus’s back, and whispered, “Do you see anything interesting?”
He jumped so high that he nearly hit his head on a low branch hanging above.
“Goodness, lass!” He slapped a meaty palm to his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“That is my question to you,” Merida said. “Why are you creeping about these lands?” She looked around. “And where are your other clansmen? Are they surrounding the castle? Are you planning an attack?”
“You speak nonsense, lass.”
“Do I?” Merida asked. “What other explanation is there? You said you are not here for the Highland Games. So what are you doing here, Fergus?”
“It is no concern of yours. Now leave me be.”
There was something he was not telling her, and she had just about had enough of it. The time for playing around had long passed. She did not want to do this, but he left her no choice.
Merida sucked in a fortifying breath, then said, “If you do not tell me what your purpose is here, I will tell the MacCameron guards where to find you.”
For a moment, Merida thought she had miscalculated what Fergus’s reaction would be to a direct threat. His nostrils flared and his face reddened. He took a step toward her before taking several steps back.
“Why can’t you let me be, lass? I told you; this is of no concern to you.”
“I do not believe you,” Merida said. “You have been camped out in these woods for days, with no explanation for your actions. There is something afoot, isn’t there?”
He glared at her, his jaw twitching. Several moments passed before he said, “Possibly.”
Merida’s stomach dropped. “What is it?”
“I do not know,” he said. “That is why I am here, to figure it out. I believe there is a threat to the kingdom, but I have no proof yet.”
“What sort of threat is there to my kingdom?”
Merida and Fergus both whipped around at the sound of Elinor’s voice.
“Princess! What are you doing here?” Merida asked.
“We were to meet in the forest to make fire,” Elinor answered. “But that is beside the point now.” She marched up to Fergus. “What threat do you speak of?”
Fergus scrubbed a hand down his face and released an irritated sigh. “What is it with you two? Why are you always lurking in the woods?”
“You insufferable brute! Any lass would lurk in the woods if it concerned her kingdom.” Elinor plopped her hands on both hips. “Now, I will ask you again, why do you believe we are in danger?”
“I am not at liberty to share,” he said.
“Is it because you and your clan are the cause?” she challenged. “If there is a threat to MacCameron Kingdom, I would not be surprised if the DunBrochs are the ones behind it.”
Fergus took a menacing step forward. His eyes glittered with fervent heat, but there was something else there, a latent passion simmering underneath the surface.
Merida’s heart thumped wildly within her chest as she observed their fiery exchange.
“Are you forgetting that Clan DunBroch is part of this kingdom, Princess?” Fergus replied in a deceptively calm voice.
“That means nothing,” Elinor spat. Her contemptuous glare traveled from the top of Fergus’s head to his grimy boots. “You are only part of this kingdom because of the peace alliance.”
“Does that make me less of a citizen? It matters not how I became part of this kingdom; I do not want peril to befall it.” Fergus’s mouth twisted. “You may not care what happens to this place, but I do.”
Elinor gasped, her eyes blazing with indignation.
“How dare you accuse me of not caring about my home, you redheaded lout!”
“So, you have noticed my nice red hair?” he taunted, flicking his fingers in the matted locks.
“You…you…boggin numpty!”
Merida’s jaw dropped. Had her mother just called her father a foul-smelling fool?
“Does the king know that his prim princess has such a filthy mouth?” Fergus asked.
Elinor’s cheeks were as red as a cardinal’s feathers. She brushed her hands along the front of her kirtle, then stood up straight and stuck her chin in the air.
“It is what you deserved for suggesting I have no interest in what happens to my homeland. MacCameron Kingdom’s well-being is at the center of everything I do. It is all I have been taught to care about since birth.”
“Then you should not take issue with me seeking out this threat,” Fergus said.
“If there is a threat to the kingdom, then I will uncover it.”
“No.”
Elinor’s head snapped back. “No? Who do you think you are?”
“I will not have you interfering, Princess.”
“And I do not take orders from you, sir.”
“Soldier,” he corrected her.
Elinor’s chest puffed in and out with her shallow, aggressive breaths. She faced Fergus with daring boldness, undaunted by his size. Her fists were balled at her sides as if she was doing all she could to keep her hands off him.
Did she wish to choke him, or draw him closer to her? Merida could not be sure.
She watched in fascinated delight as the tension bubbled up between her parents. It was so intense she could feel it on her skin. Fergus’s eyes teemed with a mixture of annoyance and attraction. And Elinor’s outrage was layered with something else—an awareness. She would likely deny it, but it was potent and unmistakable.
Even so, it was probably best Merida put an end to this confrontation and get back to the matter at hand, ferreting out the cause for the alarm she saw in Fergus’s eyes when he spoke of the kingdom.
“Maybe if you give us a hint about this threat, we can help,” Merida said. “We all want the same thing: to ensure that nothing bad befalls MacCameron Kingdom.”
Fergus looked back and forth between the two of them, his reluctance obvious. But then he sighed. “Perhaps you are right. It is possible that what does not make sense to me and my clansmen may make sense to you two.”
He motioned for them to come near and turned his focus to Elinor. “Has King Douglass or his council seemed concerned about the upcoming Highland Games or the approaching summer solstice?”
“No.” Elinor’s forehead creased with her frown. “Well, there is always a concern when so many clans from varying parts of the kingdom converge on the castle, but I have noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Should they be concerned?”
Fergus hesitated. A nerve in his square jaw jumped. “Possibly,” he said. He pulled at his quiver’s strap, which lay flat across his broad chest, and revealed an ingenious pocket sewn into its underside. He untied the twine holding the pocket closed and retrieved a tiny square of parchment.
He handed the note to Elinor, asking, “Does this make sense to either of you? Maybe it is a children’s rhyme from these parts?”
She read it out loud.
“‘On the day the sun reaches the height faeries cherish, those under the roar’s rule will perish.’”
She looked up at Fergus, her eyes wide with alarm. “‘Those under the roar’s rule will perish’? This does not sound like any children’s tale I have ever heard,” Elinor said.
“The height faeries cherish?” Merida asked. “What does that mean?”
“That part I believe we have figured out. My men and I think it refers to the summer solstice,” Fergus answered. “It is the day the sun reaches its highest point.”
“The summer solstice happens every year. It has never led to anything untoward, has it?”
“No, it has not,” Elinor said. “The solstice is a time of celebration.”
“Yet the rhyme foretells danger,” Fergus said. “I am not certain, but I fear an attack by Mor’du is imminent. What beast has a bigger roar than that bear?”
Elinor pressed her palm against her chest. “But Mor’du has not been seen in ages. Some question whether the beast is even alive.”
“And others believe that Mor’du is immortal,” Fergus said.
“Which do you believe?” Merida asked.
A nerve twitched in his jaw as he stared beyond her, as if searching for the beast.
“I am not sure what to believe when it comes to that bear,” Fergus said. He returned his attention to Merida, his eyes filled with worry. “What I do know is, if what is written on that parchment is connected to Mor’du, all within the kingdom are in danger, including the king.”
Fear knotted in Merida’s stomach. “Where did you find the note?”
“One of my men found it in the forest as we were making our way to MacCameron Castle. Someone must have dropped it.”
“Well, why did you not bring it to the king?” Elinor asked.
Fergus stared at her with a cynical arch to his brow. “Let me see, why would a DunBroch hesitate to bring King MacCameron a note that threatens danger? Maybe because the king may react in the same way his daughter did and accuse the DunBroch of treason?”
“I did not go so far as to accuse you of treason,” Elinor argued. She turned the note over. “This parchment is of good quality. It looks like one I have seen before.”
“We have tracked it down to a parchmenter from Clan Innes,” he said. He pointed to a pale blue drawing of a boar’s head. “That is his mark.”
“We must bring this news to King Douglass,” Merida said. “This proves that he may be in danger.”
“This proves nothing,” Fergus said, lifting the parchment from Elinor’s fingers. “The king’s council can say that I wrote this note myself.” He looked to Elinor. “Do not be so bold as to suggest I did, Princess. I shall not defend my loyalty to the kingdom again.”
“I was not going to suggest any such thing,” she said. “But you must agree that we have to do something.”
“We will not do anything,” Fergus said. He folded the parchment and returned it to the secret pocket on his quiver’s strap. “Me and my men will get to the bottom of this.”
“This is my kingdom,” Elinor said. “I will not stand idly by when my father and my people are at risk.” Her insolent glare still directed at Fergus, Elinor said, “Forget today’s lesson, Merida. I do not have time to learn fire making. I have a kingdom to save.”