He grinned. “A meat sandwich and the potato sticks from the new world, but with a whisky, because I am still Scottish.”
In the bathroom, while he was taking off his disgusting clothes for a shower, I showed him the piece of paper. He glanced at it and asked, “Can ye read it tae me?” He dropped his kilt to the floor.
“It only has a name, it says, Jeanne A. Smith, born 2359.”
“Dost ye ken what it means?”
I sat on the counter beside the sink. “My guess is it’s your mother.”
“It canna be, m’mother was Agnie MacLeod, I heard it many times.”
I nodded. “Sure, yeah, I don’t know what it means, but Lady Mairead wanted you to have it.”
“Tis nae matter tae me, I ken m’mother was a MacLeod, and m’father was a MacDonald. She passed on when I was a bairn. He passed on when I had just become a man. I daena hae any reason tae believe m’story is different from any other. I ken Lady Mairead has said I am descended from a line of kings, but dost I hae a crown on m’head? Hae I been raised in a castle? Nae,” he shook his head, “I am nae a king. Tis nae purpose in decidin’ it tae be true.”
I said, “You’re right, you know, that’s a good way to think about it. Plus I’m your family now.”
“Aye, ye are.” His stomach growled.
I said, “We need less talk and more shower, so you can get downstairs for your meal.”
“Aye, m’bhean ghlan.” He sighed over dramatically. “I hae tae clean m’self afore m’food. Tis a cruel bidding tae hae a wife who wants ye tae smell sweet afore she will feed ye.”
Through the steamy glass I watched as he poured a quarter cup of what I was pretty sure was body gel in his hand and began scrubbing it all over his body including his hair and his beard and... I sighed. I would need to run the class on shampoo versus soap again.
“Cruel huh? You might be thinking about it the wrong way. You’re taking a warm sudsy shower and as an extra you’ll get a big meal. And probably I’ll take you to bed right after for some first things first.”
He chuckled and stood under the water rinsing himself. “I dost like first things first.” He let water roll down in his face and then shook it from his eyes. “I also like second things and thirds.” He added, “Lady Mairead believes the world must be about royal lines and deceits and strategies, but maybe it’s about warm beds and full stomachs.”
I looked down at the paper. “I’m going to keep this though, you okay with that?”
“Do with it what ye will. I daena want it.”
Eighty-three - Kaitlyn
Magnus had business. He and I were invited to do things with the court, but he always had more to do than I did. He was gone before dawn for a meeting with Châtellerault. I hugged him goodbye overlong because it had been a weird week — I felt anxious, my skin crawled, hair standing on end, and Magnus too, had mentioned it. He called it being unsettled.
I said, “I’m nervous about being separated today. I don’t know why.” We finished the hug and stepped away.
“I daena ken either. I am worried...”
“Do you know why?”
“I canna put it tae words.” He strapped on his sword. “Wear yer weapons, stay here at the house. I winna be long.”
Lady Fleming had been more depressed than ever. I met her in front of our altar and kneeled. I glanced at her, her eyes tight shut, her face wet with tears and sweat, hands clutched, praying. A litany pouring from her heart, but today it was a little louder, a little more aggressive. I was probably just imagining it though, my head hurt. It felt like a pressure squeeze all around my skull. I rubbed my temple.
A moan escaped me.
She leapt to her feet and screamed.
“What, Lady Fleming, are you okay?”
She pressed her hands to her temples and backed away. She pointed, mumbling.
I held out my hands. “Calm down, Lady Fleming, it’s okay.”
She yelled, “Nae! Nae!”
“What is happening? Lady Fleming!” She cowered away from me but I got my arms around her and led her to the stairs. The housemaid looked frightened. I said, “She’s not feeling well, can you bring something for her?”
She said something, wringing her hands.
“What? I don’t understand the word?”
She repeated, “Droch-spiorad! Droch-spiorad!”
I hadn’t heard the word before. I led Lady Fleming up the stairs, holding all her weight as she kept pretending to faint. The first words was a little like ‘dreich.’ She tried to struggle away.
“Why are you fighting me?” I held tighter and managed to get her up the final stairs and though her door to her bedroom. She was screeching and pulling away from me so I pushed her onto her bed. She mumbled prayers, tears rolling down her face.
“You’re having a fever.” I checked her forehead. It was cool. Mine was cool too, though the headache from the anxiety was overwhelming.
I pulled the covers over her, dress and all, but she struggled against it. “Droch-spiorad!”
And I heard it as — dark spirit.
Oh.
My mind raced, what do you do when your roommate thinks there are dark spirits about?
I tried for soothing. “There there, Lady Fleming, there aren’t any dark spirits, see?” I waved my hand around and smiled. “See?” I didn’t know what I was proving, but it seemed sensible. I went to the window, and looked out. “It’s a beautiful day, no dark—”
She raised a finger and pointed at me and screeched, “Droch-spiorad!”
From behind me in the window — a cold breeze, a darkness, a shiver down my spine.
I turned and looked — a motherfucking, gorgeous, beautiful, awesome, so unbelievably brutal and oh so welcome — storm.
And I knew from my head to my toes that it was one of ours.
My hands shook as I closed the window.
She whimpered, “Droch-spiorad.”
“I know, I know.” I had a weapon. I had to swallow down my desire to hold a knife to her throat and tell her to shut the fuck up, that the servants were listening, that she needed to stop calling me an evil spirit... but that was my headache talking. And from the look of her, that was her headache sounding too. I crossed back to the bed and said, “Do you need something to drink, Lady Fleming?”
She shook her head.
“Let me tuck you in, you need to rest.” I straightened the covers. I wished I had some strong painkillers for our headaches, but oh my god, there was a storm outside, a storm! I could barely think. I needed Magnus.
She whimpered. “Droch-spiorad.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. I’m the perfectly nice lady who lives with you and helps take care of you even when you’re being depressing as hell. Also, I’d like to point out, that you can’t do a damn thing about me, because you owe your life to Magnus and his money.”
She glared like a petulant child with the covers up to her chin. I was sure she couldn’t understand most of what I was saying — plus there was a storm, a storm! I felt free, freer than I had in a long long time.