Her Knight in Tarnished Armor: A Medieval Romance Collection by Kerrigan Byrne & Tanya Anne Crosby & Colleen Gleason & Amy Jarecki & Miriam Minger

Author:Kerrigan Byrne & Tanya Anne Crosby & Colleen Gleason & Amy Jarecki & Miriam Minger [Byrne, Kerrigan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gnarly Wool Publishing
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

Caisteal Inbhir Nis, June 5, 1139

Made of red sandstone, and reputed to be constructed of the same stone from which An Lia Fàil had been carved, Inbhir Nis was a metaphor for the demise of a people, with its seven magnificent stone towers—one for each of the seven conquered Pecht nations.

And yet, it hadn’t begun as a monument to destruction. There, at the mouth of the River Ness, the first three towers had been raised by King David’s own sire, Malcom mac Dhonnchaidh, soon after burning Macbeth’s caisteal to the ground. Later, Padruig Caimbeul raised it from three to seven, and began construction of an eighth tower, which was never completed. Sorcha suspected this eighth tower was meant to represent the fall of Dubhtolargg. And now, since Padruig had never succeeded in quashing the last remaining Pecht tribe, the tower lay in ruins, an unsightly symbol of hubris that she and Caden had yet to clean up. But, how ironic it was that the youngest of the Guardians was now the chatelaine of a caisteal meant to celebrate of the end of her tribe? Padruig had been so obsessed with their demise, and, in his outrage over their perseverance, he’d become possessed by demons.

And yet, it was all for naught.

Sorcha might have told him that his monument was flawed. The true Stone of Destiny was not made of the red sandstone, but more that dark rock, like the cliffs of Rònaigh. The impostor stone at Scone was a replica carved from the red stone found in the Northern Highlands, from Loch Ness to the north coast of Caithness. But, now, the stone was returned to the earth from whence it was cut, like a grain of black sand beneath the Am Monadh Ruadh.

Someday, she and Caden would clear the yard of its rubble, and build a fountain, like that fount that once graced the courtyard of Lilidbrugh. Until that city’s doom, Lilidbrugh had been the ancient seat of Fidach, the heart of Sorcha’s people, way back when their lands all bore the names of Cruithne’s sons—Cat, Fidach, Ce, Fotla, Circinn, Fortriu and Fib. Her own kinsmen were Fidach, until the day they stole the stone and fled into the Mounth, where they shed their affiliations. But, for all this, all Padruig could have truly known was that the dún Scoti were Pecht by blood. Everything else was a secret that would die with Sorcha’s people.

As for Sorcha, she had a life to live. She and Caden now had two daughters.

Barely one year after they were wed, she gave birth to a little girl. The following year—their first Yule together at Caisteal Inbhir Nis—she bore him another. And, now, she was pregnant yet again, and although she prayed for a son, she had an inkling it would be another daughter.

Nearly two months had passed since Caden had been summoned to Carlisle Castle.

As a show of unity, David’s barons and all his earls had accompanied him to Durham, where he’d met with Stephen's wife Matilda of Boulogne.

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