Page 43 of Long Live the King

“I dinna mean... nae harm would come tae ye.”

“So you duel with weapons and have drawn blood? You said, ‘to the death,’ have you killed someone?”

I gulped.

“More than one?” Her eyes went wide.

My brow drew down.

“Lochie, you’ve killed people, you fight to the death…? Have you been in jail?”

“Nae, I...”

“I’ve been in the military, and I’ve never killed anyone — am I in danger?”

“Nae, of course not, ye are not in danger. I would never cause ye harm.” I scowled, “Och nae, the conversation has gone verra far past…”

“Past what, letting me know that you’re dangerous?” I saw her fingers near her phone, she looked tae be itchin’ tae use it.

I leaned forward with m’elbows on my knees. “Och nae, Mistress Ash, tis not like that, I hae only fought when m’brother Magnus needed me tae protect him.”

“Magnus, the big guy — he needs you to fight? Why on earth would your brother need to fight? He’s a grown man with kids!”

I shifted in my seat, “He is not so much bigger, only by an inch, but… can we speak on somethin’ else?”

Her brow was drawn down. “I don’t know what else there is to talk about, and it’s late and?—”

“I dinna mean tae frighten ye?—”

“I’m not frightened, I just need to go to sleep.”

I nodded. “I hae kept ye up long past a regular hour, m’apologies, Mistress Ash — might I ask ye tae join me on the dinner we spoke of…?”

She stood. “I’m really tired. Maybe you could call me and we can plan it then.”

I stood up and knocked m’head against the ceiling. She said, “Oh! Are you okay?”

I was seein’ stars. “Och nae... aye, I am fine…” I rubbed my head. “I daena fit.”

“How are you going to get home?”

I rubbed the sore spot, stepping toward the door. “I will call m’brother or walk.”

“It’s raining out, you can wait on the porch, until?—”

“Nae, tis fine, I will call ye.” I opened the door and began walkin’ down the steps, whackin’ m’head against the ceilin’ with a loud thud.

She whispered, “Oh no, are you okay, Lochie? That sounded?—”

“Aye, I am fine.”

I went down the top flight and by the time I got half down the second the landlady’s voice came from the back room. “Is that you, Ash? You’re carrying on, like to wake the dead! How am I supposed to sleep with your wild ways at all hours?”

Ash’s voice called down, “I’m sorry, my guest is leaving?—”

The landlady grumbled, “You keep hooker’s hours.”

I opened the front door and stumbled outside, standing on the porch, taking deep breaths.

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