“Back away,” he stammered.
Gripping Uald’s Gift, I advanced on him. Slashing, I cut his leg.
Duncan yelped. “Back away.”
“Coward,” I retorted, attacking again. This time, I disarmed him. He pulled a dagger from his belt and held it in front of him. The blade caught my attention; an odd blue glow seemed to surround the dagger. Duncan gripped the weapon and backed away.
I advanced on him. “User. Violator,” I said as I lunged forward again.
He tried to block with the dagger, but his move was awkward. I stabbed him in the arm.
“Who… Who are you? Your voice…” Duncan said.
“Don’t you remember? No. I’m sure you don’t. One girl in a hundred. And just how many innocent girls have you forced to ride your cock?” I said, and with an upward slice, I caught him between the legs.
Duncan let out a howling scream.
“Sorry. Does that hurt? I wonder if you ever stop to think of the hurt that nasty little member of yours caused that poor girl you met in the woods. Her or any of the girls like her.”
Duncan grabbed his wounded member and dropped to his knees. “G-girl? In the woods?”
“Tell me what you remember,” the raven hissed.
Duncan screamed in pain. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
“Tell me!”
“What I…remember?”
“Tell me,” the raven shrieked.
“I remember… I remember the rain.”
I kicked him over. His dagger tumbled from his hands. The weapon glimmered as it bounced away. I stared at it. There, lying in a bank of pristine snow, lay a silver dagger with a raven on the handle. Hands shaking, I picked up the dagger and turned over the blade. Just below the hilt, I found Uald’s smith mark. I gasped.
“Where did you get this?” I seethed.
“What?”
“Where did you get this?” I said, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his shirt.
“Malcolm. Malcolm gave it to me. A family heirloom.”
“This is the dagger of Boite.”
“What? I don’t know,” Duncan said then whimpered again, holding his bloody crotch.
I stared at the dagger then back at Duncan once more. “So, you remember the rain. The rain and what else?”
“What? MacDuff? MacDuff, where are you?”
“MacDuff is dead. The rain and what else?”
“The rain?”
“The rain and what else?” I screamed, shaking him hard.
“A farm girl,” he whimpered.
“But why did you think she was a farm girl? Because she was dirty? Now you are dirty. You dirty yourself with your own blood, and, for at least for a few minutes longer, you are a king. What did you do to that farm girl?”
“I… She was not a farm girl?”
“What did you do to that girl?”
Duncan wiped the blood from his mouth. The sound of the army was far behind us. “I took her.”
Setting on his chest, I gripped my father’s dagger tightly and leaned over Duncan.
“Rape, I think you mean. Can you say rape, Duncan?” I set the tip of the dagger on his throat.
His eyes bulged.
“Say it, you filthy bastard!”
“Rape,” he whispered.
“What did you do to me?” I asked.
He did not respond.
“Say it.”
His lips quivered.
I pressed the dagger in. Blood made a ring around his neck. “Say it.”
“I raped you.”
“You did what?”
“I raped you.”
“Raped who?”
“You. I raped you.”
“But who am I?”
He did not reply.
I pulled off my helmet and let it drop to the ground with a thud.
“Gruoch!”
“Your kin. Your own blood. Not a farm girl. Not a peasant girl. Not that it matters. I was a girl who did not want you. That should have been enough. Do you know what I have been waiting for all these years?”
He stared at me. “Gruoch?”
“I have been waiting and training for this moment, the moment when I extract my vengeance, and you live no more. Tell me why I have done this.”
“God, God, God,” Duncan whispered.
“God has nothing to do with this. Even the White Christ does not condone your sins. Why, Duncan? Tell me why this blade is on your throat. “
“Why?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because,” he said and then he stopped.
“Because?”
“Because I raped you. “
I bent low, looking him in the eyes. From inside my vest, I pulled out the coin pouch and held it for him to see. “For your trouble,” I said then threw it at his face.
His eyes opened wide. I lifted the dagger into the air and let it drop into his chest again and again. He screamed and screamed. With each stab, I pounded away years of pain and hate. I stabbed and stabbed at his body and loved the feel of it jerking beneath me. The dagger tore through chainmail and leather, burrowing into the flesh. Again and again, I stabbed him, Duncan’s blood spraying on me. Then I yanked away his tattered armor. I carved into his chest. From within, I plucked out his bloody heart.
I rose and held the heart above my head. Blood ran down my arms and covered me. “See me, Morrigu. See me, Scotia. See me, Andraste,” I yelled into the night. “See my vengeance. See me avenge my father’s death. Malcolm’s dreams die here. See me, Morrigu! I am avenged! I am avenged! I am avenged!” I squeezed the heart until all its blood had emptied onto me, and then I threw it onto Duncan’s corpse, his eyes frozen open, his mouth gaping.
I sneered at him. “The king is dead. Long live the queen.”
* * *
Coming Soon!
Highland Queen
Scotland, 1040.
The king is dead.
Long live the queen.
With Duncan defeated, Gruoch becomes Queen of Scotland. Now she must rule at Macbeth's side, a difficult prospect as the new King of Scots grows increasingly unstable. To keep her son, her love, and her country safe, Gruoch must call on the raven within.
Dive into the final installment of Gruoch's epic tale in Highland Queen, a Scottish Historical Fantasy, Book 4 in The Celtic Blood Series by New York Times bestselling author Melanie Karsak.
Coming soon!
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About the Author
Melanie Karsak is the author of The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, Steampunk Red Riding Hood, The Celtic Blood Series, andthe Steampunk Fairy Tales Series. A steampunk connoisseur, zombie whisperer, and heir to the iron throne, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.
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