Chapter 61

The great hall was already bursting with people as Alex and I made our way through the double doors. Wafts of ale, wine, sweat, and fire produced a heady blend of smells that whirled in the air, mingling with the thrill of the attendees. Fealty, the final and most important ceremony of the Gathering had arrived.

We pushed our way through the crowd. Ducking under elbows and dodging the splash of liquid from unsteady hands holding aloft overfilled cups. Partygoers stopped us and offered us sloppy congratulations on our wedding. Men pinched our cheeks and blessed us with a large brood of boys. We waved off their good wishes. Women hugged us, lamenting that we would soon be gone from Ellesmure.

Emerging from the crowd, at last, Alex and I arrived at the foot of the dais in the middle of the hall. The same stage I had mounted for my Standing and wedding. My brothers were there, standing with stiff posture to the left of Father, who sat on the Laird's seat. Mother, perched dutifully behind his right shoulder. Earlier, she had informed me that I would stand alone in a place of honor set aside just for me as thanks for my service to the island during the war.

Noting my arrival, Mother crossed the stage. "There you are! What took you so long?"

I looked over my shoulder at the crowd and shrugged. "Playing the role of the willful daughter brought to heel makes me less than cooperative."

Alex snickered and rubbed my lower back, "There were many who wanted to celebrate our marriage."

In front of so many people, Mother couldn't roll her eyes or berate me. Not if she was about to beg for their fidelity. She could not stop herself from balking; however, when she noticed my outfit. "What in the world are you wearing?"

I had spent yesterday tied up in Mother's idea of a proper wedding dress. A suffocating contraption of lace and so many bows that even Innis found it distasteful. For Fealty, for my last appearance as a MacLeod, I had returned to my usual attire of pants, boots, and vest.

"You could have worn the dresses I ordered for you," Mother said, looking at me with distaste.

I smiled at her and wiggled my left hand in her face. The gold band on my middle finger was bright in the light. "You no longer own me," I sing-songed. "I'm Leslie property, now."

Her sour frown was worth my disgust at the remark. Despite working on the Charter until well past lunch today, there still was no signed document. Ellesmure wasn't mine. Alex legally owned me, and I was about to lose my home. I imagined a rod of steel replacing my spine. I would not falter. I refused to look defeated. Everything I worked for was moments away from being ripped from me.

Mother pointed to a spot on the stage marked with a charcoal circle downstage of the Laird's seat. "Stand there and don't move. Don't fidget... just... behave yourself."

I smiled with all the sweetness I could muster. It wasn't much.

Alex laughed and pecked my cheek. "Good luck."

Climbing the stage, I watched as Calum, Innis, and Angus emerged from the crowd and joined Alex. A little drunk. Their eyes were glassy and wide. They applauded and cheered for me as I stood in my assigned spot. I was glad to have them close, to feel their support. Bess, Wallis, and Meredith sat on a nearby bench. Father looked regal but tired. Alert, but with sloping shoulders that exaggerated the pallid color of his face.

Alan McNeill had told me a Gathering was the worst thing for a man as ill as my father. The strain of so many guests would wear away any progress that was made in his healing. They had been working together the past few weeks, and Father did boast longer periods of lucidity. But progress was hard-won and undone after every night of ruckus. Alan stood by the dais, his eyes fixed on my father, assessing every breath, every blink. I knew he would intervene the moment the ceremony became too much.

Father wore an ancient diadem of burnished gold around his forehead. Passed down from Laird to Laird in the MacLeod line. Knowing now that its first wearers were women, I could see how it was crafted for a more feminine brow. The carvings of wildflowers and wheat, the thinness of the band, the tasteful ornamentation. The crown sang to me and I longed to snatch it off my father's head and ram it down onto mine.

Considering the scale of miserable occurrences in my life, from starvation and poverty to being born, losing Ellesmure ranked as the worst. I wanted to open my mouth and scream, wailing until everyone begged me to stop, their ears bleeding. This was my home! My castle! My kingdom!

The clock chimed midnight, and the crowd came to a quiet murmur. Fealty was always sworn at this hour, and now the ceremony would begin. Trumpets sounded, the room settled to near-silence. Conversations stopped mid-whisper, and all eyes turned toward the stage.

The target of their gazes seemed off. I couldn't tell if it was a trick of the low light or my own delusions of grandeur, but it seemed to me as if everyone was staring at me and not my father.

"Kind and humble people of Ellesmure," Father stood, addressing the crowd with his powerful voice. He stepped forward, held his arms out wide, welcoming them all into his embrace. "Though the war ended long ago, for the men of this land, it only ended recently. It is with happiness that we find ourselves returned home. Now, you have arrived here, at the seat of your Laird. Not only to celebrate our homecoming and glorious campaign but to enjoy the festivities of my daughter's wedding!"

There was a round of polite praise. I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to one foot.

"We mourn the loss of those who did not come home. A Laird never wants to ask for the lives of his people, it is with a heavy heart he does so. For your sacrifices, I thank you."

I turned my head and scowled at those words. Inappropriate though my response was, I found father's words abhorrent.

"I wish to commemorate this time, this Gathering, with our last rite. Heads of households and landowners, it honors the MacLeod family to receive your oaths of loyalty and service."

I ducked my head, bracing myself for the first man to step forward and forever separate me from the only role in life that held for me the sense of destiny.

"You will all notice my daughter, Eilean, beside me. She has been the steward of you and your kin. She managed the running of this estate during my long absence. I would be remiss to not share my thanks for her service."

The applause this time was robust and cheerful. Pockets of people hooted and hollered. Whistles and cheers bounced around the hall. I bowed to them, biting my lip to keep from crying. My heart felt like a hollow cave as the loss became real. When I lifted my head, I saw the governing heads of the Delegation slip through the hall's double doors. They looked arrogant and satisfied. Their faces were a mixture of glee and delight. I squinted at them, trying to read their expressions. A brash, coltish Laird from the North noticed my stare and winked.

Father returned to the Laird's seat and settled into his perch. There was a second blasting of trumpets. Men in the crowd shuffled toward the center of the room, passing their goblets and hats over to their wives. Lining up, they prepared to bend the knee.

Mother commanded me with a delicate flutter of voice, "You may stand down now, Eilean. Join your friends in the crowd if you wish to watch."

Stunned by her humiliation, which I so seldom saw coming, I dragged myself toward the steps. My cheeks blazed, and I fisted my hands at my side. She had nerve, pushing me to the side like that, in front of those that cheered for me.

Ronald McEverett, a farmer from the midlands, was first in line. He owned some of the largest tracts of land on Ellesmure. During the war, his wife, Irene, had transformed them from somewhat successful potato fields to acres rich with golden wheat. The terrain and soil had been all wrong for potatoes, she informed me once. She produced enough flour to keep half of Ellesmure provided with more bread than they knew how to consume. Before the army's return, she had opened a brewery to offset excess harvest. Ronald offered a shallow bow to my father.

As my foot hit the first step on my ignoble descent, Ronald McEverett turned toward me and lifted his hands to halt me. His face was stricken with such impenitence that I froze. Standing in limbo between the stage and the crowd. With utter disbelief, I watched as he knelt to the ground with his hand over his heart. On bended knees, he gazed up at me.

"Lady Eilean," he said, ducking his chin tight to his chest. "I understand it is because of you my wife brought success and profit to my farm. You encouraged her to change crops when she suspected the soil would yield better wheat. You sent laborers to ensure she had hands enough to work the field and educate her on proper technique. I left for the war a successful man, but I returned to a wife richer than a king. I owe you my deepest gratitude and everlasting loyalty."

Cold sweat prickled across my back. My breathing came fast and shallow. I looked down at Ronald's bent head in bewilderment. Looking over my shoulder, I studied my parents. Mother looked livid. Father's expression was unreadable. My brothers stood in awe, their mouths open.

Dragging my attention back to Ronald, I met his stare head-on. No longer bowing his head, his eyes piercing. "I promise you, Lady Eilean, that I will be a true and faithful subject. My word, my honor, my sword, my gold, and my life are at your command."

Without sparing a moment to think of the implications, I nodded, accepting his pledge. Ronald stood, and I offered him my hand. He kissed my knuckles and retreated into the crowd. A crowd I had forgotten was there, so silent and captive was their attention. Looking at their faces, I saw none of my astonishment mirrored back at me. Everyone looked as if Ronald's vow was unsurprising and expected.

Assuming it was a one-time fluke, I moved to step off the dais completely. Calum placed himself in my path. He beamed at me with pride. Performing the same routine as Ronald, he bowed to my father before kneeling before me.

"Calum," I said through a constricted throat. "You can't —"

"My most lovey, dear, and kind lady," he said, bowing low, his nose almost scraping the stone floor. "It is atypical, I know, for one Laird to pledge fealty to another, but as I have already sworn an oath to you, I doubt you will mind."

My mouth pulled to the side with my amusement.

"You sheltered me and nursed me. You provided food and comfort and lodging for men of the Northern Isles when you had nothing to spare. You commanded me and tasked me with building you a new world. You pushed me to reconsider the traditions I accepted without questioning. I know of no one as upstanding, noble, or kind as you. Your heart is pure, dear Eilean. As a McKerran of the Northern Isles, as Laird Grant of Istimere, I pledge myself, my house, and my friendship to you for all time."

Undone by his melodrama, I gave him the words he had always wished to hear, "Dear sir, I am happy to accept your proposal."

Calum's head fell back and his laugh boomed. His body shook with amusement. I walked toward him and helped him to his feet, holding him as he found balance on his wooden leg.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I don't think you're done yet," he nodded at the line forming behind me.

Man after man approached the dais, bowed to my father, and fell to their knees before me.

"Because of you, my children can read. No one in my family has ever had an education, now my daughter wants to go to school on the Mainland."

"Thanks to your gifts of money and carpenters, my wife could rebuild our house after the fire."

"My mother, Maggie, speaks so highly of you, lady. You nursed her back to health when our village was overrun with white fever."

"You gave my wife a small plot of land so she could provide for my family while I was away. I can only repay you by offering my allegiance."

"Miss, er, I guess, Ma'am, it has been a blessing to work alongside you for the past six years. I hope our partnership can continue long into the future. Let me pledge myself to you."

On and on and on the appeals came. I nodded and thanked every man who knelt before me. I accepted their vows and shared in their smiles and tears. Heard their stories of hardships and success.

Twenty men swore Fealty to me before Mother lost her composure.

"They can't do this!" she shouted, standing up from her throne and stomping her foot.

Calum cleared his throat, "Yes, they can."

Mother scoffed. "By what authority?"

The nine other governing heads of the Delegation had made their way to the front of the hall. They stepped forward now. One held a thick stack of parchment tied together with twine and sealed with a red wax rosette.

"Her own, for one," Alex said, gripping Calum's shoulder. They shared twin smirks of satisfaction. "Mine, if she needs it, but I doubt she wants it."

"Pass," I said, allowing the moment to make me cocky.

"Thought so," Alex confirmed with a nod of his head. "But also, the authority has been granted by the new Charter."

"Just finished! We only need Eilean's signature to make it official." Calum grinned, his black eyes flashing with mischief.

"Theatrics!" I growled under my breath, annoyed yet delighted.

"What, women can be Laird's now?" Mother asked with all the warmth of a dead fish. "What will she do? Take her twenty pledged men and start a civil war on Ellesmure?"

A wizened old Laird from the South stepped forward. "No." His brief answer caused Mother's face to fall. "There are special provisions regarding Ellesmure laid out in this Charter. Outlined, negotiated for, and given to your daughter."

My heart stopped. All the air in my body left my mouth in a sharp whoosh. In my presence, I had heard no further argument on my demand since the morning of The Standing. I assumed they had dropped the matter. But now... I gripped Alex's forearm to steady myself.

"We, the Delegation, because of concerns over the fitness of Malcolm MacLeod's ability to rule, grant Ellesmure independence from the Confederation of Islands on the stipulation that Lady Eilean MacLeod is named Laird and Steward."

"Queen, if you will," Alex suggested with profound lightness.

Reactions to this proclamation buzzed through the crowd.

I had done it. Really done it.

The Laird that had winked at me from the back of the hall handed me a pen. He held an inkpot at the ready in his hand.

"And what of my sons?" Mother asked, pointing to where my brothers stood off to the side. "Eilean gets to usurp their inheritance?"

John stepped forward, "We... uh... we quit." He looked at Ian for confirmation.

Ian snorted and shook his head. "We offer no contest against Eilean, Mama. We have all willingly abdicated our place in the MacLeod line. Let the rightful ruler take her place."

Turning to my mother, I tried to reason with her. "I have no thoughts of removing you from your home. You, Father, my brothers; you are all welcome here. But we must be realistic, Father cannot rule. My brothers do not want to. Ellesmure cannot be without a rudder."

Mother folded her arms across her chest, looking away from me like a pouting child.

"Father?" I asked, my voice thin and childlike. If I was seeking guidance or permission, I didn't know. His silence worried me. I braced myself for the worst. His disapproval, his anger, his outrage. There was nothing, just a void.

Father only stared out across the crowd. Face slack, eyes blank. Gone, lost to the prison of his mind. It was demonstration enough to make even Mother's shoulders droop. Alan rushed the stage and took Father's pulse.

I closed my eyes and nodded, pushing back my sadness at a man so wrecked. I turned back to the Delegation, the page held open waiting for my signature.

"And all the other awful stuff? Ownership clauses, The Standing..." I quizzed Calum.

"Gone. Welcome to your new world, my dear."

I found Innis, held her stare. "This is for you."

Tears ran down her cheeks and she dabbed an ineffective-looking lace hanky to her eyes.

I signed my name above Calum's, and with a flourish, became Laird of an independent nation. There was a pregnant pause, the impact of the moment imprinting itself on everyone in attendance. Then, the sounds of celebration deafened me. I laughed at the exuberance. Cried at my contentedness.

My brothers stepped off the stage and approached me. In a move that threatened to make me break down, they kneeled.

"Sister," Ian said, pushing up his glasses and looking severe, "We pledge our life and loyalty to you. Beg pardon for past grievances, and promise to be supportive, dependable allies throughout your reign."

"I never wanted to be a Laird anyway," Rupert grunted.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. They stood and I rushed forward to embrace them all. Cocooned by them, surrounded by their strength and bulk, a fierce feeling of love and devotion bloomed in my chest.

"I won't change a thing. Not your titles or land rights or anything." I promised, looking each of them in the eye.

"We know," Robert said, "But do we have to call you queen?" he asked, frowning.

"You do," I said pointedly.

"Let's not keep the Laird from her business," Walther said. He jerked his head and turned me by the shoulders.

I beheld the line of people — men and women — ready to swear Fealty. Every single person in the hall rallied behind me.

Alex escorted me to the top of the dais. I stood straight-backed and dignified. Prepared to assume the role I had chosen, the responsibility I had embraced. I waved the next petitioner forward.

And thus, my rule began.