The Guardian by Diana Knightley

Thirty-eight - Kaitlyn

Ipulled myself to consciousness from deep depths to see Lady Mairead sitting beside me, on a bench, reading a book. I groaned and sat up, holding my head in my hands. “I supposed you’re fine, you’ve got a golden string, right?”

“Of course I do.” She flipped a page. “I wouldna travel without it.”

I watched her read, nonchalantly, while my body was wracked in pain and misery.

Once the pain began to subside, I asked, “What are you reading?”

“Poirot Investigates, by Agatha Christie, my favorite author.”

I looked around, we were on a bleak, parched, weed and dirt landscape. “Are we in California?” The sun was beating down on my wool-wrapped body and it felt like I was baking in an oven.

“Aye, Los Angeles.”

“Where are all the buildings? What is this place?” There was a round, familiar sort of structure farther down the hill.

“We are above the town. This below us is the Hollywood Bowl. It has excellent concerts.” She closed her book, and dropped it in her bag. “First we need tae go tae my hotel and get ye a change of clothes.”

We walked what felt like a mile or so... leaving the barren hillside for a bustling town. The streets were lined with buildings, many people moving about. I didn’t want to complain, but man, I was complaining inside. I was hot, thirsty, and everything ached. I trudged along beside my mother-in-law wondering if my senses had left me long ago.

We came to the intersection of Hollywood and Highland. It was a big wide street with rails running down the middle for streetcars, and so many old cars chugging up and down, weaving in and out. Terrible traffic and no discernible rules. People were walking everywhere on the sidewalks, but also crossing the street wherever, stepping into traffic and risking their lives. Beeping horns created a cacophony. The whole place looked like a wreck about to happen.

This whole idea was a wreck.

And it came to me, what if my mother-in-law was delivering me to Sir Padraig? What if she was trading me? Oh god. I stopped in my tracks on the corner of a bustling Hollywood and Highland in the year 1926 and felt a little like the heat and thirst might bring me to my knees.

Lady Mairead was about to step into the street when she turned tae see me. “What on earth is happening tae ye, Kaitlyn? Ye hae the pallor of a ghost!”

“Are you going to trade me to him? Are you going to... are you going to do something awful to me?”

“Why would ye think I would trade my son’s wife tae a madman?”

“I don’t like how you’re answering a question, a panicked question, with more questions.” I took a step back. “You have the only vessel — what have I done? What are you going to do to me?”

“Firstly, I do not appreciate yer tone. Secondly, I am nae tae trade ye tae the madman — what kind of person do ye think I am?”

“The kind of person who had me kidnapped in the eighteenth century.” A well-dressed man pushed between us, headed somewhere in a hurry. “The kind of person who put poisoned flowers on my bed. The kind of person who put that godforsaken gold band around my throat, and beat Magnus half to death. The kind of person who would sign away her granddaughter to that madman. So yeah, I want to know — are you about to trade me to the madman for the contract? What are you about to do?”

She huffed. “There is a logical explanation for every one of those things. The kidnapping was because ye were unruly and had broken yer contra— ye ken, I daena hae tae answer tae ye. I asked ye here tae keep Magnus and Isla alive, tae protect Isla and Archie. If ye daena want tae help, I will do it myself.”

“I want to help. But I also am not sure you have answered my question directly enough. I feel like you are the kind of person who finds permission in the in-between. Like I will tell you, ‘I do not want to be murdered,’ and you will say, ‘I will not murder you,’ but then someone will kidnap me and you will be all, ‘I dinna say I wouldna kidnap ye.’”

She laughed. “I suppose that does sound a bit like me.”

I said, “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you laugh before, maybe that one time.”

“When would that hae been, tis highly specific?”

“You laughed when I showed you the video when I scratched Braden’s face.”

“Well, twas the most humorous thing ye ever did.” She said, “I will not murder ye, or kidnap ye, or cause ye harm. I hae nae given up on the idea of my son being king. I daena accept that he has lost the kingdom, and I hae an idea tae get his kingdom restored, but I need yer help. I will not trade ye tae the madman.”

“Okay. Fine. Thank you. But I am trusting you, please don’t make me regret it.”

“Aye, ye hae been verra brave tae come with me, I winna break yer trust.”

“Okay, now, I am practically on fire, where’s the hotel?”

“Just across the street.” Three cars careened by, honking furiously. “If we daena survive the crossing tis nae my fault.”