The Guardian by Diana Knightley

Fifty-one - Kaitlyn

Imoved off to a clearing that had trees bent, broken, and uprooted, fallen to the ground. The destruction of the woods looked fresh as if it had been destroyed by a recent storm. From my view I could see Kilchurn, my home until just a few days ago. The castle, now with a destroyed roof and one wall crumbling, looking more like the ruin it would someday become, instead of the home I had loved — and had also grown so tired of.

I wondered if my things were gone? I was wearing my jewelry, but had anything else been retrieved from my rooms?

Or was it all left, to disintegrate into the ground around the castle, beaten down by time?

I looked over my shoulder at Fraoch, also left, the last guard of the hoard of vessels. His back rounded as he sat on the rock, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a wince in his eyes, he had been trying to hide it but I had seen it clearly. He was injured and in pain.

There was something very melancholy and desolate about the way he looked and I wished I was better at convincing people to go to the freaking doctor.

I waved and he waved back.

I twisted the vessel to go not a reasonable amount of far but a whole lot of too far. Right to the kingdom of Riaghalbane, right to the rooftop where the king was allowed to jump in and out, last time I had been there it had been a lost cause.

This was definitely a leap of faith.

What or who would meet me once I was there?