“We can go home,” Niall said. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“We’ve come this far,” she said. “It would be discourteous to refuse the queen’s invitation—especially after I asked for it.”
They crossed the drawbridge and showed their summons to the men standing guard at the entrance between the first two round towers. After checking the seal on the letter, the guards waved them through.
Sìleas felt as if she couldn’t breathe inside the gatehouse with tons of stone above and on either side of her. As they passed through it, she saw that there was yet another set of massive round towers facing the interior of the castle. The pressure on her chest eased as they emerged into the light on the other side.
“This is where I waited yesterday,” Niall said. “It’s called the Outer Close.”
In front of them was a building made of shining pink stone that was so beautiful it took Sìleas’s breath away. The building was immense, yet graceful, with high windows and slender towers that appeared to be decorative rather than defensive. Carved figures of lions with crowns and a horned mythical creature she didn’t know were perched at intervals along the center line of its peaked roof.
A guard who had followed them pointed to an arched gate next to the building. “Go through there.”
Sìleas and Niall passed under the arch and entered the castle’s inner courtyard. The building with the decorative towers was to their right. A second large building made of the same shining stone stood opposite. Bordering the far side of the courtyard was a smaller building with stained-glass windows that must be a chapel. Servants, soldiers, and well-dressed courtiers hurried across the courtyard looking as though they knew where they were going.
“Which building do ye suppose the queen is in?” she whispered to Niall.
He shrugged and nodded toward the building with the decorative towers. “This one’s the biggest.”
When they approached the guards, the men looked Sìleas up and down as if she might be hiding a dirk beneath her skirts—which of course she was. Still, she was relieved to see that they were Highlanders.
“We’re looking for the queen,” Niall said.
“This is the Great Hall, which is only used for grand occasions.” The guard who spoke was a man of about forty, with muscular legs the size of tree trunks and laughter in his eyes. “But since the lass has such a lovely smile, I’ll let the two of ye have a wee peek.”
After glancing left and right, he opened the door and motioned them inside.
Sìleas found herself in a room that was perhaps three stories high, with five fireplaces, and a roof with heavy wooden beams that crossed to form angled arches.
“The babe James V was crowned in here not long ago,” the guard said. “ ’Tis the largest hall in all of Scotland—even larger than the one in Edinburgh Castle.”
The guard spoke with as much pride as if he’d built the hall himself.
“ ’Tis a grand sight, and I thank ye kindly for letting us see it,” Sìleas said. “But the queen is expecting us. Can ye tell us where we may find her?”
The guard opened the door and pointed across the courtyard. “She’s keeping court across the way, in what is called the King’s House.”
When Sìleas started to follow Niall out, the guard stopped her with a touch on her arm.
“Let me give ye a wee bit of advice, lass,” he said, leaning close enough for her to smell the onions on his breath. “Don’t go in there with just the lad. Wait and come back with your father and a few other men of your clan.”
“He’s my brother, and he’ll look out for me,” she said, managing a smile.
The King’s House was an impressive building, though it lacked the soaring elegance of the Great Hall. Well-dressed men and women moved along its covered wooden galleries, which served as outside corridors to the upper floors.
“We must keep our wits about us,” Niall said in her ear, as they crossed the courtyard. “If the queen is at all like her godforsaken brother, she’ll be crafty and willful.”
“That describes most of the men I know,” Sìleas said, “so I should be well prepared.”
“Watch out for the Earl of Angus, Archibald Douglas, as well.”
“The Douglas chieftain?” she asked. “Of what concern is he to us?”
“Last night while ye were washing up, I heard that the queen relies on him for advice.” Niall leaned closer. “In fact, they say she has taken the Douglas to her bed.”
Sìleas turned to stare at him. “But the king is hardly cold in his grave.”
“Aye, and she carries the dead king’s child,” Niall said in a low voice. “All the same, they say the queen is quite taken with the Douglas—and that the Douglas is quite taken with the notion of ruling Scotland.”