Page 12 of A Little Highland Magic

Chapter Four

Aria had returned to her chambers around two in the morning after four men had come to relieve her and Graeme of their duty. Now she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep eluded her. Her thoughts kept returning to the two Fairy Flags. One could stay at Dunvegan while she took the other to Fairyland. She could use it to barter with the Fairy King for Keiran, her mother, and half-sister’s release. The king would never part with his favourite human for anything less than a magical flag.

Aria considered her options. Would she politely ask the fairy king to release the prisoners, though Keiran most certainly was not treated as such? Or would he make her beg, promise things she did not want to give—other than the flag—to humiliate her more than the fairies already had?

When her thoughts would not abate, she gave up trying to sleep and instead dressed and went to the lists to relieve her pent-up tension with her sword.

Faint morning light slipped through the clouds above, painting the ground in dappled pinkish blue. Forcing her thoughts to clear, she drew her sword and began her mock battle with an imaginary partner. The moment her hand folded around the hilt, all thoughts of negotiating with the fairy king vanished and a sense of peace came over her. It was a feeling she had never experienced until she had come to live amongst the MacLeods. They accepted her for who she was.

Aria tensed at the thought. At least they did in this moment. They blamed their father for their mother’s death. And in part that was true. But she was also partially responsible because she kept pushing her mother to bring her to the human realm and to the MacLeods. Had she stayed in Fairyland, Lady Janet might still be alive.

The silence that hovered over the lists was suddenly broken by heavy footfalls. Her senses alert and her sword held before her, Aria spun around to see the same men who had attacked her last night, coming towards her along with four other men. Their swords were sheathed but their features were not entirely friendly.

Aria raised her chin as they came closer. In her coolest voice she asked, “What do you want?”

The older man she had knocked to the ground last night looked sheepish. “We came to apologise. You had every right to put us in our places when we intruded where we did not belong.”

Aria stared at the men. Was this a new ploy for her to let her guard down? Or were they serious? “This is very unexpected. I do not know what to say,” she replied honestly.

The older man smiled. “We might not be able to best her in battle, but we’ve rendered the mighty warrioress speechless, men.”

Aria frowned as she searched the faces before her. “I am trying to decide if you are sincere.”

“We are,” the older man replied with a look of contrition. “We also come to ask a favour.”

Aria tensed. “What might that be?”

“Teach us something of how you were able to take on men twice your size and strength, and win.”

With her lips pressed together, Aria considered the request. The male fairies had asked her the same question many times. Yet each time she showed them her technique, they mocked her because even with her knowledge they had not been able to best her. What they all—humans and fairies—didn’t realise was that she had something to fight for, while they only wanted to win. A little fairy magic also gave her an edge in the human realm. Would the MacDonalds ridicule her as the fairies did? Aria released a breath. She wouldn’t know until she tried. “Come into the lists and I will show you a few techniques.”

Inside the lists, the men gathered around. Looks of eagerness showed on their faces. Perhaps they were being truthful in their quest for knowledge. “For men, battling is all about strength and power. But have you ever considered pausing to think about your body positioning?” Aria pointed to the youngest man amongst them. “What is your name?”

“Harold,” he said, stepping forward.

“Harold, draw your weapon and let’s battle.”

A cocky smile pulled up his lips. “Prepare to be defeated.” He charged forward just as she expected, all brute strength and eagerness.

“We shall see,” she replied, stepping sideways, shifting her weight to her right foot, avoiding his blow. He sailed past her and nearly stumbled. It took him a moment to collect himself, but by that time, Aria had turned and swept the side of her sword at his feet, sending him onto his back on the ground.

After a shocked moment he regained his feet. “How did you do that? I am considered one of our better warriors.” The young man’s voice was laden with surprise.

Keeping her sword before her, Aria replied, “You have enthusiasm but no form. The moment you charged at me, you transferred all your strength to your feet and not your arms. That was how to break through a line when men fought in columns, but fighting techniques are different one-on-one. Have you ever paused and let the enemy come to you? To hold your strength and use it for the attack?”

“Nay,” Harold acknowledged. “Show me how.”

She sheathed her sword. “All of you, sheath your weapons and let us focus on your feet for a moment.” When they did as she directed, Aria continued. “Close your eyes and feel the ground beneath your feet. We, Scots, are people of the earth. Use that to focus your thoughts and fuel your spirit.”

“But you are part fairy,” one of the men in the group said.

“And I am also part human. Both sides of me are still rooted in the earth around us.” At the suggested insult, Aria held her temper and opened her eyes. She had learned long ago that anger would never serve her well during battle—whether a training exercise or true conflict. “Now balance your weight on the balls of your feet and draw your swords without opening your eyes.”

The men did as she instructed. Warm satisfaction pooled in Aria’s chest. Perhaps these men truly were here to learn. “Now raise your sword and feel how your feet must adjust to the movement, keeping your body connected to the ground beneath you. Lower your sword and do the same.” She talked them through a training routine she had developed. Pleased with how well they were doing, when she asked them to open their eyes, they did so with smiles on their faces.

“Is it as simple as that? To know how to balance to defeat the enemy—or you?” Harold asked.

Aria drew her sword, knowing it was not that easy to defeat her, but it would give the men a certain advantage in their coming battles with others. With the English as a threat to all of Scotland, it was better that these warriors be better prepared for the conflicts to come. “Would you like to find out?”