PROLOGUE
BONELLE MACGREGOR // 1713
“Today I’m going to finally catch the prince’s eye,” Vaila preened, twirling so her skirt flared out at her ankles.
“As well you should, Vaila. That color is particularly resplendent on you.” I glanced up from where I was working on a spell for amplifying a flower’s song. I loved walking through the fields and catching notes of soft music drifting among the petals. I’d always wanted to hear a full song, yet as soon as I’d draw close enough to hear more clearly, the music would dance away on the wind. Focused, I crossed out adding the tears of a Fae into the spell. Too complicated. Plus, the Fae were tricky on a good day, and not likely to give up their tears easily.
“You might find a suitor too, if you’d look up from your books once in a while.” Vaila leaned forward, turning her head in the gilded mirror. Her golden hair was tied with red ribbons, the color matched perfectly at her lips, and her petal-pink dress was threaded through with the same crimson silk.
I wore a faded blue skirt, a simple white blouse, and had my auburn hair loosely braided back from my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked in the mirror. Why bother? My books didn’t care what I looked like.
“I have all the companionship I need.” I pointed to the stack of books next to me.
“But you’ll grow old alone.” Vaila added a gold chain around her neck.
“Again, not alone.” I waved the book in the air.
“You can’t talk to books.”
“That’s what I have you for.” I grinned at my best friend when she rolled her eyes at me. We were night and day different, yet our cottages were close, and we’d known each other since we could walk. It was this easy familiarity that made me finally put my book down and cross to tighten the knot of the sash at her waist. “But I’ll come with you today. The crowd will be bothersome, but I did hear there’s a traveler coming through with some exotic wares. Maybe he’ll have some new books for me.”
“Och, listen to yourself. Where did I go wrong with you?” Vaila grimaced.
“You didn’t. The prince is all yours, my friend. As are all the other men that clamor for your attention.”
“But why give them my attention when I could have the best of the best?” Vaila twirled once more in front of the mirror, lovely and lush, and I smiled. Vaila always got her way. Life seemed to smile on her in a manner that it didn’t with me, which suited me just fine. Vaila was fit for sunshine and celebrations, where I was one for soft mornings and quiet corners. “You know I’ve set my eye on the prince since I was just a wee lass. He's perfect in every way and marrying him will finally give my gran the peace she needs with her failing health. Do you remember the time the prince handed me a thistle when he walked through the town?”
“Aye, I do.”
“I swear he saw into my very soul. We’re meant for each other. I’m certain of it. I swear, if he chooses another, I’m not sure what I’ll do.” Vaila’s eyes darkened.
“I doubt he would.” I reached up to fix a strand of hair that had come loose. Vaila had a mean streak when it came to rejection. It was a sensitive spot for her, as her father had left her mum for another.
“The hair’s nice, no?” Vaila angled for another look in the mirror.
“And a gold crown at your brow will certainly make you the bonniest princess in all the land.”
“For now, flowers will have to do.” Vaila dropped a flower crown on her head, woven for the Beltane Festival, and then a second one on mine. I sighed as the petals drooped over my eyes and pushed the crown up to sit more comfortably, the scent of primrose and hawthorn teasing my nose.
So much for finishing my spell today.
Briarhaven hosted the Beltane Festival each year, as we were the largest and most prosperous of the villages in the region, and Prince Errol had finished building his castle here three years prior. He’d been away to battle, and this year’s festival was serving the dual purpose of not only welcoming the approach of summer, but also the prince home.
The sun had decided to gift us with her presence today, doing fierce battle with the clouds that threatened, soft spring light blanketing the verdant, green fields. Flowers were abundant, from the maypole decorated for dancing to crowns on people’s foreheads. Our horses wore blankets of flowers, feasting tables were covered in woven blooms, and streamers crisscrossed from tree to tree. The bale fires had been built, ready for the evening festivities, but already music played, and villagers danced.
Beltane was a time for joy and love, and we’d see many a handfasting later that day. A few men approached Vaila, and I faded backward into the crowd, knowing she was in her element and no longer needed me by her side. Instead, I headed for the shadowy grove of trees that hugged one side of the field, where an unusual wagon had parked in the shade. This must be the traveler.
Excitement thrilled across my skin, causing the little hairs at the back of my neck to stand up, and I picked up my pace. I wanted to be one of the first to greet this new arrival, just in case he had something unique for me to purchase.
“Good day, sir.” I bobbed my head lightly as I drew close. The wagon, though appearing to be of humble nature from afar, glittered and glimmered once close. What kind of magick had he used for the paint? In one manner, it looked a simple dark blue, yet when the branches shifted overhead, allowing a shaft of sunlight to spear through, the blue shimmered like the ocean under the light of a full moon. Looking up, I froze, when eyes the same shade of blue speared mine.
“Good day, miss. May I interest you in my wares?” The man was dirty in the way of men who have been on the road for ages, his face covered in dust, his nails caked with mud.
I couldn’t look away from his enchanting azure eyes, though. A thousand truths swirled there, magick and mystery and might, and my words were lost to the ether. They were beautiful.
“Perhaps a shiny bauble for a bonnie lass?” The man shifted, lifting a swath of velvet fabric to reveal a tray of gold jewelry. At that, I wrinkled my nose, my captivation broken once I looked away from his eyes.
“I’ve not one for baubles, no.” I pursed my lips, deliberately trying to avoid looking at him lest I do something stupid like ask him for the secrets of the universe. “But I do love books. Do you have stories from strange lands, sir? I’d love to expand my library.”
“Ah, an educated lass. Interesting. Not all are focused on scholarly pursuits.” The man turned and I risked glancing at him again as he dug into his wagon. Broad shoulders stretched beneath his shirt, and muscles rippled in his arms. Desire flashed through me, tugging at my core, and I swallowed as he turned and caught me looking.
His smile flashed, a lightning bolt on a stormy gray morning, and I shivered. How strange. I was not one to give men a second glance, if I were honest. ‘Twas an unexpected reaction to the stranger indeed.
“Books hold infinite worlds and many new companions.” I blinked as I realized I’d spoken, and his grin widened. My cheeks flushed.
“I feel much the same, witchling.” The soft burr of his voice rippled across my skin, awareness tugging me closer. “You may enjoy these.”
The traveler handed me three books, bound in leather, painted in the same beautiful blue as his wagon.
“I certainly can’t afford them,” I began, surprised at the quality of the bindings.
“A gift.”
“Ah, I’m not so green to the ways of the world to accept a gift from a strange traveler.” I laughed up at him. He must be Fae, I realized. To think I’d accept a gift with no agreement or monetary exchange was a level of foolish that even I didn’t ascribe to. “I do have coin.”
Digging in my pocket, I laid three silver coins in his hand, and jolted when a spark of energy shot up my arm. Looking up, I blushed once more as our eyes met.
“If you insist.” The man closed his hand over the coins, and when he opened it again, they had disappeared. Intriguing. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why did his mere presence excite me in such a vexing way?
I wanted to stay here all day and ask him a million questions, but the longer I lingered, the more desire swirled in my very depths. Nerves made me step back. Attraction was one kind of magick I was not well-versed in and preferred to leave to Vaila. Nodding once, I hugged the books to my chest.
“Thank you, kind sir. I’ll treasure these always.”
“I know that you will. They were meant for you.” Before I could ask more, voices of approaching customers sounded at my back, and I turned blindly, running home to store the books in a safe spot in my cottage. Though I ached to dive into the words, to pour over every story found in those delicate pages, I reluctantly tucked them away and returned to the festivities, having promised Vaila I would dance the maypole with her.
“There you are.” Vaila grabbed my arm, having snuck up on me while my thoughts were with the beautiful books hidden at home. “He’s here.”
“Who?” I went to turn, but Vaila shouldered me forward.
“Don’t look.” She hurried me toward the maypole where the dancers were lining up. “It’s the prince. And I’m told he’s going to invite one of us maidens to sit by his side at the head table tonight.”
“And that’s a good thing?” I asked, in all seriousness, but Vaila just rolled her eyes at me and dragged me to the maypole to take my ribbon. I couldn’t think of anything more boring than listening to a high lord ramble on about his greatness for hours over a meal when I could be hidden away with a bowl of soup and my stories. But I hoped, for Vaila’s sake, that she was asked to join the prince. She beamed at me, ribbons of flowers dripping in the air between us, and I smiled back, genuinely excited for her. Picture-perfect, in her pretty pink dress, she was a flower waiting to be plucked on a brisk spring morning.
The drums struck up, the piper stepping close, and I lifted my head as a breeze danced across my cheeks, brushing the hairs at the back of my neck. Awareness prickled, needling me in the shoulders, and I slanted a glance over my shoulder to see the traveler standing, arms crossed, his head bent in conversation with another man.
The prince.
He wore a simple gold circlet in his hair and a rich red tunic, honey-blond tresses rippling in the breeze. His icy-blue eyes stayed on us, even though he bent his ear to the traveler.
What secrets did the dusty traveler share that were worthy of an audience with the prince?
“Go,” a woman behind me hissed, and I snapped back to reality, the other dancers having started their steps. Rushing forward, I dropped into formation, allowing the deep thump of the drums to propel my steps forward. Shaking off the uneasy feeling at my shoulders, I fell into the dance, allowing the music to consume me as we circled the pole, winding ribbons of flowers intricately in dance. Petals drifted among the soft shafts of sun spearing through the murky clouds, and Vaila’s smile caught me from the other side of the circle. Tossing my head back, I laughed, loving to dance almost as much as I did books, and I threw myself into the joy of one of my favorite parts of the festival.
And still, as I swirled past the prince and the traveler, I couldn’t help but glance up to see matching sets of glacial-blue eyes tracking me. Awareness slammed into me.
The traveler and the prince were related.
Before I could ponder more deeply why a relative of the prince would be covered in dirt and hidden on the side of the festival, the dance came to an end when the prince stepped forward, clapping his hands. We fell silent, clustered together around the pole, ribbons still in our hands.
“This is it,” Vaila hissed at my ear.
“Why did he stop the dance before we were finished?” Annoyed, I glared at Vaila. This was a time-honored tradition, one which drew me away from my solitude to actually socialize, and he hadn’t even let us finish it.
“Because he was so taken with our beauty that he’s going to choose his maiden for dinner tonight—maybe even a wife.” Vaila’s nails dug into my arm, and I winced, but did my best to feel excited for her. I couldn’t imagine handfasting a man that I’d met just that day, and yet that was all Vaila yearned for. Trying to be supportive, I leaned closer to her.
“He’s very handsome.” If you’re into the domineering type.
“My lovely gentlewomen …” The prince swooped his hands out in front of him, a smile at his lips. “I must apologize for interrupting your beautiful dance, but I was so overcome with desire for one of your fair ladies, that I quite simply had to claim her as my companion for the evening.”
My shoulders tightened at his words. What did he mean by companion? Beside me, Vaila let out a soft shiver of a laugh, excitement making her tremble.
My magick rippled across my skin, the high levels of emotion threading the air around us bringing it to the surface, and I shifted on my feet. At the age of five and twenty, our magick bloomed, but prior to that, the first tendrils unfurled in us, hinting at what was to come. I welcomed, no, ached, for its arrival, as I had written books upon books of spells I was dying to try. I sensed I could do great good for my people, once my magick flowered.
The prince strode forward, until he stood in front of us, and Vaila gasped, tossing her head back, chin held high.
“My enchanting mistress, will you join me this evening?” The prince’s hand reached forward.
“Why, of course–”
Vaila’s words dropped away as the prince’s hand stopped just below my breastbone, waiting for me to take it. I stared down at the hand, where a thick gold ring with an intricate insignia was nestled at the base of his index finger. His hands were clean, free of dirt from travels, and I struggled for a breath as Vaila gasped beside me.
“No.” It was soft, a simple word ripped away on the spring breeze, but I caught it, my heart twisting at Vaila’s distress. Once more, my magick heated beneath my skin, as though imploring me to release it, yet I was stuck, bound by the rules, unable to yet tap into the great well of power that lay within me.
Unlike Vaila, who’d stepped into her magick a year prior.
Time slowed.
Lifting my head, I ignored royal protocol and turned toward my best friend, now my greatest threat. Because she’d been denied. Already, the words were at Vaila’s lips, her face twisted in rage, dark magick seeping from her skin.
“By thorn and thistle, by curse and bane,
Your magick’s strength shall wax and wane,
Misfortune shall haunt each town you claim,
Bringing ruin, grief, and endless blame.”
The curse fell upon me, as though I’d walked into sticky cobweb, and I floundered backward, my hands raised as though I could stop the blood magick that poured from Vaila’s broken heart.
“Seize her,” the prince cried, for magick was never to be used to harm. In doing so, Vaila not only cursed me, but herself, as magick would return threefold on those who hurt another.
Why, Vaila? I did you no harm.
Shadows fell, the murky clouds having turned murderous, and a shriek split the sky.
My blood ran cold.
“You must leave.”
The villagers screamed as another shriek carried on the now-frigid wind, scrambling like ants at the first drop of rain. A hand yanked me backward, away from where Vaila’s arms were being tied behind her, her eyes still fixated on me as she repeated the curse for the third and final time. My heart hammered in my chest, my emotions caught at my throat.
Betrayed.
My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled, almost going down to my knees, but the arm looped through mine was too strong. Dragging me into the shadow of the trees, I was unceremoniously dumped on the ground, and I went to my knees, my fingers clutching the damp moss that coated the forest floor. Tears welled, and I blinked them back, my thoughts whirling as I gasped for air.
“The emberwolves approach. You must leave.”
At that, I sprang to my feet, fear rippling through me.
“She called an emberwolf?” I gasped. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes finally landed on the man who’d dragged me to the forest. Not just a guard, oh no, but the traveler himself. The very one I’d assumed was but a simple man, no more than an exotic visitor making his way among the spring festivals.
“Her curse did. Any town in which you stay, harm will befall.”
I gaped up at him, before turning to look out at the festival grounds where the people had scattered, fallen flowers strewn across the grass in their wake. The shadow of an emberwolf drifted across the field, and my blood ran cold.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered.
“If you stay, the village will perish.” The traveler seized me by my shoulders, shaking me so hard that my teeth caught, biting down on my tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
“But … can’t you help me?” The words were a plea as tears spilled over.
“I can save the village, or I can save you. What would you have me choose?” His eyes, the ones that had so transfixed me previously, had iced over.
“Who are you?” It was an inane question at an impossible time, but still I had to know the name of the man who was banning me to exile forever.
“Eoin Douglas. First Knight of the Iron Thistle Order, protector of Briarhaven.”
“I’m part of Briarhaven,” I protested, as he nudged me backward, away from my home, from the only life I’d known. “Protect me. Please.”
He stilled, his eyes darting between the field and me, but when another shriek rattled the branches canopying above us, he decided.
I knew before he spoke.
“Run, MacGregor. Take your curse with you and run.”
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