Book 1 > Spellbound Hearts
Chapter One–Freya
1265Dunvegan Castle
Isle of Skye, Scotland
My step-mama was an evil witch.
I had long suspected it with her deceitful ways and wicked intentions, but this night seemed to be proving mysuspicions to be true. I stole a glance at my da, disappointed not to see some sort of horror on his face. Was he really that blind? She even looked like a witch tonight, dressed in a long heavy cloak. It surprised me that a woman as scheming as she was believed the silly whispers that the spirits of the dead rose up on the night of Samhain to find new souls to snatch and take back to the netherworld. If that were true, which it most certainly was nae, it was ridiculous to think a cloak could protect her from evil spirits.
I brought my gaze back to her as she had finally ceased talking, and she arched her eyebrows at me, waiting, I knew, for my response to the unbelievable words she’d uttered. Berry stain covered her cheeks, nose, forehead and under her eyes. The tightly pulled hood of her cloak cast strange shadows on her sharp nose and red-stained skin. Had I met her on the stairwell, I would not have recognized her.
“I willnae wed him,” I finally replied to my step-mama’s ludicrous words. But my voice wasless steady than I’d intended. My da was my protector and yet when I looked to him for assurance, he would not meet my gaze. His avoidance sucked the air from my lungs and left burgeoning panic in its place.
“Ye will,” Yennifer replied, shoving her hood back and sitting on the edge of my da’s desk. She moved like a ghoul. The thought was uncharitable, but true, nonetheless. She reached out and took my da’s hand, causing the heavy material of her cloak to slide up her arm and reveal her skeletal frame. The woman never ate at supper. She was too busy complaining about my sister or me to put food in her mouth. I frowned as she squeezed my da’s hand.
It took me a moment of swallowing past the large lump that had lodged in my throat before I could speak. “Da?”
His eyes met mine, finally. I started to release my pent-up breath, but it got stuck again in my chest as remorse darkened his gaze. Sweat instantly dampened my underarms and palms. Nay. Nay. Nay. This couldnae be happening. Da wouldnae allow this. What hadYennifer said? How had she convinced him to agree to this?
He began to speak, but I didn’t hear him. My thoughts raced, and I tugged on the high bodice of my gown. I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe? It was winter, but the heat in the solar was oppressive. A hard yank loosened my bodice enough for me to gulp in some air. Da would not betray me. I knew this to my core. He was my protector. He always had been. This was the man who had given a vow on Mama’s deathbed to allow me and my newly born sister to choose our husbands when the time came. This was the da who had come immediately to banish the nightmares that tortured me when my mama was no longer living to do so. He was the man who had allowed me to sit on his lap as he held council meetings to plot intricate battle maneuvers even after he wed Yennifer and she had insisted women had no place in council meetings.
I needed to remind him. Speak to him in private. Make him see Yennifer was plotting, always plotting to gain power for the clan that Branwould one day rule when Da died. I shuddered at the thought of my stepbrother ruling us MacLeods. His core was rotten, though Yennifer somehow managed to persuade Da otherwise.
“Freya.” Da’s gentle tone brought my attention fully back to the moment. His gaze was fastened to mine, still full of remorse. It twisted my insides into knots. “Did ye hear me, lass?”
My words wedged in my throat, so I shook my head as I struggled to push them out. “Might I speak to ye alone?”
“Nay,” came Yennifer’s sharp reply. “Yer da has already explained things to ye.”
I glared at her. “What did ye say to convince him of this?”
“Freya,” my da said. My name was a sigh from his lips that made me feel suddenly a burden to him.
The room began to spin, so I squeezed my eyes shut until the movement ceased. When I opened them again, his hand was resting on Yennifer’s leg. Unblinking, I stared at that hand, thinking upon what Vanora’s and my old nursemaid used to say. Lust and power were the rulers of all men.There was my answer. Yennifer has used desire to persuade my da that this wedding was somehow for the best. I just needed to make him see otherwise. To remind him of his given vows. “Ye promised Mama on her deathbed that Vanora and I could choose our husbands, as she chose ye.”
The wind whistled outside, filling the silence for a moment. Da removed his hand from Yennifer’s leg and rested his palm flat upon his desk. Then he started drumming his fingers. I’d watched him do this many times when he was considering what to say. “Ye do nae need to remind me of my vow to yer mama. But it was given in more certain times, lass. I could nae have anticipated how things would change.” His words were like a hand squeezing my throat, cutting off my air once more. He exhaled a long breath and then said, “Ye love our clan?”
He was leading me somewhere. Likely to a conclusion I would not care for. I’d seen him do it to grown men, to powerful lairds his equal. Yet I had no choice but to answer or stand like a petulant child. I was no child, so I nodded.
“I know ye would do anything to protect our clan. Our way of life.”
I stared at the fire crackling in the grate. I did not want to answer, yet not answering would get me nowhere. “Aye.” I shoved the word out between my clenched teeth. This is how it went. Da asked a series of questions that somehow led whoever was attempting to defy him to acquiesce to his wishes. I was no fool. I would not walk merrily down this path that led to my sacrificing myself in marriage to a man who thought himself my superior. Who believed my sole purpose was to serve him in pleasure and providing heirs. Who would forever dismiss any counsel I might offer, opinion I might have as inconsequential, unknowledgeable.“
Do ye recall why we are warring with Clan MacDonald for control of the channel?”
“Of course,” I said. “Whoever controls the channel has all the power in the Highlands because they can leverage the route for trade and military advantage.” I felt a twinge of pleasure at my display of political knowledge. See Da? I wanted to say. Ye made the right choice allowing me to sit in the counsel and observe, no matter what Yennifer thinks. Perhaps if I showed him more of my knowledge, more of how I could serve the family other than as a sacrifice at the wedding altar? “That channel is the gateway between the Isle of Skye, Inner Hebrides, and the north-west Highlands.” I knew it wasn’t normal for a lass to be educated on the intricacies of power struggles between clans, so I wanted Da to see he had made the right choice in educating me.
The slow, self-satisfied smile that turned up Yennifer’s berry blackened lips made me stiffen. I’d made a tactical error. Somehow, I’d walked into the trap that Yennifer had set for me. I tried to think through what I’d said, but the past felt jagged, disjointed, a series of flawed images. She was watching us, watching him, and her thin lips curled higher in anticipation.
“Colin MacDonald raided Eilean Donnan a sennight ago, drove yer stepbrother’s troops and his warriors—our men—out. He was let into the castle by MacDonald’s treacherous bitch sister. MacDonald now has control of the stronghold.”
I frowned. “I thought when King Alexander demanded the handfasting between Bran and Laird MacDonald’s sister he gave equal control of the channel to both our clans.”
“He did,” Da said. “But the MacDonald is greedy. He does nae want to share control. He wants his clan to be all powerful.”
“So he has attacked Eilean Donnan?”
“Aye, and he killed many of our warriors and drove out the rest.”
“That means he broke the treaty between our clans!” I grimaced that my voice had risen despite my effort to control any reaction.
Da nodded, and Yennifer stared at me, her lips pressed into a smirk.
I tried to grasp at the strings of my control, but they were breaking one by one. I inhaled a calming breath, to consider, think, go forward with care, and yet words slipped from between my lips. “Then King Alexander will send troops to aid us and take the stronghold back. He said so!”
“The king has changed his mind, as kings do.” Her smug tone made me want to throttle her.
I glanced to Da for confirmation, and he nodded. “But that cannae be so! The king decreed the handfast was for peace and shared control!”
“Aye, I recall what he said, Freya.”
“Then he will send troops to aid us!” There were no more strings of control to reach for. I was striding toward panic. “We did nae break the treaty! MacDonald did. And King Alexander vowed he would send troops to aid the wronged clan. We are the wronged clan!” I was huffing with righteousness.
“It seems yer being learned in the political mechanisms of men is a good thing after all,” Yennifer said. The satisfaction in her voice pitched my stomach downward. I was a fool. A novice, trying to outwit a seasoned manipulator.
Da, always the peacemakerbetween Yennifer and myself, cleared his throat and said, “MacDonald has made a claim to the king that Bran broke the treaty first. He says it was our clan who attacked his castle, who nearly burnt Dunscaith to the ground.”
“The king cannae believe that of ye, Da. Ye are the most honorable man I ken.”
Da gave me the patient smile that I recalled from so many occasions as a child. When he’d told me Mama had died birthing Vanora, but I had not understood it meant I’d never talk to her again, so I’d asked every morning for two sennights to talk to Mama, see Mama. And he’d explain all over again that I could not because death meant never speaking face to face with someone again in this life.
“MacDonald claims his sister overheard Bran planning the attack on Dunscaith,” Da said. “And the king says he will nae pick a clan to aid unless he’s certain of who is lying and who is truthful. That means he leaves us to battle for control of Eilean Donnan once again and whoever gains control this time, has full control of the channel.”
I hitched my brows. “Did Bran do that?”
Da gave me a sharp look and said, “Do nae question Bran’s honor, daughter.”
I pressed my lips together on reminding my da that Bran had once nearly drowned me. And as a young lad, when he and Yennifer had come to live with us, he had teased smaller boys mercilessly, and he now ruled the MacLeods under him with fear, not respect. Da knew these things, but Da was blind to Bran’s faults, because Da was so loyal.
“To do so is dangerous,” Yennifer hissed. “Bran answers to yer da as his laird, follows yer da’s orders. Do ye see?”
I could not reply for a moment. It was not a stalling tactic. My lips had gone cold with understanding and fear of what it meant. If questions were raised about Bran’s honor then people might start to question Da’s. Might conclude that mayhap Da had given Bran the order to attack Dunscaith. That would mean Da had entered Bran into the handfasting, into the treaty, never intending to keep it, but likely to make it seem his intentions were honorable so MacDonald would lower his guard. Da would never have done that. I could not say the same about Bran, and yet I had to admit that Bran had never failed to follow Da’s leadership. I nodded. “MacDonald is lying.”
“Aye,” Da said, “but we do nae have the proof. Eilean Donnan is nearly unbreachable, given where it sits. I need a strong ally to aid in taking it back.”
“Why can nae Bran wed another then to gain an alliance to aid us in taking Eilean Donnan back?” I demanded. “I assume his handfast with Katherine MacDonald was nae consummated if ye are demanding I wed Donald MacKinnon.”
“I am nae demanding, lass. I am asking ye to help me, our clan, because ye love me, yer family, and yer clan. And I am in talks for Bran to wed again, but I do nae ken how long negotiations may take or if we will even be able to come to an agreement, and I need an alliance now. I did nae break the treaty, lass. I want peace. MacDonald wants power. Control. He will use Eilean Donnan to cut off our passage between the island and the mainland. He will do this until we submit to his control or starve. Or he may simply allow enemy vessels to pass through the channel to destroy our home.”
I wrapped my arms around my midriff and squeezed myself. My future stretched before me as a hound to my master Donald MacKinnon. My stomach roiled. Finally, I swallowed past the hard knot of doom. Our clan had yet to regain full strength from the years of war with the MacDonalds. I knew this. To attack Eilean Donnan and gain it back my da was correct that we would need an ally who believed they’d control the channel with us. And if Donald MacKinnon wed me, Clan MacKinnon would not only gain shared control of the pass, they’d gain a strong political alliance with my clan as well and that could put land in their hands and coin in their coffers.
My head hurt, and I whispered, “Mayhap MacDonald will nae cut off the channel or aid other clans to attack us? We do nae ken for certain.” After all, the MacDonalds had not had control of Eilean Donnan untila sennight ago.
“Every indication is that he will,” Da answered.
My stomach clenched and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I inhaled a long breath to try to settle my stomach. “And if I refuse?” I asked, each beat of my heart pounding in my ears.
Yennifer and my da exchanged a long look that made my stomach do a flip. “Yer da would nae ever force ye, Freya. But fearing ye may selfishly refuse—”
“Yennifer,” Da said, his tone a gentle chastisement.
Yennifer stiffened but gave a curt nod. “Fearing yer wish to nae wed Donald could possibly bring ye to refuse, yer da and I spoke to Vanora. She is willing to wed for the sake of the clan’s safety.”
Bile rose in my throat as I gaped at my da. Vanora! He would wed Vanora! She was a child yet, and every bit as silly as her thirteen summers allowed. More so! It seemed she fancied herself in love with someone new every other sennight. No doubt she now currently fancied herself in love with Donald MacKinnon.
“What did ye say to Vanora?” I demanded, looking between Da and Yennifer. “Did ye weave fanciful tales of Donald’s bravery and honor? Did ye tell her how wonderful her life would be?” I pointed at my da, my finger shaking. “Ye would sacrifice Vanora for power?”
“Listen to her insolence!” Yennifer crowed, jerking upright. “I warned ye husband that ye allowed too much opinion from her. That ye needed to control her.”
“Enough!” Da slammed his first on the desk causing his wine goblet to rattle and red wine to slosh over the rim to spill crimson drops on the dark wood. Da stood as well, towering above Yennifer.
A deep red rose to the surface of his skin, coloring his cheeks in a splotchy manner and a vein bulged by his right eye. “I’ll join ye at the festival in a moment,” he said to Yennifer, dismissing her without saying the words.
“As ye wish, husband,” she replied with a nod, “but try nae to tarry too long. All the other clans will have arrived, and the ceremony to mark the festival beginning of harvest end can nae be started without ye.” With that, Yennifer brushed past me with a cool look, and Da sat on the edge of his desk and faced me.
“I hope ye ken me well enough to realize I would nae ever sacrifice ye or Vanora for power.”
A large lump settled in my throat, and I nodded. The reasonable part of me knew this to be true. I knew Da sought to protect us all but did Yennifer? I had no doubts that she’d be willing to sacrifice Vanora and me for power for my da, which meant power for Bran and her, and I greatly feared she knew just how to manipulate my da into thinking it was all for the safety of the clan. But what could I do? If I did not agree to wed Donald, my foolish sister would. I could not allow that. I was Vanora’s protector, her older sister. The grief that sometimes hit me for the loss of my mama rose in me and tears slipped out of my eyes.
Da’s face softened, and he moved around his desk to cup my cheek with his warm, rough palm. “I love ye daughter. I ken I ask a lot of ye. I ken ye are angry about us speaking with Vanora.”
I stared at him, seething on this regard. “That was meant to manipulate me.”
“I am sorry. ’Tis nae for power for the sake of power. ’Tis to protect us all.”
I needed to leave before I said horrid, hateful things I could never take back. “May I go?”
“Aye, but ye should ken that Donald is on his way here. I’ll be announcing the joining of our families tonight. Ye will be properly nice to yer soon to be husband.”
I clenched my teeth on railing at Da. Knowing he would gain my consent; he had sent for Donald. It may be for the clan protection, but I felt manipulated. “I will be properly nice,” I repeated, purposely leaving off the part about the soon to be husband. If there was a way to get out of this, to protect my clan without sacrificing the rest of my life, I was going to find it.
A skeptical look settled on Da’s lined face. “Ye have accepted yer fate?”
I did not believe my fate was to wed Donald, so aye, I’d accepted that. I nodded without a twinge of guilt, only determination.
“Go then,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at me.
I rushed out the door and down the torch lined passageway toward the stairs. My footfalls clacked against the wood and echoed in the empty passageway. The solitary sound of my flight made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and gooseflesh pepper my arms underneath theheavy material of my winter gown. I rubbed at them absently for a moment, feeling silly about my uneasiness. And yet, I gathered fistfuls of my skirts to quicken my steps as if I believed that the ghosts of the lost souls roaming about on this night couldsnatch me.
I was brave, not cowardly. It was simply my anxiousness to get to the beach and find Vanora and my friends and speak to them. Vanora needed a proper lecture and possibly a threatening about her rash agreement to wed Donald if I would not. And Ineeded my friends’ counsel. I currently had no ideas how to aid my da, my clan, without sacrificing myself, but four minds would be better than one to come up with a solution.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I spotted Vanora walking backward up the stairs holding what looked to be a looking glass. She was flanked on either side by Katreine’s sisters. “Vanora!” I bellowed, all my frustration erupting.
“Oh!” Vanora cried out and jerked around. “What are ye doing inside still?”
I marched down the stairs, huffing and fuming. Glaring at her, I said, “The better question is why on earth would ye agree to wed Donald MacKinnon if I willnae?” Her cheeks splotched instantly red, but I was not feeling merciful even in the face of her embarrassment. She opened her mouth, but I cut her off. “Ye have fixed me good this time, Vanora. Unless I can find a way out of it, I will be trapped into wedding Donald to help Da and the clan.”
Vanora frowned. “Would ye nae wish to help Da and the clan nae matter what?”
“I—I—the point is, yer agreement has taken away my option nae to agree! To protect ye, ye foolish child—”
“I am nae a child!” she said, stomping her foot and proving my point.
I eyed her foot purposely before drawing my gaze to meet hers once more, and shewas now glaring at me. “To protect ye, I had to agree, and now I must come up with a solution to aid Da and the clan that does nae involve my wedding Donald.”
“I think he’s handsome,” Vanora said, her tone ringing with adoration. The twins nodded their agreement.“A pretty face masks his dark heart!” I bit out. “Do nae agree to anything else without talking to me first.” Vanora stared with that stubborn streak which only rose for me. “Vow it on Mama’s grave!”
“Fine!” she huffed. “I vow it.”
I started to brush past them, saw the looking glass clutched in Vanora’s hand, and paused with the suspicion this somehow boded trouble for her, which meant trouble for me. “Whatever are the three of you doing?” I demanded.
Vanora’s cheeks burned redder than they had been. “Euphemia says if we walk backwards holding a looking glass we’ll see our next—”
Euphemia clamped a hand over Vanora’s mouth and blurted, “Hound we shall own!”
I eyed the known mischief maker. “What are ye really hoping to see?” I asked, sweeping my gaze over the three of them.
“Our next lover,” Millicent pronounced with an air of authority I knew to be false.
I hitched an eyebrow. “Hmm…” I said, tapping my lip. “Last I saw Katreine at the king’s castle, she said yer mama had left the two of ye home”—I motioned between Millicent and Euphemia—“because she feared ye would embarrass her at court, because ye were still too shy to speak to boys.”
“Katreine is a liar,” Millicent huffed.
I plucked the looking glass out of Vanora’s hands and said, over Vanora, Millicent, and Euphemia’s loud protest, “I will tell yer elder sister ye think so when I find her at the festival.”
Millicent went pale. I had to bite my cheek not to laugh. After ten years of friendship with Katreine, I knew well her temper. I was certain it was even more forceful with her pesky younger sisters.
“Do nae do that,” Millicent said, her tone pleading.
“I’ll consider keeping silent, but ye must tell me why the three of ye were walking backward up the stairs holding this looking glass?”
“To see the man we will wed in the looking glass.”
I frowned. “Where did ye get such nonsense?”
“Morgana,” Vanora said, exchanging a look with Millicent and Euphemia.
“Morgana is here? At our stronghold?” I could not keep the awe out of my tone. I’d only ever seen the witch in person once, and that was when I’d gotten lost in the dark woods I was not supposed to be in ever without Da and a score of warriors.
All three of them nodded.
“Where?”
“Near the herb trail on the east side of the castle,” Vanora replied.
“How do ye ken it was her?”
“She told us,” Vanora said. “In exchange for showing her where the herb garden is.”
“Whyever would she want to ken where our herb garden is?”
“To save her mama.”
“Are ye making this up?” I demanded.
“Nay!” Vanora cried out, crossing her arms over her chest. “She said she’d come for an herb that only grew in our herb garden. In exchange for promising nae to tell anyone she was here; she told us how we could discover who we would wed, if we held up a looking glass and walked backwards up or down the stairs.”
“Fine,” I replied, a hope forming. “Go on with the three of ye and get to the festival.”
“Are ye nae coming?” Vanora asked.
“I’ll be along after I put yer looking glass up,” I supplied.
“Might I have the looking glass back?” Vanora asked, eyeing it.
“Absolutely nae,” I replied. “Morgana duped ye,” I supplied. It could be true, then again, mayhap it wasn’t. And I was anxious to see if it wasn’t or was. Maybe I would not see Donald, then I could rest easy and enjoy the festival and my friends who I so rarely got to see with their living a good distance from my clan. “Now off with ye before I lose the little bit of patience I have left.”
Vanora pressed her lips together, but said, “Come along. She can be horrid to deal with when she’s vexed at ye.”
I listened to them argue over who was worse to deal with, myself or their sister, as they tromped down the stairs. When I could hear them no more, I held the cracked looking glass up and backed down the steps, taking care to go slow. I got all the way to the bottom of the first flight, and all I’d seen in that looking glass was me. Maybe, I wasn’t concentrating hard enough.
I focused all my thoughts on what my husband might look like, whilst also fervently hoping I did not see Donald. I concentrated so hard my head began to ache, and my vision blurred from my intense, unblinking staring. I shuffled backward down the sharp curve in the stairs. Suddenly, two men appeared in my looking glass. Gasping, I jerked around, my foot caught in my gown, and Islid forward off the edge of the step to collide into the tallest of the men. The hard hit knocked the air out of my lungs.
Solid arms wrapped around me for a moment before the man set me to the side of him while righting me. Heat singed my cheeks, neck, and chest as I stared at them. They had on hooded cloaks like Yennifer had worn and had their faces stained with berries just as Yennifer had. I resisted the urge to scoff at two men believing in tales of the dead rising to snatch their souls. My gaze moved from their faces to their cloaks, and I immediately recognized the emblem of a small, simple crown with an armored hand holding a cross that was sewn into the shoulder of their cloaks.
MacDonald warriors!
Panic sent me scrambling backward, feet scrabbling on the wooden planks as I held the looking glass in front of me like a weapon. “I’ll scream!” I hissed through clenched teeth, my voice rising to an unbecoming pitch that made the blood rush to my cheeks.
“Ye already are, ye daft lass,” said the tallest of the two men.
I glared daggers at him, eyes narrowing into slits. “What are ye doing here?” I demanded, trying to inject as much authority as I could into my shaky voice.
“We’re emissaries from MacDonald,” the same man supplied, his tone bordering on insolence. I made a derisive noise, a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a scoff, and he hitched an eyebrow at me, not hiding his amusement. “Ye’ve a frog caught in yer throat, do ye?” he asked with a lazy drawl that made my skin prickle.
“Yer amusing,” I replied, letting my voice convey the sarcasm that my words had not. “I’ll ask again. Why are ye here? Has yer lying, thieving, honorless laird come to his senses and sent ye to surrender Eilean Donnan?” The heat in my cheeks intensified as I threw the words at him like stones.
“Nay. My b—” The shorter man gave a shake of his head before continuing. “The lying, thieving, honorless, foolish laird has sent us with an offer for the laird’s eldest daughter,” the man blurted.
For a moment, my mind went blank,and I was certain that I had misheard. Then clarity returned like the shattering of glass, and I felt the blood drain from my face. My lips parted as did the taller man’s for the barest of breaths, before he clamped his mouth shut and visibly clenched andunclenched it, as if uncertain what to say next. My nostrils flared like those of a tethered mare. The notion of being wed to my family’s enemy was a horror worse than being wed to Donald himself. “If yer laird wanted to make an offer for my laird’s eldest daughter he should have at the verra least sought out the laird’s eldest daughter. She’s a mind and a mouth of her own, and she is more than capable of answering any question he was to pose to her! But here’s a little hint: her answer would be nay, so donae bother to seek her da out.” The disgust in my voice was uncontrolled, shocking even to me. I turned to stalk away, fury propelling my feet, but a hand clamped on my elbow like a steel vise.
Anger burst from me like a thunderclap, and I jerked around, tugging my elbow free of the tall man’s grip. “How dare ye touch me!” I spat, my voice reaching a shrillness that echoed in the hall like a scream.
The man gave me a steely look and slowly peeled back his fingers one by one. “Beg pardon.” How was it possible to beg someone’s pardon with the right words yet convey the message that you were not sorry at all? I opened my mouth to hurl an insult, but he spoke. “I simply wished to ken if ye are the laird’s eldest daughter?”
“Do ye think if I was the daughter of the laird I’d be stuck inside during this festival cleaning that spoiled woman’s bedchamber?” I was amazed how easily I’d thought of the lie and spit it out. But I had no intention of standing here any longer. My da would not accept this envoy’s offer. That much I knew. It was too late for that. The MacDonalds had broken the treaty, and Da would not enter one with them again. Without waiting for a reply, I turned away, not caring what the stranger might have said. All I cared about was finding my friends and getting their counsel on how I could possibly avoid wedding Donald.
It wasn’t until I stepped into the inner courtyard, breathless from the confrontation, that I realized I was still clutching the looking glass, my knuckles white and tight around its polished frame. In an explosion of anger, I hurled it into the darkening woods, its gleam catching the last breath of dusk before disappearing into the tangled night. I started away but stopped dead with a sharp intake of breath.
What had I done? In one reckless moment, I’d thrown away the only thing my sister possessed of our mama’s! I turned back, my heart drumming a frantic beat. The courtyard lay ghostly and bare, shadows stretching ominously across the stone. And then a woman appeared from thin air, seeming to float just above the ground, holding Vanora’s looking glass.
“Morgana,” I murmured, the witch’s name falling from my lips as gooseflesh prickled along my arms.
The witch’s silvery purple eyes shone at me from across the courtyard. Her presence was spectral, eerie in the sepulchral light. “Ye lost this,” she said, a smirk twisting her lips.
“Ye lied to my sister and her friends,” I flung out, each word a desperate volley to mask my own fear. I was vexed that all I’d seen in the looking glass was the two envoys, and I needed to know the truth. Morgana’s eyes turned hard; sharp, twin daggers aimed at my heart. I backed up a step, realizing too late the mistake I’d made in calling someone like her a liar.
She snapped her fingers with a commanding flick, and my hand opened without my doing it, the looking glass flew straight into my palm, my fingers closing around it like a trap. I could feel my eyes widen with shock, my heart drumming, wild and untamed, as if it might escape my chest. “I do nae lie,” Morgana said. Her voice was a low jagged edge, each word jabbing me with all the weight of her wrath. “Those words were nae for ye, the looking glass is nae yers—’tis yer sister’s.”
Her disdainful sneer made me feel small, a scolded child whose complaint had been dismissed. Yet still, something brash made me press Morgana, a defiance borne of desperation. “I saw two men in the looking glass. Envoys from the MacDonald laird. I ken I will nae wed those men. I wish to see who I’ll wed.”
“Do nae wish to see the future, Freya MacLeod.” Her tone was a warning like the thunder before a great storm. “Such a gift is a burden.” With that, she waved her hands, and I was forcefully shoved back from her by the air. “Go now,” she said, whipping her hand in a circle, so that my body was turned away from her. “I have many herbs to find, and they are hiding from me.”
The wind pushed me across the pebbled stones so that I slid more than walked. I held my breath, heart racing, but as I reached the end of the path the wind was suddenly gone. Fearful to turn back, I started toward my friends once more, my steps quick and earnest. They were my only hope, the only faces I could trust, unless some magical solution fell into my lap and offered a relief that seemed more distant and impossible by the moment.
