Chapter One
Ireland 1180
Theautumnwindwasfrigid, cutting through his cloak in a dark warning that he needed to seek shelter and soon. Yet, Trahern MacEgan hardly felt the cold. For the past season, he’d felt nothing at all, his emotions as frigid as the surrounding air.
Vengeance consumed him now, along with the fierce need to find the men who had killed Ciara. Trahern had left his home and family, returning to the southwest of Éireann, where the Ó Reilly clan dwelled at Glen Omrigh.
His brothers didn’t know of his intent to find the raiders. They believed he was traveling again to visit with friends and tell his stories. As a bard, he rarely stayed in one place for very long, so they weren’t at all suspicious.
But for this journey, he wanted to be alone. His brothers had their wives and children to guard. He’d never risk their safety, not when they had so much to lose. He had no one, and he preferred it that way.
The land was more mountainous here, the green hills rising from the mist. A narrow road snaked through the valley, and misty warm clouds released from his horse’s nostrils. The emptiness suited him, for he’d never expected to lose the woman he’d loved.
Earlier in the summer, Ciara’s brother Áron had sent word that the cashel had been attacked byLochlannachraiders. Ciara had been caught in the middle of the battle, struck down and killed when she’d tried to flee.
The devastating news had kept him from Glen Omrigh for months. He didn’t want to see Ciara’s grave or hear the sympathy from friends. More than anything, he needed to forget.
But time hadn’t dulled his pain; it had only heightened it. He shouldn’t have left her. The guilt consumed him, eating away at the man he was.
Hatred flowed within his veins now, suffocating the pain of loss. The anguish had been replaced with rage, a sense of purpose. He was going to find the raiders, and when he did, they would suffer the same fate Ciara had endured.
When the sun descended over the horizon, Trahern set up a fire and unpacked the tent. The flames licked at the wood, flaring bright orange against the night sky. Tomorrow, he would reach the cashel and begin tracking his enemy.
He stretched out upon his cloak, watching the fire and listening to the sounds of the evening while he ate. In the distance, he heard the faint rustling of leaves against the forest floor. Likely animals. Even so, he reached for his blade.
The movement was heavier than a squirrel or a fox. No, this was human, not an animal. Trahern clenched his sword, waiting for the person to draw closer.
Abruptly, a figure emerged from the trees. It was a young maiden, perhaps thirteen, wearing a ragged whiteléineand a green overdress. Dirt matted her face, and she held out her hands near the fire. She was so thin, it looked as though she hadn’t eaten a full meal in weeks. Long brown hair hung to her waist, and she wore no shoes.
Jesu, her feet must be frozen.
“Who are you?” he asked softly. She kept her gaze averted, not answering his question. Instead, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, before she beckoned to him.
“Come and warm yourself,” he offered. “I have food to share, if you are hungry.”
She took a step toward the fire but shook her head, pointing to the trees behind her. Trahern studied the place but saw no one. Although the girl raised her hands to warm them in front of the fire, her expression grew more fearful. Again, she glanced back at the trees.
“What is it?” he asked.
Coughing, she moved her mouth, as though she hadn’t spoken in a long time. “My sister.”
Trahern rose to his feet. “Bring her here. She can warm herself and eat. I’ve enough for both.” It wasn’t true, but he didn’t care if they depleted his supplies or not. Better to let the women sate their hunger, for he could always hunt.
The girl shook her head again. “She’s hurt.”
“How badly?”
She didn’t answer, but pointed toward the trees once more. “She needs help.”
Without waiting for him to agree, the girl started walking away from him, returning to the forest. Trahern eyed his horse, then the wooded hillside. Though it was faster to ride, the trees grew too close together for a horse.
He had no desire to venture into the woods, particularly when it would be dark within another hour. But neither could he allow this girl to leave with no escort. Grimacing, he fashioned a torch out of a fallen branch. He slung his food supplies over one shoulder, not wanting to leave them behind.
The girl led him uphill for nearly half a mile. The ground was covered with fallen leaves, and he was careful to hold the torch aloft.
They crossed a small stream, and not far away, he spied a crude shelter. Built from the remains of an old roundhouse, he followed the girl inside.
“What is this place?” he murmured. Isolated from anywhere else, he couldn’t imagine why it was here.
