PROLOGUE
Ailsa Donaghey prayedthat it was fire.
It was a mad thing to hope for; even in a mostly stone building like Castle Dubh-Gheal, the Donagheys’ ancestral home, fire was a disaster, a tragedy that could kill many.
But if that sharp, metallic scent, the one she’d only before smelled at a forge, didn’t spell fire, then it must mean…
She burst into the Great Hall, and that hope died. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the scream that tried to rip from her throat.
“Mama,” she whispered, feet briefly frozen in place. “Da.”
She hadn’t called them that for years.MotherandFather, that’s who they had been since she had been in long skirts. But now, in a flash, it was her childhood names for them that came roaring back.
They didn’t respond, and it snapped Ailsa back into action.
She rushed over to her parents’ side, the metallic stench of blood in the air presaging what she would find. They were both slumped over the table. When she came close, she could see the blood that had come from their mouths, that coated their chins.
A little whimper escaped her. Her hand, she realized coldly, was still pressed to her mouth. The horror was so great thatshe could scarcely feel anything. It was as though she had been plunged into the iciest of winter oceans.
Her mother’seyeswere open. Lady Donaghey was staring, unseeing and lifeless, at the ceiling above her, her head thrown back as if in some horrible, twisted imitation of laughter. Laird Donaghey’s hand was still outstretched on the table, fingers falling just short of a goblet.
A droplet of blood dripped from where her father’s body was still warm. It landed on the hard, polished wood of the ancient table, the one where the family had shared a thousand meals over centuries, the one where Ailsa had taken her breakfast that very day.
The table that had now become a bier to her parents’ hideous, violent deaths.
Ailsa didn’t know if she stood there for a moment or for an hour, the scent of blood flooding her nose until she feared that she would never again smell anything else.
But something broke the spell eventually. And suddenly, it was as though she could hear her father’s words in her ears.
If aught ever happens to me, mo leanbh, ye must flee to the Buchanans, aye? They’ll render ye aid.
Ailsa hadn’t taken his warning seriously. She’d pressed her lips together, had protested being calledmo leanbh,an endearment for children, not for a grown woman like herself.
She hadn’t asked questions. Why hadn’t she asked questions?
And now, he was beyond giving her answers. He was beyond giving her anything.
Flee for the Buchanans.
Yes, she could do that. She had to do that.
She turned on her heel, refusing to let herself consider why her father had seen fit to give her this warning. She refused tothink about why the Buchanan family keep was the very last place she wanted to go.
Instead, she just obeyed. Too late, perhaps, but this, she could do. She could obey.
She fled, seeking her sisters, his father’s voice following her like a ghost.
Ye’ll be the head of the family, ye ken? If I’m nae here, it will fall to ye. Ye’re strong, my girl, and ye’ll have to be strong for your sisters.
For years, Ailsa had accepted this as her duty in life. But now, as she dashed through the castle, wanting to scream for her sisters and yet not daring to do so, she wished with all her heart that she could call for her brother, Graham, who had died years prior.Hewas the one who was supposed to lead the family—the eldest brother, her big brother.
But Graham was gone. Her parents were gone.
It all fell to Ailsa now.
“Vaila?” she called quietly as she made her way up to the wing where the four Donaghey sisters all slept. “Davina? Eilidh?”
She was too scared to raise her voice. She was scared not to. What if they didn’t hear her? What if she didn’t find them?
