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Seven years later…

Fiona Callan was now a young woman of nineteen. She was fair of face and graceful. Her body was slender and elegant but also strong and powerful. Every day she spent hours training, and her feminine qualities were matched with a strength and a skill that had been the product of so much effort. It wasn’t only herself that benefited from her training either, though; the Callan clan had gained something of a reputation for its warrior women. After the battle, the women had banded together and decided that it wasn’t fair for the men to always take the risk of death. Others just wanted a chance to avenge their husbands and brothers and fathers who had been slain. As such, their force was a mixture of men and women, but the men were still few, and the Callan clan was still vulnerable.

Fiona was standing atop a hill and took aim with an arrow. She drew the bowstring taut and took a breath, then let it fly. The arrow flew true and slammed into a tree, chipping away flecks of bark.

“What dae ye think ye are daeing!” a shrill voice cried.

Fiona’s sister, Lotta, leaped up and looked at the tree in shock. She patted herself down as though she had been in danger, and her face was the picture of fear. Where Fiona’s hair was long and brown, Lotta’s was golden, and the tresses came down to her shoulders. She had stern features and often looked older than her eighteen years. Lotta had been the child of a Viking and a Highlander and had come to Laird Callan’s care some years earlier. The adjustment hadn’t been an easy one, and there had always been some tension between the girls because they were so different.

“I’m practicing my aim,” Fiona called out as she ran toward Lotta.

“Well, ye dinnae hae tae practice it while I’m sitting right there! Ye could hae taken my head off!”

“Ye were never in danger of that. I’m tae good. But it’s always better tae practice with a target that can move,” Fiona said.

“Then gae hunt a rabbit or something! Dinnae use me as target practice.” Lotta’s words were fueled with anger, and she thrust a finger into Fiona’s face. Fiona’s smile turned to a scowl. She had expected Lotta to act with a little more good humor.

“I wouldnae hae tae aim at ye if ye took part in training like the others.”

Lotta rolled her eyes. “I’m nae gaeing tae become one of ye, Fiona, sae ye might as well stop trying. Women were nae made tae fight. War is a man’s world, and I dinnae want any part of it.”

“I cannae believe ye can stand there and say that after what happened tae ye. Dinnae ye wish ye could have stood in defense of yer kin? Dinnae ye want tae be able tae defend yerself if anyone should attack ye?”

“I’m gaeing tae marry a strong man who will protect me,” Lotta said haughtily, tilting her neck back so that her nose rose in the air.

Fiona shook her head and huffed with derision. It was a mystery to her why anyone would want to rely on someone else for protection, but in all the years that Lotta had lived with Fiona and her father, Fiona had never been able to change her mind or make her see that she could be strong enough to fight.

“Ye should think about a man as well. I dinnae think the laird is gaeing tae agree tae marry me until ye are married, sae hurry up because I want tae meet my husband.”

“Ye could be more than a wife, Lotta.”

“And ye could be more than some lass pretending tae be a man. Dae ye know how ridiculous ye look, Fiona? Ye should come by my chamber later, and I will find a dress for ye tae wear. Ye cannae expect any man tae want tae marry ye in this state. A man wants a woman tae love, not a warrior tae fight with,” Lotta said spitefully.

Fiona narrowed her eyes. There were times when all she wanted was to take Lotta and fling her to the ground because Lotta never respected the way Fiona wanted to live her life, but when Laird Callan had taken her into the clan, he had made Fiona vow to protect Lotta because Lotta had lost everything. Sometimes Fiona felt as though Lotta used this to her advantage.

“A true man wants a woman he can respect as his equal, but I am nae gaeing tae measure myself by what a man thinks I’m worth. Ye should nae either. There are more important things in this world than marriage.”

“Nae tae me there aren’t, and dinnae shoot yer arrows near me again. Ye might tear one of my dresses.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Fiona muttered under her breath as Lotta stormed away.

Fiona breathed deeply to calm herself down. She wanted so badly to like Lotta and be a good sister to her, but Lotta made it difficult.

Fiona pulled the arrow from the tree and examined the tip. It was still sharp enough to be used again, so she placed it with the other arrows and then continued her training.

It was late in the day when Fiona returned home, where her father was waiting for her. Food had been laid out on the table. It had grown cold. The empty chair and plate filled with crumbs and bones showed that Lotta had already eaten.

“I hear ye and yer sister had another argument taeday,” Laird Callan said.

Fiona’s face grew sullen as she sank into a chair. Sighing, she grabbed some chicken and lifted it to her face, sinking her teeth into the cold meat. She often lost track of time when she was training, so over the years, she had gotten used to tasting food that was colder than it should have been.

“She makes it impossible tae like her sometimes,” Fiona said.

“I know it haes nae been easy, but let’s nae forget how much she haes lost. Without us, she would hae nothing,” Laird Callan said gently.

“I wish she would act like it sometimes,” Fiona spat, pulling a small bone out of her mouth and letting it fall to the plate.