Prologue

Strathnaver, Scotland, 1516 A.D.

Idalia Buckland sat huddled with her sister, Leonor, on the cold stone floor of their shared prison cell, feeling alone and desperate. They had been taken captive by the dastardly highland laird, Alistair Morgan, who had killed their entire family, with the exception of Idalia, Leonor, and their eldest sister Katarina. Katarina had been bartered as a slave into a forced marriage and they knew not whether she was dead or alive.

Leonor shivered, burrowing closer into Idalia’s side. She burned with fever, fading in and out of coherency. Idalia had done everything she could within their limited circumstances to bring down her sister’s fever, but to no avail. She feared that if they could not escape soon, Leonor was going to die. God in Heaven, help us! She prayed for divine intervention, but none came. Her sister shivered again, and Idalia wrapped her own dress around her in an effort to make her more comfortable.

An image of her mother’s face flashed through her mind as tears began to fall once more. They had cried a great many times since their captivity. The pain of their loss had been excruciating. Idalia had no notion as to how long they had been kept prisoner. Without a way to see daylight, days and nights had melded together as one long never-ending span. They had been allowed the occasional candle when someone had brought them their meals and water, what limited times those had been, and to empty their necessary bucket.

One moment she had been dancing with her sisters around their campfire after having narrowly escaped from an unwanted betrothal, the next moment they were under attack. The men had been slaughtered immediately, while the women had been raped and murdered at the soldiers’ leisure. The only thing that had saved Idalia, Leonor, and Katarina was that they were virgins, untouched by the hands of men, and looked similar to the Laird Morgan’s daughter. It was that similarity which had caused Katarina to be traded in marriage to an islander from Orkney in place of the Lady Katherine Morgan. That was all Idalia knew of her eldest sister’s fate. Katarina had traded her own life for those of Idalia and Leonor. The guilt of that knowledge haunted Idalia’s every waking hour.

Katarina had tried to hide them during the attack, but they had been found and carted off to the Morgan stronghold. As they had been bound and loaded into a wagon, Katarina had been dumped into the wagon next to them, bleeding and barely conscious. She had attempted to fight off their attackers but had failed. Their entire Romani encampment had tried to fight, yet had been unceremoniously defeated in every way. As the wagon had rolled through the carnage, the last thing they saw of their parents and grandparents were their dead mutilated bodies lying upon the ground.

The memory of the attack caused Idalia to quickly rise and run to the waste bucket in the corner as she retched what little remained in her stomach back out. The smell filled the small stone cell, causing her to vomit again. “Oh, God,” she groaned in abject misery.

As she stood to rejoin Leonor, she was stopped by the sound of rattling outside of the cell door. Hope filled her heart that someone had at long last answered her plea for a healer to be brought for her sister. She took a step toward the door, but quickly retreated when it swung open, and the face of August Raymond stood in the shadowed light of the corridor beyond. The very man from whom her family had run and, in so doing, been slaughtered, now stood before her.

She looked around at the cell, trying to find something to stop him with but to no avail. There was no man more vile than the one who stood in front of her. August Raymond was a man with a heart as black as soot. He was cruel and cold-hearted. It was unfortunate that his position as leader of the gypsy clan provided him with power to do anything he wanted. He was a mountain of a man, with green eyes and dark hair. His olive skin was covered in a white shirt that was stained with blood.

Idalia frowned as he grinned at her menacingly. When he had proposed to marry her, she had been relieved by her family’s refusal and had thought that was the end of it. She would have laughed at her naiveté were it not for fear that she would not stop if she did. Of course, he was the type of man to never let go of what he wanted, no matter what it cost. And it had cost her a lot to refuse him.

He held a knife to the throat of one of the guards who had been bringing them food. Without saying a single word, he slit the man’s throat right in front of her. The guard dropped like a stone, his face a mask of surprise and pain, as blood spurted out across the cell’s stone floor.

“You?” Idalia breathed in terror and disgust as the guard’s blood flowed across the floor to pool at her feet.

August’s face split into a menacing grin. “Did you think you could escape me?”

In spite of herself, Idalia inched backwards in fear. “I had hoped. How are you here?” She looked past him to the corridor beyond but saw none of the other Morgan men who had been guarding them. She was not sure which was worse – being held hostage by Alistair Morgan or kidnapped by August Raymond. Neither option was desirable, but she would have to decide quickly which one would get her sister the help she so desperately needed.

“Your captors will not be coming to your aid. It was foolish of Alistair Morgan to place only one guard. It is clear he thought no one would find you here, or care enough to look.” He laughed, a hollow sound that caused Idalia’s skin to crawl with apprehension.

Doing her best to push her fear aside, she leaned down and gathered her sister into her arms. “Leonor is sick. She needs a healer.”

August shook his head in indifference. “I came here for you, not your sister. She can remain here. I have no time to carry a sick woman who cannot even stand of her own accord.”

“I will not leave her here alone,” Idalia shook her head in refusal. “If you wish for me to go with you, you must provide my sister with a healer.”

“I would rather kill her here and now myself than allow you to have your way. You fled from me, and in doing so, you have forfeited all rights to an opinion on your fate or kindness from me. You are now mine, body, mind, and soul. I own you.”

Idalia’s heart raced as he stepped into the cell and reached out his hand to grab her. Yanking her up onto her feet, he began pulling her from the room. Leonor called out for her, attempting to get to her knees, but she collapsed back against the stones, too weak to stand. Idalia fought back, punching, and slapping at August’s face and torso. Shaking her, he slapped her across the face. Lifting her up off of the ground, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the room into the corridor.

Idalia cried out in protest. “I will not leave Leonor! Put me down!”

“You will do as I say, when I say.” August smacked her on the bottom so hard, the sound echoed down the passageway.

A deep voice emerged from the darkness at the end of the corridor. “Put the lass down,” the voice commanded, as hard as steel.

“I will not,” August replied, turning to face the threat before him. “I know your voice. Come forward into the light so I might see your face.”
The stranger took a step forward into the candle’s light, his blade held firmly in hand. He was tall, muscular, dark of eye and hair, with a strong masculine air about him. His arm lay limp at his side, blood dripping from his shoulder to spatter on the stone floor. “Let the lass go, August.”

“I will not, MacLeod,” August refused, shaking his head.

Idalia’s brows raised in surprise. The men knew each other. “Please, help me!” she begged the stranger, praying he would be able to overcome August in a fight if it came to it, but she had her doubts given the state of the man’s arm.

“Silence!” August commanded, giving her another sharp smack.

“Ye were warned,” the stranger ground out through clenched teeth, taking a step toward August.

“Take another step and I will kill the girl,” August threatened.

The stranger stopped, eyeing Idalia as if weighing the risk. “What is she to ye?”

“She is my betrothed.”

“I am not your betrothed! I am nothing to you and never will be!” Idalia argued loudly. She would not allow August to talk the stranger into allowing him to keep her. “Please, MacLeod,” she used the name August had used. “My sister is ill and needs a healer. Please help us!”

The stranger took another step forward. August reacted by dropping Idalia to the floor and withdrew his own blade. She grabbed at his arm attempting to keep him from killing the other man, but August just shrugged her off. Turning, he hit Idalia in the head with the hilt of his sword, then stepped forward to engage the stranger in battle. The sound of sword against sword was the last thing she remembered as the darkness overtook her.

Bran MacLeod stood behind the door of his prison cell, awaiting the guard’s usual rotation of food delivery. He had managed to steal a small sgian dubh off of his guard the last time he had been brought his meal but had not had enough time to put the knife to use, not with another man appearing in the doorway. Now, he waited in silence for the earliest opportunity.

He had been captured while attempting to help his laird’s wife, the Lady Katarina, escape the clutches of their rival clan’s laird, Alistair Morgan. He had been wounded in the battle, but his arm had healed to such an extent that he felt he could overpower his guards and escape. He sent another prayer heavenward that the Lady Katarina had made it safely back to Orkney.

When the sound of metal on metal announced the key being turned in the lock, Bran braced himself for attack. The door swung open, and a guard stepped in with a trencher of food and a cup of water. His hands were full, his dirk balanced precariously in his hand under the trencher. Bran took advantage of the moment and leapt on the guard, bringing the blade up between the man’s ribs hoping to reach the heart. Unfortunately, he missed, and the guard lashed out with his weapon, slicing into Bran’s wounded shoulder. Desperate, and not willing to spend another moment being held captive to the likes of Alistair Morgan, Bran dropped and rolled, then came up behind the guard to sink his blade into the man’s kidneys slicing through the artery.

The guard dropped like a stone to his knees, then fell flat on his face. His now sightless eyes staring out to the side as if asking Bran for mercy. Bran gave him none. Rising to his feet, he cursed softly at the state of his shoulder. He bent down to take the guard’s blade, then stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door behind himself. He did not need any of the other guards to come across his body until long after Bran was gone. Making his way down the dark corridor, he was about to turn to where he thought he had been dragged into his cell upon his capture, when he heard a commotion at the other end of the passageway.

A young woman’s voice cried out in protest. “I will not leave Leonor! Put me down!”

“You will do as I say, when I say,” the all too familiar voice of August Raymond echoed down the hallway followed by a loud smacking sound as if he had struck the girl.

Bran recognized the name the girl had mentioned as one of the Lady Katarina’s sisters. He could not leave them to their fate, especially not at the hands of a man such as August. August Raymond was a terrible man and to leave her with him was to let her go off to certain death. Sighing, Bran stepped forward. “Put the lass down.”

“I will not,” August replied, turning to face Bran’s position. “I know your voice. Come into the light so that I might see your face.”

Bran stepped forward into the candle’s light, his blade held firmly in hand. “Let the lass go, August.”

“I will not, MacLeod,” August refused, shaking his head. His eyes only registered a small amount of surprise at seeing Bran again after so many years.

The girl’s brows raised in surprise as realization dawned in her eyes that they knew each other. A moment of guilt flickered through Bran’s mind, but he shoved it away. “Please, help me!” she begged him, her eyes frantic with fear.

“Silence!” August commanded, giving her rearend a sharp smack. Bran recognized the sound he had heard earlier.

Seeing a man strike a woman caused Bran’s blood to boil with anger. “Ye were warned,” he ground out through clenched teeth, taking a threatening step toward August.

August shook his head, giving Bran a warning look. “Take another step and I will kill the girl,” he threatened, and stopped Bran in his tracks.

He eyed the lass flung over August’s shoulder, weighing the risk of helping her, versus leaving and simply following them back to the Romani encampment, to then retrieve her. The murderous look in August’s eyes told him the latter was not an option. “What is she to ye?”

August laughed, pride entering his eyes. “She is my betrothed.”

“I am not your betrothed! I am nothing to you and never will be!” the girl argued loudly. She turned her gaze to meet Bran’s. “Please, MacLeod,” she used the name August had used for him. “My sister is ill and needs a healer. Please help us!”

Making up his mind, Bran took another step forward. August reacted by dropping the lass to the floor and withdrawing his own blade. The girl grabbed at August’s arm, clearly attempting to keep him from killing Bran, but August just shrugged her off. Turning, he hit her on the head with the hilt of his sword, then stepped forward to engage with Bran in battle. The girl slumped unconscious onto the floor. Bran raised his blade to defend against August’s attack.

“Ye should nae have come back,” Bran told him, fighting off another blow. “Ye were fortunate to survive the first attack ye made on our people by the loch. We searched for ye but found nae trace o’ ye. I had hoped ye were gone from these lands.”

“I will nae leave without what is mine,” August grunted as he lashed out at Bran, taking advantage of Bran’s wounded shoulder.

“Ye will leave without the lass.”

“I will not,” August stubbornly refused.

“I will kill ye.”

“You may try, but then who will care for and protect your daughter? I have left clear instructions as to what will become of her should I not return.”

Bran’s heart sank at the mention of his child. He had had an affair with August’s sister while he had been fostered to a border clan with connections to his mother’s family. That had been six years before. Six long years without him seeing his own blood; or ever being able to hug his daughter. Six years with him being a failure of a father.

August had forbidden Bran access to the girl or her mother, as he did not approve of a non-Romani spouse for his sister. As the leader of his clan, August had the last say, and Bran had been forced to honor that as the mother of his child commanded him to leave. He had never been given the chance to meet his own daughter and it was the thought of finally getting to see her and hold her in his arms that kept him going and had him resolved to find a way out of there. “Ye would nae harm yer own niece. Nae even ye are that evil.”

“I could and I would.”

A soft moan announced that the girl at August’s feet had returned to consciousness. August ignored her. Bran stepped forward, with the intention of taking the man alive in order to protect his own child, but August saw his attack coming and reached down to grab the lass and placed her between them. Bran managed to just stop his blade before it harmed the girl, while August held a blade to her throat.

“August, dinnae do this.”

“I will if you do not let me take her.”
The sound of men coming down the corridor announced the arrival of more guards. One of August’s men ran up behind him in warning, surprise showing on his face at seeing Bran. “The Morgan guards are coming.”

August nodded in acknowledgement. “Take Idalia.”

Bran stepped forward. “Take me instead.”

August’s brows arose in surprise, then a greedy light entered his eyes. “I will consider your proposal under one condition.”

Bran cocked his brow in question, as the sound of guards’ feet caused his spine to tingle in warning. “Name it.”

“You will be my mercenary. You will do as I say.” August raised a hand before Bran could answer him. “If you say no, I will kill Idalia and I will kill your daughter.”

Given no other choice, Bran gave a single nod.

August released the girl, letting her fall to the floor. He turned to his men now all standing behind him. “Take him,” he commanded, then turned and walked away, leaving Bran to be bound and hauled out of the prison by his band of Romani men.

As Bran walked past the girl lying on the stone floor, he met her eyes, bleary and confused. “Yer sister is looking for ye,” he informed her, hoping that it would bring her some comfort and hope. “If I ken anything about the Lady Katarina, she will find ye, lass. When she does, dinnae mention me, for I am already dead.” With those last parting words, he left the beautiful, brown-eyed Romani lass in the darkness, alone.

“Who are you?” she whispered to his retreating back, but Bran did not answer. It was better for them both if she never discovered the truth.

Chapter One

Orkney Islands, Scotland, 1518 A.D.

Idalia stood on the shores of her new island home and stared out across the sea toward the mainland. It had been well over a year since her sister, Katarina, had rescued her and Leonor from their captivity. Once Alistair Morgan was safely in the king’s prison, Idalia and Leonor had gone to Rome to inform their aunt of everything that had happened to their family. They had been escorted there and back under the protection of Katarina’s husband’s men. Idalia was grateful that her sister had found love and happiness in spite of the circumstances that had led to her and Dunn’s marriage.

Dunn and Katarina were currently visiting Dunn’s newlywed brother Tor and his bride, the former Lady Katherine Morgan, who had turned out to be the daughter of their uncle and not Alistair Morgan. Katarina had taken her newborn son to meet his Uncle Tor, and had also taken their aunt, who was visiting from Rome, to meet Katherine. Idalia had not wished to step foot within the Morgan stronghold ever again and had elected to remain behind on Orkney with Leonor and Adamina to help take care of her new clan.

In truth, Idalia spent every waking hour attempting to forget what had happened to them, but the nightmares refused to stop. Every night she dreamt of the men who had hurt her family and the man who had been responsible for their being forced to run for their lives to begin with, August Raymond.

I need a woman of the old ways to see where August Raymond is now. I need a seer. I cannot go on with my life, I cannot make any decisions about how and where to live, without knowing where he is and if he has given up on trying to wed me. I will not promise my life to a man who only wishes to take it from me by force. I will not surrender my life, nor those of any of my remaining family, to him or any other vile man. I have lost enough. We have lost enough.

Leonor joined her on the shore, hooking her arm through Idalia’s. “Thinking?” she asked, laying her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Idalia nodded. “I am never going to find peace unless I know that August Raymond is gone from our lives forever. I need to find a seer.”

“Katarina said there is another of our kind here on the island. She has some gifts, but I do not know more than that. Perhaps she can help you.”

Idalia nodded. “Who is she?”

“Esmerelda,” Leonor said and shook her head. “I do not know her surname, but apparently she was a former lover of Dunn’s and Tor’s before their respective marriages.”

Idalia snorted in laughter. “Both of them?”

Leonor giggled, nodding. “That is what Katarina said.”

“We should go and speak with her. Do you know where she lives?”

Leonor nodded. “Katarina said she has a cottage further down the shore.”

Idalia gestured toward the path along the shoreline. “Lead the way.”

Leonor nodded, and they walked arm in arm along the shore in search of Esmerelda’s cottage. Once they had arrived, Idalia knocked on the door; it was opened by a beautiful darkhaired woman. “It took ye long enough to seek me out,” she greeted them with a nod.

Idalia looked at her in surprise. “My sister said you have the gift.”

Esmerelda shook her head. “Only a little. I am nae as skilled as those who came before me. My grandmother knew much more.”

“Can you tell me what I seek?”

Once again, Esmerelda shook her head. “I cannae read yer mind, lass. Ye must speak.”

Idalia felt foolish for her childlike faith in the words of a seer, but she had been taught to respect the old ways from a very young age. “August Raymond? Is the threat against me and my family over?”

Esmerelda met Idalia’s eyes and held them intensely; she reached out and took Idalia’s hands in hers. After several moments had passed, Esmerelda let her hands drop and took a step back. She shook her head. “I cannae see.”

“Our sister said that you saw her coming. She said that you told Dunn he would love one of our kind,” Leonor reminded her.

“Aye, I did, but when I look into yer future, I dinnae see anything. Perhaps I am nae strong enough.” Esmerelda gave Idalia a sympathetic look.

“Is there another who might be strong enough to see?”

Esmerelda thought on it for a moment. “Perhaps,” she nodded slowly. “There is a woman on the mainland who might be able to help ye, but I ken very little of her. She is a practitioner of the old ways, but she keeps herself hidden away. She does nae wish to be burned as a witch, ye ken? She is nae of the traveling Romani but is of the Highlands by birth.”

“Do you ken where I can find her?”

Esmerelda shook her head. “I can try to send word through other women of our kind and see if she can be found. If I hear from her, I will send word to ye.”

“I thank you, sincerely, for your help in this.”

Esmerelda shook her head. “I cannae promise ye that anything will come of it, but if this woman can bring ye peace of mind, it is the least I can do for a fellow woman of the Romani. There are certainly more of us on the island now.”

Idalia nodded. “Our family is blessed that Katarina found love with the laird here, giving us all a place to live.”

“And yet, ye need to ken more to believe that ye are truly safe here.” Esmerelda gave Idalia a knowing look.

“I do.”

“Then let us pray that ye find the answers that ye seek.”

A fortnight later . . .

The castle chamberlain greeted Idalia as she came down the stairs to break her fast. “A letter arrived for ye.” He handed her a slip of paper, sealed with plain candle wax.

Idalia opened the paper and read its contents quickly, scanning it to see who had sent it. Leonor came to stand beside her. “Who is it from?”

“A seer,” Idalia murmured. “I do not know if it is the one Esmerelda spoke of, but she has promised to help me.”

“Where?”

“I must travel to the mainland. She is old and does not travel well.”

“I will go with you. We should take a guard with us.”

“I will speak with Adamina, but the letter says I must go alone.”

Leonor shook her head. “That is not wise. You should not be going anywhere alone and unguarded. What if August Raymond is waiting for you?”

“Dunn’s men have searched far and wide for him, but there has been no sign of him anywhere. He could be dead. I seek the seer to ensure our safety, not to place us in further danger. I will be cautious, Sister, don’t worry. I will not be foolish in my desire for peace.”

“You cannot go alone, no matter what the old crone says.”

Idalia nodded. She did not wish to argue with her sister, nor did she wish to be reckless, she simply wanted to know one way or the other. In her heart, she secretly hoped that the seer would be able to help her to commune with those she had lost. She would give anything to speak with her mother again. “Let us go and speak with Adamina. We can make a plan after that.”

The two sisters walked over to the raised dais and told Adamina about their plan to go and speak with the seer. Adamina gave them both a sympathetic look but shook her head. “I cannae allow ye to go without a guard, and we dinnae have any men to spare, with my brothers both being gone and the guard that Dunn took to protect his wife and bairn. Ye must wait until Dunn returns, Idalia. Ye may speak with him on the matter then.”

Leonor agreed to Adamina’s command, but Idalia chafed against it. She tried to make Adamina see her side of it all, but as much as the other woman sympathized with her plight, she would not give her permission or her clansmen to make the trip possible. In the end, Idalia walked away upset and more determined than ever to see her plan through.

She did not like living under the rule of others. She was a free spirit, used to roaming the world at will. She had only ever had to answer to her parents and her God. Outside of that, she had been free to do as she willed. She was not adjusting very well to the stationary life under the rule of men who were not of her blood. She longed to be free to roam once more, but she could not do that if August Raymond was still out there seeking to take her. The only way she could achieve the freedom she sought was to have confirmation, whether by his dead body or the sworn word of a seer who could tell her more about her future.

Going against Adamina’s edict, Idalia prepared to leave Orkney to meet the seer on the mainland. She had a plan that would fool everyone on Orkney and any of August Raymond’s men that might be awaiting her on the other shore. She had managed to sneak off without attracting her sister’s attention. Somehow, that had been the easy part. After they returned home, Leonor had comforted her with the fact that the men would be returning soon and then they could go with her. She had then left Idalia alone to brood in peace, and it was not long before Idalia got the idea to sneak off.

She sighed as she got up. She wished she did not have to leave like this, but Leonor would not understand her unease and she would wish to go with her, which Leonor did not want. She tiptoed away, closing the doors quietly to avoid alerting her sister. Idalia released the breath she had been holding when she passed a bend and was no longer visible from the house. She hurried to the stables, peeking inside before entering the building, making sure no one was in there. She frowned when she saw the stableboy, realizing she needed to find a way to distract him.

“G’day miss,” he greeted her, standing to his feet.

“Ah, g’day. It is quite a fine day for a ride, and I think I would like to do so. Please saddle my horse,” she replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Aye, miss. Right away.” He dusted himself off.

“Yes. I think I shall pay a visit to Esmeralda down at the shoreline,” she rambled on, then smiled at the stableboy to stop herself from speaking any more words. She supposed it would do good for him to know that information. It would buy her some time if they thought she had simply gone to visit Esmeralda instead of going against Adamina’s edict. Smiling, the boy nodded and went off to do as he was asked.

While he was occupied, Idalia slipped into his sleeping quarters. She looked around the small space and stifled a happy cry when she saw a set of his clothes hanging on a peg on the wall. They smelled less than ideal, of horse manure and male sweat, but it was all she could find. Quickly, she stuffed them under her skirt and cringed in disgust at the feel of them against her skin as she held them between her thighs. She hurried as much as she could back to the stall, grimacing when the scratchy fabric irritated her thighs. She blew out a breath when she reached the stall, to see the lad had retrieved her favorite horse and had clearly not noticed her absence. He turned away just as she mounted the beast in one swift motion, being careful not to drop the lad’s clothing in the process.

Idalia was a skilled horsewoman and moved with an easy grace in the saddle. The boy blushed when she flashed him her most brilliant smile; then she turned the horses head and rode out of the castle gates. Instead of riding to Esmerelda’s, Idalia rode until she was out of sight of the castle, then hid in some rocks to change her clothes. She bundled her hair up into a hat and left her dress hidden in a bag of food she had managed to bring from the kitchen. Dressed in the stolen shirt and breeches, hoping she made a passable boy, she turned her horse and rode along the beach to the farthest fishing hut she knew of. There, she convinced the man to take her across the sea to the mainland, pretending to be the son of one of the islanders who wished to go and visit family across the sea. The older fisherman, having no reason to doubt her word, agreed, and took Idalia out onto his boat.

By the time Idalia stepped foot on Scotland’s shores, she was so nervous that she thought she might be sick to her stomach. She was tempted to turn back, but she squared her shoulders, paid the man for his service, and continued on her journey. Dressed as a boy, Idalia garnered little to no attention from those she passed along the way, which were, thankfully, few. She followed the hand-drawn map that had been included in the letter with instructions on how to get to the seer’s place of abode.

The journey was not without its difficulties. Idalia jumped at everything that sounded remotely human. Her eyes searched behind every tree, every hill, every stone wall. The men who had killed her family had come out of the darkness, but that did not mean that threats did not exist in the light of day as well. She kept a wary eye out the entire way across the Scottish Highlands as she traveled to where the seer had instructed. She wished she could have brought guards along with her, including her sister, but it had not been possible. Idalia felt a moment of guilt for leaving her sister behind to worry, but she shook it off. What she was doing was for them all, including Leonor.

She arrived at the seer’s cottage and dismounted, searching the area for any possible threats before she moved to knock on the door. Not finding anything, she moved to the door and raised her hand to knock. Before she had a chance to hit the wooden portal with her fist, a weathered old woman opened the door and stared up into her face suspiciously. “Ye the Romani lass?”

Idalia nodded her head in confirmation. “I am. Are you the seer whom I seek?”

“I am.” The old woman stepped back, allowing Idalia to enter her house. She motioned for Idalia to sit down at the roughhewn table in the center of the one-room cottage. Idalia obeyed. “Tea?”

Idalia nodded her head politely. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

The old woman turned and shuffled over to a pot of water heating over the fireplace. Idalia studied the room around her as the seer worked. It was a sparse room, with herbs hanging from the ceilings. Other than the table and chairs, there was a small bed in the corner, but no other furniture. The old woman returned to the table and handed Idalia a steaming hot cup of tea. It smelled of mint and flowers. Idalia smiled in gratitude and took a good long sip. The tea was soothing after her long journey. She took another long drink, then set her cup down to meet the seer’s eyes.

“What have ye come for, lass? What is it that troubles ye?”

“I seek to know the fate of August Raymond. Is he dead or alive? Does he seek me still? Or has he released me from his obsession? Am I, and what remains of my family, free to roam about the land as we once did?” Idalia stopped to take a breath and grew a bit dizzy. “Where is August Raymond?” she barely whispered the last as she clung to the table to steady herself.

“All will be revealed to ye soon enough,” the seer murmured as blackness swallowed Idalia whole and a cloth sack descended over her head.

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