“You talk of the rumours of the newcomers, the invaders who have settled south of our borders?”
“I heard father and Alen talking,” she whispered into my ear. I leant towards her, keeping one eye on Tristram leading the march at the front. “He says the southern lands are taken. The newcomers, they are building a new settlement, greater than anything anyone has ever seen.”
I wanted to close my eyes to dream of what this settlement could look like. I locked the thought away for when we were safely home and weren’t walking in the dark.
“Hard times are coming, I think,” I whispered.
Her glance when she met mine was pale and ethereal. “They are already here, Mae. Have you not been to the store and seen the supplies? We won’t survive the winter.”
“We will.” I gritted my teeth with such ferocity I made my head pound. “We must. Our people won’t be defeated by invaders or hunger.”
She smiled, a small wan upturn of her lips. “I hope you are right, sister. Now, please.” Her smile widened further. “Please go speak to Tristram, he listens to you. We shall go back empty handed, this is futile.” She shivered. “And I’m cold.”
I stared at Tristram’s broad back. His smooth muscles shifted, and he clutched his spear. My mouth dried and I swallowed hard. “Okay, but you know he hates to be defeated.”
Alana mumbled under her breath, but I didn’t catch her words as I stepped up calling Tristram’s name. I was closing in to his position when a loud shout rose. “Deer!”
He was gone, chasing into the woods without a backwards glance. I shivered, my insides churning. Last time someone had gone chasing after a deer they’d been found with their guts on the wrong side of their body, their soul cycled back into the fabric of time.
“Tristram,” I rose my voice in panic, and picked up my skirts. “Curse it.” I leapt after him into the dark foliage. He wasn’t going to lose his guts to a boar if I had anything to do with it.
I was too late.
The deer was already slung over Declan—Tristram’s man at arms—shoulders. Its glassy eyes berating me for not giving it an escape route. We’re hungry, I thought. And pretty as you are, you’ll taste good.
Tristram panted as he came up to me. “Did I have you worried, My Lady?” I frowned and turned my gaze away from his red tipped spear.
“Only that you may trip and fall in the dark and we’d have to haul you back home.”
He grinned, his arm snaking over my shoulders and he tucked me. A light pressure landed on my hair. I stiffened. Did he just kiss my head? A burning blush crept along my skin. “You may pretend not to care, Mae. But I know otherwise.”
I glowed under his touch but slunk out from under it. “Come, we have a hungry village to feed.”
“Aye, we do.” He picked up his pace and I followed behind.
Alana skipped up to my side, her footsteps lighter now she knew we were on the homeward march. “You shall be married by the time of Mabon.” She cast me a pointed glance, and my cheeks warmed a little.
I watched Tristram pull his horn from his belt. The sound of the bellow startled birds from the trees. Muscled and powerful, he was beautiful. A gift from the god’s.
I wished I could believe what she said was true. But in my heart, I didn’t feel it.
“I don’t think so.”
My path wasn’t clear to me. I wished it was. I wished I had the sight my father contained as bard. I wished I knew what the future held for all of us.
We were walking back into the settlement, our arrival greeted with cheers. Men had optimistically started a huge fire, and women were waiting to prepare the kill, when I remembered I hadn’t spoken to Alana about father’s strange behaviour. It was too late now, too many ears were around.
A prickle darted over my skin and I glanced around finding the narrowed eyes of my father settled on me.
Tristram blasted his horn again and the whole settlement: man, woman, and child, gave a giant cheer. This would be a feast—but how long the good fortune would last… I couldn’t be sure.
4
A loud bellow made me jump, and I sat up, fighting against the tangled sheets. My eyes stung with sleep and I rubbed at them. What was that noise? Through blurry vision, I glanced around the room, finding my meagre belongings still in their duffle where I’d left them in room thirteen. It was freezing, and shivering compulsively, I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and gingerly put my feet on the cold stone floor. The window was wide open. Fresh blasting air and drizzly rain swept into the bedroom, turning the curtains into billows of blue cotton. No wonder I was cold. I shut it with a slam checking the latch. Frowning, I gave it a hard wiggle. Didn’t I struggle to open that yesterday? Another shiver made the hairs on my arms stand on end. I grabbed at my duffel and pulled out a Yankees hoodie, tugging it over my head and pulling the sleeves down over my hands. It still smelled faintly of aftershave and I breathed in deeply. The scent was a snapshot of the past—a could have been moment—which had turned to never being anything; the jersey the only reminder of a short-lived romance.
When the letter from my aunt arrived, it seemed the perfect opportunity to break off something that wasn’t going anywhere. Still, the hoodie was a bonus.
I glanced around the stone walls. Even with the window shut the curtains still moved with a slight sway. This place was creepy. Why would people pay to send their children here? In the middle of
