Prologue

PROLOGUE

T he pale sun was just making its descent below the horizon. The moon had already taken its place in the sky, a thin crescent that looked to be peering coyly behind a dark veil. It was a calm and peaceful night for most people in the Highlands, but not for Lucy Glennrock. Her heart thumped like a great wardrum and her gaze darted about, looking at the courtyard behind her filled with Lady Boyd's favorite flowers. It disappeared from view as she was led through a narrow corridor towards the back of the keep, where all the shameful people were disposed of. The path was narrow and bumpy, the air still. The rear wall of the keep rose behind her like a huge barrier, and she feared that it would crash down upon her, crushing her underneath the unforgiving stone. Worried beads of sweat lingered on her forehead. The shackles around her wrists were tight. They were heavy iron things, and she kept having to flex her fingers to keep the blood flowing, else she would lose all feeling. The shackles weighed her down, drawing her body forward. If she kept them on long enough, she had no doubt that she would be dragging her hands across the ground, but such was the fate for a dastardly thief.

Three burly guards, each one meaner than the other, escorted her away from the keep. The large building was a foreboding thing, much like a prison itself, she thought. When she twisted her neck to look back, one of the guards glared at her.

"Keep yer eyes forward," he ordered.

"Dinnae be tae harsh on her," another said, "she's only looking back tae the life she left behind."

"Why she would throw this all away for some jewelry I'll never know," the third added. Lucy kept her lips pressed together, unwilling to give them any insight on her situation. But she did stop herself from looking back again. That life was behind her now, as were all the strings that had been attached to her existence. In the back of her mind, there were harsh shouts;

Ye will dae this.

Ye will gae there.

Ye will… ye will… ye will…

She was always told what to do and who to be. Her honey-brown hair was kept at the same length to match the popular style, while the clothes she wore had been handpicked by her father. Every minute of her life had been planned out. She was told what to say and how to say it, how to act and carry herself, and it was incredibly suffocating. There were times when all she wanted to do was run to the top of the keep, fling her head back, and howl like a wolf, giving her frustrations to the wind.

Rebelling against these demands was the first time she had felt any agency in her own life for almost as long as she could remember, and no matter what happened next, she wouldn't have changed a thing.

The guards led her to a waiting carriage. It would take her to the holding cells where she would await trial for stealing Lady Boyd's jewelry. Despite being a maiden of twenty years of age, she was still a thief, so the guards did not have much respect for her. They roughly pushed her in the carriage. Lucy anxiously peered through the window, and just before the wheels of the carriage could trundle away, the pattering sound of frantic footsteps was heard. Lucy overheard a breathless maid tell the guards that Lady Boyd had suffered a terrible accident when returning from an evening ride.

The guards debated whom to send and who should stay behind, but the maid was insistent. "She needs ye all, now!"

The maid urged them away, and the guards' first duty was to protect their lady.

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. Moments passed, and then the door to the carriage was flung open. The maid gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm afraid I dinnae hae a key for those," she looked at the shackles, "but I hae this." She thrust a pouch filled with coins into Lucy's hands. Lucy's fingers curled around them as the maid helped her out of the carriage. "Ye should gae intae the village and find a blacksmith. They will help ye, and will nae ask any questions if they are paid enough."

"Thank ye. And tell the Lady…"

"She knows," the maid replied. "Now hurry, before the guards realize ye are gone."

Lucy stole away into the night, her heart rapid, her eyes wide with fright. Her feet pounded against the ground. At first, she could envision the guards storming after her, ready to drag her back. But, the closer she got to the village, the more she was able to relax. She hid her shackles in the folds of her cloak and kept to the shadows. She dipped her head and was glad of the cover the night provided. It wouldn't be long before the guards realized she had escaped, and then they would hunt for her. If anyone saw the shackles, it would give her away. She needed to find shelter first. The blacksmith shops were closed by this time of the evening, and she didn't want to be out in the open while guards were prowling around anyway. She needed a place to gather her thoughts.

She found a district of the village that was fairly busy and slipped between people, hiding amid the crowd. She was certain she heard the cries of guards who followed her, but she did not linger long enough to make sure. Lucy came upon a shop that had a sign depicting an anvil hanging over the door. The shutters were closed, and there was no light emanating from inside. A cat was pawing at the door, mewing plaintively. When nobody came, the cat slipped around to the side of the building and squeezed through a narrow opening, a half-open basement window. Lucy got on her hands and knees and crawled through, disappearing from sight, and she prayed that the guards would not think to look inside. She would have until morning to think of a plan, and perhaps whoever owned this shop might show pity on her, or would at least be greedy enough to trade gold for secrecy. In the meantime, there might even be something she could use to break her bonds.

Then she would finally be free.