Chapter 1 | Cora

Chapter 1

Cora

S ummer in Ireland had always been Cora’s favorite season. She was sure that elsewhere in the world, there were beautiful sights in other seasons, but to her, there was nothing more lovely than the warm breeze rolling through the grasses on a bright summer day.

Not that she had much time to enjoy such things. Ever since she’d officially come of age, her father had made sure that she had plenty of responsibility. He claimed it kept her from going on ‘reckless adventures’ across their lands.

He called them reckless. She called them the closest thing to freedom she had.

As a lord’s daughter, she was bound to the needs of her people, and those needs never seemed to involve galloping over the hills with the wind in her hair.

Even this ride, this momentary reprieve, was a reminder of her station and her age. As a child, she might have slipped away for a few hours unnoticed. But now? She was lucky her father let her travel to the village with just one guard. Supposedly, he was meant to keep a watch out for her because of recently increased attacks from King Edwin of England and run-of-the-mill highwaymen, but the gray-haired guardsman looked ready to fall asleep in his saddle at any moment. Cora wondered if he’d make it another hundred yards before slipping off. It’d be poor manners to laugh if he did, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to help it.

Her lower back ached from sitting with a perfect posture, but even here, away from everyone else, she was expected to play her part. Deirdre, her elderly lady-in-waiting, never wasted an opportunity to remind her of the expectations of the world around her.

Sit straight.

Speak softly.

Never argue.

Walk slowly.

Chew quietly.

Never let on that your fingers hurt after a day of pricking them on needles for the sake of your embroidery.

And never, ever, let anyone know that the Captain of the Guard took time every Tuesday to teach you how to use a sword and buckler.

She had the impression that since her mother’s death, her father—and Deirdre—felt the need to overcompensate in her education. Everything she did had a purpose—even her daily rides on Epona had a purpose. Apparently, a lady should take every opportunity to practice good form and posture.

Cora often daydreamed of running away and joining the wildlings and faeries of the forests just for a bit of fun.

Behind her, the guard snored so loudly that his horse startled. It reared back, almost knocking old Cormac from his saddle. He woke with a shout, arms wheeling to keep his balance. Cora shook her head as he gripped the reins, wide-eyed and frantic. “My Lady! Are we under attack?”

“No, Cormac,” she said with a laugh. “No brigands, thieves, or highwaymen to be seen. So sorry to disrupt your nap!”

Cormac bristled, his bushy mustache twitching with indignation. “A seasoned guard such as myself would never be so lax in his duty! I was enjoying the sun and the breeze, that’s all. It’s a fine day.”

“A lovely day indeed,” she agreed, a playful smile curving her lips. “But we’ll be in the village soon. Perhaps you might... appreciate the day a bit later?”

“Aye, Lady. Never fear, I’ll keep a sharp eye. Never know when you’ll come across a thief or one of those wildlings.”

Cora rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ah, yes. I’m sure Cillian Fane himself will leap from the bushes, a wolf's head on his shoulders, just to test if you’re enjoying the sun too much.”

Cormac scoffed. “You jest, Lady, but Fane and his wolf men are no laughing matter. You know, I heard -”

“I don’t care for rumors, Cormac, or for bonfire stories meant to frighten children.”

Strange men with frightening abilities, such as the infamous Cillian Fane and his wild wolf changelings, were popular among the guards at night. Even as a child, Cora had dismissed the stories of men transforming into wolves during a full moon. It had seemed too unbelievable, too strange. Besides, the world was frightening enough as it was. One didn’t need to believe in wolf-men to see that.

Of all of her duties, visiting the surrounding villages was the one she dreaded the least. There were no physicians available, even if their people could afford their services. Most were lucky to have a midwife nearby, or a hedge witch handy with healing herbs. Her mother had seen it as part of her duty to the people of their lands to attend them and provide what medicines and resources she could. After she’d died, Cora had happily taken her place.

Her father claimed the visits were key to their standing as the lords of Ossory, and she supposed that was true. Many lords preferred to lead from great halls and distant castles, never bothering to know the people who worked their lands. Fergus Kilkenny believed a ruler was strongest when his people’s loyalty came from love and respect rather than fear. He supported her work because he felt it inspired trust and good faith between him and his people. Cora worried that one day he might suggest an actual physician would serve them better. Without the weekly time outside of the castle, she feared she’d waste away with boredom.

They were still a way off from the village when something in the distance caught Cora’s attention. The main road to the nearest village wasn’t often busy. Today, she and Cormac had been alone, with nothing but the sun and the breeze to keep them company. It was strange, then, when she was sure she heard the sounds of shouting somewhere far off. A small figure ran out from the forest ahead, racing as though pursued by the Devil himself.

“Hold, My Lady.” Cormac scanned the open field with suspicion. “Something’s not right.”

Cora pulled her mare to a stop, shifting nervously in her saddle. Cormac drew his sword, but it was soon clear that he wouldn’t need it. A young boy bounded through the long grass, waving his arms wildly. When he came close enough to make out his features, Cora gasped and called out to him.

“Niall! What are you doing here? Your mother will dig your grave herself if she finds you so far from home!”

The boy, Niall, stumbled to a halt next to her horse, panting as though he’d run the entire way from his family’s farm at the edge of the village. His wild, wheat-blonde hair clung to his head with sweat. “Lady Cora, you must help!” he begged between heaving breaths. “Englishmen. The village. They attacked without warning. My da, he went to stop them! My mam told me to run—to get help! Please, Lady, we need help!”

“Lady, we should leave now,” Cormac said, coming up beside her. “If they are in the village, they may come this way next.”

It wasn’t the first time Edwin’s men had attacked an Irish village, but they’d never come to her father’s lands before. Cora’s heart lurched when images of the village people flashed through her mind. There were no warriors there. No guards. The people of that village were farmers and herdsmen, and after a terrible sickness two winters before, they had few enough grown men as it was. They would be defenseless against trained men with weapons.

Cora shook her head. “There’s no time! If there are wounded, I can help them! Niall, run for the castle and find Captain éogan. Tell him what you’ve told us—they’ll send men immediately!”

“Yes, Lady!” Niall dashed off without another word, dust flying beneath his feet.

“Lady, I must insist! If what the boy says is true, I cannot allow you to do this! If the Englishmen were to—”

Cora tightened her grip on Epona’s reins and glared at her escort. “Cormac, those are our people! They need us! Who knows when reinforcements will come? People are dying now! If you’re so worried about my safety, I suggest you come along and protect me!”

Without waiting for Cormac’s reply, Cora dug her heels into Epona’s flank and rode for the trees.

CORA SMELLED THE SMOKE before she saw it. The forest path that marked the last leg of her journey had always been peaceful, and she’d often wished it would last longer than it did. Today, she prayed for the end to appear as the path flew by under Epona’s feet.

She tried to ignore the images that flashed through her mind of the carnage that might await them. Ruthless Englishmen with blood-stained swords, mothers crouched over their children, and fathers and sons meeting iron and steel with pitchforks and hunting knives. Angry tears burned her eyes, but she wiped them away and urged Epona to run faster. There was no time for tears, no time for weakness, fear, or hesitation.

Cormac cursed behind her. He’d been trying to overtake her, to cut off her path to the village, but Epona was young and strong, and his old mare could barely keep up.

“My Lady, stop!” he roared. “We must go back! Please, Lady!”

Cora ignored him, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. They were close. So close that she could hear cries up ahead. Her breath hitched when she saw black smoke curling into the sky. The border of trees outside the village couldn’t hide the billowing clouds or the bright flames that spread across thatched roofs.

When Epona broke through the tree line, Cora pulled her to a stop so quickly that the mare reared up in surprise. She stared wide-eyed, her mind struggling to make sense of the scene before her.

Bodies lay littered on the ground like forgotten bundles of wheat, blood pooling in the dirt beneath them. Every home had been set on fire, as had the fields beyond the village. Animals ran through the chaos, screeching in fear as they trampled bodies and dodged crumbling buildings. A child wailed somewhere nearby, screaming for its mother. It was all that Cora had feared and more.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat at the scent of smoke and blood, Cora quickly scanned the area. There was no sign of the English attackers, only the evidence of their presence in the chaos left behind.

She turned to Cormac, who stared in shock at the carnage and destruction. He formed the sign of the cross and said, “Holy Mother preserve us—they had no chance... no warning.”

“Why would the English do such a thing?” she asked bitterly. “These weren’t soldiers in a battle! They were farmers! Shepherds! Women and children and old men! What could they have done to deserve this?”

Cormac sighed. “They did nothing to deserve it, lass. This was a message. King Edwin... he wants the lords to know that he’s a threat. That at any moment, he could strike.”

“Do you think they’ll be back?”

Cormac thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. They’ve done their job. Burned the village and the fields and likely ran off with anything of value. There’s nothing left here but trouble once your father arrives.”

Cora nodded, steeling herself against what lay ahead. “Then we’d best get to it. There are survivors who need care and dead who deserve a proper burial.”

“Aye, Lady.”

The deep breath she took to steady herself only filled her lungs with the stench of death and smoke, and as they rode toward what was left of the village, she wondered if it was an omen.