Prologue

Prologue

8 YEARS AGO…

Thunder crackled across the night sky as bolts of lightning lit up the night. The winds blew the wild fields of wheat and barley violently from their stems, back and forth like a dance, in the tempestuous Highland air. Sheets of rain washed over the soil, drifting in one direction and then the other, depending on the whim of the wind. Those within the outskirts of the Laird's keep closed their shutters, holding tight to the candles that flickered wildly from the drafty fireplaces.

Within the tall stone walls of the keep, an eerie whistle flowed through the hallways and down to the main hall, which was sitting empty. Small puddles formed at the base of the walls, with water running down the stone crevices onto the cold floors. Blair tightened her shawl around her shoulders as her sisters huddled close to her, trembling from the echoing storm.

"Shhh, 'tis alright. It's just a storm. We need the rain. How else would the Highlands be so beautiful?" Blair whispered to her sisters.

Even within her calm tone, she could feel the thunder shutter through her. Being the oldest of the girls, she could remember many storms like the current one, but there was something different that time. Something that hitched itself to the whistling, something that carried a dry and ominous echo inside of Blair's chest. Still, she did her duty, calming the girls as best she could, waiting for the storm to pass.

From the window, the sound of clopping hooves and the whinny of a horse could just barely be heard. She patted the girls, handing the youngest, just a babe, to Jocelyn, the second, as she stepped off the bed and crept closer to the window. Through the racing droplets cascading down the glass, she could see her father riding fast toward the front of the keep. Narrowing her eyes, a flash of lightning lit up his figure, hunched over the horse as it came to a stop. She gripped her shawl tightly, watching as Laird McMillan fell from the horse with a thud. Blair watched him struggle, trying to get to his feet.

Turning to her sisters, she plastered on a non fearful smile and patted their three heads. "Stay here with each other. I shall be back in a moment. Wrap the blankets around ye, it'll keep ye safe from the storm. Don't leave the room."

With that, she hurried from her chambers, her bare feet pattering along the stone hallway as she made her way to the staircase. At the top, she paused for a moment, wondering if the figure of her father from the window was an illusion, a trick of the flickering oil lamps. The thunder clamored again, and the sound of his horse just outside the door echoed in the empty entryway.

Blair gasped and hurried down the steps, flinging open the large, wooden door. She put her hand up to block the wildly blowing rain as it struck hard against her skin. She looked into the night, right and left for her father, but it wasn't until the lightning flashed again that she saw him crawling up the steps.

"Father," she gasped, hurrying out into the storm.

She gripped his arm and put it over her shoulder, doing everything she could to help him to his feet. He gripped his stomach and groaned as he limped into the keep. The healer and her team came running, Blair's mother at their heels. As soon as the door shut behind them, Laird McMillan dropped to his knees and fell back.

"Father, what happened?" Blair cried out, her knees collapsing next to him. "You're injured."

Blood soaked him through his plaid and tunic, cascading from a wound the size of a sword in his gut. Blair's mother dropped down to his other side. "Gelvin. What…what happened?"

Blair's father looked lovingly at Blair, slowly reaching his hand up, touching her cheek. Blair put her hand over his, tears filling her eyes. Laird McMillan coughed, his breath wheezing in his chest as he tried to speak. Blair leaned closer to hear his whispers.

"I'm…I'm sorry, my….dear Blair…I did…" he coughed again, taking a deep breath. "I did…what I had to do to save you. One day…one day you'll understand. You…you are the future of the clan, my girl."

Laird McMillan's hand began to go limp, sliding from Blair's grasp. People were running all around them, but Blair could only focus on her father's face. Two hands gripped her shoulders, attempting to pull her back but she struggled forward, shaking her head. "No! Father! What do you mean? Father! Wake up!"

"Come girl," her mother's voice called. "We must let the healers see to him. Come, let him go."

Blair swallowed hard and let go of her father's hand, allowing her mother to pull her back and to her feet. She swirled Blair to face her, grasping her cheeks and staring into her eyes. "We must go with yer sisters. Come on. We must."

"Listen to yer mother, girl," an older voice crackled.

Blair looked up into the clearest, bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were full of knowledge and youth, although surrounded by wrinkled and sagging skin. An old wise woman of the clan gripped tightly to her staff, her body hunched, covered in a cloak, the hood pulled up, only showing a small glimmer of the silver hair beneath.

She reached out her frail hand and touched Blair's arm. Suddenly, all the fear, confusion, and sadness simmered away, and Blair knew nothing but her sisters. The old woman nodded at Blair, and she turned and headed up the steps toward her room. Blair's mother stood with the old wise woman, Lady McMillan's hands covered in her husband's blood. The thunder boomed outside and the lamps flickered wildly, casting shadows along the tall stone walls.

"Come with me," the old woman whispered to Lady McMillan.

They walked from the frantic scene, down the hall and shut the door to the study. The fire hissed wildly in the fireplace as small drops of water dripped down the chimney and into the flames. The old woman stared at Lady McMillan. "Those girls are yer only safety now. I warned yer husband, but he didn't listen. Now fate has full control of yer future, and the future of this clan."