Prologue

PROLOGUE

" Y e should nae gae," Patrin Lovell said, a desperate look in his eyes.

Maria clenched her jaw and looked away. "I must. If I dinnae answer his summons, I fear what he would dae tae our people."

"We cannae live in fear."

"If I gae tae him, then I dinnae need tae. I will be fine. I hae done this before. I will return soon, my love," Maria spoke in soothing words, placing her hand upon Patrin's cheek. Her hands settled against his bearded skin, finding the beginning of a scar that Patrin covered up with his facial hair. It had been a gift from a cruel Highlander. Many Romani people had been given similar gifts. Maria pressed her lips against his. He ran his fingers through her dark, curled hair, and she felt herself buckle under the force of his affection.

"If anything should happen tae ye…"

"I will be fine," Maria promised. She hated lying to the man she loved.

Her red cloak flowed behind her as she strode through the village. People gazed at her, some with intrigue, some with fear, and some with gratitude. Maria held her head high. She was used to being treated in such a way. All Romani were, but today she was the guest of Laird McKovac.

Guards smiled and nudged each other as she made her way to the laird's chambers. She knew what they were thinking, but their opinion of her did not matter. It was not the truth. She closed the door behind her. The Laird was waiting for her, his lips stained with wine. He was already old, flinty and hard, like the mountains that rose in the distance. He leered at her, and tension ran through Maria's body. She did this not only for Patrin and their family, but for her entire people. If they were to stay in the village, then she needed to heed the laird's request. It was hard enough for her people to live in peace as it was. If the laird looked upon her favorably, then she might be able to buy some kindness.

"Come sit, my dear. I am in need of yer insights again," he said, patting the floor beside him. He sank down to a bear skin rug and held out his palm. Maria suppressed a sigh. There was no doubting the truth of his intentions, for he did not take his eyes off her as she descended to the floor, curling her legs beneath her. He had a dazed, infatuated look on his face as she took his hand in hers, and then gazed at his palm. His hand was wide, and hair dusted the back of it. The palm was smooth, with strong, deep furrows etched into the skin. She had read his palm many times before, but the Laird always called her back.

"I see that there shall be a fruitful harvest in yer future," Maria said, locking her gaze on his palm. She did not wish to look up and meet his eyes.

"What about love?" he rasped.

"I am sure a man such as yerself dinnae need me tae give ye insight about that. A man of yer stature must attract many Scottish maidens," she said, her heart sinking.

"And what if I dinnae want a Scottish maiden? What if I want someone a wee bit… different? Let us stop this dance, Maria. Ye must know why I call ye here. Ye must see it in my palms. I love ye. I want ye tae be by my side," he said.

Maria's breath caught in her throat. She had been dreading the confession, for there was only one answer she could give.

"My Laird, I am sorry, but my heart already belongs tae another."

"Another? Ye mean one of ye?" he sneered. "Ye could be a Laird's wife, Maria. Dae ye know what I am offering ye?"

"Aye, my Laird, and still, I must refuse. I must stay true tae my heart. I can live nae other way. It would be a betrayal to my people, and my culture."

The Laird gave a scoffing laugh, his expression changing immediately. "Yer culture? A rich tale…ye are little more than vermin. Only ye are the exception." Maria tried to pull her hand away, but long fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She saw the evil glint in his eye and could smell the wine on his breath. Suddenly, the room became very small, and she feared there would be no escape. "I could make life very difficult for yer people, Maria. Think about them. Would it be sae bad tae live here with me, and keep me… occupied? Nae other Laird would hae a wife like ye."

"I hae pledged myself already. Please—let me gae," Maria said, the words squeaking out as he placed more pressure on her wrist. She feared it might snap.

Maria, acting on instinct, lashed out at him when he wouldn't release her. She swiped her hand across his face, scratching his nose and eyes. The shock of it loosened his grasp, and she backed away.

He looked at her with hatred.

"I will make ye pay for this! I will come after all of ye!" he roared, bristling with anger and vigor.

Maria turned to her ancestral knowledge, defending herself and her people with the only weapon she had; words. All this time she had placated him and flattered him in the hopes that he would remain calm and peaceful. She had obeyed his summons to protect her people, but now she wondered if she would have been better off ignoring him in the first place. Seeing him so regularly had inflamed his desire to the point where it boiled over to anger, burning with a fervor that never would have taken hold had he not fallen to lust.

She mumbled something in a strange tongue and then cast a spiteful curse on this spiteful man. She pointed her finger, and her brown eyes flickered with arcane fury. "Yer rule will be tainted with turmoil and despair. Whatever hatred you give to the world will be returned to you tenfold. Only if you seek redemption for your sins will you avoid catastrophe; otherwise, you will be ensnared by your own misdeeds. Seek my forgiveness, and you will be free of this curse," Maria said.

The laird backed away, shocked and stunned. Maria took the opportunity to escape, hoping that the fear of the curse would be enough for the laird to let her. Ancient knowledge was powerful, but the power came from the belief, not in any magic itself. Maria ran away from the keep, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the night, fearing that her people were condemned to suffer because she had been true to her heart.