Prologue

French Border 1343

E verything had gone quiet.

Deadly silent.

Teagan crept through the woodland with a keen eye on his surroundings, bracing for an unexpected attack.

Yet none came.

All remained silent.

Eerily still.

Until an all-too-familiar sound filled the sky.

"Something's not right." Edmund's gaze rose to the vultures circling overhead. "Trouble lies ahead."

He and his comrade-in-arms had just left a skirmish with the English to pursue a few cowards. After cutting them down swiftly, they were about to turn back only to sense trouble.

"Do ye hear that?" Teagan murmured.

"Aye." Edmund listened closely. "Sounds like men moving further away from us."

"Not away from us, but what lies ahead." He held his sword at the ready when cottages appeared. "'Tis a village."

Or at least it was.

He'd seen horrible things since fighting on behalf of Scotland's Auld Alliance with France, but nothing compared to what they came upon that day. Broken, bloodied bodies. Awful carnage. Unspeakable atrocities done to women.

After Teagan gestured that Edmund go in one direction and he another, Teagan made his way deeper into the village.

"Bloody hell ," he cursed when he rounded a corner and came upon a scene no one should witness, let alone suffer.

Not bothering with stealth, he roared, "Nay," and yanked a man off a lass. Shaking with fury, he punched him once, twice, then a third time before he slit his throat.

"'Tis all right, lass," he said gently, returning to the woman's side. She struggled to breathe as he covered her with his cloak and held her hand. "All will be well."

But it would not be.

Not at all.

Her pained gaze drifted to his face, then went vacant moments later.

Just like that, she was gone.

Trembling with rage, he closed her eyes to death, hung his head, and murmured a prayer for her soul. This sort of thing happened far too often during wartime, and he'd long ago reached his breaking point. Long ago, given up hope good still existed in the world.

"Och," Edmund said softly when he joined him and saw the woman. He made the sign of the cross on his chest. "Bunch of bloody monsters."

"We should look for survivors." Teagan ground his teeth and headed deeper into the village. "Mayhap, some lived."

How could they have, though? Whoever did this had been brutal. Ruthless.

"There." Edmund pointed ahead. "I just saw a lass."

They headed that way, only to discover two women fleeing into the forest.

Moments later, a young man leapt out of nowhere with his sword at the ready, blocking their attempt to follow .

"You will g-g-go no further," he stuttered. Though shaking, he held his ground and narrowed his eyes at Teagan and Edmund. "In the n-name of Good King Edward III, you will stand d-down and leave those w-women be."

" Good King Edward?" Edmund sneered in disgust. "There is nothing good about him. Now get out of our way."

Assuming the man would flee in terror, Edmund made a motion like he was going to engage, only for their opponent to stay put. Though he shook so hard he could barely hold his sword up, he was brave.

"What happened here?" Teagan growled. "Who did this?"

The man was about to respond but stumbled back a few steps instead, his eyes wide with fear. Teagan realized why when he glanced over his shoulder. His men were approaching. Yet it wasn't them the man's eyes locked on. Nay, another group came from the opposite direction.

Clearly only so courageous, the man fled when the groups engaged one another.

"Let him go," Teagan said when Edmund started after him. "He obviously means to protect the lasses and our men need help."

That decision, it just so happened, would someday prove very helpful.