grief-ravaged heart. After her mother’s death, Hamud had cared for her as both mother and father. Now it was time for her to pay back the debt of love she owed the man who had given her life.
You’ve no a need to fash yerself over Jamesy, her uncle had said. We’ll find you a husband to fill yer days as yer father should have done long ago, and you’ll forget this vengeance business soon enough.
Brie spat on the ground beside her. That’s what she thought of her uncle’s idea. How could any man who shared her father’s blood be so daft? How could her own uncle know so little about her? If these men thought she was simply going to accept her father’smurder, sitting in her little cottage, mourning away her life, or devoting it to the upkeep of some slovenly bastard they chose for her, well, they were all badly mistaken.
Through her mother, Brie was a daughter of the House MacUlagh, descended from the Ancient Seven who’d ruled over this land when not even the Roman invaders had dared challenge all the way to the northern sea. Her father had honored her mother’s bloodline, training Brie with weapons even as he’d trained her older brother. Warrior ran in her blood as much as in Jamesy’s.
Except that in her blood, temper ran in equal parts with warrior. Her da had always claimed it was that which kept her from being her brother’s equal. She drew in a deep breath, fighting to tamp down the anger as her father had often instructed. Fighting to wrestle it to the ground and bury it in a deep, dark hole.
As always, she was only partially successful.
When Jamesy returned, the foul MacDowylt laird of the northern clan would be made to pay, even though Malcolm would do nothing to avenge her father’s death.
Jamesy would return. Any day now. He would.
“If,” she hissed into the wind, her fists clenched at her side. If Malcolm had told her the truth. If he had actually sent word to Jamesy of what had happened to their father.
But what if he hadn’t? What if Malcolm had liedand Jamesy had no knowledge of their father’s murder? It was a possibility she had to face. If her brother didn’t return, it was up to her to set the grievance right on her own. Whatever it took, she’d make her way to Tordenet Castle and seek vengeance against the vile Torquil herself. One way or another, he would be made to pay for the crime he had committed against her family.
“By the Seven,” she vowed, stopping as her attention fell to the clanging of the heavy chains raising the gate to give someone entrance to Castle MacGahan.
Could it be? Her heart pounded as she rushed to the opposite side of the wall walk to peer down to the road below, holding back her disappointment at the sight greeting her eyes.
Not her brother, but a distraction nonetheless. Tinklers!
She raced back across the wall walk to look down on the courtyard. As if word had spread by magic, inhabitants of the castle streamed from the keep and outbuildings, all hurrying to reach the Tinklers’ wagons as they pulled into the bailey.
Though this was the first visit Tinklers had made in the year she’d lived at Castle MacGahan, she’d heard the stories of how they’d long been refused entry to the castle grounds. But all that had changed thanks to Laird Malcolm’s first wife, the Lady Isabella.
These days the Tinklers and the wares they carriedwere welcomed. One who appeared to be their leader, a man by the name of William Faas, if Brie remembered the stories correctly, jumped down from the lead wagon before reaching up to assist a woman to the ground beside him.
Cook weaved her way through the gathering crowd to speak to the man. With Cook’s silver tongue, there’d likely be new pots in the keep’s kitchen before day’s end. The Tinkler woman did not join in the conversation with Cook, but hurried away from the wagon, directly toward the stairs where their laird and his lady waited with Lady Danielle’s friend, Mistress Syrie.
As soon as the
You’ve no a need to fash yerself over Jamesy, her uncle had said. We’ll find you a husband to fill yer days as yer father should have done long ago, and you’ll forget this vengeance business soon enough.
Brie spat on the ground beside her. That’s what she thought of her uncle’s idea. How could any man who shared her father’s blood be so daft? How could her own uncle know so little about her? If these men thought she was simply going to accept her father’smurder, sitting in her little cottage, mourning away her life, or devoting it to the upkeep of some slovenly bastard they chose for her, well, they were all badly mistaken.
Through her mother, Brie was a daughter of the House MacUlagh, descended from the Ancient Seven who’d ruled over this land when not even the Roman invaders had dared challenge all the way to the northern sea. Her father had honored her mother’s bloodline, training Brie with weapons even as he’d trained her older brother. Warrior ran in her blood as much as in Jamesy’s.
Except that in her blood, temper ran in equal parts with warrior. Her da had always claimed it was that which kept her from being her brother’s equal. She drew in a deep breath, fighting to tamp down the anger as her father had often instructed. Fighting to wrestle it to the ground and bury it in a deep, dark hole.
As always, she was only partially successful.
When Jamesy returned, the foul MacDowylt laird of the northern clan would be made to pay, even though Malcolm would do nothing to avenge her father’s death.
Jamesy would return. Any day now. He would.
“If,” she hissed into the wind, her fists clenched at her side. If Malcolm had told her the truth. If he had actually sent word to Jamesy of what had happened to their father.
But what if he hadn’t? What if Malcolm had liedand Jamesy had no knowledge of their father’s murder? It was a possibility she had to face. If her brother didn’t return, it was up to her to set the grievance right on her own. Whatever it took, she’d make her way to Tordenet Castle and seek vengeance against the vile Torquil herself. One way or another, he would be made to pay for the crime he had committed against her family.
“By the Seven,” she vowed, stopping as her attention fell to the clanging of the heavy chains raising the gate to give someone entrance to Castle MacGahan.
Could it be? Her heart pounded as she rushed to the opposite side of the wall walk to peer down to the road below, holding back her disappointment at the sight greeting her eyes.
Not her brother, but a distraction nonetheless. Tinklers!
She raced back across the wall walk to look down on the courtyard. As if word had spread by magic, inhabitants of the castle streamed from the keep and outbuildings, all hurrying to reach the Tinklers’ wagons as they pulled into the bailey.
Though this was the first visit Tinklers had made in the year she’d lived at Castle MacGahan, she’d heard the stories of how they’d long been refused entry to the castle grounds. But all that had changed thanks to Laird Malcolm’s first wife, the Lady Isabella.
These days the Tinklers and the wares they carriedwere welcomed. One who appeared to be their leader, a man by the name of William Faas, if Brie remembered the stories correctly, jumped down from the lead wagon before reaching up to assist a woman to the ground beside him.
Cook weaved her way through the gathering crowd to speak to the man. With Cook’s silver tongue, there’d likely be new pots in the keep’s kitchen before day’s end. The Tinkler woman did not join in the conversation with Cook, but hurried away from the wagon, directly toward the stairs where their laird and his lady waited with Lady Danielle’s friend, Mistress Syrie.
As soon as the
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