A young man in the group rode up to me. Pulling on his horse’s reins, he rode in a circle around me. “What are you doing out so late, woman?” he asked.
My mind raced. If I revealed who I was, maybe these men could take me back to Madelaine. But then again, Boite had many enemies at court. His daughter might not be safe with the King’s men. Better to just play the role I’d picked.
“Beggin’ your pardon, your Lordship. I’m on my way back to my farm. Got delayed in the rain.”
Even as I spoke the words, a tremor ran down my spine which told me that this excuse would serve me no better than revealing my true identity. In the end, I was a woman, alone, in the woods. The young man who looked down at me had eyes that shimmered the way Alister’s once had. I could feel the predatory wolf inside him. His dangerous appetite effervesced from him stronger than the stench of his horse. My heart froze. Thora? Where was Thora?
“My Prince,” an older man in the group called, “this is not the time—”
“Silence,” the young man replied then pulled off his helmet.
“Yes, Prince Duncan,” the man muttered then looked away.
I stepped backward. Prince. Prince? No. This was Duncan, son of Crinian and Bethoc, grandson of Malcolm. My cousin.
“Hold an arrow on her. She looks like she wants to run,” Duncan said to his companion as he dismounted.
“It’s raining, My Prince. The men are hungry and tired of riding. We’ve got a long night ahead of us. Must we—”
“All the more reason then,” Duncan said. “Don’t worry. I’ll let the boys have a turn when I’m done. I’ll get her loose and ready for the lads,” he said with a laugh which the others joined. He then turned to me. “Now, where are you going, girl?” Duncan asked me as he strode forward.
Trembling, I stepped backward. I tried to calm myself, to call the raven, but all I could feel was the beating of my heart in my throat. Fear gripped me. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t concentrate. All I could feel and hear was the pounding of my heart. Run, I told myself. Run. I eyed the man holding an arrow on me. He shook his head.
“My Lord, I beg you. Please don’t,” I whispered.
“Oh, come now, girl. Don’t you want a royal bastard?”
I froze.
Morrigu? Scotia? Where are you? Help me!
A strange, hollow silence came in reply. I felt eyes on me, like someone watched, their sorrow palpable, but no one came to my aid.
I closed my eyes and tried to call the raven once again, but was jerked from my thoughts when Duncan grabbed me roughly by the arms and pushed me face down on the ground near the thicket.
“Are you a virgin, girl?” he whispered as he pushed away my wet and muddy dress. I could feel drops of rain fall on my bare skin.
Holding me down with one hand, I heard him fussing with his buckles. “Dirty, filthy clothes. Don’t you have anything better than this? Such a nice body hidden under such rags.”
“No, no. Please. Don’t,” I whispered.
He struck the back of my head hard. Black dots and flashes like stars appeared before my eyes. Once again, pain shot through my head.
I cried out in agony.
“Shut up,” he whispered. I felt his fingers between my legs, prodding. Moments later, he found what he was looking for. He grabbed my hips roughly and pulled me toward him, slamming his cock into me. My whole body shook as he invaded me.
“No,” I whimpered as he beat himself into me. “No, no.”
“Shut up,” he said between breaths. He grabbed my hair and pulled it hard.
I closed my eyes and tried to trick myself. I told myself that it was Banquo. I told myself that I was with my love. I lied to myself. I tried to make myself believe this wasn’t happening. I felt the rain on my naked skin, my flesh exposed for the world to see. I felt him inside me. Him. My cousin. Prince Duncan. Against all chance, I lay with my cheek pressed against the earth as my cousin assaulted me.
Banquo. My Banquo. Soon I would be with Banquo.
I don’t know how long he took his pleasure, but some time later I heard Duncan groan then pull away.
“Nice,” he said with a whisper. I could hear him buckling up his trousers. “Get up, girl.” He kicked me over with his boot.
Out of my mind, I struggled to my feet, pushing my messy dress down. I stood across from him. This time, however, I stared him in the face.
His eyes were set close together and cloudy blue in color. His lips were fat, the bottom lip protruding noticeably. He had red blemishes all over his face. He looked nothing like my father. He must have taken after his father’s line. Gold curls, damp from the rain, fell onto his shoulders. He stood fumbling inside his vest.
When he finally looked up at me, he seemed surprised to see me looking at him.
“Well,” he said with a smile. “A pretty face after all. For your trouble.” He tossed a bag of coins at my feet. With that, he turned around and mounted his horse once more.
“We gettin’ a turn?” one of the men called.
“No,” Duncan replied. “I feel better now. And it’s still raining. Let’s go. I’ll get you a nice dry serving wench when we arrive.”
“Two!” one of the men replied with a laugh.
“Even better,” Duncan said, then spurred his horse away. As they rode off, I heard them fall into conversation about the luxuries of bedding two women at once.
The man holding the arrow on me lowered his weapon. “Don’t come looking for any handouts for any bastards. We kill girls who try to ruin the prince’s reputation. Understand me?”
I studied every inch of the man’s face: dark hair, brown eyes, and a scar running across his forehead. He wore a badger sigil on his breastplate. I raised one finger and pulled what little bit of power I could muster from the air with my shaking hand then pointed it at his insignia.
I nodded. “No heirs,” I more breathed than said, feeling my curse flow into the ether.
“MacDuff!” Duncan called back to the man.
MacDuff, as Duncan had named him, snarled at me then turned and rode back to his prince.
I bent and picked up the coin pouch. Burned onto the leather was the prince’s emblem. The men’s torchlight disappeared as they rode away. Their voices, their laughter, carried on the wind until I could hear them no more.
My stomach shook. A sick feeling racked me as I felt his leavings drip down my leg. I turned and vomited. My body trembled. The woods grew dark again.
Some time later, Thora emerged from the darkness. When she caught the scent of the men, she growled.
“Run, Thora,” I whispered. “Take us home.”
Thora turned and raced through the woods. I moved quickly behind her, rushing through the wet grass, slogging through a stream, pushing through mud. There was a strange howling sound echoing through the woods. When I listened to it more closely, I realized it was my own sobbing I heard. I stopped, took a deep shuddering breath, then ran again.
Sometime later that night, I stumbled, out of my mind, into the coven. As soon as I realized where I was, I walked to the cauldron and collapsed.
Chapter 2
“Cerridwen?” Epona whispered softly. She lifted me gently, guiding me with soft hands toward her house.
I shuddered when she touched me.
“Cerridwen?”
I wanted to answer her, but I just couldn’t.
Epona directed me inside then sat me down on a stool before the fire.