Prologue

When Lady Isobel’s husband is murdered, his death sets off a bloody war between Clan Karyn and their long-time enemies, the Rockfords. Blood was spilled on both sides in an endless dance of revenge and retribution. Appalled by the violence and embittered by loss, Lady Isobel curses the two families to feel the pain they’ve caused… “the kind that lasts forever.”

To her shock, Lady Isobel’s talent as a healer gave the curse power, and members of both families developed a strange new hunger. Lady Isobel was horrified to realize she may have inadvertently led to more blood being spilled.

Forever.

Bowden Castle, Scotland 1284

Father Simon

“I never intended to bring death and destruction to the world.”

Lady Isobel shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable now.

I arranged the parchment on the desk in front of me to better capture her words. “I doubt your actions have done so, my lady. But speak slowly, if you will. It’s been some time since I acted as a scribe.”

My smile was meant to reassure her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. When the chief’s daughter-in-law had sought out my services a fortnight ago, she’d acted much the same. Extremely nervous.

Nay, terrified.

This would not do.

Putting down the quill, I sat back in my seat, the wooden chair creaking beneath my weight. “When you asked that I write down your words, I told you they would remain between us, did I not?”

“Aye, father, you did.” She blinked, her green eyes filling with tears.

“You said you trusted me above all for this task.”

“Aye, father.” Lady Isobel’s hands, clasped in front of her, squeezed together even more tightly. Trying to ignore them, I looked into her eyes once more.

“You judged me to be trustworthy, my lady, to preserve your tale. I repeat again what I told you when we first spoke. As God is my witness, neither today nor any day as long as I live shall your words be repeated.”

Willing Lady Isobel to believe my vow, I watched and waited. Finally, after a long pause, she took a deep breath, wiped away a single tear which fell onto her cheek, and began speaking again.

I picked the quill up from its resting place. I could hardly hear her whispered words.

“You’ll remember my husband died ten years ago?”

“All were devastated at his loss,” I said sincerely.

“My father-in-law—”

Blane Derrickson, chief of Clan Karyn, I wrote.

“He blamed the Earl of Rockford. You’ll know, of course, our families were already enemies. But even though it was never proven, the rumor alone of Rockford’s involvement sent Blane into a rage.”

I wrote as quickly as she spoke, wondering why she wished to record details of that feud. All along the border knew Clan Karyn and the Rockford family despised each other, even more so after Alec’s death. But why—

“He demanded bloodwite, but the Earl of Rockford refused to pay it. He denied his kin was involved in the raid.”

Another well-known fact.

“This, of course, inflamed their dispute. That summer was one of the bloodiest along the border—”

“For many families,” I added. This all occurred before the ‘second peace’ as many now called it. I shuddered to think of the turbulent though not so distant past.

“Aye, for all borderers, Scottish and English alike,” she agreed.

Lady Isobel paused. When I looked up, I froze.

Suddenly, I knew.

The rumors that had swirled around both families for years, that nearly tore apart a tentative peace even before it had been forged…

Somehow, this fair, noble woman knew the truth.

And though I’d committed my services to her, I almost wished I had not.

“I cursed them both,” she said.

I stopped writing.

“You—”

“Cursed both families,” she repeated, her chin raising ever so slightly. “We’d buried another of our kinsmen that morning, the aspen coffin reminding me of the day I said farewell to Alec forever. Little did I know the power of my grief would turn the words into something more.”

She sighed, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the solar where we sat. “I said, ‘For the blood that was spilled by all, I curse both families to feel my own pain, the kind that lasts forever.'”

Lady Isobel stopped, giving me time to finish noting her words.

Laughing bitterly, she added, “My mother was a healer, like me. And she’d cautioned me many, many times never to use our gift in such a way. That our touch, our knowledge, was meant only to heal.”

“My lady, you were distraught. Certainly those words—”

“Manifested in ways I could never have dreamed.”

She nodded toward my parchment. I continued to write.

“My father-in-law was the most stubborn of them all. So many chances… he could have ended the feud many times before. I met the English earl only once. All but my husband’s clan believe him to be an honorable man. But no matter, for neither truly wished for peace. Their hatred ran too deep…”

I stopped once more. A curse, even uttered from the lips of a powerful healer such as she. It could not be possible. Surely—

“Less than a sennight later, it began.”

Avoiding her gaze, I stared instead at the words I’d written, the dark brown ink blurring as I attempted to focus on my task.

“They came to me, one by one. First Blane and then Lawrence… by day’s end Alec’s parents and siblings had all sought my assistance. One I was not able to give. Though my mother had been quite skilled, and my grandmother before her, their desire to drink blood—”

Surely she did not just say—

“Aye, father. It was the same for each of them. I attempted to balance their humors, to no avail. Every remedy I tried failed. Rosemary, betony… nothing cured them.”

I did not dare comment, my hands moving now of their own accord.

“As their hunger grew, their bodies became weak. Until I had no choice.”

No!

“I drained the blood of a hart and…”

Bade them drink.

“When they did, each immediately restored, we simply stared at one another. I know not for how long. We did not speak of it again until the cobbler’s body was found days later in the river. I’d never learned to write, but every woman in my family could read, so with the help of Alec’s siblings, we sought every manuscript, read all we could acquire to attempt to understand what was happening.

“There was no record… nothing we found aided our cause.

“The blood… that was the worst of it. But there were other ailments too. The branch of a wild rose once burned Laria. And though they eventually learned to control their urges with the blood of animals rather than humans, I knew that Clan Karyn had been cursed. By the very person who had tried to heal them.

“I never intended for it, Father. Their newfound strength and speed was little consolation for what they had become. I tried to reverse it. When Lawrence unwittingly killed a reiver, one he’d only meant to scare away, I stood in that very same spot and attempted to undo the evil I unwittingly unleashed, to bring light back to those I’d cursed.

“Aye, it worked, but not in the way I intended. Over time, my own children, Alec’s children that he would never know, began to gain some of his family’s very same powers. Speed. Strength. And it appears some modicum of control over Alec’s family. One of my daughters does not seem to have acquired any of these traits, though she is the youngest so I cannot be sure what the future brings.

“Lawrence, Laria, Torr, his parents… I never intended to hurt any of them. Even for all of his stubbornness, Alec’s father had simply tried to protect the clan. If only he had taken the earl’s peace offering.

“Nay, if only I had not allowed my grief to overwhelm me.

“As years passed I began to understand. A curse and its balance. A lifetime—or more since none of Alec’s family appear to be aging—a lifetime of pain just as I had wished for. The pain of seeing those around you grow older. Eventually, watching them die.

“My hastily uttered words brought death and destruction to the world, and I am more sorry for it than you can understand. It is my curse, I suppose, to live with the ramifications of my actions.”

“And your own children?”

“They grow older, thanks be to God, though he has surely forsaken me for what I’ve done.”

“Nay, my lady. He forsakes no one.”

Not even you.

“But I will admit, ’tis hard to contemplate all of what you are telling me.”

Lady Isobel smiled. Though it was not a smile of happiness or joy. It was one of sadness and despair. “You’ve heard whisperings, I am sure, of that time. Of the earl’s family—”

“Surely not?”

In answer, she nodded.

I stopped writing. I laid the quill down and sat back in my seat, remembering the events of years past. A new treaty had been signed, the borders once again safe. Or as safe as they had been before the recent troubles. And while Clan Karyn retreated from itself, no longer attending the Day of Truce or participating in the Tournament of the North, the Earl of Rockford fought his own battles. Rumors of killings plagued that area for years. While once revered for his strength, the earl was derided for having lost control of his own people.

A curse. One that had been cast by the very woman who sat before me now.

“Is there more?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Aye,” Lady Isobel said. “I wish it were not so, but there is much, much more of my story to tell. And unfortunately, I do believe this is just the beginning.”