Foretold Fate (Sisters of Danu Series Book 2)

by Mia Pride

  Copyright © 2017 by Mia Pride

  Foretold Fate

  Published by: Mia Pride

  www.miapride.com

  https://www.facebook.com/miaprideauthor

  Edited by Liz Watson

  Proofread by Bethannee Witczak

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: miapride.author@gmail.com

  This book is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1542372459

  ISBN-10: 1542372453

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Forsworn Fate preview

  Forbidden Fate excerpt

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To all my family and friends, who have been a huge support to me since day one. Your encouragement has kept me going and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Prologue

  Ériu (Ireland)

  Beltane 56 AD

  “There you are mo chailín a stór! I have been looking all over for you. I thought for certain you would be in the byre gathering buttermilk by now.”

  With a sigh of exhaustion, Una sent the unruly chestnut wave covering her sweaty forehead flying to the side. Hands covered in oat flour, she used her elbow to swipe away the remaining hair blocking her face. “Nay, I am almost done grinding the oats in the quern for tomorrow’s bread. I promise to get the milk soon.”

  Isobel’s warm hand wrapped around Una’s slim waist in an affectionate embrace. “Tis alright, child. I will grab the bucket and aid you. Nay sense in tiring yourself out before the Beltane festival tonight. Which reminds me…” Isobel’s warmth left Una’s side as she turned and grabbed a leather-wrapped package off the table. “I have a gift for you. You turned eight and ten summers yesterday, after all,” she said with a wink.

  “Och, nay! Isobel, I had not even thought—”

  “Tis why I thought for you, child. Go on, open it.” Una’s emerald green eyes looked into Isobel’s sparkling hazel ones, taking in the woman’s soft beauty and the fine lines around her mouth and eyes, evidence of the love and laughter she shared with her family.

  Una had always wished she were a true member of the Mac Greine family. Aye, she loved her mama fiercely, but to have a true family with a father and siblings would have been a dream. It had only ever been her and her mother. Her papa had died before she had been born and her mother struggled to raise Una on her own. Teaching her the trades of running a home and working the fields had proved far too tedious for Deidre, Una’s mother. Deidre had always been plagued with an ailment of the chest, preventing her from fully thriving, and by the age of five, Una had been sent to the home of the Mac Greine’s to start her fosterage. Most children were sent to foster with another tuath, but Una had begged to stay close to her mama.

  The Mac Greines were a noble family within their tuath of Darini. Isobel’s husband, Neil, was the king’s brother and their son Brocc, four years Una’s senior, was their only child and a true warrior from birth.

  After ten and three years of fostering within their home, Una had never fully become comfortable around Brocc’s intimidating presence. Aye, he was her foster-brother, but nothing about Brocc felt brotherly. Especially with those piercing hazel eyes that bore into her back when he thought she was not looking. Or his glossy black mane of hair that glimmered in the light of the sun as he practiced with his weapons in the field. And the muscles flexing across his chest as he raised his sword above his head…

  A deep red blush ran up Una’s cheeks as she looked at the leather-wrapped package in her hand. Isobel was trying to present her with a gift and here was Una, daydreaming about the woman’s son! How shameful! With shaky fingers, Una pulled on the wool thread that held the soft leather around the gift. As she unraveled it, the object within sparkled in the light of the hearth fire. With a gasp, Una lifted out a small hairpin glittering with amethysts set together to resemble a row of three flowers with five purple petals each and one ruby set in their centers. “Isobel…” Una’s mouth dropped open and her free hand came up to her heart as she shook her head in disbelief. “Tis too much.”

  “Nay. Nothing is too much for you, Una. This pin has been passed down in my family from daughter to daughter for generations. It is rumored to have once belonged to Banba, one of the three goddess sisters of the Tuatha de Danann. Until you came to me ten and three summers ago, I had nay daughter. Now I do.” A small tear formed in the corner of Isobel’s eye and Una bit her lower lip, desperate to hold back the surge of emotions flowing through her.

  Losing the battle, Una lunged her small frame against Isobel and wrapped her in a strong embrace as a bubble of emotion slid up her throat. “Besides…” Isobel loosened Una’s grip and took her hand. “You may very well become my daughter, in truth, one day soon.”

  The sly smile Isobel flashed Una sent a chill up her spine. She could only mean one thing, yet it was impossible. Brocc used to tug on her plait and tease her about her gangly legs when they were younger, but in the past three years, he had either completely ignored her, or stared at her as if she had porridge on her face. Nay, he had no interest in his awkward foster-sister. She was there to help make his meals and sew his torn tunics, nothing more.

  Una couldn’t help but let an unladylike chortle escape from her nose. “Surely you jest. Why, Brocc has a bevy of admirers following him about at all times. Certainly, he would prefer a woman willing to stroke his ever-growing ego.” She laughed uncomfortably, trying to hide the torrent of emotions running through her at the thought of marrying Brocc. It would be the fruition of all she had ever hoped for, but she would never, ever, admit that to anyone. He had a new lass on his lap every time she turned around. Only by pretending he did not exist and staying busy had she successfully hidden her true feelings for him.

  She ran a hand through the tangled mess of her wavy hair and grimaced. She was a servant and nothing more. Looking up at Isobel’s keen eyes, she saw them twinkle with mischief. “One never knows what is going on in the mind of a man. Perhaps I misjudged his intentions.” With a nonchalant shrug, Isobel began to walk away and said over her shoulder, “Go on now, Una. Ready yourself for the festivities. I’ve laid out the perfect dress for you tonight. It should go well with your new hairpin.” Isobel’s shoulders seemed to square with pride and her hips had an extra bounce to them as she sauntered out of the front door and into the garden to gather fresh vegetables for the evening meal.

  Isobel had lost her mind. Una was certain of it. She stared at her reflection in the bronze looking glass. Her hair was finely combed and a few locks were held back in her new lovely pin. Isobel had been right abou
t one thing, at least. The dress she chose for Una was a lovely shade of purple that accentuated, not only the twinkling pin in her hair but her green eyes as well, making them sparkle even more brilliantly. Its long sleeves hung below her wrists elegantly and the linen fabric of the bodice clung to her curves and flowed gracefully past her waist and over her ankles. A chain belt hung neatly about her hips, adding the final touch to the dress that Una was certain was much too nice for a woman of her common birth. The Mac Greines were far too generous.

  She sighed as she walked toward the entrance of the home, her ears already filling with the loud contagious laughter of her tuath and the music coming from the trumpets outside. The festival was well on its way and never did the people shy away from a reason to drink ale by the barrel and share stories. No doubt a bard had arrived to recite poems and share news of neighboring tuatha.

  Una’s nose scrunched up as the smoke from the many burning fires assaulted her nose and burned her eyes. Squinting into the crowd, she walked forward and searched the perimeter for any sign of her mother. Though her mother’s home was not far, it seemed much too long since Una had visited her. A sudden sense of guilt washed over Una as she continued to squint through the haze and drown out the bawdy laughter. In truth, she would prefer to avoid these festivities if not for Isobel’s constant pressure to attend. She would rather use this time to sit in a quiet corner with her weakening mother.

  Attending seemed useless. Years had passed and Una had not made so much as one female companion and had not attracted many lads. At eight and ten years of age, she was already older than most lassies when they married and started families. But marriage and children would have to wait, for as long as her mother may need her assistance, she could never split her time between a family and her dear mama.

  Smacking abruptly into a very tall and sturdy body, Una screeched as her backside hurled toward the muddy ground. Just when she was certain to fall and soil her new dress, a strong hand reached down and yanked her up by the arm, squeezing tighter than a band of iron. She yelped in pain as her body stopped in midair and began to fly forward again, crashing into the strong chest attached to the arm pulling her up. The chest began to rumble with laughter as she instinctively wrapped her arms around it to steady herself. “Easy now, lass.”

  Oh, nay. She knew that voice. Looking up from the chest to the face of the man, she found herself staring up into the playful hazel eyes of Brocc Mac Greine. Not knowing whether to swoon or curse, Una released her hold on his waist and silently straightened the hairpin that was now bobbing loosely upon her head. “Th-thank you for catching me,” she mumbled, hoping he could not hear the increase in her breathing.

  “Nay, my thanks to you, Una, for crashing into me.” Confusion ran through her mind as she looked up at his sideways smile. Una knew exactly what Brocc was doing. He was well aware that every lass in the tuath would bend to his will if only he flashed that perfect smile with one dimple showing through the stubble of his strong jaw. It affected her just the same as it did all the other besotted lassies, mayhap even more so, but she would rather sink down into a bottomless bog than ever let Brocc know that his smile made her heart quicken and her breath catch. He would never know that her head became light and his dimpled cheeks haunted her dreams.

  Oh, nay. She was not immune to his charm, nor the effects of his smile, but she refused to play his fool. Too many lassies had hoped to claim Brocc Mac Greine as their own, and too many had failed, being left as nothing more than empty shells of their former selves. She would not join their ranks.

  Crossing her arms and clearing her throat, she looked away and feigned annoyance. “Have you seen my mother? I was looking for her when I—”

  “Barreled into me?” One cocky black brow rose higher than the other as he stared down at her.

  “Aye. I am sorry for that. Tis all this smoke. I cannot see beyond my nose.” Una coughed and swung her hand in front of her face, but the billowing smoke was relentless. Her eyes began to burn as smoke choked her lungs.

  “Let me get you away from all this smoke.” Una could feel Brocc’s strong warm hand grip hers as he pulled her.

  “It would seem improbable, what with all these fires,” Una croaked and coughed once more.

  “Aye. Let us go back into the roundhouse. I wish to speak with you. Alone.”

  Una’s brows furrowed at his words, but he wasn’t looking as he dragged Una through the crowded dirt path filled with revelers, seemingly determined to get her back inside with haste.

  “Brocc, I really must find my mother.” Why was he acting so strangely? He had not spoken to her in so long. It seemed quite odd that he was suddenly so keen to have her full attention.

  “I will help you find her as soon as we speak.” The determined tone of his voice brooked no argument, so she gave none as he led her back to his home and all but pushed her through the entrance ahead of him.

  Once inside, Una tugged her hand out of Brocc’s, but he held firm, only gripping it harder. “What is this about Brocc? Is all well?”

  “Aye,” he breathed as he looked down at her, his chest rising and falling as if over-exerted. Yet, the brawny warrior was surely not tired from such a short walk. He was staring down at her in silence, as if forgetting that he was in a hurry to speak to her just a moment ago.

  “Brocc?” Why was he not speaking? “What is amiss?”

  His throat cleared and he briefly licked his lips nervously before preparing to speak. “You look beautiful tonight.” His hand reached up and stroked her soft chestnuts curls against her neck. “I see my mother gave you your gift?”

  He knew Isobel was gifting the hair clip to her? That hardly seemed a detail Brocc would ever show any interest in at all. “Aye. It was far too generous.” She reached up to run her fingers over the smooth surface of the purple gems. “I really do not deserve it.”

  “Nay. Of course you do, Una. You are as close to a daughter as she will ever have.” His eyes grew softer, as did his grip on her hand. A nervous smile spread across his lips as his voice wavered. “It would make me happy if you would become her daughter in truth. Will you marry me?”

  The room began to spin as her knees gave way and her heart stuttered in her chest. What had he just said? She must have misunderstood. “I am not sure I understand…” his hands slipped around her waist as she began to feel herself fall. Why could she not breathe? It was as if all the air in the room suddenly disappeared and she was suffocating.

  Holding her tightly against him, he lowered his face to hers, as if readying himself to steal a kiss. “Is this really such a surprise, Una? You have lived in my home for ten and three summers and yet, I never thought of you as my foster-sister. Tis not possible. You are much too lovely to be any sister to me.”

  His lips began to lower to hers and she wanted to lean into him, to finally know what it would feel like to have his lips on hers. Instead, Una pulled away abruptly. “Brocc, you have every lass at your feet—”

  “I do not want them.” He pulled her closer.

  “You do not want me. I am nothing. I-I have nothing.” She pulled back, but he only pulled her in again.

  “That is not true. You have my family. You will have me and our children…”

  “Our…what? Brocc, I-I just do not know what to say. You never speak to me.” Her hands were shaking and she tried to steady them by clutching at her skirt. Was this some cruel jest? Was he testing her to see if she would agree, only so he could then laugh in her face and tug on her hair as he used to?

  “How does one speak to the sun?” Brocc whispered against her ear, making her feel as if she would swoon at any moment. “Every time I try, I am blinded by your beauty.” Isobel had been correct. Brocc had been planning this. It was Beltane and if she agreed, he would have the druid perform a handfasting! It was all too much and just as she was about to say so, loud boots stormed into the room, knocking them both out of the moment.

  “Una.” The voice was abrasive, yet fille
d with concern as her gaze sought out the source. Brocc’s father stood in the doorway looking as imposing as ever, and strangely, not at all shocked to see Brocc holding Una so close to his body. Had Neil known, as well?

  Neil looked just like Brocc, only twenty years his senior with large fur pelts draped over his chest, portraying his high rank within the tuath. As intimidating as Neil was, his kind eyes could always give away his gentle nature. At the moment, however, those eyes were filled with worry, which only added to Una’s shaken nerves. “Una, tis your mother. She has taken quite ill. You must go to her now.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped, swerving still from all the shock. Through the haze suddenly clouding her mind, Una thought she heard Brocc say, “I will take her.” He grabbed her hand and swiftly guided her out of the room.

  Once again, she was thrust into the wall of smoke from the fires, but the voices and music swam in the background of her mind as if she wasn’t fully there. If not for the firm guidance of Brocc’s hand, she would have floated away into an oblivion of confusion.

  Chapter 1

  Winter 58 AD

  “Una, mo ‘níon stór, I am dying. You must accept this,” her mother insisted. “You are an unmarried woman, despite my many attempts to get you to accept Brocc…and you cannot live alone in this house! You must go out and find yourself a place in this world! If you will not marry him, you must at least petition him to take you in as a ward.”

  It had been nearly two years since the night Una had been called away to care for her sick mother. Her fosterage with the Mac Greines ended and Una spared not a single second on anything aside from her mother’s care. Nothing mattered more than her mother’s recovery.

  So much had changed during her time locked away in this small, gloomy home with a leaky thatched roof. News had come to her very shortly after she returned home that Brocc’s uncle, the king, had passed into the Otherworld. The tribal assembly of nobles had unanimously declared Brocc the new king of Darini. Though he had pursued his request to marry her on more than one occasion, she was much too busy caring for her mother. Brocc Mac Greine was their king and deserved a woman of the noble class to take as his wife, she had stubbornly persisted to tell her mother, despite their daily arguments on the matter.