Highland Blood
The Celtic Blood Series, Book 2
Melanie Karsak
MelanieKarsak.com
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Clockpunk Press 2016
Copyright © 2016 Highland Blood
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. References to historical people, organizations, events, places, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
Published by Clockpunk Press
PO Box 560367
Rockledge, FL 32956-0367
Clockpunk Press
Editing by Becky Stephens Editing
Proofreading by Contagious Edits
Proofreading by Rare Bird Editing
Cover art by Damonza
*Trigger warning: Gentle reader, please be aware that this novel deals with difficult topics surrounding violence toward women.
Table of Contents
Highland Blood
Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Thank you
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Dedication
for the survivors
Chapter 1
I took two hesitant steps into the darkness. Thora bumped against my leg. My head felt dizzy. My temples pounded. A sharp pain seared across my forehead, making me wince. It was all I could do to stay upright. Thora began to whimper when the darkness didn’t pass. We were stuck between worlds. The silence was thick and heavy, the darkness tangible. If I didn’t focus, we could get lost forever in the in-between space, neither the realm of the living nor the otherworld. I shuddered at the thought. I forced myself to concentrate past the pain racking my body. I could feel the living, breathing world just beyond my grasp. It was like someone had dropped a black veil between me and the realm of the corporeal. I breathed in deeply, trying to inhale the smell of earth, to hear the sounds of nature, to feel the living energy which belonged to the world of men.
It felt like an eternity before the sound of trickling water came to my ears. The sharp, tangy scent of mud filled my nostrils. We’d made it back. We were in the realm of the living but where? It was so dark. I took a few steps forward but my foot caught on something, and I fell into the wet mud face first. Thora whined. I reached out in the darkness and felt mud, roots, water, and gritty stone. We were in a cave. Water dripped from roots overhead. The air was spiced with elemental smells. I rose and wiped the mud off my face and out of my mouth. Carefully, I reached out and touched the cave wall. It was wet and slimy.
Using the cave wall as a guide, I worked my way forward. Water trickled over my hand, down my arm, and into my dress. My foot slipped. When I reached out to steady myself, I felt the soft body of a bat. It screeched and flew out of the cave.
I jarred sideways and fell into the mud again.
Thora whimpered.
“It’s okay, girl. We’ll get out of here, and everything will be okay,” I said, trying to convince both her and myself.
It was too dark to see, but I knew my hands, knees, and elbows were bleeding. Mud worked into the cuts. The wounds stung. I dashed away hot tears of frustration and tried to keep my focus on my task. This was just a small inconvenience. My physical body could survive this discomfort. At the end of this trial, my love would be waiting for me. A marriage contract…finally, Madelaine had secured my match with Banquo.
“Let’s go,” I told Thora then pushed forward again.
Sliding and falling repeatedly, I walked in the darkness. My clothes were completely soaked and covered in sludge. I was bleeding. My hair was caked with muck and leaves. I must have looked like one of the fey things from the Hollow Hills. As the thought crossed my mind, I remembered the skeleton in Ynes Verleath…the Lord of the Hollow Hills. He was no legend. I had seen his skeleton. And if he had lived, what about those strange creatures that were rumored to roam the earth’s belly? Were they real too? I suddenly felt eyes on me. It was as if I had summoned them with my very imagination. Were the little people of the Hollow Hills, vicious creatures of legends, watching me? If I failed to leave their realm, what would happen to me? I trembled.
Startling me from my terror, however, Thora barked and ran ahead.
I squinted. Dim light appeared at the end of the cave. I could hear the rain and the sound of the wind rushing through leaves.
“Thank you,” I whispered and pushed ahead.
A moment later, I found myself standing at the mouth of a cave in the side of a mountain. It was raining heavily and must have been just hours before dark. Lightning shot across the sky, followed by the rolling sound of thunder. A screech owl shrieked somewhere in the distance. The cliffside was mud-washed. From the looks of things, it had been raining for days.
Thora paced back and forth, looking for a way down. Finally, she gave up and ran down the hillside. She looked up at me expectantly.
“Patience,” I whispered. Stepping carefully onto the muddy hillside, I crouched down and slid down the side of the hill, grasping at roots and grass to keep from tumbling over. Something sharp dug into my palm, slicing open the hand I’d cut during my handfasting. At last, I reached the bottom. I was caked with grime from head to toe.
“When I see Andraste again, she’s going to hear about this,” I told Thora as I reached under my skirts to my petticoat. It was wet, but relatively clean. I ripped off a piece of fabric and mopped up the blood pooling in my palm. Pain shot up my arm. I’d need to see Epona at once. A cut like that could get infected easily. I tried to catch some rainwater to wash my palm, but my hand was bleeding profusely. I poured the red liquid onto the leaves. It dripped down my arm. The image of my hands covered in so much blood made me swoon. I leaned against a tree and tied my hand up, hoping it would stop the flow.
Exhaling deeply, I looked around. I didn’t recognize the forest.
“I’m too exhausted. My magic is spent. I don’t know if I can get us back. Can you lead us?” I asked Thora.
She barked, set her nose to the ground, and moved forward. The forest was alive with noise. The wind blew. Rain patted on the leaves. Birds called. Ynes Verleath was a silent place. It jarred my senses to hear the cacophony. Thora moved with purpose, and we walked through the dark forest, following her instincts which, given my state, I trusted better than my own. It grew dark. The rain slowed to a steady patter. The air around us became thick with mist, making our travel even more difficult. Walking in the haze—with my spirit already worn so thin by time spent in Ynes Verleath—worried me. The veil between the worlds was always porous in the fog. One could walk in and out of time and space without even realizing it. And I felt like I was half between the worlds already. I forced myself to focus on the real world, on the realm of the living, and pushed myself forward, following Thora.
Al
l my senses were on edge, so when a red deer blasted out of the brush, I yelped. Thora, who had not had the opportunity to chase game in so long, took off through the woods after it.
“Thora, come back here. Thora!”
She ran over a knoll and disappeared into the mists and darkness.
“Thora!”
There was no use. She wouldn’t come back until she’d given chase. I followed the direction toward which Thora was leading us. Soon, I came to a narrow cart path. I didn’t know where I was, but at least I knew I was headed somewhere. I walked alone in the rain, trying to catch my bearings. Suddenly, I heard the sound of jangling metal and rough voices. Riders. I could see the light of torches coming down the path toward me. I had to get out of sight. Moving quickly, I dodged behind a thicket. Thorns scraped my skin as I struggled to hide, but I soon realized there wasn’t enough cover. Moments later, the party came trotting down the road.
From the cover of brush, I could see there were seven men in the party. They wore heavy armor.
“Halt,” one of them called then reined his horse forward. “Come out, girl.”
I froze.
“No use in hiding. We saw you on the road. So unless you are a fey thing, come and stand before your betters.”
I took a deep breath and reminded myself to stay calm. Covered in mud from head to toe, no one would ever recognize me. Perhaps they were but lost in the woods. I would play the role of a dumb woodland girl. Surely, they would not see Boite’s daughter under the grime.
I stepped out of my hiding spot. When I got a better view, however, I was shocked to discover that not only were the men well-armored, but they were bearing my uncle’s—King Malcom’s—standard. The men held their torches aloft. Their armor glimmered. I steeled my nerve. I was a poor woodsman’s daughter. I was nothing. I was no one.
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 onto 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 sometime 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 l
eather 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.
Sometime 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.
Wordlessly, she set an extra log on the fire while I stared absently into the glowing embers, my body trembling uncontrollably. I could hear Epona gathering jars from her cupboard. She appeared before me a few moments later.
“You’re injured. May I tend to your wounds?” she asked carefully.
I nodded mutely. My mind was spinning around and around. What had happened? Had that actually happened? My mind and body felt disconnected. I stared into the fire, stunned into disbelief.
“We need to get this dress off you. You’ll take a chill. And it’s…ruined.”
She took my bag from me and set it aside. When she went to take the coin purse from my hand, however, I didn’t let go. I held the proof in my hand, proof that the nightmare was real, proof that beyond all chance I had met my cousin in the woods, and he had violated me. If not for the coin pouch, I would not have believed my own mind.
Highland Blood (The Celtic Blood Series Book 2) Page 1