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Prologue

Bowden Castle, Scotland, 1274

“The men are being readied.”

Lawrence walked up to his brother as their horses were brought from the stable. Sitting on the edge of the stone well in the center of the courtyard, Alec had a strange look on his face. Regret, perhaps, and resignation.

“We have no choice,” Alec said as the flurry of activity continued around them. Maids scurrying back and forth from the kitchen to the main keep. Men moving from the training yard to ready for the raid, dust kicking up behind their horses. Besides the warriors preparing for the task ahead, a couple of lads too young for the lists were chasing chickens around the courtyard, their tunics muddy. The sight made him smile, a reminder of simpler days with his brothers.

“Agreed.”

He knew the decision to lead another hot trod weighed heavily on his brother. The last time they’d gone across the border into England to chase after thieves, as was their right within six days of such a crime, they had lost two men in the fray. The cost had felt too steep to all of them, but Alec had particularly taken it to heart. Although his brother had never said so, Lawrence suspected he felt the weight of his duty. A difficult matter for a man not yet thirty to make life-and-death decisions, even more so because they all knew Alec was to be the next chief of Clan Karyn.

“Father stubbornly refuses to give his opinion on the matter,” Alec said.

“’Tis the way of things,” Lawrence said, tossing a pebble into the well.

His brother frowned, finally rising from the well, and joined him.

“Tensions increase at the border every day,” Alec said. “Soon, the treaty with England will be rendered all but meaningless.”

“A problem for the wardens.”

“And for us, as well. We can no longer sit by passively waiting for other people to make a decision.”

A groomsman approached with their horses, and both men took their reins.

“Many thanks, laddie,” Alec murmured, giving the boy a coin from his satchel. If there was a man more generous than his brother, Lawrence didn’t know of him.

As they waited for their father, the chief, and the remainder of the men, some of whom may never come back to this place, Lawrence let himself take in the castle, from the great keep to the south tower, where his siblings were probably still sleeping. Torr would awake angry, no doubt, but Alec was emphatic that he should be left behind. He didn’t like the thought of the three heirs to the chiefdom riding out together.

Bowden Castle rose high above the valley that surrounded it, giving them an ideal vantage point from which to spot rival clans or errant English reivers. The rolling green hills that surrounded them barely hinted at the violence brewing just beyond their borders. Despite its close proximity to the volatile English border, he would not trade his home for a castle five times its size.

“Torr will not be pleased to be left behind,” he remarked, looking back to Alec, who had spotted their father in the distance.

Following his lead, Lawrence mounted, preparing to ride out.

“He will not,” Alec agreed. “But to protect him, and the clan, I will gladly incur his wrath.”

Lawrence shook his head. “I could not do it. If I were chief—”

“As you might be someday.”

Alec looked at him so intently, even Lawrence’s horse seemed to feel the scrutiny. It danced beneath him as the two brothers squared off.

“You are next in line—”

“That’s enough—”

“And will take care to tame your sometimes-wild ways if the need should arise.”

“Alec—”

“Promise me.”

This was his least favorite of his brother’s moods. Alec’s introspection tended to unnerve him, as it did now.

“If you were ever to become chief—”

“This is unnecessary—”

“You will protect my wife and children, our family—”

“Of course,” he said, offended. “You have my word. That you should even ask such a thing—”

“I will hold you to that,” Alec said.

He smiled and shook his head. “From the grave?”

His jest made the tension leak out of the moment.

“Aye,” Alec said, riding toward the gatehouse. “Count on it.” Lawrence could hear the laughter in his voice. If the vow had made his brother feel better, he was glad to have given it. His father was chief. And Alec would be so after him.

Lawrence would thankfully never be the chief of Clan Karyn.