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PROLOGUE
May, 1315
"Do we really have to go?" Edna raised her head as her mother's musical voice reached her ears. She knew her mother wasn't talking to her, and she knew it was impolite to listen in on someone else's conversation, but she couldn't stop herself. She tiptoedsilently towards the open door of her parents' bedchamber; her ten-year-old framesmall enough to avoid casting shadows, thus helping herremainhidden.
“Ye ken that we have to. Not going isnae even an option, Freya,” her father replied, exhaustion evident in his tone. Edna did not know what was wrong but she knew that she wanted to go. She had been looking forward to the Celtic Festival of Beltane all year, and she had no desire to miss it for any reason.
“I ken. I just hope we dinnae regret it.” Edna sighed in relief as she heard her mother finally agree. She had no idea what they were talking about, or what her parents would regret by attendingthe festival. All she knew waseven thoughher father wasa firm man, Edna was confident that her mother could persuade him not to go. So hearing they would be indeed not forced to spend this auspicious day indoors was a great relief.
Edna returned to her perch in front of her castle's largest window. The night was crisp with something unnameable, as if the sensation was so foreign that it could not be described. Regardless, the air around her felt alive. Edna felt as if the power of the gods was descending and entering her. She often wondered if magic existed and if the gods truly possessed powers. Tonight, she knew the answer to both of those questions was yes; shecouldn't wait to see the powers, magic, and mythical creatures come to life tonight.
“Edna, are ye ready my bairn?” She turned around as her mother walked out of her bedchamber and smiled at her. She knew something was wrong when she looked at her beautiful mother, who had been told by everyone in the clan that her beauty was a gift from God. It's not as if shedidn't look lovely tonight; she did. Her beauty was just hidden behind a mask of worry,or perhaps fear — rendering Edna slightly afraid. Her mother was her rock, the one person she looked to for motivation, and seeing her troubled pained her.
“I am ready, mama,” Edna replied with a smile as she walked away from the window and went to stand before her.
“My beautiful girl,” her mother picked her up in her arms, and Edna laughed loudly.
Her mother and father both loved picking her up. Her father's more masculine and larger arms made her feel safer, but her mother made her feel loved. Edna knew she couldn't live without either of them.
Just then, her father emerged from the bedchamber, handsomely dressed in the clan's colors; his plaid expertly tied and hung just above his knees. Edna leaped towards him, arms extended, as if she wanted to be in his arms, andsighedinto his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent. There was no one she loved more than her parents.
"Shallwe go then?" Edna fervently nodded in response to her father's question, already concerned about the fact that they would be late. Her father grinned at her enthusiasm and they descended the stairs quickly before exiting the castle.Edna exhaled a sigh of relief, knowing that they'd soon be with everyone else and having the time of their lives.
"Edna, are you excited, my bairn?" Her father asked as they walked along the paved path among the trees.
"I am," Edna said quickly, squinting to see as far as she could. She could hear the festival sounds in the distance and knew everyone was laughing and dancing. The joy in the air was audibly reverberating through the atmosphere.
"Do you remember what I told you about Beltane?" her father asked, and Edna smiled. She remembered every single word, which could explain why this was her favorite festival of the year.
"Certainly, papa. Beltane is a fire festival," Edna replied, her eyes twinkling. She was always drawn to fire, and one of the Beltane rituals was to build a bonfire high enough to reach the heavens. Her mother began to laugh at her response, and Edna looked at her with puzzled eyebrows, not understanding what was so amusing.
"It's so much more than just a fire festival, Edna," her mother said, lovingly stroking her dark hair.
"Yer mama is right. Beltane is a summer solstice celebration. We Scots have such a hard time during the cold months that when summer comes, we have to thank the gods in the heavens," her father explained. Edna nodded, knowing it all, but despite the more appropriate significance, it was fire that drew her in.
“We can still go back home, Duncan,” her mother said, her voice almost a whisper.
“No.”
Edna couldn't understand why her mother insisted on them returning home. Every year, they attended the festival, which brought joy to the entire clan. How could her mother possibly miss such an important day? Edna had no idea what was going on, but she was content. Her parents were accompanying her, and she knew they would have a good time — at the end of the day, this was all that mattered.
They continued walking for a few minutes longer, and Edna noticed that more and more people were appearing. Every single person was outenjoying the night to the best of their abilities. Hereyes sparkled as they approached the riverbank where the festival was taking place. The bonfire was already alight and glowing as brightly as the morning sun, exactly as she had imagined. Her father lowered her but kept her hand in his.
"Stay beside me, Edna," her father said loudly enough to be heard above the din. Shesmiled as she tightened her grip on his hand and moved forward. Everyone who saw them nodded respectfully to her parents, and her father did the same. The ladies also stroked her hair and patted her shoulder.
"Yer finally here. I thought ye weren't even coming," a young lady said to her father. Edna stared at him for a few seconds longer, trying to put a name to the familiar face, but she couldn't.
"I wouldnae miss the Beltane for the world," her father exclaimed, and a passing server handed him a large wooden mug; he took a swig before proceeding to meet with some other men.
“Freya, yer here,” a woman greeted her mother warmly with a quick hug.
"Duncan didnae listen to me," her mother said quietly, so that only the woman and Edna could hear her; the womangave her father a quick glance before nodding in agreement.
"Edna, darlin'," the woman said as she extended her hand, who took it. "Freya, I believe your daughter will be more beautiful than you when she grows up."
"I ken. She is already perfect. The gods have blessed her with more looks than I could ever have," her mother replied, picking up Edna in her arms. Edna had always heard people compliment her appearance and say she looked like her mother.
"Yerright," the woman replied before waving goodbye and disappearing into the crowd. Her mother returned her father's gaze, the string of tension between them drawn taut. Their earlier argument had caused a minor squabble, and Edna could sense it.
