Forbidden Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  Liam took his left hand and grasped Gwynneth’s dainty left wrist, as she clasped on to his. Looking into each other’s dancing eyes, their smiles widened, and a sweet giggle escaped Gwynn’s berry-stained mouth.

  Taking the long blue linen strip in his hands, Duncan carefully wrapped it around Liam and Gwynn’s clasped wrists, symbolizing the binding of two lives. Duncan cleared his voice, and started in with the ceremony, trying to sound serious and authentic. “Liam and Gwynneth, as your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust. Above you are the stars and below you is the earth. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light. And, like the earth, a firm foundation from which you grow…”

  Gwynn awoke with a start, not remembering having fallen asleep at all, nor where she was. Sitting up quickly, she felt her heavy plaid cloak draped over her body and saw Duncan eating some of the red wild raspberries she had picked the day before. He smiled at her and handed her the leather bag of berries and a flask of water. Feeling absolutely famished and confused by her dream, she opened the bag and pulled out a large handful of berries. Debating on whether or not to share her strange dream with Duncan, she shoved them all in her mouth in the most un-lady-like way, red juice escaping the confines of her lips and dripping down her chin in red streaks. She was in deep thought as she chewed, staring blankly into the woods, curious if it was merely a dream, or a memory from her past trying to reconnect with her present. It left her heart racing and yearning for Liam, wishing he was with her, instead of…wherever he was…

  Looking up at Duncan’s wide eyes, she realized how ridiculous she must look. With a giggle, she swallowed the berries. “Ach, I am so sorry! I don’t know what came over me. I am just so hungry, as if I have not eaten in a sennight!” She took a big swig of stream water from the leather flask and wiped her hand across her chin.

  Smiling awkwardly at her from across the low burning fire, Duncan gave her a snort of amusement. “I am going to have to find more food, to keep up with the appetite of your growing child.” His voice sounded stern, but his face was amused as he gave her a playful wink. They both laughed, wiping any fallen leaves off their disheveled clothing as they stood up and prepared to continue their journey to Coraindt, praying to all the gods that they were going in the right direction this time.

  They found themselves lost at some point in their travels and it took them an extra day to arrive. Having spent another night in the cold forest Duncan and Gwynn were grateful for the fish and water they had found in the unlikely stream. By the time they had gathered sticks for Duncan to make a fire and gutted the fish, they simply sat in silence savoring the smoky flavor, and Gwynn was asleep before she even finished her evening meal.

  After several more hours of wandering in the woods, hopefully in the correct direction, the trees slowly began to thin out, revealing a beautiful landscape of lusciously green rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Wild deer bounced away as they approached and butterflies fluttered over the randomly colored wild flowers sprinkling the mounds. Gwynneth entertained herself by collecting various flowers and creating a bouquet as they went. The sky was a calming shade of cerulean with only a few white fluffy clouds floating overhead. Before long, streaks of pink and coral started to appear over the horizon as the sun started to set on yet another day.

  “We are close. I can see the hillfort from here!” Duncan pointed to the direction of the hills, and Gwynn had to squint her eyes and put a hand up to her brow to see through the beams of the setting sun. Seeing the large hillfort just up ahead, Gwynn felt a sense of relief wash over her at the prospect of getting help to go back home to her real people, even if she could not remember any of them. Perhaps seeing them all would help her remember. She wasn’t sure what was going to develop between her and Liam in the future, but all she wanted was to have a safe home for her child.

  Mixed within her excitement, was a deep feeling of anxiety. So much of her future depended on the charity of this unknown king. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Liam. Her dream had only made her longing worse and every step that took her further from Liam, made her heart ache profoundly. Though she was still boiling mad at him for lying, her dream had stubbornly tenderized her heart and she found herself daydreaming about the life they could have had together.

  Shaking her head at all the never-ending questions in her mind, she decided to set them aside and focus on the long road ahead. The sun continued to drop below the horizon and soon their light source would be gone. As they continued up the steep green hill, slippery with moisture from the cool autumn evening, they were approached by two watch guards patrolling the entrance to the quiet hillfort.

  Recognizing one guard instantly, Duncan clasped his arm with a firm, familiar grip and a friendly pat on the pack. Gwynneth was standing back slightly, listening to Duncan talk about past bartering trips and good times in the gathering hall with his companion while she simultaneously took in the view of the hillfort in the distance, silhouetted by the glare of the setting sun. There was a large fortifying wall, built directly into the rock of the flat hill surface, surrounding the village within. The wall circled the entire top of the hill, exploiting the advantage the high ground gave to their defense.

  Wearing close-fitting red and green plaid trousers and tan linen shirts with long leather rope wrapped three times around their waist, both soldiers were massive men, with hair so blonde it was almost white in appearance. Gwynneth remembered that some warriors used lime juice to bleach their hair, adding an intimidation factor for their enemies, whom had thought them savages. Their hair was long and braided into a cue hanging down to their mid back. One was equipped with a long spear made of wood and iron, while the other had an impressively long sword sheathed at his hip. Resting within each guard’s hand was a long rectangular blue shield intricately painted with bright yellow circular designs on its surface.

  Duncan was still speaking to the one, while the other continued to stand at attention, scanning his environment often, and occasionally making eye contact with Gwynneth. She could not tell if he was looking at her with recognition, lust, or anxiety. Feeling slightly uneasy by his intermittent stares, she decided to give him a tentative smile. His over-familiar smile in response to hers caught her off guard and she looked down quickly, pretending to tighten the rope around her now filthy and torn dress. She could do with a hot bath and a new dress and hoped someone here would feel charitable toward her.

  Just as she looked up again to see Duncan and his acquaintance still conversing several feet away, the guard, at least a head taller than Duncan, leaned down with an intense face and whispered something in his ear. Duncan’s face fell quickly and Gwynn was overcome with gooseflesh as he turned his severe face in her direction, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise in trepidation. Stiffly walking over to Gwynn with a serious look on his face, Duncan grabbed Gwynn’s arm roughly and yanked her in his direction, urging her to walk up the path to the hillfort.

  Thrown off balance, Gwynn started to stumble on her feet, but quickly rebalanced herself as her strides quickened, forcing her legs to keep up with the accelerated speed of Duncan’s. “What is going on Duncan? Why the sudden change of mood?” Her heart was pounding in her chest as she continued at an almost running pace uphill, Duncan still leading her with her arm in his firm grip. The over-familiar guard continued to stand at the bottom of the hill looking alert and ready to fight, holding his position as the night watch, while Duncan’s friend escorted the two visitors up the gravel path to the top of the hill and called to the guard at the iron gate to allow them entrance.

  “Night is closing in. Tis never safe to be outside the walls, if it can be helped.” Duncan’s pace never slowed. “We must get inside and make our presence known to King Garreth. He will assuredly give us safe passage and a hearth for the night.”

  Looking at her surroundings, Gwynn started to get the familiar feeling that she had been here before. As the
y walk through the entrance of the tall stone wall surrounding the hill, Gwynn realized that it was just one of three rows of walls protecting the tuath from unwanted visitors. Each Row of stone wall had large, steep, ditches separating it from the next, making it impossible for any intruder to successfully maneuver the walls. Anyone seeking to cause trouble would have no choice but to approach the hillfort of Coraindt through the main gate, exposing themselves to the extremely large and intimidating guards on watch. Gwynneth knew she should feel safe here, but she could not shake the feeling that she was in more danger than before.

  Chapter 8

  Entering into the heart of the village, Gwynneth saw many more round-shaped houses with pointy thatch roofs, some with doors open to allow the smoke of the hearth to quickly escape, others with doors closed to keep the autumn chill out. Though it was dark, several children were still outside attempting to round up the chickens into the coops for the night. One child was so focused on the chicken giving him chase that he collided into Gwynneth’s swiftly moving legs, bringing them both to an abrupt halt.

  “Oh!” Gwynneth squealed as she caught her balance.

  “S-sorry,” the lad said with a polite nod of his little ginger colored head, before continuing to track down his chicken. Gwynn, thinking of the babe growing in her womb, was overcome with maternal fondness for the child and just giggled at the lad as she watched him run off to finish his chore. Duncan turned to give Gwynn a peculiar look and noticed her right hand rubbing her abdomen. Giving her a knowing smile and slowing down so Gwynn’s breeding body could keep a safe pace, he waved his hand at her and prompted her to continue following him and the guard.

  A fire was burning in the very center of the village, surrounded by small logs clearly used as seating. They were positioned in a circle around the fire to accommodate villagers in their nightly exchange of stories. Continuing towards the largest home of the village, Gwynn saw circular granaries on stilted legs scattered all over the village. Autumn was ending and the tuath of Coraindt had, no doubt, been working overtime to harvest and store all of their grains and crops in the granaries for the winter. The stilts kept the precious wheat and rye from succumbing to water, should an unfortunate flood occur.

  “Duncan, have I been here before? It all looks very familiar.” She held her head, as if trying to capture the allusive memories floating around inside her head, like fireflies twinkling at her in the darkness, teasing her with their quick escape.

  “Nay, My Lady,” he replied as he looked over his shoulder at her, continuing to follow the guard. “Coraindt, although half the size of our own village, is built in a very similar fashion to Iverni.” Pausing briefly, he added with a touch of hopefulness in his voice, “Having some memories come back to ye, aye?”

  “Aye, actually, I have. I meant to tell you of the dream I had last night. It was very detailed, but I am so unsure of what is real these days. You were there...”

  Duncan’s red bushy brows quirked up at her in interest, but he put his hand up quickly to stop her from continuing. “Well, My Lady, I will be more than obliged to listen to your story, perhaps tonight around the hearth, assuming we are offered one. But for now, we have a king to greet.” Looking up, Gwynn realized they were standing outside of a large house, this one rectangular and much more spacious than the others.

  Their escort stood at the door waiting to be acknowledged by his king, and she could hear a strong, but friendly, voice acquiesce his arrival. Waving Gwynneth and Duncan inside the smoke-filled round room that smelled of savory meat and fresh baked bread, the guard guided them up to the king, casually sitting at a table with a strikingly beautiful woman by his side.

  Forcing herself to first acknowledge the king with a curtsy, she couldn’t help the strong urge to stare at the woman next to him. Her hair was the most striking shade of red that Gwynneth had ever seen, with soft waves framing her face. Bright emerald green eyes stared back unblinkingly at Gwynneth, as if piercing into her soul, reading her mind. Her nose was perfectly straight with an elegant point at the end and her face was slim with high cheek bones. Full red-stained lips that Gwynn immediately envied graced the most perfectly beautiful face she had ever seen.

  A woman of status, she was finely dressed, wearing a bright green dress with billowing sleeves that draped down past her wrists. The dress was lined with a gold thread stitched into intricate knot designs all along the bottom hem, wide collar surrounding her shoulders, and the edging of the delicate sleeves. The gold thread was glittering in the firelight, along with the thick, flat gold torc necklace adorning her slender white neck. A thin gold head band, trimmed in stunning rubies, peeking out from under her unruly waves caught Gwynn’s eye.

  Gwynn’s breath was not escaping her body and she realized she had been holding her breath as she stared mindlessly at this woman, who could only be the queen. If this was not the queen, Gwynneth could only pity the woman she had displaced to take the right hand position to the king. Surely a woman of such beauty was no mere mortal woman….

  Snapping out of her musings, Gwynneth realized the queen was also starring back at her with squinted eyes and she fought the urge to swallow her embarrassment. Her look was one of curiosity, not of scorn, but it made Gwynneth’s pulse quicken to be scrutinized this closely by a woman so divine. Gwynneth must surely look a fright in her torn dress and tangled hair. Self-consciously running slim fingers through her hair, desperate to unsnarl the mess, Gwynneth peeked over her shoulder to look for Duncan. His mouth was agape and his head slowly shook back and forth as his enlarged eyes looked repeatedly between Gwynneth and the woman. Was he also in awe of the queen’s beauty? Or was he silently reprimanding her for her unsightly appearance and unladylike fidgeting?

  Feeling thoroughly mortified, Gwynn could physically feel her cheeks blazing from within and she slowly, through shameful veiled lashes, looked up at the king. He was a very large man. His hair was shoulder length and blonde; not the same blonde as his sentry standing guard, nor the platinum of Gwynneth’s, but a bright golden yellow that matched his golden, yet understated, crown. His shoulders were thickly draped in animal pelts, at least three from what Gwynn could see, adding to his overall appearance of wealth and authority. His blonde bearded jaw was strong and square and his nose was small, almost dainty, but it did not take away from his all-to masculine appearance.

  The room was silent, as both Duncan and King Garreth were seemingly rotating their gaze between Gwynneth and the queen, who was still starring thoughtfully at her. Suddenly, a booming laugh escaped the king’s mouth, making Duncan, Gwynn, and his wife jump out of the moment. He hit the table loudly with the palm of his hand, making the clay plates jump with the impact. His wife started giggling infectiously. Feeling the trapped air finally escaping from her lungs, Gwynn let out a sound that was equal measures sigh and giggle, as she covered her flaming cheeks with her cool palms in an effort to control the spreading of her blush. Duncan gave a manly snort at the scene, then bowed to the king.

  Standing quickly from the table, the king pushed off his wooden bench loudly with his powerful thighs and strode over in three purposeful steps to wrap his huge arms around Duncan’s shoulders, dwarfing him with his embrace. “My dear mate! What a very welcome surprise! And a surprise it is, indeed.” The king slapped Duncan on the back, slightly jolting his body forward, but Duncan smiled and returned the kings ardor.

  “Aye, King Garreth, I cannot say this was a planned, or expected, journey. But I thank ye for your welcome and I admit that it is good to see a friendly face. Things have been a trifle confusing since the death of our beloved King Doran Mac Bradaigh of Iverni.” Duncan lowered his head and closed his eyes in silent respect for his lost king’s memory.

  Taking in a deep breath with his enormous chest, King Garreth slowly released it and nervously pulled at the short hairs growing from his chin. “So I’ve heard, mate, and may he rest in peace in the Otherworld. We were comrades, Doran and I, although he was 20 years my senior. He
was a loyal ally, a shrewd leader and an honorable warrior.” Wanting to break up the serious mood that had overcome the room, King Garreth added with a boom of laughter, “and a mighty fine drinker, he was! Was he not?!”

  Giving a chuckle with a twinkle in his eye, Duncan nodded in approval, as if remembering many nights of drinking with his lost king. Just as quickly as King Garreth’s smile flashed across his handsome face, it disappeared. “Doran was more than a comrade. He was a father of sorts to my wife, Ceara, often visiting her and her mother during trade meetings.” He looked over to Ceara’s face and saw an unshed tear glimmer in her eye.

  Gwynneth’s face changed into one of confusion with a touch of pain. As if reading her thoughts acutely, Duncan looked over at her with pity on his face. He understood how strange it must be for Gwynn, still missing all the memories of her past, to see another woman shedding tears for a father that she could not seem to remember, herself.

  “King Garreth and Queen Ceara of Coraindt, I would like to introduce Gwynneth O’Conaill, King Doran’s daughter and…” Duncan paused to clear his throat uncomfortably, “and wife of Baine O’Conaill.”

  Feeling her stomach plummet to her feet at her introduction as Baine’s wife, Gwynneth tried to disguise her obvious disgust and put on a shaky smile as she curtsied, again, before them. Performing her most recent nervous habit, she instinctively rubbed her hands on her slightly bulging abdomen, successfully and unintentionally announcing her pregnancy to her hosts.

  The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift as Ceara gasped and covered her perfect red lips with her hand and stood up from her seat quickly. As if seeing an old friend, Ceara ran over to Gwynneth and gave her a gentle hug.

  “Gwynneth? I’ve grown up hearing stories of you from your father! Oh, he loved you so much! I hope you didn’t mind my husband’s description of your father’s relationship to me. Indeed, I did grow up without a father. And, during his visits, he became quite fond of my mother…” Realizing that she may be insulting Gwynn’s mother’s memory, she quickly added, “begging your pardon, Lady Gwynn. Your father loved your mother very much and spoke of her often. When she died in childbirth…”