Scottish Highlands

Year of Our Lord, 1251

Without a doubt, this was the scariest day of Lilias Cameron’s life.

Twilight crept over the forest, sneaking up on Lilias and her lady mother at a pace neither had anticipated. As if the wood sought the darkness, craved it. They came to a clearing ringed by trees that looked to have taken wide steps away from a small, dilapidated croft at the center. For certes, it was the spookiest of places wee Lilias had ever seen.

The wattle and daub croft was dark, no candle or firelight cast from the single window, or the cracks in the weathered door. No smoke curled from the chimney. Growing up the sides were twisted vines that seemed to reach for the sky, pushing past the sagging limbs of the overbearing trees that hovered above the roof. The croft was not in the least welcoming. It lacked life. For as much as she could tell, there was no one about at all.

“Mama, I dinna like this place,” Lilias said, with a shiver.

“We’ll not be long, Lili.” Her mother’s fingers held firm to her arm, correctly suspecting Lilias’s desire to run—and she would, if given the chance.

At just shy of seven summers, her vivid imagination was running wild at what manner of creatures the eerie croft and woods at dusk possessed.

“Why are we here?” Her voice came out so low, she was surprised her mother heard her at all.

“I’ve explained already.” Mama dragged her closer to the door. Suspicious in the extreme, Lady Cameron had been having dreams lately of her daughter in trouble. What exactly those dreams contained, Lilias didn’t know for certain. She’d only heard her mother lament of them to her father. Whenever Lilias drew near enough to eavesdrop, her mother always seemed to sense she was in the vicinity. The awareness her mother had when it came to Lilias was almost magical in its power to reveal her at every turn. Enough so that Lilias often wondered if her mother weren’t a magical creature herself.

If that were the case, then she could keep Lilias safe now, couldn’t she?

As they approached the door, the wind howled and the leaves rustled. Rubbing together in a way that sounded like a hundred tiny footsteps danced all around them. If she squeezed her eyes shut tight enough, she could see the glowing sprites grinning as they whirled.

Lilias bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering in fear, and she scooted closer to her mother, grateful now for the firm grip on her arm.

Though it was summer, when the sun had set this evening, a chill swept over the moors. They wore their cloaks, but even the thick wool didn’t keep the brisk air from sweeping up the hem of her gown, and the invisible icy hands scraping over her hose.

“I’m scared,” Lilias said.

Mama glanced down at Lilias, her eyes shining from where the moon crept through the branches overhead. “Hush, now, Lili. Dinna be afraid. We are here to see what the future holds.”

With her knuckles, Mama gave two swift knocks and then three more. It sounded like a pattern, a code. Mama held her breath and Lilias counted to seven. Mother did the same sequence of knocking once more, and then seven breaths later, the door burst open.

If possible, the chill from the air that whooshed from within was colder than the temperature outside.

Lilias shuddered once more, gooseflesh rising on every part of her body as she stared into the void. There was no one standing beyond the threshold, just blackness and the scent of musty herbs. Who had opened the door? A ghost? Something far worse?

“Mama…” Lilias sought her mother’s hand and wound their fingers, clutching tight and not caring about the hard metal of her mother’s rings that bit into the sensitive flesh of her fingers.

Mama glanced down, love and hope shining in her eyes. “All will be well. Ye need only reach inside yourself, love. Ye alone have the strength to endure.” Mama straightened her shoulders, her jaw thrusting forward with determination, and she tugged Lilias inside.

As soon as they were across the threshold, the door swung shut behind them, followed by a loud click as the handle latched and locked. The echoes of the rustling leaves, the howling wind, it all dissipated in that one moment, leaving them in complete silence. And darkness.

She couldn’t see anything, as though they’d slipped into a black void. If not for her mother’s hold, Lilias would have bolted. She opened her mouth to tell her mother, once more, of her fear, but the grip on her arm lightened, mama’s signal that she was…relaxing? If her mother wasn’t afraid, then why should she be? Suddenly, Lilias did feel stronger. What her mother said was true—she could endure.

“I have been expecting ye.” An old woman’s voice scratched from somewhere to their right.

There was the sound of a flint-rock being struck and then light came from a single candle illuminated the room from a rickety, round wooden table. Herbs hung from the rafters of the croft, explaining the smell. The dim candlelight cast large and odd-shaped shadows over the floor and walls. Sitting in a chair by the hearth was an old crone with silver hair that danced in the candlelight. Shoulders stooped, long chin reaching close to her chest, hooked nose mottled with bumps, she looked as though she’d lived to be one hundred twenty years.

How had she lit the candle from the chair? There was at least six feet between the two. And there was no way the old woman had been able to get from the table to the chair without them having seen. Or quickly for that matter. She looked as though she’d not left the chair in a very long time.

“Magic,” the old crone whispered.

Lilias glanced up at her mother, certain she’d not spoken her question aloud. The crone had read her thoughts. There was a word on the tip of Lilias’s mind—witch—that she dared not speak aloud.

The older woman clucked her tongue, disapproving of this thought. “I am a seer. A taibhsear, not a witch, ye ken? Come closer, child. Stand before me. Let us not dally.

When Lilias made no move to go forward, Mama tugged her closer to the empty hearth, her numb feet begrudgingly sliding over the earthen floor.

The musty, herbal scent grew as they approached the taibhsear, as though it were the seer’s own essence that permeated the single room, and not the dried bundles.

“Ye have come seeking answers about your daughter’s future?” Rather than look at mother at all, the seer kept her steady, hard gaze on Lilias.

“Aye.” Lady Cameron’s voice was strong. Nevertheless, Lilias could sense the underlying fear, and she hoped that her mother’s anxiety stemmed only from what she was going to learn and not the taibhsear herself.

“Closer, child.”

Lilias took tentative steps forward, her mother’s pointy fingers in the small of her back urging her on. When her boots touched the tips of the seer’s, she stopped. She couldn’t look the old woman in the eyes. They were so dark, so deep, seeming to reach the ends of the earth.

The taibhsear leaned forward, her bones creaking. She grabbed hold of Lilias’s hand, her fingers sharp with bone. Turning over the palm, she ran a crooked nail over the center of Lilias’s palm. A chill darted through Lilias and she tried to clench her fingers closed, to hide her palm from the woman’s view, but some unseen force kept her fingers open.

“She has an important destiny.” The seer dragged out the last word in long, breathy syllables.

Mama shifted beside Lilias, her body stiffening. “I can only pray ’tis so.”

Her grip on Lilias’s hand tightened. “Did ye bring payment?”

“Aye.” Mama pressed a ruby ring into the crone’s gnarled hand.

The taibhsear slipped the ring onto her own finger as though it were a perfect fit, and then reached up, hands steady when they looked like they should be shaking.

The seer touched Lilias’s forehead, the cold, bony tips of her fingers chilling Lilias’s skin to a sting. “I see… a man who commands twilight.”

Mother gasped. “Is he coming for her?”

“Shh…” The seer rebuked, one eye popping open in disproval as she eyed Mama, then slammed it closed once more. Her lips pursed and she hummed. “Summer shall come to pass thirteen times before he makes his presence known.”

“Who is he?” Mama asked impatiently, and Lilias too wondered at this stranger who was going to get her. She imagined a demon rising from the earth. Crawling toward her, reaching, and dragging her to his deep, dark, desolate lair.

“He is dark of hair, stormy of eye, and fiercer than the wickedest gale storm. This laird of twilight shall wed Lilias.”

Nay! She did not want to wed, and especially not a man as terrifying as this one sounded.

The devil himself may be her future husband.

“So, she will live at least that long.” Mama blew out a breath of relief. “In my dreams—”

The seer’s eyes flew open, meeting with Mama’s. She removed her hand from Lilias’s forehead and placed it over Lady Cameron’s face. “Those dreams… they are not about your daughter.”

“Then who?”

The seer shook her head, removed her hand, and took a step backward. “I dinna know.”

“How can ye not know?” Frustration oozed from every one of Mama’s words.

“I am drained.“ The taibhsear sank back into her chair, as though the effort to sit up was too much now.

“Ye want more? I can give ye…” Her mother grabbed for another ring on her finger, but the seer stopped her with a shake of her head.

“No more today, my lady. Ye wanted to know your daughter’s future, and I have given it to ye.” She closed her eyes and slowly traced something in the air. “A man who commands twilight. Dark of hair. Stormy of eye. Fiercer than the wickedest gale storm. He is her future. Her destiny was written in the stars many years ago. There is nothing that can be done to change it.”

Lilias frowned as the candle on the table flickered, and Mama ushered her from the quickly darkening croft. Outside, the door slammed closed once more, all life from within seeming to be extinguished.

Lilias did not want a man to be her future. She wanted to forge her own path. But saying such to her mother was out of the question. No doubt now, and until this laird of twilight made himself known, Mama would search out every warrior with a stormy look to his eyes.

Well, Lilias would keep her eyes steady, too. But she’d be looking out for the demon husband who wished to claim her, if only to plan her escape.