Prologue

Nearly finished. Only this little bit left before I must go to the house and begin supper. Daelia Romany held the sharp tool loosely in her slender hand as she put the finishing touches on the carving. Weeks of careful labor had gone into this, the culmination of everything she had taught herself about woodcarving. The bow was almost perfect, her best work yet, and now it was done. Daelia set the tool down on the table beside which she sat, and blew the wood dust out of the delicately swirled design. Running her fingers over the length of the three-foot bow, she marveled at the beauty of it. Now there was only to add the string that would send her arrows flying; but that would have to wait until later. Right now she must begin preparing for the evening meal. Taerith returns tonight; I do hope he brings back some fish for us. As she untied her leather apron and hung it on a nail, she mentally planned out the meal: Fried fish, potatoes, and Aquila’s bread would make a nice—

Abruptly the roughhewn door of the woodshop swung open and Ilara’s face appeared, “I thought you may have been absorbed in your work; I came to remind you of the meeting tonight.”

Suddenly, any elation Daelia had felt at the completion of her bow drained out of her. She had forgotten.

Daelia left the woodshop and hurried up the path to the house, taking note of the smoke rising from the chimney. At least the fire has not burned out; I will already have a late start on supper tonight. She paused before passing through the door, hastily sweeping her long dark-red curls back up onto her head with wooden combs, willing them to stay in place. They had fallen down around her face as she worked.

Inside the dimly lit main chamber, she saw that several of her brothers and sisters had already congregated. Taking a place beside her younger sister to the left of the fireplace, she remained silent as her siblings slowly entered the room; glancing around at the faces that stared either at Duard or glanced nervously at each other. The looks that Aiden and Taerith were casting at their guardian could have turned water to ice. The air was heavy with unease and apprehension; and something else—impending disaster. It was so strong, she could almost see it. Then Duard began speaking.

“Braedoch is no longer home to you, nor are you any longer a family. You will each depart alone. You will have nothing more to do with each other from this day forward. You are not to communicate, and absolutely not to see each other. If you do, terrible consequences will follow—I am warning you now."

Daelia’s knees almost buckled in shock at his words. Too far; he had simply gone too far this time. How could he? How dare he! But he did dare, and they would obey, each and every one of them without question. That was just the way things had worked for most of her twenty-three years. She had come this evening anticipating one of Maeron Duard’s lectures on submission or another new rule set over them to further limit their freedom—but not this…merciless, cold cruelty.
"Make whatever preparations are necessary. You leave in three days."
Daelia looked about at her family, most of them now speechless with astonishment; except for Taerith.
"You are banishing us?" Daelia could feel the caution in his question.
"Do you question me?" Duard demanded wrathfully. Taerith's answer was almost a whisper. "No."
I do! Daelia screamed inside. Duard’s gaze swung to her as though he had heard her unspoken thought. Where will we go? What will we do? How could she live without her family?

She decided the answer to her own question as she packed her belongings three days later and mounted her horse, swinging her new bow across her trembling shoulders. She would live, and someday she would see them all again. She could feel it.