Chapter One
The Welsh Marches
Hooves clattered against the rocky path， the sound ech-
oing through the mist-shrouded trees. Catrin shifted in the
saddle; the shiver that ran down her spine owed little to
the icy moisture covering her like a blanket. Never had
the journey to her cousin s keep at rEau Clair seemed so
long--or so ominous. She pulled her cloak snug at the
throat. Perhaps twas her impatience to arrive that made
her nerves feel stretched to breaking， not the threat of an
unknown menace hidden just beyond her view.
A pair of men rode ahead of her， another behind， to
protect her. But she could sense their unease， hear them
mutter low-voiced prayers as they scanned the thickening
fog. She should never have brought them， the least skilled
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