Page 1 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

A t the hall of a Scottish chief, deep in the western Highlands, a bard entertains those who are gathered, singing and telling tales while accompanying himself on the harp. He weaves his tales in praise of his host’s ancestors with a rare talent that keeps his listeners enthralled, from the highest to the lowest. Amid the leaping torches and the flickering candles, there is magic encircling the great chamber this night.

Already he has told one tale, but the hour is not yet late, and his audience longs for another, a journey back through the mists of time to a place both so distant and so magical, it calls to them.

Finlay smiles to himself. This journey he has taken many times, but never once has it been so significant as this night. A hint of enchantment sparkles in his green eyes as he sweeps the room, touching upon his audience. Or does he search for but one face there?

The second tale he tells begins:

Once long ago, when this land we love so well was still called Dalriada, settled by the very boldest of the chiefs from fair Erin, Alba remained a mystery. An Erin chief had three sons, and he sent them hence in turn to accomplish his will. The first son, who was the boldest and his heir, failed in his mission. The second also did not accomplish what his father wished, so the chief sent the third and youngest of his sons, he with the charm upon his tongue, whom everyone loved. For if he was loved, surely he would accomplish the deed, no matter how difficult. Let me sing ye this song for an exile’s heart…