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CHAPTER ONE

Verna

It wasn’t currently snowing, so I couldn’t blame the weather for what I was seeing. And the full moon was bright above, meaning the strangeness couldn’t be explained by darkness and shadows.

The horses’ hoofprints, which I had been following for the last two hours, crossed the valley and ended abruptly at the edge of the stone circle. I nudged my own animal closer, squinting in amazement.

The prints stopped. Disappeared. ‘Twas as if the animals had been just…scooped up.

And inside the stone circle…

I blew out a breath which frosted the air before me and pulled the hood of my red cloak closer around my face.

I wasn’t mistaken.

Inside the stone circle, which should just be more of the same unending snow-covered ground, I saw mist. A silvery gray mist that sparkled in the moonlight like some kind of magic.

Magic it may be, but you cannot deny poor Isadora and her new owner went into it.

And didn’t come out.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced over my shoulder. If Alred already sought me he wouldn’t be far behind. If the mist could hide a huge orc, a wee lass, and two horses, then it could hide me.

Remembering my father’s long-ago lessons, I nudged my animal toward one of the small burns which tumbled down to the valley floor. My climb out of the saddle wasn’t graceful, but my knees and toes were damn near frozen in the midwinter cold. I clutched the stirrup to remain upright, then nudged the horse to turn north. Away from the valley and the stone circle.

Then, carefully, I picked my way across the barren rocks, being certain not to leave footprints.

“Go on,” I said as firmly as I could, smacking the horse’s flank. “Go!”

As I’d hoped, the animal took off northernly. Alred would likely follow its tracks and hopefully not notice I’d climbed down here. All I had to do was walk along the burn and the snow wouldn’t reveal my passing. I gathered my skirts in my stiff fingers, did my best to step on the rocks and not the ice, and began to pick my way down the valley.

Within minutes, I decided I was an idiot.

Mayhap I should have set the horse free much closer to the stone circle?

I was no longer picking my way along the burn, but stumbling, each rock a boulder to my wayward steps. I was shivering uncontrollably, and my gown was damp from the times I fell.

Just keep going. The mist is ahead.

Aye.

Aye, I could do this.

I would make it to the circle, and the mist, and I would be hidden.

So cold. So cold .

I bit the inside of my lip hard enough to taste blood and focused on that sharp pain as I stumbled forward. The strap of the satchel dug into my shoulder, and I wondered if I might have been better off leaving it.

Alred will not allow you to escape him. You will have to find safety and a protector.

Well, if there was one thing I knew, it was how to give men what they wanted. I would find a male, and he would protect me.

The same way Isadora’s new owner had saved her from the men at the tavern.

I forced myself onward, each step agonizing.

Each step bringing me closer to the circle I prayed meant my safety.

Isadora’s new master saved her. Mayhap he could save me?

I was almost there when I heard a shout, far behind and above me. I twisted.

My ploy hadn’t worked; Alred sat on a horse of his own atop the rise, waving a weapon angrily.

Nay .

Whimpering with fear, I scooped up my heavy skirts and began to run, an ungainly stumbling gait that took me out of the burn’s waters and across the valley. Was it my imagination, or was that the sound of Alred’s animal’s hooves thundering toward me?

The stone circle was only yards away, then feet, then…

Then I threw myself between two of the stones, praying it was the haven I needed, my eyes squeezed tight in dread.

Warmth.

Panting, I stumbled to a stop against one of the stones and slowly opened my eyes.

The mist enveloped me, so much warmer than I expected, seeping into my bones and allowing me to breathe without the icy sharp needles of pain. My fingers uncurled, and my clothing, still wet, no longer seemed quite so miserable.

I was alone. I could see naught but the silvery gray clouds around me.

Except…suddenly I could. The mist began to fade and I pressed my shoulder blades into the stone, praying I was hidden.

I couldn’t hear Alred or his horse.

After a long moment, I peeked around the stone. There was the valley, the rise. I could even see the burn. But where was Alred?

Confused, I twisted about, looking for an explanation…then sucked in a gasp when I saw the cottage.

Because that most certainly hadn’t been there before.

But aye, there was a byre-cottage, with smoke coming from the chimney, and a big male in a heavy fur cloak just stepping inside.

His skin was green.

Orc .

An orc had bought Isadora at the tavern. Was this the same male? A different one?

I followed the orc to his home.

It made sense. I had tracked the hoofprints to the stones.

My eyes wide with wonder, I studied the landscape around me and now noticed the differences. There were more trees here, but the land around the stones was tended, unlike the dead grass and rocky field I stumbled across to get here. Small snow-draped shrubs, as round as Alred’s bald head, lined a pathway to the cottage. The walkway had been swept clear of snow and low stone walls created a paddock on the byre’s side of the small house.

Very quaint.

Very different.

Somehow, the mist had moved me to a different…world?

The mist also kept you warm. It is gone now, mayhap you might have noticed ?

Shivering—in cold and confusion—I admitted my subconscious was right. I needed to get out of this weather, out of these wet clothes. And there was only one shelter in sight.

I picked my way around the tall stones, careful to step only in the footprints of someone much larger than myself who had made several passes around the outside of the stones. Was it the male I’d seen? Was Isadora inside?

Approaching the byre side of the cottage, I risked leaving a track to slip inside. ‘Twas warmer here with the animals, their grunts and farts a comforting—if slightly malodorous—cacophony, despite the darkness. The byre-barn, which was connected to the cottage via the long stone wall which housed the hearth, would stay warm enough with all the windows and doors shut.

I tucked myself up against the backside of the hearth, grateful for the weak warmth of the stones, and listened.

The voices of two males, low and rumbling. I heard one rise, as if in teasing, and the other snap something, perhaps not happy with the banter. They obviously knew one another, but who were they? If one was Isadora’s new master, I might risk making myself known.

But if these males had no experience with human women, what would they do?

Eat your porridge, wee Verna, or the orcs will eat your liver!

Do not sass me, girl, or I’ll leave you out for the orcs to steal!

You should be grateful to me for giving you a bed, slut. Women who wander are scooped up by the orcs to be raped and eaten!

I’d heard it for years.

Now, though? Now I was trapped in their world. I pressed the back of my hand to my lips to smother my whimper, suddenly realizing what the lack of mist in the circle had meant. I’d been transported here, and without the mist, there was no way to return.

Buck up. It also means there is no way for Alred to get to you.

I had no idea how often the mist appeared and linked our worlds. Surely not often, or I would have heard about it. But perhaps I would be unlucky, and ‘twas something that happened each night. Which meant Alred would follow me by tomorrow.

By the time he does, you must find yourself a protector, as Isadora did.

Aye.

Aye, I could do that. But…one of the males on the other side of the wall?

Better to watch and wait .

Once I knew who to approach, I would.

Glad to have a plan, and one that didn’t involve me revealing myself too early, I hurried to the back of the cow byre and shuffled the piles of hay out of the way. Pressing my shoulders against the cold wood of the outer wall, I pulled the hay over me, hoping no one would shove a pitchfork into the pile while I was in it.

You should likely hope that the cow does not get too hungry as well .

Aye, that too.

I wasn’t exactly warm, but the hay both trapped my own body heat in and kept the cold air out. I wrapped my arms around my knees and pressed my forehead to my forearms, huddling in my damp skirts. Hopefully I would dry out a bit.

I must have fallen asleep, because I jolted awake when a male entered the byre and began to care for the horses. He was muttering angrily beneath his breath, and I was surprised to realize I could understand some of his words.

Risking myself, I tipped my head slightly so I could peek at him.

A cow’s arse was in the way, but the male was towering and dark haired and green-skinned. An orc, definitely. I wished I could see more details, but suddenly I was quite glad to be hidden.

I’m not sure how long he worked, but my eyes grew heavy again. I figured I would remain still if I slept, so I allowed myself to drift off.

When I awoke the second time, my skirts felt dry but my legs and feet tingled from the cold and inactivity.

Two males were in the stable, readying a horse. I couldn’t risk a peek, so I strained to hear their conversation.

“If ye leave now, ye’ll make it to Bloodfire Village afore the snow.” This voice was a mere murmur.

“Aye,” the other male grunted. “They’ll welcome her there.”

A pause, and the sound of a harness creaking. Then the first male said, “Torvolk, I would no’ ask yer Mate to stay here with?—"

“She’s no’ my— Fook .” This last part was growled. “I’ll leave her in the village with the other women.”

“She’ll be happy there.” A pause. “And I wouldnae want her here anyhow.”

The other voice drawled, “Dinnae fash, Keeper. Nae female would want to live alone with a grumpy auld bastard like ye.”

There was the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and the second male grunted what might have been a laugh.

“I’m no’ grumpy, I just…like my solitude.”

“And defend it staunchly. Yer cold, lonely existence and yer arcane and mystical hobbies.”

“Says the man who doesnae read,” the Keeper scoffed. “’Tis no’ some mystical arcane undertaking, merely?—”

“Terrifying, I tell ye.”

“Oh for fook’s sake,” the first man muttered. “I would be angry, except ye’re right. But I wish ye the best of luck, my friend. Both with yer mission, and with yer new female. Now get the fook out of my space and leave me be.”

As I wondered what his cryptic remarks meant, they stepped out of the byre. I heard the door close, then cautiously straightened, pushing the insulating hay away from myself and working the stiffness and prickles from my limbs.

What to do?

The conversation I’d just overheard told me that one of the males lived in this cottage, while the other was the one who had bought Isadora. The one who lived here was unknown, but he himself admitted to being a recluse with strange, possibly dangerous habits.

But the other one—Torvolk—had Isadora, and they were going to a village. The lass had seemed like someone who needed a friend…and more importantly, if I was going to be stuck in a strange world, I’d like to do it with another woman. We could watch out for one another.

My mind was made up.

I would follow Isadora and her new master to this village and hope I could find some work and protection there.

My father’s long-ago lessons served me well as I slipped from the byre. My red cloak wasn’t exactly camouflage in this land of ice and snow, but I made certain the male called Keeper couldn’t see me before following the horse tracks which headed east.

The sun was rising, and after last night’s adventure, I was glad for the light…and the meager warmth. The snow was deep and although I did my best to keep to the horse’s tracks, I still struggled.

As the morning lengthened, the sun disappeared. Clouds, heavy with snow, rolled in from the west, chasing me. I picked up my pace, my thighs and calves burning from the exertion of laboring through the deep drifts. Although the air was frigid and I pulled my cloak tightly around my shoulders and neck, I felt sweat beading at the small of my back.

My breathing was becoming labored, and I realized I was spending too much time with my head twisted backward, watching the clouds instead of paying attention to the horse’s tracks.

Mayhap this was a foolish idea.

Mayhap?

It definitely had been a foolish idea.

You left the safety of the byre-cottage to chase after a trotting horse. There is no way you could catch up with it.

I saw that now.

Idiot .

My arms ached from holding the cloak around myself. My stomach cramped in hunger since I had not eaten since last night’s supper. Each breath I sucked in stung my lungs, and the edges of my vision were starting to go black.

As I reached the dubious shelter of a copse of fir, I stumbled to a stop.

The snow was starting again and I’d lost the horse’s tracks.

I tipped my head back, wincing as the first fat snowflake landed on my cheek.

I was not a quitter.

If I had been, I would have died long ago.

But now?

I wasn’t sure if the moisture on my cheek was from the melting flakes or my tears. Pain, hunger, exhaustion.

You should have stayed in the cottage.

I made my decision based on which male I thought would protect me, and I knew naught of the Keeper, other than the forbidding habits his friend mentioned and his own admission that his home wasn’t fit for a female. I thought I’d made the right decision in leaving, but now…

Now, there was a very real chance I was going to die.

Those were definitely tears.

Shuddering, I adjusted the cloak and tried to remember the woodlore my father had taught me all those years ago. The firs . There would be shelter under them where the snow was not so deep.

I stumbled toward the trees, and aye…if I could avoid the lower branches, I could dig myself into the hollow lined with fir needles and mayhap avoid the worst of the storm.

As I curled into a ball, my cloak shielding my face from the flakes, I did my best to ignore the cramping of my stomach and the way I couldn’t feel my feet.

All I had to do was survive the storm.

Forcing my breathing to even out, I tried to convince myself this was possible. A few hours. Then you can continue your journey .

Except…

A few hours of snow meant the horse’s tracks would be obliterated. I would have no way of knowing where I was, or how to get somewhere safe. I would freeze to death before I would starve, and then animals would eat my carcass.

Better to be eaten by wolves than raped and eaten by orcs, aye ?

But the males I’d heard hadn’t sounded so horrifying. Isadora hadn’t been crying. I might have been able to tempt one into keeping me as a pet, or proving my worth the way I had to the men in the tavern.

Now you will not have the opportunity.

Nay, I wouldn’t.

I was going to die here.

It wasn’t until I sniffed that I realized I was truly crying.

I wasn’t a quitter, and I wasn’t weak, but now? Now I had no other choice.

‘Twas likely this helpless mindset that caused me to scream when I felt something grab the back of my cloak and rip it away from me. I wasn’t strong enough to fight, but I did my best to clutch my satchel and flop over on my back to meet my attacker head-on.

But when I saw him, I screamed again.

He was huge .

Huge and green, scowling down at me, the snow already pooling on the heavy cloak he wore. He dropped his hold on me to grip the hilt of his sword.

Oh God, he is going to strike!

I tried to scuttle backward, but my limbs wouldn’t obey me. My body had betrayed me. My vision was going black. I couldn’t breathe, and every part of me felt as if it had turned to ice.

I wasn’t a quitter, and I’d never begged before in my life.

But I’d never before seen someone as terrifying as this male.

“Please,” I whimpered.

His scowl only deepened as he growled, “Why did ye run, foolish female?”

And then everything went dark.