Urram - Rekindled Hope (Excerpt Only) [RELEASING MAY 7TH, 2024]

Prologue: A Lost Brotherhood

VOICES rose and fell like the rolling waves of the ocean. But this surging boasted no sparkling waters beneath the sun. No, this sea was murky and grey, its depths dark and foreboding beneath a stormy sky.

Douglas McCurragh straightened in his hard-backed chair and blinked hard, resisting the urge to let his thoughts wander once again as a distraction from the dismal reports. As the heir to the Scottish throne, it was his rightful duty to be here and pay heed to what the High Chieftains had to say. One day, he might judge such matters himself. But it was none too thrilling to listen to gloomy reports of Danish attacks on the northern coasts.

For what youth liked to hear that his world was burning down around his ears?

The voices fell silent. The chieftains had finished their report, grim as it was, and now waited to hear what King Daibhidh had to say.

But the words never came.

The doors to the Great Hall of Caerloch Castle flew open, and in rushed a young lass with crimson curls that bounced with every step.

Douglas bit back a smile at seeing his little sister enter with no regard for the council. But his mirth quickly faded when he saw the grimace on his father's face, a shadow of pain and something far blacker.

Anger and bitterness was ever a stain marring what tenderness Daibhidh should have had towards his daughter. Even if she looked much like what his late wife, Fionnuala, might have as a wee lass, Douglas did not think it an excuse to show the coldness his father did. But he was not his father. And no one, not even the High Chieftains, dared to go against King Daibhidh, nor speak of his dead bride in his presence.

Not anymore.

"Father! Douglas! Ye should see—" Fiona McCurragh pulled up short, her freckled face blushing bright red upon realising she had interrupted an important council. The burning wave faded, leaving her creamy pale as she met her father's withering gaze.

Douglas winced as the light died in her green-gold eyes, her youthful spirit crushed once again.

The chieftains had greeted her with warm expressions, many of them having had young children of their own once upon a time, but at the king's stiff reaction, such amused looks dissolved into an uncomfortable silence.

"I am sorry, Father, I didnae realise—" the princess began, her voice painfully taut.

"Nae, ye never do," Daibhidh cut her off. Then he turned to Douglas. "Please take yer sister out and amuse her. I can finish this alone."

Douglas rose to his feet, swallowing the hurt and anger that stormed within him. He bowed his head towards the assembly before taking his sister's hand. Without a word, he led her gently out of the hall, down the corridors, and into the open courtyard.

The sweet spring air met their faces, warm and gusting, enlivening after the oppressive staleness of the Great Hall. Douglas inhaled deeply as he took his sister up to the battlements, where they could look out towards the moors from the confines of the castle. It was almost as good as being able to ride out towards freedom. But he dared not risk riding out today, not when his father might call him back at any time.

"I didnae ken Father was having a council," Fiona murmured, the first words spoken since she had attempted an apology to the king.

"'Tis all right. Ye werenae to ken. Father doesnae announce those things; the servants wouldnae hae kent, and if they had, they wouldnae hae told ye. Ye're too young to listen to them yet."

They came to a halt at the top of the wall. Fiona tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her unruly curls staying put only a moment before the breeze tugged on it again.