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men who are loyal only to her,” said Lucian. “It started slowly, a few missing sheep, some burned out cottages. We weren’t sure where the attacks were coming from. We thought we had an alliance with the Burkes.”
    “No one really believed she had any magic about her, or that she was capable of evil, until she overtook the monastery and killed all the clerics. She crucified three of the nuns, Patrick,” added Ruarc.
    Patrick’s face grew white then red with anger. “Go-go on,” he said.
    “Kurt, the priest, escaped to our lands and Anya begged Dallin to give him sanctuary,” interjected Galen. “He has been serving here ever since.”
    “After the birth of the third O’Malley daughter, Dallin began to believe the curse was real. Even our hired soldiers who moved here never bore sons,” Ruarc stated.
    “I s-see. M-may I speak open-openly of me ch-charge?” questioned Patrick.
    “Yer charge?” replied Lucian.
    “Aye, Braeden, me f-foster,” replied Patrick. “May I sp-speak openly of th-that matter?” Patrick searched Lucian’s face for permission.
    “Aye, Patrick, ye may. I’ve only just informed Galen of his identity. He is trustworthy. No need to worry about that,” replied Lucian.
    “If th-this curse is r-real, how is it th-that Braeden w-was born?” Patrick asked.
    “That is just what we were discussing before ye arrived, Patrick. And—we have no good idea why that is.”
    “Do ye kn-know the curse? The w-words to it? Mayhap I can h-help?”
    “We were just reviewing it,” said Galen. “Here, let me find that scroll.” Galen placed his mug down on the side table and began rummaging for the page in the scrolls that contained what they believed to be Odetta’s curse.
    “Patrick, here ’tis. Let me read it for ye,” said Lucian.
    “Nay , I w-will r-read it me-me-meself,” he retorted. Lucian gave Ruarc an inquisitive glance and asked, “Patrick, do ye read ancient Celtic languages?”
    “Aye, of c-course. ‘Twas yer own br-brathair wh-who t-taught me, L-Lucian. H-hand it to m-me,” he directed. “L-let me s-see what I c-can make of it.”
    Patrick flipped through page after page in the scrolls; oftentimes going back to the front sections and tracing his fingers around the knotted symbols. He’d settle on one page for a few moments, then go back to the beginning, then flip through more pages, then return to the original page. Much of the ancient writing didn’t appear as language at all…but instead…as detailed paintings and symbols in vibrant colors.
    Patrick sighed and rolled up the last of the scrolls and handed them to Lucian. An eerie quiet overtook the chamber and no one uttered a word. He took a long, lingering sip on his mug and let out a long-held breath.
    “Well?” asked Lucian impatiently. “What do ye make of all this Patrick?
    “Did ye find the curse?” asked Ruarc.
    “Aye, I f-found the curse,” Patrick nodded.
    “Can it be broken?” asked Galen. “Can we fight the curse?”
    Patrick raised his hand in an effort to avoid further questions. He stood and paced in front of the hearth before returning his gaze towards the table and the men who were looking for answers.
    “The c-curse is r-real, but it is n-not a th-thorough curse. Tell me Ruarc, d-did Darina’s p-par-parents ever tr-travel outside of the O’Malley lands?”
    “Aye,” he replied. “They went to Edinburgh to visit with our family there. We are Scots you ken?”
    “Aye, I kk-en, as was m-me ma-mathair.”
    “What has that to do with anything, Patrick?” asked Lucian.
    “T-tell me, Ruarc, how l-long ago w-was th-that?” asked Patrick.
    “About twelve summers, I believe. Right before we began construction on the high castle. Dallin met the Roman architect while they were there. Why?” asked Ruarc, now confused.
    “B-because the c-curse only ap-ap-applies to o-offspring con-conceived on O’Malley l-lands. Br-Braeden must have b-been c-conceived in Scotland,” he added.
    “Is