1955-2024
Prologue
1768: The Garnett Plantation, Jamaica
Above the trees, the sky pulsed with an eerie orange glow. Even the moon was tainted. Scuffed by clouds, it blinked like a bloodied eye over the turrets of The Salutation. The elegant plantation house straddled the hill above the estate like a great white bird, but tonight its wings would be blackened by fire.
Daniel pulled at the rag covering his nose and mouth and tried to call to the pale figure moving ahead of him on the stony path. Immediately his lungs filled with smoke. Around him, flames rip pled through the undergrowth. The sparking threads shimmered like the golden lace of the parasol Mistress Isabella used to shield her ivory skin.
Over the crackle of scrub fire, Daniel was aware of the steady beat of the drums that had begun this night's work. The sound was measured, deliberate, insistent. They all knew the old rhythms and the messages they sent. The secret had been carried across the ocean. It was a call to arms. He listened, alert to another warning pounding beneath his ribs.
Adanna.
The path leading to The Salutation rose steeply. His brother was just visible. The grey shirt that strained across Jon's broad shoulders marked him out as he stumbled upward. Shadows flitted between the trees; many others were heading up to the Great House. Even if the alarm had been raised, there was a chance to take what they needed. To take what they were owed.
Gulping a breath, Daniel quickened his pace. Jon hadn't thought to muffle his face to ward off the smoke. He was gasping and coughing when Daniel levelled with him. Lunging for his brother's arm, Daniel pulled him round to face him and ripped the rag from his mouth.
'You swore to me that Adanna would be safe.'
It was the only thought in his head. Adanna was everything to him. Their lives were bound together more tightly than the creeper winding around the trees edging the path.
Jon's eyes slid to the top of the hill. Above them, the Great House was silhouetted against a crimson sky. The tall windows that gave a view of the lawn from the long wooden veranda glowed with a light too fierce for candles. Jon frowned. Was that guilt? Daniel was certain he saw it there.
'You knew it was tonight and you didn't tell me.' He rasped down a breath before spluttering on. 'It was agreed. You said...you promised that I would be given time to warn her—'
'It was you who made promises.' Jon wrenched his arm free, the sudden movement causing them both to lose their footing. In a moment they were falling together, tumbling downhill in a hail of pebbles. When they came to rest in a knot of limbs, Daniel was aware of a sharp pain. Blood seeped through the coarse cloth of his breeches where a stone had pierced the flesh. As he stared at the darkly glistening stain, calls echoed from the woodland above. The sound was harsh, guttural; almost triumphant.
What would they do to her?
He tried to scramble to his feet, but his brother caught him fast. Jon had always been stronger; he resembled their stocky, muscular father while Daniel had the grace and quick intelligence of their mother.
'Don't be a fool.' The blaze that hissed and snapped around them brought an amber glow to Jon's eyes. 'Go back down. It's too late.'
'Too late for what?' Daniel flinched as the yelping came again. 'What are they doing up there?'
When Jon didn't answer, Daniel twisted about. Above the treeline, fire rippled along the roof of The Salutation. One of the turrets was gilded with flames. The house servants slept in rooms directly beneath the eaves where the heat of the sun made the air thick as molasses.
'It's too soon!' He tried to free himself, but his brother pulled him so close that their foreheads touched.
'Listen to me.' Jon spoke slowly. 'You saw what Kemp did to Thomas this morning. We all watched a child beaten to death. And for what? For eating cane to fill his shrivelled belly. No, brother, it's not a moment too soon.'
