Page 139 of The Daughters of Avalon
“They are, Your Grace.”
“I see,” the king said, narrowing his eyes. “You risk much if you are already forsworn.”
“And nevertheless, I will have no other, and it is my desire to be shed of any need for Stephen’s blessings by the time I am expected in London. Therefore, I seek your blessing, for what it’s worth.”
“Again, I ask; why should I concern myself with your bride?” argued David. “You have declared for England. And I cannot be bothered with Morwen’s witchy daughters.”
Giles narrowed his gaze. “Because, Your Grace… whether you acknowledge them or nay, they bear a king’s blood, and so I ask your blessing, as I do the lord of Aldergh’s, because itisa matter of state. And... you are—were—their father’s dearest friend. You must have known that Elspeth Pendragon was the king’s favorite.”
“Aye, well, I am also responsible for the death of their grandmother, in case you did not realize, and I havenoregrets. There are forces at work in this realm that must be condemned.”
“And still, you came to aid us,” reminded Malcom. “It was not me, but my lady wife who called you.”
David of Scotia nodded, and after a moment, he said, “So I did. So I did. Well then, for what it’s worth, you have my blessing. For what it’s worth…”
Giles turned to Malcom. “So then, I have one more concern…do you, perchance, have a priest in residence at Aldergh?”
Malcom’s blue eyes glinted. “As it happens, I do. And, if the lady will have you, you have my blessing as well.”
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
For all its lateness, winter descended upon the north with a vengeance not unlike Morwen Pendragon’s. Bitter winds howled through the old castel, leaving everyone it touched shivering. Rosalynde discovered firsthand what her sister meant about the tapestries. Wherever they were hung, those rooms were warmer, quieter, and cozier—much in the same manner of a warming spell, except that thesespellswere woven of wool, linen and gilt-wrapped silk.
As it turned out, it was fortuitous for Rosalynde that her sister’s twins were wont to come so early, else she might not have returned in time from Chreagach Mhor. Traveling in this weather would seem impossible, and particularly so with two small babes. As it was, she’d delivered them well and spent a good month with her husband’s family before returning to Aldergh.
Alas, so brave a soul as one might be, it wasn’t advisable to venture beyond their refuge of stone and tapestry. Rosalynde resolved herself not to see Giles for a while—if ever again. She realized he had far more important matters to attend, the very least of which was a woman he’d already hardened his heart against. And nevertheless, she had, very knowingly, even despitehis warnings, given herself to him. And, in the end, if she ended with a babe in her belly and a sullied reputation, it would be her own fault.
Trying not to think of Giles, she spent her time helping Elspeth with her babies—feeding them, burping them, loving them. And whenever the babes were sleeping, she and Elspeth studied every page of thegrimoire, poring over the annotations—some of which were written by their mother. But some were not. They had been scribed in a hand neither of them recognized and in a script the sisters couldn’t understand—runic symbols that shivered over the vellum when they were touched. But perhaps these were destined to remain as much a mystery as the reliquary she’d taken from Mordecai. After all, Rosalynde showed the strange trinket to Elspeth.
Beautifully etched, it was cylindrical in shape, about a half-inch in diameter and one and one-quarter inches long, with a crystal shoved into one end and a cap so tightly fitted it was impossible to remove. And yet, she had witnessed with her own two eyes as Mordecai’s spirit—for lack of a better way to put it—vanished into the object, mayhap into the crystal.
The chain itself was a brass ball chain, solidly formed, and if it had not been, Rosalynde would never have been able to clasp it so doggedly in the glade as Mordecai whipped her about, trying to be shed of her.
One evening, as the babes were upstairs asleep in the care of their nurse, she and her sister sat in the privacy of her lady’s solar, trying again to open the reliquary. Nothing—not evenmagik—served to meet their needs.
“It’s indestructible!” Elspeth complained, and in frustration, she put the cylinder to her teeth, biting down in an attempt to squash the metal, but even then, it would not bend.
“Do you think it is ensorcelled?”
“Certainly,” Elspeth said. “I cannot think our mother would take any chances with something so….” Elspeth set the reliquary down on the desk she used to scribe her letters. “Precious.”
By now, Rosalynde had told her all she could remember about their journey and their encounter with the Shadow Beast. Even now, it was impossible to guess what might have waylaid Morwen, but they were in accord that whatever it was, it was the only reason Rosalynde and Giles had found their way to Aldergh in one piece.
As they stood there, Rose fell silent, feeling guilty, for keeping one last secret from Elspeth. “Well,” she demurred. “Perhaps it is not theonlyreason.” It was past time to tell her sister about Giles. “He’s a Huntsman,” she blurted.
Elspeth blinked. “Who’s a Huntsman?”
“Giles.”
“Giles?”
Rosalynde nodded.
Her sister inhaled and did not immediately exhale.
For a long moment, they stared at one another, and Elspeth gleaned the rest by the look in Rosalynde’s eyes.
