Page 14 of The Daughters of Avalon
In truth, she was not usually so ill-mannered, but she didn’t wish to like this man, even though she needed him. So, aye, it galled her thathe, of all people, would endeavor to educate her about rudeness—even ruder yet was faithlessness. Whether or not he’d come to his titles after her father’s death, and whether or not he’d reneged on his vows, anyone who was an enemy of Matilda’s should rightfully be an enemy of Elspeth’s.
Forsooth, how could he possibly approve of the way his Scots king had agreed to aid his niece, then so conveniently abandoned his support? Did he have no care at all that Stephen had no right to rule any lands, less Wales? Did it never concern him that “their king” had forced his own brother to deliver him the support of the church? Or that he’d seized the treasury without right?
The bounds of Stephen’s treachery infuriated Elspeth to no end. And yet, she felt painfully ambivalent about Malcom, because, aye, she realized he could have easily abandoned her to the mercy of Ersinius’ men, and if he had, he might have been justified in doing so. After all, he didn’t know her, and she could have been fleeing a rightful persecution. But nevertheless, once the moment arrived, he’d pulled her onto his mount, with nary a hesitation and swept her away, holding her close—so close that she’d dared to feel… safe.
Certainly, it was the last thing she’d expected from a man she’d attempted to rob—or from a professed minion of Stephen’s.
Who are you Malcom?
Peering down at the ring on his finger—closer now that his hands were on the reins and no longer resting on her person, she wondered how and when he’d acquired his lands and title. Of course, she didn’t know his standard—or his name—so he must have ascended after her father’s death—and therefore, he must be one of Stephen’s new barons.
Men like Cael d’Lucy…
And once again, she sighed, and, for a moment, allowed herself to consider how things would have been had she stayed with her sisters…
She would have been carted away by now, and soon enough found herself wed to an Earl as well. She would have been sent back to Blackwood, where she could have ruled her own demesne, but at what cost?
But now… above and beyond the spell they’d cast, what cost would her sisters pay for Elspeth’s defiance? Surely, Morwen would never suffer this insult lightly, and there was no doubt she would fly at once to the priory. She would want to know precisely what her sisters knew. But did even Rhiannon know where she was going?
With every mile she traveled, Rhiannon’s voice grew fainter and fainter… and for better or worse, soon… very soon… not even she would be able to reach her.
Sweet fates. How will I bear it?
Look to your champion, Elspeth.
Champion?Elspeth dared again to peek over her shoulder and found Malcom’s gaze fixed upon the horizon. At the instant, he didn’t seem to sense her scrutiny, so she allowed her gaze to linger…
He had a strong jaw with a small cleft in his chin, and his eyes—blue-green—were veiled by thick, dark lashes. His skin was swarthy, as though he spent much of his time in the sun, but it was impossible to say what color his hair might be because it was covered by that coif.
Was it true?Could he be her champion?
Did you send him, Rhiannon?
Silence.
Elspeth’s heart wrenched.
Rhiannon,she called again, and again, her answer was silence.
Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, Elspeth turned as far as she could in the saddle, craning her neck as tears pricked at her eyes.
She knew the instant she passed outside her sisters’ reach… because she suffered the void acutely… it was a great sweeping darkness… illumined only by the man riding at her back.
Elspeth peered up at him, tears swimming in her eyes, and prayed that, indeed, the Goddess had sent him to aid her. Without her sisters, she had no one else to trust.
“What is it, Elspeth?”
She turned, giving Malcom her back, and said, “Nothing.” And once again, more to convince herself. “All is well.”
Chapter
Seven
One chair by the small hearth remained conspicuously empty, the seat as cold as the ashes beneath the cauldron. Silence, thick and dismal, became the Ewyas sisters’ fifth companion.
“She’s…gone,” said Rhiannon. No two words were ever spoken more woefully.
Swallowing the knot of grief that formed in her throat, Rhiannon rose from her seat to stand before the small cauldron, peering down into the kettle’s bottom to see what she could see…
