Page 170 of The Daughters of Avalon
It was true, Seren acknowledged, and not for the first time. He’d arrived like a delivering angel, plucking her up, willy-nilly, from the harbor. Against her will though it might have been, he’d nevertheless sheltered her from harm. More than she had, he’d had his wits about him enough to know that the King’s men would be arriving soon. Were it not for him, she would be on her way to gaol, or worse.
If she were less of an ingrate, she might thank him…
“I am not your gaoler,” he said, “I swore to keep you safe, and to do so, I must get you and that boy as far away from London as possible, so bear with me, if you please.”
At his chiding tone, Seren felt chagrined, though anger pricked at her heart. She felt like an ungrateful wretch, and still, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Her pride simply wouldn’t allow it, so she fell back again to ride with Jack. She and the boy shared a glance, but she daren’t hold Jack’s gaze—or anyone else’s for that matter. Fat tears welled in her eyes.Don’t cry,she demanded of herself.Don’t cry.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
A light drizzle accompanied them… until finally she dried her tears.
Chapter
Twelve
It was impossible for Elspeth to concentrate.
No matter what Rosalynde claimed, it was disheartening to see how little protection her sister had here at Warkworth, with only a handful of tents for housing, and herdonjonstill in the midst of being constructed. Oh, how her sister expounded over the design and details, but all Elspeth saw was a pile of rocks, and this was not meant to be disparaging. Rather, it filled her heart with dread.
A quick breeze ruffled the heavy canvas, causing the marquee’s faded blue walls to billow like waves. Inside,allthe tapers trembled, their flames dancing along unseen currents. Certainly, as tents went, the marquee was quite sumptuous, boasting a lovely curtained-bed heavily veiled in the prettiest shades of blues, from the palest hue that brought to mind Seren’s wintry eyes, to the richest cerulean blue Elspeth had ever spied. A sturdy, ornately carved table sat to one side of the marquee, bare as a bone, as though all schemes and blueprints had been hidden away before the lord’s departure. Elspeth could easily imagine this would be the lord’s table, where Giles de Vere made all his cloak and dagger plans. As for the remainder of the space, it was far plusher than any room Elspeth had atAldergh, with many brightly colored embroidered cushions, all bearing exotic designs that put Elspeth in mind to the Saracens. But, despite all this luxury, it was only a tent, vulnerable to the elements—and worse, vulnerable to the likes of Morwen. All it would take for the entire edifice to erupt in flames was for someone to topple a candle.
Frowning, she said, “I must say you would be safer at Aldergh, Rose. Please, come home with me; we can send word to Giles in London. I know he will understand. He loves you.”
Rosalynde glanced up from thegrimoire, regarding Elspeth with heavy lidded eyes. Elspeth knew Rose wanted her to stop bedeviling her, but she couldn’t. She was a mother now; it only served to bring out her maternal instincts all the more. Under the guidance of a constant stream of nursemaids, she’d raised all four of her sisters— including Rhiannon, no matter what Rhiannon would like to claim. Rhi had been such a willful child. From the time she could walk and talk—earlier than all the rest—it took all her efforts to keep her sister out of harm’s way.
Morwen herself was never a proper mother. For love of the Goddess, she was hardly a proper human being. But for all Elspeth’s cautions, betimes, her sisters were impetuous and reckless, and so far as Elspeth was concerned, this was one of those times.
“Nay,” Rosalynde said willfully. “I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Her young sister sighed, her attention returning stubbornly to thegrimoire, one finger traveling the ancient page as she perused the text. “Both,” she said quietly, but Elspeth heard the iron-will in her voice.
She cast a hand up in frustration. “For the life of me, Rose, I cannot comprehend why your husband would allow you to remain here with so little protection.”
“To the contrary, Elspeth, I am well defended. Giles took every precaution before he left, and our gate is nearly impenetrable.”
“Nearly?”
“Completely,” Rosalynde demurred. “I warrant, ’tis as much so as yours. We took the design from Aldergh, after all.”
Elspeth tilted her youngest sister a dubious look. She waved a hand in a gesture to indicate the entirety of their surroundings. “What about this? Do you thinkthiswill stopherif she manages to find a way through yourimpenetrablegate? Your entire garrison, armed to the teeth, will be hard-pressed to protect you—and by the way, those leathers of yours, they are laughable in defense against our mother.”
“I have a very good suit of armor, fashioned to precise dimensions.”
“But, of course,” said Elspeth, hating her chafing tone, but unable to stop herself.
“Please, Elspeth. Stop worrying. Now that you’ve brought the Book, we’ll find a proper warding spell. Please, stop. I’ll not go,” Rosalynde said, more firmly. “I am needed here, and you, above all should understand why.”
Elspeth frowned. “Why?”
Rosalynde gave her an exasperated glance. “Because, as I have said. This is where Matilda plans to mount her campaign into England.” When Elspeth said naught, she lifted her brows. “You remember Matilda, do you not? You championed her all those years, and now wouldst you have me turn my back on our sister when she needs us most?”
“Half-sister,” Elspeth corrected. “And since when do you concern yourself with Matilda?”
“Since now.” Rosalynde said, her gaze flicking up to meet Elspeth’s, incensed. “Truly, Elspeth?”
“Do not mistake me, Rose. I realize how critical it is for Matilda to take her rightful place on England’s throne, but you are my true-blood sister, and I’ll not risk you, not even for such a noble cause.”
