Page 176 of The Daughters of Avalon
Never again.
If the Black Knight of legend was a master swordsman, Giles was somethingother, expertly wielding his weapon with incredible feats of physicality. Much as he’d feared that Shadow Beast, some part of him would go back and do it again, if only to see his brother in action—standing atop his mount and pirouetting his weapon like a spin top.
Shifting his burden from one hand to another, he waited for Seren to finish, his heart squeezing over the way she looked atthe boy—her gaze so full of tenderness. To his chagrin, it still gave him a small tweak of envy, even as it warmed the cockles of his heart.
How might it be to have her look at him with so much affection? Only for him with the heat of desire.
She is grieving, fool. Get your head out of your breeches.And what makes you think she would think of you this way?Only look at her, and then look at yourself.
She looked tired, he thought, bedraggled even, though her long, pale red hair was no longer escaping her thick plait. That’s precisely why he’d bought her the new ribbon, and he was pleased to see she’d found it and used it. It gave him a strange feeling down in the pit of his gut…
Pleasure? Pride? Satisfaction?
As much as he tried to understand, he couldn’t fathom how his brother could turn his back on the lady. She was nothing at all what Wilhelm had supposed… she, too, was somethingother… And yet, so much as he’d feared she would seduce Giles, she was seducing him without even trying. And perhaps that was the greatest source of his unease… because if he chanced to misjudge her… if she was more like her mother…
Here we go, again.
Cursing himself for a fool, he shifted the cony yet again, feeling the slow drip of warm blood glide down the butt of his palm. It was early yet. If he had his druthers, they would eat, nap briefly, then return without delay to the road. The sooner they returned to Warkworth, the better.
By now, Giles would have left to attend Stephen in London. Wilhelm had promised to hurry back, to watch over Rosalynde. Much as he loathed the thought, there was a good chance his brother might not return. Rosalynde had no inkling of this, else she might never have let him go, and there was little wonder Giles gave her his sword. Evidently, he feared as Wilhelm feared,that the instant he repudiated Seren and refused to kneel before Stephen… well… he shouldn’t dwell on that right now.
Giles was his own man and Wilhelm trusted him to do the right thing. And if doing the right thing got his neck in a rope or his entrails fed to Morwen’s birds… well, there was little he could do about that.
Right now, his main concern—his only concern—should be Seren. Come what may, he would deliver the lady safely to Warkworth… or die trying.
As for that boy… he didn’t know what to do with Jack. Perhaps his brother’s affiliations would better determine his fate. In slumber, the lad seemed so bloody innocent, and Wilhelm’s heart swelled with pity for the loss he’d endured. Even as a man grown, Wilhelm had wept blood tears to look upon his own sire’s burnt carcass, and even now, the memory wedged a meaty lump in his throat.
In contrast, even despite her own grief, and soft as she appeared, Seren had been a pillar of strength.
Wilhelm was slowly but surely coming to admire her as well.
All night long they’d traveled in silence, stopping only when necessary, and unless she was caring for the boy, she scarcely spoke, much less sniveled or mewled. So much as he loathed to confess the truth, he, himself, had been far more whingey than she. It took Wilhelm a while, but he was over his pique at having been judged and found wanting. So he wasn’t a scholar, like Giles. Never once had he aspired to be one. He was a warrior to the bone, and the sword in his belt was deadlier than any pen. And this time, given the opportunity, he would use it with deadly force.
Impatient now, he fidgeted yet again, feeling guilty for spying. But he sensed she felt ill-at-ease performing her sorcery in front of others, so it was only after she was finished with her incantation and then had a chance to sprinkle handfuls of leavesover the edges of her diagram that he stepped forward from the shadows.
Gasping in startle,Seren raised a hand to her throat. She had scarcely completed her ritual when Wilhelm appeared. Without a word, he emerged from the trees, stepping gingerly over the pile of leaves she’d put down.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t wish to intrude.”
Was it her imagination, or was his tone a little gentler?
“Hungry?” he asked, and when she frowned at the poor, dead beast she spied in his hand, he put the cony down and divested himself of the quiver on his back, emptying the contents. Out spilled his arrows, along with a stash of mushrooms, berries and truffles.
“A peace offering,” he said, with a tiny smile.
“For me?”
He inclined his head, giving her a nod, and his full lips tipped higher at the corners, his lips parting enough to give her a glimpse of straight, white teeth. The sight of his smile made Seren’s heart thump.
“Pax?”
Seren nodded eagerly. “Pax,” she agreed, and came forward to admire the wealth of his foraging. Amidst the lot, she recognized a horse mushroom, along with wood-ears, and grisettes, but she also spied a suspicious one, and plucked it up. “This is not edible,” she said, plucking off a piece, and showing it to him. “It looks like the others, but when you bruise it, it turns yellow.”
He nodded, his gaze shifting from Seren to the mushroom, then back. Standing so close, it was impossible to ignore his gargantuan size, and she wondered idly what he’d eaten as a child to make him sprout to such great heights.
Smiling, she said, “It won’t kill you, but…” She winked. “You might wish it had.”
It would seem more natural for Elspeth, as an Earth Child, to excel at herbs, but Seren’s natural affinity was akin to an apothecary’s. She was quite well versed inmedicinals. The yellow-staining mushroom might fill his belly, but it would empty it in minutes.
