Page 180 of The Daughters of Avalon
To be sure, she didn’t have any sense he was resentful of his assignment. Rather, she had the feeling he took this task quite seriously, and more, he held Rosalynde in very high regard. He hadn’t said so, precisely, but whenever he mentioned Rose, there was a curious softening to his dark eyes.Could it be those two were… entangled?
Could this be why Rosalynde eschewed Aldergh for Warkworth?
Curious, indeed.
That made more sense than anything else Seren devised. And, it would also explain why Wilhelm was so intent upon ignoring her… perhaps he meant to be true to Rose?
At least it was something to think about, and if she ever found the nerve to pry, she would endeavor to ask.
Only, now, having considered it, she couldn’t get the possibility out of her mind…
She couldn’t blame Rosalynde for being drawn to Wilhelm. Even despite his sour disposition, there was something about him… She had a good sense that he was precisely who he was, and there would never be any pretense. And, to Seren, he was more attractive than his brother.
Of course he was also less refined, but whatever he lacked in social graces, he made up for in countenance. Giles was far too erudite for Seren’s taste, and she was much more attracted to Wilhelm’s strength—more’s the pity for her if her sister had already claimed him for herself.
Only why would you wish to claim that man?
Why would you pine for someone who doesn’t want you?
Only because he doesn’t treat you like everyone else?
She had a sense that he was only hiding behind his aloofness, because she felt his regard, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
Unbidden, she thought about his hands… If his finesse with that blade was any indication, she believed he could be a gentle lover. But that thought burned her cheeks, because a lady wasn’t supposed to consider such things. And yet, betimes, when she lay abed and the room was quiet and dark… silvery moonlight peeking in… she imagined herself lying with a man, and her body burned nearly as hot as her cheeks.
Oh, she did, indeed, understand what transpired betwixt men and women. They weredewines, after all, and her people did not believe a woman’s body was a temple to be worshipped. Rather they worshipped the Goddess with their gifts. She was no different from a flower—and if one understood a flower as adewineunderstood a flower and could sense life and the pursuitof it, it was easy to see how it bent to the sun… how it titillated over the puff of a warm breath… how the small hairs on its stem shivered in delight to a touch.
“E’s got a bee up his bum,” said Jack, interrupting her reverie, and Seren gasped, lifting a hand to her lips, trying not to laugh.
Jack shrugged. “This is what my papa used to say when I was ill-tempered.”
Indeed, boys were such plainspoken creatures. But though Seren would never have suggested such a thing herself, Wilhelm did seem to have a bee up his bum. She smiled at Jack, rewarding him with a smile—their first light-hearted banter since leaving Dover.
“I am sorry about your sister,” he said.
“I’m sorry about your papa.”
His voice was sad. “I keep thinking it is not true.”
So did Seren, but, alas, it was.
She couldn’t feel her sister’s Heart Flame anymore. Arwyn was long gone to wherever spirits were borne.
Tears pricked her eyes anew. Only by night did she shed them, and only when everyone was fast asleep.
The boy’s lower lip fattened. “Me mum said he was too mean to die; I really believed her.”
“Well,” Seren said, with a lingering note of sorrow. “Everybody dies, Jack. Fortunately, you still have your mother, and…” She looked at him, wondering what else she could say to assuage him. “You know, my grandmamau said death was naught more than the shedding of flesh and bones.”
He lifted a shoulder. “What is left?”
“Spirit,” she answered brightly, and she gave him a nod, when he tilted her a questioning look. “’Tis true.”
“You mean, like souls?”
“Aye,” she said. “Precisely so.”
Seren smiled at him fondly, hoping he wouldn’t see past her facade. All she felt now was emptiness where her sister was concerned, and if there was, indeed, another plane of existence, she couldn’t feel it right now. “According to my grandmamau,” she expounded, “there are five components to the spirit. The first wouldst be the name you are given at birth. So long as your name is remembered by anyone at all, you remain in this world. This is why, if you do great deeds, your memory endures. It is also why sometimes names are etched upon tombstones.”
