Page 182 of The Daughters of Avalon
He turned to see that she winked at Jack, and Wilhelm slowed to ride beside them, watching as Jack sat straighter in his saddle, his smile stretching, like a flower blooming beneath the warmth of the sun. In fact, the boy’s entire body seemed to lean toward Seren—as Wilhelm was seeking her as well.
“Ysbryd, at long last, is the spark within us that distinguishes life from death.” And then, once again, her voice sobered. “Some call it the Heart Flame.” She was quiet a moment, then offered, “This is how I knew my sister was gone.”
“How?”
It was a long, long moment before she responded, and then she swallowed audibly before speaking. “Because I can feel it,” she said. “As you might have felt your papa. It is an essence we sense with our hearts, particularly with loved ones… like… for example… have you never sat alone in a room with your back to a door, and suddenly, without turning to see who has arrived, you know who it is?”
The boy nodded, and Wilhelm fell behind the pair, to better listen to their discourse unheeded. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but that wasn’t only reserved for loved ones. He remembered very well the morning he’d returned to Warkworth… while he’d been hauling out their dead… that strange feeling came over him… a sense that someone was out there, watching.
And then he’d feltheragain in the King’s Hall: Morwen Pendragon.
He’d also had a sense of it the day his mother died. Whilst the lord’s physician had tended her, he was sent away to keep himself occupied. But there was little he could do to keep her off his mind. He’d sat on a bench, watching the blacksmith pound at a hunk of metal on the anvil—theclang, clang, clang, in time to the quickened beat of his heart. Any moment, he’d hoped they would summon him, and he would return to his mother’s bedside to discover her awake, eyes wide… He was nine when she died—a wee, dirty little boy, whose good fortune it was to have an honorable sire. It was his brother, Roger, who’d arrived with a glum face to tell Wilhelm the news. But somehow, Wilhelm had already known. As he’d sat there, staring at the sparks flying from that anvil, he’d sensed his mother’s Heart Flame extinguish, and it was only curious that he’d never truly realized until this very instant what that was.
Why was it you sensed some folks, not others? He didn’t remember having any sense of Lady Ayleth’s parting—not until he saw her ravaged body.
More to the point, why did he feel so connected to this woman, when there was little doubt Seren was not meant for him.
For a long while, he lost himself amidst these thoughts, turning a deaf ear to their conversation, until he heard Jack’s whistle. “S’blood! Di’ you see that bird?” he said, excitedly.
Wilhelm and Seren both peered up to spot a black and white magpie, chattering noisily on a nearby branch.
When Jack spurred his horse in the bird’s direction, Wilhelm spurred his own horse to sidle up beside Seren, thinking it high time to put her mind at ease. He’d asked for a truce between them and it was time he behaved like a man.
No one saw thatotherbird that held Jack’s attention, with its telltale neck. It stepped sideways on a branch as though to conceal itself behind a cluster of leaves, opening its shining beak to shriek as the boy passed beneath. Then it flew away.
Chapter
Seventeen
“She was a fairy, a sylph, I don't know what she was—anything no one ever saw…
everything that everybody ever wanted.”
—Dickens
“Have you need of a bath, m’lady?”
“Nay.” Removing my gloves, I snap them together, tucking the shining-black leather underneath my arm. “I won’t be long.”
“Very well, m’lady.”
The innkeeper bows, a humble gesture meant to honor his betters; I brush past him, because, `tis only my due.
More’s the pity, this realm is not my realm and I am no longer welcome amidst my people. But, here and now, I tell you true. Forget everything you know.
Eons past, when gods walked amidst men, I was here then—a maiden true, not this withered crone I have become, whoseglamourdepends on the contents of a vial and the callowness of men. I am but a shade of myself.
But, in those days, my heart sang for a man, a prince with eyes so blue as the sea. And though he was said to be cruel, I gave him all—my heart, my home, body and soul.
He courted me long, singing sweetly from his keel and named me his lady of the lake. For a time, I was a queen and my Avalon was like paradise, with a palace and courtyard so fine, it lit a spark of greed in the hearts of men. But, alas, my land was no man’s land, forbidden to all but gods and demigods. Enshrouded by an enchanted mist, my isle was, indeed, such a hallowed place that the waters of the River Dee, passing through on its way to the sea, never stopped to mingle with my own, but still, fishermen longed to cast their nets near my shores, because there lived the pearl-scaledgwyniad, native only to my seas.
My fields? Scattered with poppies so far as the eye could see. My woods? Filled withfae folk, whose home was my home, whose blood was half my blood as well.
I was, you see, a child of theaether, born with knowledge of all that was and all that shall ever be. MySylphkindare sky speakers, able to commune with creatures of the air. And, like the Sylph, themselves, Avalon was a bit of a mirage… here one instant, gone the next.
But this is where my tale forsakes me:
I was heaven-sent to watch o’er the tricksyfae, who were created to beguile the realms of men—because, of course, even gods must grow bored. But tricksy they are, and tricksy even with me—but now, I digress.
