Page 186 of The Daughters of Avalon
“Teach me… what?”
“To… read… letters.”
His brows twitched, and then he frowned.
“That was our price for passage aboard the Whitshed. When Captain Airard realized we didn’t have fare for Calais, he asked we teach his son to read.”
Wilhelm’s gaze narrowed and he maintained his silence, his blush only heightening. Heartily afraid that she’d offended, Seren said, “`Tis hardly a sin not to be able to read.”
“And nevertheless, you and your sisters, and Jack?—”
“His trade demands it,” Seren explained gently. “As for me, and my sisters… we were locked away in a priory, with little more to do but garden and learn letters.”
He lifted a dark brow. “And cast spells?”
Seren blinked, surprised to find that his lips had turned at the corners and his near-ebony eyes had caught flames in both pupils. The smile transformed his face, stealing Seren’s breath. He was teasing her, she realized, sensing a glint of humor, and she blinked once more in surprise. “Yay, I suppose,” she said. And then, “Well, at least, I did. Arwyn tried. But Rhiannon never needed any practice, nor did Rosalynde.”
“What about your eldest sister, Elspeth?”
“Aye, well, for so long Elspeth was afeared of the Craft.” Seren narrowed her gaze at Wilhelm, putting him on the spot. “But regardless of what you have said it seems to me you are not.”
Wilhelm shrugged. “You mistook my meaning, I think. I did not say I was afraid of you, Seren. Verily, there are worse things in this world than witchery.”
“We are not?—”
“Witches, yay I know. So, Rosalynde said.” He tipped his chin to indicate the boy, who’d only just returned and was dumping an armload of tinder into a pile near the horses.
“Bones o’ the saints, lad. Did you leave any rock unturned?”
Even dirtier now than he was before he left, Jack scratched at the top of his head, leaving a few greasy strands standing on end. “But ye said?—”
“I know what I said, whelp. That was an hour ago. What have you been doing so long?”
Seren giggled to hear their banter—so familial. The lighthearted chatter reminded her of her sisters—until Jack’s next words gave her a fright.
“I was out speaking to a bird,” he said, and when Wilhelm tilted his head, he added, “I am not lying!”
Fingers of dread squeezing Seren’s heart. She met Wilhelm’s gaze, swallowing convulsively as she then cast her gaze into the trees. They were in the Royal Forest of Kesteven only days north of London. “Was it a raven?” she asked.
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know what it was, it was big.”
Wilhelm asked, “And… you say youspoketo it?”
Jack shrugged again. “I don’t know.” He scratched nervously at the hair above his ear, tousling more greasy locks. “I thought I heard my name, like this: Jaaack! Jaaaack! But when I tried to make it speak again, it would not.”
Seren’s heart thumped painfully against the cage of her ribs, and with a gob in her throat, she cast another glance at Wilhelm, who instinctively seemed to comprehend what it was she was thinking. Very, very casually, he dropped the skewered cony onto the spit, and said, “I’ll be back.”
“I can come too?” asked Jack.
“Nay,” barked Wilhelm. “I’ve no need of an audience to piss. Stay here, and see to your lady. Eat your dinner.”
There was no question about disobeying his command. Disappointed though he must have been, Jack stayed, coming into the circle to sit beside Seren.
“Cony again,” he grumbled, sounding disappointed. “I wish it werebacoun.” And then, with Wilhelm’s departure forgotten, he asked her, “’Ave you never tastedbacoun,Lady Seren? Me and my papa ’ad it first time this Yule.”
Seren’s gaze shifted from the woodlands where Wilhelm had gone, and then to the cony and then to Jack’s face, shaking her head, distracted.
He sounded sad now. “We were supposed to save some for me mum. But we didn’t, and I was mad when he ate it, but now I am not.” He reached out to gently turn the spit in Wilhelm’s stead. “’E said it was the bestbacoun‘e ever ate, and now I do not suppose I’ll eat itagain.”
