Page 222 of The Daughters of Avalon
Wishing with all her might that she did not feel such intense joy over an occasion that was born by her sister’s tragedy, she peered up into the sky, and it was then her eye caught a formation of birds in the distance… black birds… ravens… thick as smoke…
The tiny hairs on her nape prickled.
Only once before had she seen them fly like that, mimicking the ebb and flow of smoke… as though reveling in the burning. Another mass of birds swooped in, then another… all of them diving into nearby trees, and the closer Wilhelm and Seren rode in that direction, the louder their squawks.
Seren could tell by Wilhelm’s expression that he’d spied the birds as well. “Morwen,” he said with a note of trepidation, and Seren’s eyes returned to the skies.
There wasnothing in the natural world that could draw so many ravens all together.
Unwilling to leave Seren behind and unwilling to ride ahead, Wilhelm led them through the woods, along the Lady’s Walk.
Alone, he might have been far more inclined to take chances; but he was not prepared to endanger the woman he loved. Aye, it was true, he loved her. Now that he understood something about his own true heart, he realized he’d never loved Lady Ayleth at all. That was affection, and perhaps lust, but not at all the same sort of longing he felt for Seren.
Now, the possibility that her mother was near filled him with dread down to his bones, because, this time he realized beyond a shadow of doubt, if he lost the love of his heart, he would never endure another day without her.
He would perish with grief.
The Lady’s Walk was said to have been forged in the first days of Christianity by the Lady of Rothbury. Nearby there was a small pool where St. Ninian was said to have baptized Christians. Her husband meant to build a church to claim these ancient lands in the name of his faith. He managed to construct no more than a bell tower when his wife’s body was found limp by the door. Now, even when the woods grew thick enough to throttle the trees, the Lady’s Walk always remained passable. By far, it was the easiest pass to Warkworth, up until you reached the meadow with the tower. From there, they must return to the lower bogs, but they were not the first to traverse this path over the past few days. He spied the evidence cast at their feet—hoof prints made by fifty or more horses.
Following the path with some trepidation, they emerged near the tower. And there, in the meadow, he spotted the glitter of chainmail. Dismounting, thinking to leave Seren only an instant whilst he assessed the situation, he froze, recognizing the sigil of his house.
These were Warkworth’s soldiers.
Swallowing with trepidation, he recognized his brother’s wife at once, her glorious red-gold mane unbound, and his brother’s glowing sword in her hand. Before he could speak to warn Seren, she, too, slid from her mount and rushed toward the clearing.
“Rose,” she shouted. “Ellie! Rose!”
Chapter
Thirty-Two
After everything she had endured—after losing Arwyn—nothing in this Goddess-given world could keep Seren from her sisters. Never had she been so relieved to see two people in all her life. She would know them from leagues away.
“Rose,” she called, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Rose!” Only belatedly, she realized something was terribly wrong.
These were not all her sisters’ soldiers. Armed in black, some stood staring, like statues. They did not even acknowledge her when she approached.
“Seren!” exclaimed Elspeth, sliding from her mount, and coming to embrace her, eyes red-rimmed and feverish, as though she’d been weeping for days. Her cheeks were high with color—anger, Seren realized.
Bright, burning anger.
Rosalynde, too, alit from her mount, only after re-sheathing her sword. She cast her arms out in greeting, but the reunion was short lived. Explanations were hurried: Their mother awaited inside that tower with Elspeth’s child. In trade for the boy, she wanted theBook of Secrets. Rosalynde herself had broughtfifty armed soldiers—but altogether they were not enough to challenge Morwen’s army, so she’d commanded them to stand down and stay back.
Seren’s eyes widened with fright as her gaze alit upon thegrimoirein Elspeth’s hand—that ancient tome Rosalynde herself risked her life to steal. Even despite the risk of returning it, they intended now to return it, save that the circlet ofwitchfirewas impassible. Though none of Morwen’s dark soldiers had so much as moved to prevent them from attempting, the sisters each understood the danger of attempting it.
“How did you find us?” asked Rose.
“The birds,” said Wilhelm. Rosalynde met his gaze, and the two embraced as a rich, peal of laughter resounded from the tower.
“Oh, my,” said Morwen, excitedly. She was holding Elspeth’s babe in her arms. “How fortuitous!”
The hiss of metal stole through the glade as Rosalynde unsheathed her sword. “Give us that child!”
Morwen ignored the threat. “’Tis too bad Rhiannon and Arwyn cannot join you.” She chortled again, clearly amused. And then, before anyone could respond, she dangled the child out by his arms. The baby began to wail, kicking his legs in fright, and Elspeth gasped.
“My Book for your beastly child,” she demanded. “Bring it to me now or I will cast him into the flames and you will watch him burn to his bones, like your grandmamau.”
“Nay,” Elspeth begged. “Please!”
