Page 223 of The Daughters of Avalon
Unmoved, Morwen laughed, and Rosalynde put a hand to her sister’s arm. “Stay strong, Elspeth. We will get him back.”
“Alas,” Morwen continued. “So much as I enjoy our reunions, I must fly away, and since I do not trust a single one of you deceiving bitches, if I must choose one to bring me that Book, Ichoose Seren.” Her black eyes glittered like tourmalines as she hoisted up the wailing child and returned him to the cradle of her arms. “Onlyonemay pass withmyBook.The Book is your passage. But for one,” she repeated. “If two dare attempt the crossing, the second will burn.”
Wide-eyed, Seren peered again at her sisters.
Rosalynde said, “She believes you to be most malleable, Seren.”
Of course.Whatever her mother demanded, Seren always did, if only to keep the peace. She was, indeed, the most biddable of her sisters. Only Morwen hadn’t any clue what she had endured since Dover, nor what she’d learned since Arwyn’s passing—nor could Rosalynde or Elspeth possibly understand. Only there wasn’t time to explain. “I will go,” she said, holding a trembling hand out for the Book.
Neither of her sisters dared argue.Tears slid down Elspeth’s cheeks as she nodded, offering Seren the Book, her eyes glinting with gratitude.
“Nay!” said Wilhelm, with a voice like thunder. “I’ll not allow this!”
Prepared to argue, Seren turned to face him, but he surprised her by seizing thegrimoirefrom her hand, then bolting toward the circlet.
“Nay, Wilhelm,” she screamed. “Nay, stop!”
Still as stones, Morwen’s soldiers did not prevent him from passing and Seren held her breath as he slipped through the circlet, unharmed. She watched with bated breath as he marched toward the tower’s entrance, and nearly fell to her knees in despair.
Sweet fates!
She would have gone after him, but Rosalynde and Elspeth held her back. “Let him go,” Rose demanded. “Let him go!”
“Nay,” cried Seren. “Nay… she’ll kill him!”
“’Tis too late,” said Elspeth.
Indeed, it was.
Too late.
With the Book in his hand, and without a backward glance, Wilhelm vanished into the tower… and just at that instant an arrow flew from the tree line, passing through the circlet, embedding itself into the arch above the door.
Gasping in horror, Seren turned to find Morwen’s ravens shrieking, taking flight from the boughs of nearby trees.
Thinking it was her men, Rosalynde commanded them. “Stand down, stand down!” she said. “Stand down!”
But the arrows kept coming—one whizzed past Seren’s temple. She avoided it only because she turned to look at the tower entrance.
Too late.
Morwen’s army sprang to life, drawing weapons. Only it was not Warkworth’s men loosing arrows. An army of mail-clad soldiers poured into the clearing from the woods. They came mounted, bearing David’s golden lion standard. It was David of Scotia, and realizing they had reinforcements, Rosalynde shouted, “To me! To me!”
Warkworth’s soldiers gave a united war cry and rushed into the fray.
Her heart beating with fear, Seren was left with no weapon at all, confused, surrounded by tramping hooves, flying missiles, and swords.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
It was all Wilhelm could do not to piss himself as he sprinted through the roaring wall of blue flames. He didn’t give himself time to think about the consequences—nor his fear.
Not Warkworth the morning after the burning, nor Ayleth, with her twisted burnt body. Not the reek of smoke, nor the stench of scorched flesh.
In his wake, he left the sounds of battle—the clash of metal and shouts of “To me! To me!”
God save them,he thought.God save them all.
