Page 265 of The Daughters of Avalon
He should take the weapon in hand, and plunge it through the bones of her breast, into that cold, cold heart.
What then would be the consequences… for him?
Considering that question, he wrested the chain from around Morwen’s neck, perhaps only to inspect it…
The dagger was quite ancient, made of the same alloy asCaledfwlch.It glowed faintly blue whilst in her presence, and yet… the reliquary she kept on the same chain did not. He studied it now, considering the bauble more closely. It looked like the one he wore about his neck… except…
He drew out his own to compare, startled to discover his glowing blue… like herathame.
And yet, the one she’d worn about her neck did not…why?
Once, long ago, she’d confessed to him that her soul was bound to agrisial hudlike his. Could his belong to her… and hers to him? Was it possible that she’d given hers to Cael, knowing full well that he would protect his own sepulcher with his life… because his soul depended upon it.
He placed both reliquaries in the palm of one hand, side by side—presumably his, presumably hers—and then stood, moving away from the listless form on the floor, watching the glow of one fade, if ever so slightly.
Neither of the stones had ever glowed for him.
Down in his gut, he sensed the truth: For some reason, Morwen had kept hisgrisial hud, entrusting him with hers… though she’d allowed Mordecai to keep his own.
Why?
Cael didn’t know precisely how theyworked.
He didn’t even know if he had to be in its presence to make use of it—specifically, whether his soul would locate his sepulcher outside proximity if it should separate from his body.
What was it she’d said?
His soul was bound to the crystal. So long as the reliquary remained undestroyed, wherever he was, his body could be slain, but his soul could endure and be summoned.
Presumably, this was how she’d returned Mordecai to his body some years ago, with a ritual at the Widow’s Tower. He wasn’t there to witness it, because Cael had begun to questionher motives, and shortly before then, they’d quarreled over her method and madness. Little by little, he’d hardened his heart against her. Now, it was growing more and more difficult to see the good in her—more difficult yet after watching the enmity she held for her own daughter.
She’d brought him back to this world, and for that, Cael would always owe her a debt of gratitude, but the fury in his own heart had blinded him to the evil in hers, and perhaps even some small part of him had relished her vengeance.
After all, he, too, had been betrayed—and by none other than those folks who’d played the Witch Goddess false…
Taliesin and Uther.
He stepped closer to her body, staring down at the twin reliquaries in his hand… one cold and tarnished, one warmer and glowing blue.
Trying to understand, he stepped back again, further and further, watching the glimmer fade, until the one nearly matched the other. Without the luminesce they were indistinguishable, even to the crystal.
Once again, he moved closer, watching the return of the glow, knowing in his heart it was hers—itmustbe hers!
The fact that she was lying so still… it must be proof that, in mortal form, she was as vulnerable as he was.
If he took her life…
If he dared…
Rhiannon,he thought.
It would bring an end to the bloodshed and violence.
But…
Very carefully, he removed the dagger from the chain, and then bent to lay the athame atop her breast. Still kneeling, he opened both fists to examine the contents of both hands. In one he held the vial filled with Marcella’s potion; in the other he held both reliquaries.
If he kept hergrisial hudand threatened to destroy it, could he persuade her to his will?
