Page 267 of The Daughters of Avalon
Morwen would kill him.
Even if he took the draught and lay prone at her feet, her mother wasn’t a fool.
Wracking her brain, Rhiannon tried to remember their discourse at the table.
Morwen had been so sure Rhiannon didn’t know Marcella because it was true. She’d smelled Rhiannon’s envy like a hound sniffingmerde, and she’d gloated over it. Only now, Rhiannon tried to remember exactly what she’d said—had she confessed that, in truth, she’d never met Cael’s cousin?
If so, would Morwen believe she was lying?
She prayed with all her heart that her mother would believe Cael’s ruse, else he would pay a terrible price.
In fact, he might pay anyway, because Morwen had all the same gifts Rhiannon had, only far more attuned to theaether: If she sensed lies, she would turn him to dust where he stood. Butthat wasn’t the only thing Rhiannon was worried about; she was worried about this: That draught was bound to work differently on Morwen than it did on Cael or his servants… What if they’d misjudged its potency and Morwen had already roused to find him gone?
What if she was only waiting for Cael to return?
What if she’d killed him right then and there and came flying after them, and even now was hot in pursuit?
In the darkness, every sound conspired to defeat her nerves—the breeze hissing through the trees, startled conies dashing across their paths, nightjars trilling from their perches. The suspense of it left her shivering, wondering if her mother’s minions were already here. Brave as she believed she was, her heart tripped as many times as she did, and the one thing she took comfort in was the absence of barking hounds. She knew Cael kept a stable full, though she’d rarely chanced to see them. Still, she’d often heard them from her bower.
“How long till they wake, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” said Marcella.
As it happened, the draught they’d used to sedate the entire hall had been concocted by none other than Marcella, using, of all things, Morwen’s cauldron in the courtyard. All the while Rhiannon had been forced to endure Morwen’s company at table, Marcella and Cael had been in the process of orchestrating thedrogue’sadministration. As potent as the philter was, only a few drops in each of the ewers had been enough. Just to be certain, they’d waited until Morwen was affected, then sent kitchen maids to administer the rest to the guests. Only Aelwyd had known what they were planning, and she was sent away for her own protection. If everything went according to plan, Morwen would wake with the castle aslumber, and no one the wiser. Then, it would be up to Cael to convince her that he hadn’thad any part in the ruse, but was he clever enough to beguile a woman with the power to read minds?
Only the Goddess knew.
But if Rhiannon knew her mother at all, she wouldn’t wait about for explanations. She’d sooner strike him down than ask questions. There was no way her pride could withstand losing yet another daughter. She would be out here forthwith, combing the woods, with Mordecai and her ravens at her side…
“How did you know the draught would work?”
“Because,” Marcella confessed. “I tested it on myself.”
“How does that signify?”
“I amdewine.”
Rhiannon blinked. “You?”
“Aligned to earth, alchemy my calling. Apparently, you are not so attuned with theaetheras you’d like to believe, Rhiannon. Even unshackled, you did not read my aura.”
Rhiannon bristled, though it was true. It was only then, in that instant, that she perceived the faintest trace of pink in Marcella’s aura—so faint that it was no wonder she’d missed it before.
Pink, you see, was the color of Rhiannon’s kindred—those who bore the blood of Taliesin. Although it seemed that, by its measure alone, Marcella’s blood was much diluted—that, or the ill effects of wearing those manacles might be permanent.
“Dewine?” she said, again, because so long as she’d lived, Rhiannon had never once encountered anotherwitchkind, much less a sister of Taliesin’s blood. Certainly, she’d suspected there were others, but if Marcella was adewine… what then was Cael?
Notdewine.
Even with her manacles, Rhiannon would have sensed it. And so it would appear… the more she knew about Cael, themore of a mystery he became—a mystery she fully intended to solve once they were out of Blackwood’s shadow.
WARKWORTH CASTLE
It was the crow on the windowsill that woke Seren.
Again.
Silent, watchful, it sat perched on the sill, its lustrous blue-black feathers catching a hint of moonlight. “I’m awake,” she groused to the bird, giving it a thankless glance. It was impossible not to sense the beady-eyed gaze, even under a veil of slumber.
