Page 272 of The Daughters of Avalon
“Perhaps by setting you free at peril to himself and to all he holds dear?”
Rhiannon fought the urge to fly at the woman and scratch out her eyes. She didn’t like Cael’s “cousin,” and she liked her even less with every passing moment. She was grateful certainly, and she would endeavor to remember her gratitude, but she’d love nothing more than to enjoy a moment of silence. And even so, Marcella persisted. “Wouldn’t that be proof enough?”
Rhiannon narrowed her gaze.
Was that resentment she noted in the woman’s voice?
Moreover, she had the inescapable feeling that thisdewineknew more about Cael’s affiliation with Morwen than she was willing to reveal.Thatbothered her even more.
Who was this woman who claimed to be her husband’s cousin? Though curiosity needled her, she refrained from asking, sensing Marcella wouldn’t provide any answers.
Cael was no longer her concern, she told herself.
Even now, he might be dead, and, really, she must endeavor to harden her heart. They had a long way to go, and much to accomplish. Cael d’Lucy’s decisions were his own, and she couldn’t allow herself to take responsibility for his choices, or his affiliations. No one had told him to align himself with Morwen… nor did Rhiannon ever ask to be imprisoned at Blackwood.
Certainly, she’d never asked to love him.
The woman riding alongside her looked too much like a cat who got the cream.
“Why are you helping me?” Rhiannon asked. “For my husband?”
“Nay,” the woman replied. “Mind you, I care deeply for Lord Blackwood, but I believe loving you will be the death of him yet, and for what? I cannot believe you ever knew his heart.”
Rhiannon winced, confused, more than angry.
It was true, perhaps: There was much about Cael d’Lucy she was not privy to know. But that wasnother fault, she told herself. He’d only ever revealed the face he cared to show. And even so… she’d spent so many waking hours in his company over these past five years; shouldn’t she know him better than some woman who hadn’t seen him in years? Even a cousin?
“He’s not the man you believe him to be, Rhiannon.”
“No doubt,” Rhiannon agreed. “But then, prithee, who is he?”
Thedewineshook her head. “That is not for me to answer, mydewinesister. Though if he survives your mother, you might ask him yourself.” Then she laughed acerbically. “As to the reason, I’m helping you… why else? ’Tis the will of the Goddess, no doubt.”
“I see,” said Rhiannon. And perhaps she did—far more than she cared to. It was there in the glint of Marcella’s eyes, in the tears she’d disdained to shed. Marcella might, in truth, be his cousin, but the woman might also be in love with him.
The two women shared a knowing glance, and then Marcella huffed a sound of disgust, and put a heel to her mare, moving ahead to take the lead. Meanwhile Jack fell back to ride alongside Rhiannon. “You mustn’t concern yourself with Marcella,” he advised. “Betimes she’s abrasive, though she means well. She’s quite protective of Lord Blackwood.”
“So, I’ve noticed.”
The young man grinned stupidly, then sighed, watching as Marcella whacked at brambles. “She’s not only lovely, but she’s clever, as well.”
Annoyance rushed down Rhiannon’s spine. “So, I must presume.”
Jack nodded, ignoring the telltale note of sarcasm in Rhiannon’s voice, responding with unreserved pride. “She served the Empress and her house many, many years.”
The Empress.Rhiannon’s half-sister, though they hadn’t really a drop of blood in common. Still, her interest was mildly piqued, and she said, “In what fashion?”
She never anticipated the answer she received. “Marcella is the only woman ever to be assigned to the Papal Guard.”
Chapter
Fourteen
She was a paladin?
Rhiannon blinked, surprised for the second time this morn, now seeing the woman with entirely new eyes.
Gripping her reins until her mount protested over the tension, she stared wide-eyed at Marcella’s back. Riding with her back straight, head held high, with her trusty sword brandished in her hand, she wielded it with the same confidence she displayed in the saddle.
