Page 281 of The Daughters of Avalon
Hadn’t he?
I’ve loved you from the moment you opened your mouth, Rhiannon Pendragon…
Lies!
If he did, he would be here with her, right now, defending her, as a champion should.
Moreover, if Cael truly loved her, he wouldn’t keep so many damnable secrets… secrets he’d clearly shared with his know-it-allcousin.
Scowling at Marcella’s back, loathing her more and more with every word she uttered, Rhiannon found the woman to be insufferable, and yet, regrettably there was little she ever found to disagree with.
That was annoying.
More today than yesterday, tensions were tight, but so long as Rhiannon abstained from the conversation, Marcella and Jack maintained a fine fellowship, even if they disagreed abouteverything. It was evident that Jack admired the lady, but not so much that he was afraid to speak his mind. They argued good-naturedly, aboutpolitiks, swords, armor, horseshoes, horseflesh, gold, salt, cheese,vin, cats, birds, dental paste, and leather. No topic was invulnerable to their debate, and, so it appeared, the one thing everyone agreed upon was a shared loathing for Rhiannon’s mother.
Listening quietly, Rhiannon practiced her repetitions, minding her own affairs, allowing the two to agree to disagree as they would, time and again, with Marcella always,alwayshaving the last word. One would think they were in attendance at court, with barons postulating over Henry’s Forest Laws. But at least they managed to divert her attention… for a while.
Flexing her hand,Rhiannon slid from the saddle. Her hand ached from so many repetitions. But it was only when she pulled up her sleeve to rub at the soreness that she noted the greenish-black stains marring her wrists—left by the bracelets?
Only now she wondered if the discoloration was why she was having trouble restoring the full scope of her abilities, even after three days of practicing as they traveled.
Tired and bleary-eyed, she longed to fall face-first into a hump of leaves, may the midge flies bite what they pleased. But at least they were still free, with no sign of Morwen in pursuit. How in the name of the Goddess they’d managed to evade that woman, Rhiannon couldn’t begin to fathom, but in retrospect, it was entirely possible the hounds they’d heard weren’t from Blackwood at all.
And still, though she knew it was improbable, she hoped Cael would follow.
Alas, she was too tired to think of that or anything else right now. She longed for a good night’s rest, and a belly full of victuals—not necessarily in that order.
There was a brook nearby. She could hear the tinkling of water over stones. Mayhap in the morn, she would go wash her face and endeavor to remove these stains from her wrists. The last thing they needed right now was for her to retain any of the inspired metal, especially if it could silence hermagik. As it turned out, it was fortuitous that Marcella was carrying the bracelets—so long as she didn’t intend to return them to Rhiannon’s wrists. Somehow, the woman seemed determined to nettle her unto death. And, naturally, she would choose a thicket tangled with brambles. Though it was all well and good. There was more than enough space to shelter the three of them, along with their horses. Hidden amidst a spinney of trees, the thicket was perfectly positioned to cast some sort of protection spell and, finally, after multiple failures, she was excited to try again.
Anticipating the rush through her veins, Rhiannon located a stick to draw with and made ready to cast her spell.
Marcella stopped her. “Not yet!” she screamed, lifting a hand and startling Rhiannon from the task.
As she had the past two nights, the paladin produced another set of her mysterious vials, then proceeded to open one and sprinkle her potion in a wide arc, in much the same way Rhiannon meant to do with her pentacle.
Annoyed, Rhiannon eyed Marcella’s vial with a lifted brow. “How willthatprotect us?”
Clearly taking offense to her dubious tone, Marcella snapped, “You are not yet strong enough to cast any spells. If you try again and fail, and she is near, you’ll risk us all—not that I will not die to defend you, Lady Blackwood. But if you should risk Jacques, I’ll kill you myself.”
Stunned by her vehemence, Rhiannon rocked back on her heels, as though buffeted.
Sweet fates.She didn’t wish to argue any longer—not when they were supposed to be fighting for the same just cause. By now, it seemed to Rhiannon that she’d been fighting for too many years, especially with Cael—a thing she sorely regretted now that it seemed entirely possible she might never see him again.
She couldn’t comprehend why Marcella was filled with so much animus toward her, but it was time for it to cease and desist. Someone must make the first concession, and Rhiannon supposed that someone should be her. After all, she did owe the paladin a debt of gratitude.
“You must know I’d not riskanyof you,” Rhiannon said in her most conciliatory tone, tossing away her stick. “I am truly grateful for your help, Marcella. Tell me what to do and I will do whatever you deem best.”
“Meek words for a high and mighty witch?” Marcella mused aloud, and nevertheless, she seemed to deflate before Rhiannon’s eyes. She said nothing at all for a moment, and then, perhaps realizing, as Rhiannon had, how pointless it was to argue amidst themselves, she relented, “You know, it was Jacques who advocated for you?”
Rhiannon’s brows knit. “He did?”
Marcella nodded, handing Rhiannon a vial of her own to dispense. “Aye,” she said. “When Lord Blackwood came to address the Council, he was the first to testify in your behalf.” She arched a brow. “He claimed your freedom was vital to England’s salvation.”
Already, in the short time since Rhiannon had known the young man, she could easily envision him doing such a thing. He was perhaps young, but he was quite capable of arguing his cause. She’d seen more than enough evidence of that. And yet,before they’d met here recently, he hadn’t known Rhiannon at all, so why would he bother to argue in her defense? “I suppose he did it for Seren?”
“Perhaps,” Marcella said, then shrugged. “Perhaps so. He tends to be easily inspired, and your sister is quite beautiful.”
In fact, Seren’s beauty was celebrated. There were no doubt several barons whose hearts she’d broken when she married Wilhelm.
