Page 31 of The Daughters of Avalon
He left her alone. “Sit and rest whilst I pack,” he said.
“Nay,” she snapped. “I am fine. I would like to help.” And she bent to pick up his trampled cloak and once again endeavored to brush it off.
Chapter
Thirteen
Elspeth was furious, though not with Malcom.
Evidently, not only had Rhiannon cast some annoying dozing spell to settle her nerves, she’d wrested some poor soul straight from his life, plucking him out of his intended path. That was reprehensible, and completely outside their coven rules. No man shouldeverbe used against his will.Ever.Not even for good—certainly never for selfish concerns.
Rhiannon!she screamed to herself.What in the name of the Goddess have you done?
Of course, Elspeth did not expect an answer. But it was clear to her—so very clear—that Malcom’s wishes were never considered.
Not that it should upset her so much to have a man gaze at her with such affection and—dearest Goddess,was that affection?But now she understood, perfectly, why his demeanor had changed so drastically. Her sister’s enchantment would have been like a love spell. It would, indeed, have made him light-hearted and giddy, even if that wasn’t his true nature.
And more!As impressed as Elspeth was that Rhiannon could cast such a complicated spell outside proximity, and that she must have used her sight to find and summon this poorman, whatever now came of the Law of Three, Elspeth was also responsible, because, whatever decisions Malcom made or didn’t make, they were in part because of her.
Sweet, sweet Goddess!He was promised to another woman! And now he would break faith with her and her brother because of Elspeth.
And it made Elspeth wonder: What else had Rhiannon taken from him? What business had he been about in Wales? Because surely, he was acting on behalf of his King. He’d said more than once that he rode under Stephen’s banner. So he must have been after the King’s business—whatever that might entail near Llanthony—and Rhiannon had embroiled Elspeth in this magnificent travesty, because now his life was inexorably tied to hers—and hers to his!
Forsooth!So much that she hadn’t understood before she understood now, very clearly. And what if he should realize his life had been altered per force? What if he discoveredwhatandwhoElspeth was?A dewine! A child of the Goddess!A daughter of Avalon!
Her head reeling with questions, and bewildered over the possible consequences, Elspeth walked about, holding Malcom’s cloak, likey meirw byw—the living dead.
Only once they were ready to ride, she mounted at his behest, then sat stiffly before him in the saddle, whilst Malcom placed his arms about her waist to keep her steady—but how could she allow herself to be comforted? None of this was done by his own free will.
Oh, Rhiannon, Rhiannon… what have you done?
Silence.
But, of course. Now that she had meddled so rudely—so irrevocably—she’d abandoned Elspeth to this warrior, who evidently felt spellbound to protect her.
And, worse, he was, in truth, her enemy, merely by virtue of his affiliation with her cousin.
And regardless, he held her so gently, pulling her close as though she were in truth his beloved, and Elspeth could feel the heat beneath his palm as surely as she’d felt her own healing light last eventide. It wrenched at her heart in ways she had not known her heart could be wrenched.
They rode in silence, arriving at Amdel as the first blush of dawn arose over the horizon. And, then, sweet fates, as though the morning’s revelations weren’t enough, the sight of the stronghold left Elspeth breathless.
The fortress rose up from black earth, like a stone effigy, and its aura was black as a moonless night. If it could be possible that an assembly of stone and timber could have a spirit likeness, the edifice was like a sepulcher, and Elspeth felt its sentience like something living but dead. The very sight of it racked her body with shivers.
“This… is Amdel?” she asked, and Malcom pulled the reins to stop, giving her a moment to survey their destination, drawing her back to keep her warm.
“Aye,” he said, pulling her close. Alas, though Elspeth sensed he did it by rote, she was perversely grateful for the reminder that, in truth, she wasn’t alone.
Unsettled by her own ambivalence, she shivered yet again, and Malcom adjusted his cloak around her shoulders, pinching the garment at her breast.
As a matter of self-preservation, Elspeth’s hand fell over his, and for a long, long moment, they sat atop Merry Bells, with her hand covering his.
“Art ready?”
Nay, she was not. Her heart pounded like hammers, but she swallowed and said, “Aye.”
And with that single word from her, Malcom spurred Merry Bells into a canter toward the stone bridge. And the closer they got, the blacker the aura that rose from the stone like a glow from a fire, and Elspeth wanted desperately to turn and run.
Fear and Malcom’s reassuring embrace kept her silent. As best she could, she sank into his arms and held her breath as they rode into the outer bailey.
