Page 310 of The Daughters of Avalon
Cael shook his head. “Apologies,” he said, his gaze returning to the pair of reliquaries in her hand. “The problem is… now that we are no longer in her proximity, there is no way for me to tell which is mine. They are precisely identical, save for that odd glow in her presence.”
“Even the crystals,” Marcella agreed. “The veins are precisely the same.”
“Aye.”
“So, then… what is the worst thing that could happen if we destroyed them both?”
Cael shrugged. “The worst? I haven’t a clue. Perhaps nothing at all? Or it could be that I would cease to exist. I haven’t any notion how they work. Every time I inquired, Morwen was adamant I not concern myself with specifics. She merely bade me to care for them as though my life depended upon them, because, she said it did.”
“Aye, well, if it is any consolation, I don’t believe you would cease to exist,” Marcella argued, still examining the reliquaries.“If what you say is true, she gave you the means to destroy her, and kept your reliquary, for herself. This tells me that she mustn’t be overly concerned about its destruction.” She placed one crystal between her teeth, and bit down to test its solidity. “Rather, I believe she knew you would keep it safe from others, and she must have presumed you would guard it better than she could amidst so many enemies.”
“We’ve now proven she’s not immune in her mortal form,” Cael said, casting Morwen’s daughter another glance, watching her interactions with Jack.
The man-child was goading him, he was sure of it, but why? He hadn’t any sense the lad was stupid, nor had there ever been any rancor between them. Perhaps it was only to prove a point. He hadn’t missed the lad’s good-natured chuckle, nor Rhiannon’s answering smirk once he’d planted his sword between them. It remained there now, a reminder to both that he was watching them still.
“Cael?”
Cael nodded, then realizing he didn’t hear the last thing she said, he peered back at Marcella. “What?”
“I can see you are too preoccupied for this discussion. Should we remain here tonight, or press on?”
Cael could think of nothing so sweet as to lie with his wife in his arms, but this was not the time nor the place. “Press on,” he said, and suggested, “but mayhap not straight to Macclesfield.”
He lifted the stick Marcella had been drawing with and poked it at the etching already made in the soil—a crude map of their intended route and destination.
“’Tis roughly eleven or twelve leagues to Macclesfield. But… I happen to have learned that my cousin recently dispatched the lord of Amdel.”
“Beauchamp?”
“Aye.”
“Dispatched?”
Cael arched a black brow. “Aye, as in… relieved him of, not only his worldly possessions, but his life as well.”
“How does this serve us?”
“Well… I warrant that with Stephen so preoccupied with Duke Henry at Wallingford, Amdel’s disputed parklands are the furthest thing from his mind. I must presume the castle lies empty still.”
“But isn’t your cousin wed to Beauchamp’s sister?”
“’Tis a complicated matter, but aye. Yet not the brother you presume. Graeham d’Lucy has forsworn his lands; he ceded them all to his brother.”
Marcella’s brows rose. “With the King’s blessing?”
“Indeed. He appealed to Stephen some months ago, right before he left London, and Stephen agreed. Although he might well trust Blaec well enough to give him another parcel, there’s no way Duke Henry will ever concede to the granting of Beauchamp’s lands to a man who already holds a powerful seat, not when he can award them to another of his loyal barons.”
“I ask you again, how does that help us?”
“Because, in the meantime, Amdel remains empty… and unguarded.”
A once, Marcella relieved him of the stick, then poked at her etching, at a location that appeared to be somewhere behind them. “Correct me if I am wrong, but Amdel lies here.” She poked at the drawing again, and again. “We are here, and we must go here.” Then, she poked the stick far to the right and north of her drawing. “This is where we must end.”
Warkworth.
“Aye,” said Cael, relieving her of the stick once more. “So, this is what I propose… we backtrack a bit, go here.” And then he drew another small cluster in the dirt. “From Amdel, we travel through Kinver, then pass to Wellington, and throughthe parklands at Drakewich. From there, we will still end in Macclesfield, although without having to cross the moorlands.”
Marcella sat, silently poring over Cael’s proposal. And then, she asked, “Art certain Amdel lies empty?”
