Page 346 of The Daughters of Avalon
“D’Lucy!” shouted Wilhelm. “D’Lucy!”
Rhiannon’s heart quivered, thinking that Cael had finally arrived to join them on the ramparts. But nay… nay… those were Drakewich’s standards marching toward them—hundreds of men, all sporting a similar dragon banner as Cael’s. And then, from the woodlands came yet another wave of reinforcements, all bearing Scotia’s standard, with Malcom Scott at the helm.
Flanked between them, Morwen’s soldiers crushed themselves together, pushing the first line into the motte as Marcella fought her way across the bridge, here and there shoving Morwen’s soldiers into the motte. They emerged time and again, only to fall behind her, and by the time she’d made her way into the crush, their numbers had grown.
But it was not enough.
Like Jack, she would die if she dared to face Morwen alone, and foremost in Rhiannon’s mind was the fear that now that the gates were open wide, their wards would all be breached. Oncethose circles were broken, themagikused to protect them would be useless.
She and herdewinesisters shared a look, and a shiver rushed up Rhiannon’s spine as each of her sisters unsheathed a sword…
No time for kisses.
No time for embraces.
No time for good-byes.
No time for regrets.
No time for uncertainty.
It was impossible to say how many new warriors had joined the battle, but the match was still heavily skewed in Morwen’s favor. One last look passed between the sisters as the battle entered their gates. And then, one by one they turned to engage, and Rhiannon hadn’t any more time to wonder about Cael. She had a fleeting thought that his would not be the last arms she would fall upon, and then a dark shadow crossed the sky—a great, winged creature. A bird, no… an angel, descending from the heavens.
It did not alight on the ramparts. Rather, it flew over their heads, straight toward Morwen, landing at the Witch Queen’s feet, standing tall amidst a fury of ringing swords.
Rhiannon blinked, then screamed, realizing who it was…
It was Cael.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Nothing else fazed her—not the dead lying at her feet, nor the battle engaged. Only now, her face twisted with fury at the sight of Cael, changed in form. “You fool!” she spat. “You’ve no idea what you have done!”
“Oh, I think I do,” said Cael, stretching his feathered wings. Black as a raven’s, they extended twice the length of his body—a dark angel in the flesh.
So, it appeared, destroying the crystals did not destroy the souls they were bound to.
Cael had been wrong: Thegrisial hudwasnothis sepulcher; it was a key. But simply destroying the crystal did not sprout him wings. Rather, it was a result of destroying the binding spell that Morwen had placed upon hisgrisial hud.Indeed, she had summoned him back to this world, but she had cast yet another spell with bloodmagikto ensure that he could not make use of the gifts he’d been given by virtue of Nesta’s sacrifice. Rage unfurled his wings.
“Without it, your soul is bound to this realm,” she said furiously. “Return me mine!” she demanded, thrusting out her hand.
Cael smiled coldly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, and the two stood facing each other, one dark angel, one light. His key was to the dominion of the Horned God of Donn, the Dark One from the House of the Dead. She was a daughter of the Goddess, banished for her sins against man. Her body might now be consigned to this world, but her spirit had no refuge. At least he had his sanctuary with the Horned God. Truth was his guiding light now, banishing uncertainty from his heart and his brow. All things were revealed in the destruction of hisgrisialhud.
Morwen raged.
The sky exploded.
Thunder cracked.
Lightning forked.
The Witch Queen stood facing her equal and opposite, her fury so intense that it produced silvered wings. They unfurled to the breadth of his own. Beautiful and terrifying—as he must also be. Morwen’s golden eyes radiated the light of ten suns. Her hair and brows silvered the shade of her wings… the color of Seren’s hair.
She wasSylphkind, as was he. But though she was born withSylphblood in her veins, Cael was made through grace. Nesta had given her life with love, paying his toll to the House of the Dead. Only this time, when he returned, he would remain forevermore, serving the Horned God beneath the Hill of Truth.
A dark figure emerged from the battlefield, rising to the aid of his mistress. Mordecai descended upon them, his face twisting and morphing, his features ebbing and flowing like smoke.
