Page 44 of The Daughters of Avalon
Malcom listened contentedlyto the music. The hall fell silent as Elspeth played, and he’d never heard a sound so sweet as her voice. He sat with bated breath, enchanted by every word.
Beside him, even Beauchamp hushed—at last leaving off with talk of politics.
When Elspeth stopped playing, he stood and made ready to applaud—as did most of the audience—but then she cocked her head as though she were looking at something strange, and her fingers returned to the strings… playing again… only this time without her song.
For an instant, he could well imagine that it could be the most beautiful music he’d ever heard—even more lovely than her song—serene, beguiling, haunting… like songbirds at the end of a long, hard winter… or the gush of a mountain waterfall… or a mournful reed on the still of a summer night. It was so easy to imagine that the sound of her music was as timeless as the land itself… a gift from god on high. And then suddenly, the melody ended in discord, and the sound was a cacophony. Elspeth stood,looking as pale as the sendal she wore, and Malcom recognized that look on her face, because she’d looked that way once before. He bounded from his seat, rushing around the table, and leaping over the edge of the dais.
Chapter
Eighteen
The vision of Rhiannon lingered, folding itself in and out of Elspeth’s consciousness and space. Her sister’s rueful amber eyes peered out between metal bars…
The piercing scent ofsal ammoniacwafted into Elspeth’s dream and she stirred, opening heavy lidded eyes, only to shut them yet again, and once again, the scent ofsal ammoniacswept beneath her nostrils, removing the veil of slumber once and for all. She sat upright, crying out. “Rhiannon!”
“Nay, lass, ’tis but Alyss,” Malcom said, urging her to lie back down, and then he told the anxious maid, “That will be all for now, Alyss. Thank you.”
“I will be near should you need me, lord,” Alyss said, and pinching her vial ofsal ammoniacbetween her fingertips, she rushed away, casting Elspeth a worried glance.
Alas, Elspeth was far too unsettled to put the girl at ease. The door closed, and her hand grasped Malcom by the arm, pleading. “Imustgo back,” she said, and suddenly, per force, she inhaled a calming breath and closed her eyes, shutting out the fear.
No, no, no,she thought.
Why did you do this to me, Rhiannon?
She was ensorcelled—rendered helpless. Every time she even thought about returning to Llanthony, she wanted only to sleep—and sleep some more.
And yet… it was a strange lethargy that crept over her body, not her mind. She was very much aware of every sound and scent surrounding her… the flickering of the torch in its brace, Malcom’s unique male scent… He touched her hand, folding it neatly into his own, and Elspeth tried to squeeze it. “Elspeth?” he whispered, shaking her awake.
Elspeth’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the man whose glittering gaze she was coming to know so well—and then suddenly, she understood:Look to your champion,Rhiannon had said.
Malcomwas the only one who could help her now. Thanks to her sister, Elspethcouldn’tgo back to Llanthony, and, if she tried, she would make the journey like a sack of grain, useless to everyone. Buthecould.
Malcom could go there. She reached out, grabbing him by the tunic, clutching him desperately. And yet, frustrated and frightened over the consequences of telling anyone her deepest secret, Elspeth pressed her head back into the pillow, released him, and tried not to weep. Unbidden, she remembered the day her mother had abandoned them at the priory. Elspeth was eleven, Rhiannon was nine, Seren was only seven and the twins were six.
“See you do not reveal yourself, or you will endanger everything I’ve worked for.”
“Aye mamau.”
“Someday I will reward you, but only if you are good.”
Elspeth had wondered then what terrible thing had she and her sisters done to be ushered out of their beds in the middle of night and hurried to some remote place where no one could ever find them. But, of course, her grandmother had been akindhearted lady. If she could be punished so horrendously in front of so many gleeful people, what chance had Elspeth and her sisters?
Betimes, Elspeth could be wicked, so her mother said. She did things she wasn’t supposed to do—like sneak into the kitchen for bits of food for her sisters and fire the torches in the nursery because Seren was afraid of the dark.
“You are the eldest. ’Tis your responsibility. I have assured one and all that my mother’s wickedness has not spread to me or my daughters. Do not be tempted, Elspeth. Be certain your sisters are never tempted.”
“Aye mamau.”
And still she persisted.“Remember what happened to your grandmamau? This, too, will be your fate, and my fate, should you ever dare to defy me.”
“Aye mamau.”
“You will burn,”she’d continued angrily.“They will tie you to a wooden stake in front of all those laughing people, and no matter how you weep, they will burn you till your skin turns black and blisters off your bones.”
“Aye mamau.”
She squeezed Elspeth’s hand very cruelly.“Do you mean to bring your sisters harm?”
