Page 51 of The Daughters of Avalon
All that night, Malcom held Elspeth until she slept. When she awoke in the wee hours of the morn, she knew before opening her eyes… he was gone.
The bed beside her was cold as she slid her palm across the unsullied sheets. But, of course, no one should have expected to find virgin’s blood in their bed. As far as everyone knew, they were already wed. And, even so, it surprised Elspeth that Malcom had not expected her to consummate their union. Though she was grateful for the courtesy, she remained confounded by the fact that he would risk so much without any expectations. Naturally, it reinforced her fear that Rhiannon’s spell was responsible for his actions. He was beguiled—there was no other explanation for it.
Lifting her wrist to examine the ribbon he’d bound there, she reverently fingered the tattered cloth. It was simple—not silk, or sendal or any such fabric. It was butcamlet, soft and worn with age, and yet it smelled like Malcom.
She brought her wrist to her nostrils to inhale deeply of his scent, wondering where he would be now. On the journey from Wales, it had taken them most of the day to arrive here fromLlanthony, so it stood to reason that he wouldn’t arrive there till late this evening.
Be swift and strong,she called to Merry Bells.
Carry him safely there and back…
To me.
Closing her eyes, she thought about the kiss they’d shared… so impassioned… so hungry… so painfully real. Dare she hope?
It was just that… it didn’t seem possible Rhiannon could change Elspeth’s heart—or his—so completely from so far away. And yet, as with her mother, she clearly didn’t know what her sister was capable of. And by the same token, there was a lot she didn’t know about her own abilities, much less what was possible with thehud. For example: Why had she suddenly been granted visions when she’d never had any before? Could it be that she had been lazy in Rhiannon’s presence? Taking for granted that her sister was the stronger one? Or mayhap it was a matter of self-preservation. Like her native tongue, Elspeth had trained herself to forget these things, not so much in order to belong, but more to hide. If no one noticed her and her sisters, no one could harm them.
During that first year after their arrival at the priory, they had taken such great pains to shed all trace of theirdewineheritage. Elspeth particularly, but they’d tried so hard to belong, attending prayers all day long, in hopes that Ersinius might advise their mother to bring them home.
Very soon it became apparent that this would never happen, and still Elspeth had cautioned her sisters against any behavior that could be construed as aberrant. She had been diligent in keeping her sisters safe, and to be safe meant that they must do precisely as Morwen had advised.
Do not be tempted, Elspeth… be certain your sisters are never tempted.
Only later, once it became clear that she and her sisters were never leaving the priory—not until their mother found a good use for them, they grew lax, sometimes practicing spells alone in their cottage. But even then, they had been careful to hide the Craft.
Only Rhiannon had ever dared test the boundaries, defying their mother’s mandate, and practicing whenever she could: a wiggled finger to move a pile of dirt in the garden, a loving glance to urge a seedling to burrow deeper, an explosion of flames in the hearth, a garden snake compelled to curl itself around Ersinius’ shoes, an unexpected breeze on a hot day—very small things.
She and her sisters each had their predominant powers: For Elspeth this was her reading of auras and her affinity with animals. For Seren it was her talent for healing and all things apothecary. For Rose it was her affinity for elementals. She could turn a mist into freezing rain and cover a windowpane with frost in the middle of summer, bring a dew to puddle in the crook of a leaf without the first drop of rain. For Arwyn’s part, her mastery was her charm. She could look a man in the eyes and entreat him to believe whatever she willed him to. But Rhiannon… Rhiannon could do all this and more.
Without having possession of theirgrimoireit was impossible to say what else they might do, and there was no way to practice. The recipes were ancient and hidden to anyone but those who bore the blood of adewine. Unlike the grimoire they had begun to make at Llanthony, the Book of Secrets was bound by blood magic, and to anyone who opened it without right, it looked to be no more than ruined scripture, faded with age and stained by watermarks. Elspeth herself had only had the opportunity to open it once in her lifetime, under her grandmother’s supervision. She would never forget the beauty of those pages, or the spell to open the pages.
A drop of my blood to open or close,
Speak now the song of ancient prose.
Shadows be gone, words reveal
The mysteries of life my book conceals.
Elspeth used to chant those words like prayer, and despite that she never again caressed the soft leather binding, or never did try to prick her own finger to join her blood to the dark-stained cover like so many of her ancestors, she often imagined herself doing so.
But now… thegrimoirewas in Morwen’s possession, and one thing was certain: Not in a thousand years would she have guessed at her mother’s perfidy.
So then, could it be possible that Elspeth simply hadn’t wished toknowthe things Rhiannon knew? And regardless, whatever blinders she’d worn before last evening, they no longer served her, and she had a terrifying sense that something dreadful was looming—something dark and vile… something her mother had unleashed the day she’d embraced thehud du.
But much to her dismay, Elspeth didn’t know how to prevent it, or how to warn folks, whose hearts and minds had already turned against them.
Speaking out as adewinewas not an option. She would find herself locked away as Rhiannon might well be or bound to a stake with flames dancing about her feet.
Her thoughts returned to Malcom.
As surely as Rhiannon had summoned him, Elspeth was equally certain she had also beguiled him, but she didn’t know how, because as far as she knew most such spells were not castable outside proximity. However, her sister was proving to be quite gifted. While a charm spell was not so powerful it couldmake someone love where he would loathe, it was certainly possible to heighten the senses and sweeten his ardor, so that he believed he had deeper feelings than he actually did. And if this was true, it was equally possible that once the spell was broken, Malcom would sorely regret having bound himself to Elspeth. And once he came to his senses, he could well repudiate her.
And more, he could regret having repudiated Lady Dominique as well. Those two could never be wed now, because of Elspeth. And despite that Elspeth was grateful for Malcom’s protection, what now if Lady Dominique should find herself bound to a man who meant to harm her? Any ill that befell that sweet girl because of their interference, the fault would lie squarely on Elspeth’s shoulders and the Law of Three would not be kind.
Alas, what was done was done. No good could come of her brooding.
She arose from the bed and tied back the drapes to let in the sun. Then, she bathed herself in the cold water left in their basin. It was as sour as the wine they’d drunk last evening, and she smelled likevin aigrewhen she was finished, but at least she was clean.
