Page 131 of The Daughters of Avalon
Rising from the bed—a finely curtained bed, thick with feathers, not straw to fatten the mattress—Rhiannon walked across the room, lifting up a good-sized log, then carried it back to the brazier, pushing it into the iron belly.
With a sigh, she reached into her pocket, and took out the herbs she’d separated, tossing them gingerly into the fire, giving them a moment to burn. Finally, once she was ready, she spoke the words.
Blazing fires as you dance,
Give me now a fleeting glance.
A puff of smoke lifted from the brazier, the scent like burnt honey. The wisps and curls took shape, forming, forming… forming…
She didn’t need the fire, or words anymore, but she reveled in the rites her people had performed for ages.
Still, her face fell, and her brows slanted at what was revealed to her, and her heart wrenched so painfully that she thought she might howl at the moon.
Goddess please… it was the most impossible decision for any sister to make—to choose one to lose.
Encourage one to a given path, and it sent the other to her doom.
Few things in life were only coincidences. No happenstance occurred without consequence.
If only people understood that there was a price to be paid for every thought that formed and every decision made, they might tremble in their boots.
Her lips trembled as she fought her desire to weep… how utterly impossible a decision…help one, lose two. Help two, lose one.And if it could be possible to sacrifice herself, she would do so without hesitation… but this would not change the fates. Even without a scrying stone, even withoutmindspeaking, she knew where Seren and Arwyn were. She understood the decision Rosalynde must make, and she knew what it would cost.
And yet… no matter how many times she twisted and turned theaether, there was onlyonetrue path that would return their mother to the place whence she’d come.
Goddess save them, she knew the truth; it was more terrifying than anyone could imagine: Morwen was not her grandmamau’s child—not any longer. In her greed for power and glory, she had brought forth a demon from the Nether Realm—a soul that should not have found its way back to the dominion of men. She wasnotMorwen, daughter of Morgan Pendragon. She wasnota child of Taliesin… she was the witch who’d sought the prophet’s doom. She was Cerridwen, destroyer of realms, called back to this world by a bloodmagikso hideous that by its very act, the veil between worlds had rent but long enough for Cerridwen to escape, and after thousands and thousands of years trapped in her black prison, she would stop at naught to see vengeance done.
For a long, long moment, Rhiannon dared to grieve for the little girl who’d once been her mother… the child who’d lamented her faults… the young lady who’d envied her mother’s affection for her elder brother, the last warlock of their age. Emrys Pendragon had been his mother’s pride and joy—even as Cerridwen had loved her own son, Morfran. Except, Emrys was not cursed as Morfran had been cursed. He was blessed, as the sisters were blessed, by the blood of Taliesin. Emrys Pendragon,notMorwen, was the regnant priest of their age, and Rhiannon knew it… because… Emrys was her father. Murdered by her mother… even as Morwen had murdered Rhiannon’s twin in her own womb.
She’d poisoned him.
Rage burned hot as the embers in her brazier, and she swore that one day she would avenge themall, even as she must avenge the sister who must now die by her own judgment…
Grief twisted her heart, curdling in her belly, and she didn’t care who heard her cry. She wanted to curl into a ball, and somehow cease to exist, but that was not the way of a regnant priestess.
Heartsore, she returned to the bed, and sat upon it another long while, burdened by the weight of her duty. The bed creaked beneath her, and she heard the shuffle of feet outside her prison door.
He was there… again… but she didn’t care.
And neither did she care if her mother overheard her. If she hesitated, the moment will have passed.
Itmustbe tonight, else he would harden his heart, and so, too, would Rosalynde, and if their union was not consummated, the consequences would not be theirs alone.
Rosalynde,she called through theaether.Sister hear me.And she closed her eyes, easily infiltrating Rosalynde’s thoughts as her sister lay weeping… her eyes red-rimmed and sore. “Stop,” she whispered softly. “Dry your eyes, my dear.” And then she hardened her voice. “We are not born to weep for our sins, we are here to honor the Goddess with our gifts. You have a duty to fulfill.”
“Rhiannon?”
“Aye, ’tis me, Rose, but there’s no time to explain. Bind him to you. You know how. The Goddess has ordained it. Seren will understand. Trust your heart to do what is right… as you have always done.”
Silence.
One tear slid from her amber eyes, trickling onto the richly adorned bed as she repeated the words of the Goddess.
Bound by destiny, to destiny bound,
Another to one, and one to another...
Outside her door, she heard a man’s rueful laughter. Then she heard a slam of his fist against the stone wall, and his footfalls fell away.
