Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (17 page)

“What else would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

I took a sip of the wine, steeling myself to drink it slowly. I was already light-headed. “Where was I?”

“You had just finished telling me that your uncle and your betrothed entered into an alliance with the Vikings.”

“A strategy that your brother has just done with Alrik.”

“My brother has accepted Alrik’s help in his efforts to hold onto his kingdom against the threat of outside pressure. It would appear Osric and Demas entered into an alliance to acquire holdings and wealth. If the stories of Vikings are true, this king, this Halfdan, will not be content to play second fiddle to Englishmen. They assume control and put in puppet rulers to do as they say. They only keep English blood on a throne to appease the people. Anyone with eyes or a mind between his ears can see what game they play. Who do Demas and Osric think they are—the puppets or the masters?”

I’d never thought about it like that before. “I can assure you, Osric believes he is in firm control. It’s my opinion he will use the Vikings to expand his power and influence.”

She shook her head and pointed her cup at me. “Aside from being beasts and cowards, those two are fools. No Viking has ever played servant to an Englishman, Irishman, Welshman, or the French. No amount of gold has kept them complacent and docile. Mark my words, they will rue the day they tried to play with fire.”

I didn’t doubt it. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected she was right. The vision I’d had of Alfred and Ealhswith fleeing into the night, clutching their children close, came crashing back to me now. They were on horseback and Alfred kept looking over his shoulder. Riders, close on their heels, pursued them into the marshes. I had assumed Demas and Osric sent those men, and perhaps they had, but the villains hunting the young family were not English. Savage and wild, axes raised, spears ready, their pursuers were Norse.

I blinked, my eyes settling back on Angharad’s quizzical expression. I covered my confusion with a drink of wine and coughed. “I agree.”

She studied me a second longer. “So, then what? They make their deal, and what happens to you?”

“Demas’s plan was to keep me around as a slave if I was compliant or as a prisoner if I wasn’t. He forced me to change my will, and as my husband, he planned to rule in my place. In the event of my death, all would be his.”

I shrugged. “When I disagreed with the plan, he became bitter, and Osric charged me with a spate of crimes, including witchcraft and murder. Fortunately, Alrik rescued me from a terrible fate, but since he was a Viking, it gave Osric a convenient means of adding treason to the list of charges. I had no choice but to leave.” I wasn’t sure why I told her everything. Perhaps it was the wine or perhaps the desire to unburden and confide in someone. I didn’t know, but I realized I gripped my cup, anxious of her reaction.

She got up and paced the floor. “Bastards. This is why I can’t stand men. To do this to you in a mad struggle for power and influence. The lot of them are fools. This is why I will marry only when it serves to help my brother or to protect the kingdom. I love my people and would do anything for them, but marrying an ass with a cock just to maintain appearances is something I will never do.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it cock in general you dislike, or just certain ones in particular?” I gasped at the forwardness of my question. The drink and comfort of rekindling our friendship left me feeling cheeky and a little brazen. I’d never had to be someone I wasn’t when I was with Ealhswith, and by extension, I’d never hid who I was in front of Angharad, either, though that had been a world of youth ago.

She stopped her pacing and froze, perhaps realizing for the first time the implications of her words.

I waved away her concern. “Your secrets are safe with me. I would never betray our friendship.”

She sat back down on the couch, regarding me. “In general, then.”

I laughed. “Ealhswith learned to acquire a taste for them, but her interests seem to include a wider variety of experiences.”

“And where do your interests lie, Avelynn?”

The air changed. I swallowed, the wine making my head light and fuzzy. “You know my past. You know I’m not bound by strict religious adherence, but even still, I’m not one to cast judgement.”

“Really? Why not?” She got up and stood behind me. A finger traced the skin from my ear to my shoulder as she swept up my hair and started braiding it. Gooseflesh rippled down my arms, and I shivered. “When Ealhswith and I stayed in Leicaster, we discovered a world full of women who found comfort in each other’s arms. It was prohibited, of course, and if the Abbess had found out, we would have been flogged or caned or worse, but that didn’t stop any of us.”

My eyes closed, my body relaxing with each skim of her fingers through my hair.

“Ealhswith met a young man—”

“Regin.”

Her laughed purred deep in her chest. “Yes, Regin. He appreciated Ealhswith’s broader tastes.”

“Really?”

“Most men enjoy it when women pleasure each other. They like to watch.”

My mouth gaped open. Was that true?

“You and Ealhswith have shared many secrets,” she said.

“We’ve been friends forever.”

Her breath tickled as she whispered in my ear. “Yes, but have you been more?”

My heart thumped harder in my chest. “Once.”

When I opened my eyes she stood in front of me. She reached out, brushed my cheek with the back of her hand, and toyed with a tendril of hair that had escaped the braid. “You’re so beautiful.” She leaned down, her hand slipping under my chin. “May I?”

I must have nodded, for she closed the distance and her lips found mine. Lightening shot through me. Every fiber of my being coursed to life. Her lips were soft, her pressure gentle, and I lost myself in the kiss.

She pulled away and I blinked, as if coming to after a captivating dream.

“You and I are going to get along wonderfully,” she said.

I stumbled to my cottage, my legs cumbersome with drink and heavy with exhaustion. Torches flickered throughout the manor grounds, lighting the way between outbuildings. There were so many beacons it seemed as if night hadn’t come, that here on this raised island above the river, the sun still shone.

I brushed my finger across my lips; they were swollen with desire. Alrik mentioned I had a fire in my belly. Was that what he meant? A stab of guilt twisted. Would Alrik be angry with me? I hadn’t meant for it to happen, but I hadn’t stopped it either. I considered what Angharad had said about Regin. Did men enjoy watching women together? Would Alrik? Could I do something like that? My body’s eager response assured me I could. I thought of Eadfrith and his hands on my ankle and sobered, groaning. Clearly, Alrik didn’t enjoy seeing that.

There was a small footpath behind the hall that led to the cottage. Flanked by a long, thick hedgerow on one side, the hall on the other, it was darker than the rest of the manor. As I rounded the corner, I caught a flurry of skirts. Marared stormed through the courtyard. She seemed hell bent with fury, and after my previous altercations with her, on instinct, I stepped back. I pressed myself against the wall, out of her line of sight. The hall had a large building attached to one end, most likely Gwgon’s private chambers. There were no windows, only a solid oak door. She rapped her knuckles on the wood and waited, arms crossed. The door opened, and Sigy stepped outside.

Marared’s voice rose above a hissing whisper. “How dare you stoop so low to arrange this behind my back.”

Sigy closed the door and pulled Marared farther into the darkness and closer to where I stood. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to be there, but I couldn’t slip past them without stepping back into the light and alerting them to my presence. I shrunk closer to the treeline. The last time I’d overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have, I was crouched beside a weaving shed listening to my uncle berate Demas for his recklessness.

Sigy’s voice cracked with controlled calm. “Gwgon made the offer. Hyffaid accepted it on your behalf, as is his legal right. I had no hand in the business.”

“Hyffaid only agreed because you threatened or cajoled him. He would never have done this to me without your influence. This is all your doing. Don’t bother denying it.”

“And what if it is? You would sit beside the man who rules a kingdom, have considerable power and reach, and enviable wealth.”

“I don’t want Gwgon. I want Alrik. Hyffaid was to help me achieve that end.”

“You simple child. Have I not taught you better than this? Is your mind that narrow? Think of the future. How long does a king live? Most do not survive long enough to see their children leave the cradle. Being a king is a deadly business. Once you have the title, you can fill your bed with as many men as you need to satisfy your wanton behavior. You need only maintain an image of propriety.”

“With Hyffaid and Alrik’s support, Gwgon will not perish in battle.”

Sigy’s voice lowered. “Accidents happen all the time. War, treachery … poison.” Her voice lingered, caressing that final word. “You will not be bound long to the chains of marriage. Can you not at least abide by it for a time?”

“I’ve told you my answer. I’ve already warned Avelynn to leave. Alrik will be mine and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Do not do anything reckless, Marared. This alliance benefits our entire family.”

“It benefits you.”

“Were you not in the hall this night? Did you not hear Llewelyn charge you with witchcraft?”

“The man is mad.”

“Perhaps, but he is respected here. It’s not like it was in Dyfed. I do not have the power or influence to remove him from his position.”

“You’ll manage something. It matters not to me.” She turned to walk away, but Sigy grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

“My patience will only stretch so far, daughter. I will not allow you to jeopardize everything I have worked for. Leave off this conflict with Avelynn and do your duty as peace weaver. Do not think to test me.”

Footfalls receded in the darkness and somewhere across the courtyard a door slammed shut. I fell on my backside, landing in a disorganized heap. Whichever one left, thank the gods, had turned in the opposite direction from where I hid.

Light pooled from the opened door, the brilliance flickering as a figure stepped inside. The door closed.

When I heard no further movement or conversation, I disentangled myself from the clutching hold of the leafless branches and stilled my frantic heart. I tried not to crack and break the dried wood around me.

While there was nothing outwardly damning about Sigy’s admonishment, her threat of poison was disconcerting. I thought of her table strewn with plants and Marared’s warning that her mother knew their uses and dangers. I needed to speak with Alrik, but it would have to wait until morning. The hall was reserved for men only. With the copious amounts of drinking and boasting taking place, it was best to leave them be.

When I arrived in the cottage, there was a box sitting on the table. Angharad had assigned Nest to see to my comfort while I was her guest, and she greeted me warmly, retrieving my cloak and hanging it on a hook by the door. She ladled out a glass of warm, honeyed milk from the cauldron over the fire. I took the drink gratefully, eager to wash away the lingering haze of Angharad’s wine.

“What’s this?” I pointed to the box.

“One of the ladies at court presented it to you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. She never gave her name.”

Gooseflesh rippled up my arms.

“You haven’t seen her before?”

“I’ve been here all evening. I’ve not had a chance to see all the guests arriving.”

“Would you recognize her to see her?”

Her face creased in confusion. “I think so.”

“Thank you, Nest. You may go.”

She looked at the fire.

“I will see to the cauldron and bank the fire. Go home to your bed.”

“You are most gracious, lady. Thank you.” She curtsied and let herself out.

I locked the door behind her and sat, staring at the box. I knew without looking inside who it was from. Biding my time, I ladled the last of the milk into my cup, letting its warmth soothe my concern. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the lid and revealed a water clock.

A clay cup sat atop a pedestal, a bowl underneath all. A small hole drilled in the base of the cup allowed the water level inside to drop with each swelling drip. I removed the wax-rimmed lid off the clay cup and peered inside. Three grooves. Three days. The cup bone dry. The bowl full. My time was up. It would appear Marared had not forgotten her threat after all.

I finished the honeyed milk, rinsing the cup with water, and set it back on a shelf. I wiped the sweat from my brow and set about getting ready for bed. I changed into my underdress, laying my kirtle at the end of the bed. Sweat pooled under my breasts, and my face flushed. I swallowed hard as a wave of nausea swelled. I swayed and gripped the table, my hands clammy. I needed air. I moved to the shuttered window, but Nest had forgotten to close the latch. The window remained open. My stomach gurgled and mewled. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth, easing the breath through my nose. The moment passed.