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Feverishly she sought to distract the Druid before she asked for more details of this elusive lover.
“But this is why it’s my fault.” She pressed Druantia’s palm against her cheek, seeking comfort, seeking forgiveness for sins about to be confessed and sins she could never confess. “I trespassed in the Morrigan’s realm, and that’s why she no longer sees me.”
An odd expression crossed Druantia’s ancient face. “When did you have this vision?”
“Yesterday, midafternoon.”
And as the words passed her lips, a chill stole over her body. She didn’t need Druantia’s reply to realize the truth herself.
“The Morrigan searched for you yesterday noon, child. Cerridwen had already protected you from her wrath before you ever entered the immortal realm.”
After leaving Druantia, Carys searched for Morwyn and finally found her by the river, watching over the children as they played in the shallow depths.
“Good morn.” She sat beside her friend, but Morwyn didn’t answer, didn’t even glance her way. “What’s wrong?”
Morwyn shot her a look that sent chills along her arms. “What could be wrong? You’re here now, safe and well, aren’t you?”
Guilt speared through her heart and she rested her hand over Morwyn’s. “I didn’t intend to remain outside the spiral last night. I’m sorry if I caused you anxiety.”
Morwyn deliberately moved her hand from Carys’s. “You could have told me you intended to stay with your lover last night. There was no need to fabricate a tale that you wished to commune with Cerridwen on your own.”
“I did commune with Cerridwen.” Carys wrapped her arms around her knees for comfort. If only she could tell Morwyn the whole truth. “It was only afterward I—I returned to the settlement to be with my lover.”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself.” Morwyn’s tone implied she hoped anything but.
She smothered a sigh. Would she forever have to lie to her friends and kin? The more she tried to protect herself, to protect her love for Maximus, the deeper into a clinging web of deceit she tumbled.
“You were right.” She slid Morwyn a sideways glance. “I shouldn’t have gone to the Cauldron by myself. I experienced a vision so acute, I was unaware of our mortal world.”
Morwyn turned to her, no longer rigid with suppressed affront, her features softening into fascinated concern. “Alone? But, Carys, you may never have returned to us.”
“I nearly didn’t.” She sucked in a harsh breath. “The Roman barbarian followed me. He attacked me while I was insensible. If my lover hadn’t arrived, I would have died. Both in the mortal and immortal realms.”
Morwyn grasped her hand. “Carys, is your lover one of our own? You can trust me. I would never tell.”
“No. He’s not a Druid.”
“But to save you from such a fate? Surely he must possess Druid blood? Perhaps—perhaps he is unaware of it?”
“Truly, Morwyn. He possesses not a drop of our blood.”
Clear disappointment clouded Morwyn’s brow. “It feels wrong that your chosen one is not one of the gods’ favored sons. Now, more than ever, our bloodline should be strengthened, not diluted.”
Maximus, who didn’t understand her ways and had little knowledge of her sacred beliefs, had brought her back from the immortal realm. And, by so doing, had proved to her queen and her best friend that he was worthy of her love, of siring her future children.
Druid or not, he would be welcomed as her husband if that was her desire.
But her desire was irrelevant, for a Roman would never be accepted within her circle.
A thought stirred. “Morwyn, I tended a woman early this morn. She’s pregnant by her Roman lover, an officer. He had her installed in lodgings as his mistress.”
Morwyn sighed. “It grieves me to admit, but some of our women are finding a better life serving Rome in that manner.”
“But this woman loved her Roman. She wants his child.”
“But does he love her?” Morwyn shook her head. “It’s easy for a woman to believe herself in love when the man elevates her from the midden. They take advantage, Carys. It’s not an equal relationship.”
Carys recalled the haunted look in Efa’s eyes at the knowledge Faustus had left. It could have been through fear of being returned to abject poverty, of resorting to working in a brothel, but in her heart she knew it was more than that. Efa loved her Roman officer, even though he was unworthy of such honor.
Her vision shivered over her. “And what if the Romans stay? What if they’re not defeated? Should we forever spurn them? Should our blood never mingle? Will our people and Rome forever hate each other?”
Morwyn squeezed her fingers. “Carys, don’t give up hope. Our situation is close to changing.” She paused and glanced around, as if making sure the children were still safe and no other adult was near to overhear. “I’m sworn to secrecy. But you know how discontented Gawain is, how he and many of the other Druids wish to rise against Aeron’s edict?”
Carys knew of the discontent. But to rise against Aeron? “Gawain wishes to overthrow Aeron?” She couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.
Morwyn frowned, as if in warning to keep her voice down. “No, of course not. They want to overthrow the
Romans
. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
“Then what are you talking about? What’s the great secret?”
“Gawain spent the night with several of the Druids. They went into trance, communed with the gods. And discovered Aeron’s plans.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, as a dark fog of impending devastation rolled through her. “What are his plans?”
“When the longest day is upon us, he’s going to invoke the power of the spiral to wipe out our enemy. And as they run like rats from a sinking ship before the deadly wave, we will launch our attack.”
Chapter Thirty
Ice chilled her flesh, ate into her bones. Morwyn spoke of the morrow.
She had to warn Maximus. But to do so would betray her people in the worst way.
Yet if she didn’t, her beloved could die.
“Carys.” Morwyn gripped her shoulders and forced her around. “There’s no need to be so alarmed. The gods are with us, and with the power of the spiral we can’t lose.”
She knew they couldn’t lose. And that was why her heart pounded in her chest, why her brain throbbed against her temples and why she had the horrifying urge to keel over and vomit up the contents of her stomach.
“Don’t worry.” Morwyn cupped her face with her hand and frowned in misplaced sympathy. “Our people will be safe from the wrath of the gods. And when the battle’s over, when the Romans have fled, we can regain our lives. You’ll be able to be with your lover without having to hide your face like a misbegotten hag.”
She had to speak. Had to think. But all she could feel was overwhelming terror that tomorrow, if Maximus died, her life would end.
“Gawain is sure of this?” Perhaps he’d misinterpreted the signs. He, and all the other Druids who had participated in the moonlit ceremony.
Morwyn ran her palms down Carys’s arms and grasped her hands. She didn’t seem to notice how chilled they were.
“The gods were very clear. Tomorrow, Aeron will strike.”
“Then why hasn’t he told us? Why keep it a secret?” Carys snatched her hands from Morwyn and raked her fingers into her hair, gripping her skull. “How can he plan for victory if he hasn’t even told us what he intends?”
“He must plan to tell us at the Renewal tomorrow.”
Carys dragged her fingers down her face and curled them around her neck. Since first invoking the spiral at the Feast of the Dead seven moons ago, Aeron had Renewed its power on every holy day.
“This is madness, Morwyn.” Her voice was hoarse with fear, with the stark knowledge that the end she no longer wished for was so close. “How can we plan a battle with only moments’ notice? If we rush the fortification without foresight, the Romans will decimate us.”
“No. That’s where Gawain, and all the others who disapproved of Aeron’s edict to wait, misunderstood. He’s been communing with the gods all along—”
“We
know
that, Morwyn.”
Annoyance flickered briefly over Morwyn’s face, as if she didn’t appreciate the acidic interruption. “We didn’t know the full scope of his interactions, Carys. Where Gawain thought he was stalling, he really was simply waiting for the precise moment in time.”
Once again she clasped her arms around her knees. Druantia’s words haunted her mind. “Something’s wrong, Morwyn.”
“Yes. But tomorrow night, all will be well again.”
“No.” The unease solidified and it wasn’t purely connected with terror for Maximus’s safety. “The Morrigan would never keep Druantia ignorant of such plans. And Aeron—even if he didn’t tell us, he should certainly have confided in our queen.”
She remembered the apprehension that had crawled along her spine at their last encounter. If he had chosen to conceal his battle plan from them, what else was he hiding behind those emotionless silver eyes?
“Perhaps Druantia has always known.” But Carys could hear the doubt in Morwyn’s voice.
“I don’t trust Aeron.” It was tantamount to treason. But the certainty there was more behind his plan magnified with every passing moment. She’d find Gawain, persuade him to confide exactly what information the gods had imparted.
Morwyn let out an exasperated breath. “Perhaps you’re simply blinded by your past relationship, Carys.” There was an edge in her tone, as if she wasn’t so much shocked by Carys’s remark as irritated. “After all, you were convinced he’d disembowel and decapitate any man who dared to so much as look at you after you finished with him, weren’t you?”
She frowned, unsure what Morwyn’s point was. Aeron had made it plain to her that while he respected her decision that she no longer desired him, he wouldn’t tolerate her fucking another man.
Of course, she hadn’t, until recently, met another man she’d wanted in such a way, so his threats had never actively concerned her.
“I don’t follow you.”
Morwyn pulled a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. “He knows you keep a lover, Carys, and seems entirely indifferent to the fact.”
Her lungs contracted, squeezing out the air, and the forest spun about her for one dizzying moment. “You told him?” The words echoed through her mind, as disbelief shivered through her breast. “How could you betray my trust, Morwyn?”
“Of course I didn’t tell him.”
Carys scarcely registered the offense in Morwyn’s tone. “You told him I was at the Cauldron yesterday.” Of course that didn’t mean anything; she was often at the Cauldron, but now—now it took on special significance because what else had Morwyn told Aeron? What else did Morwyn
know
? Had she seen Maximus approach the Cauldron? Had she guessed who her secret lover really was?
Had she told Aeron of her suspicions?
“Goddess.” Morwyn sounded highly affronted. “Why would I tell him we left you at the Cauldron yesterday? That would lead to admitting you’d gone to the settlement and been attacked by Roman scum.”
She rested her chin on her raised knees and shut her eyes. Her guilt was clouding every word Morwyn uttered. If she didn’t control her emotions, she’d give herself away.
Yet what did it matter? After tomorrow the reason for her deceit would no longer be. The Druids would once again take their rightful place, their people would be free of the yoke of Rome, and Maximus would be defeated or dead.
Rome never surrendered. Whatever Morwyn thought, the invaders would never turn and flee like cowardly rats.
Aeron could delude himself the battle was already won, but she couldn’t see it ending without horrific bloodshed on both sides. It didn’t matter that she knew her gods and goddesses were powerful beyond imagination.
Because Maximus, the Romans, believed the very same thing of their own immortals.
For one bone-numbing moment the sound of bloody battle filled her mind, and the stench of decay turned her stomach. Darkness descended, obscuring the mutilated bodies, muffling the cries of the wounded.
BOOK: Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01]
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