Divine by Choice (38 page)

He must have sensed my gaze because his half-lidded eyes focused briefly on me. His lips trembled and I saw them form the familiar endearment
Shannon my girl.
Then his eyes closed completely and his head turned to bury itself against the wildness of Rhiannon's hair.

I felt the darkness around us begin to solidify and I turned my head to the place I had last seen the pulsing blue light.

A hand was there, reaching into the hardening darkness.
Without another thought I grabbed it and held on with everything within me.

The tree expelled me in a rush of liquid. I lay on the ground and drew in a shaking breath, moaning at the agony in my side. Coughing painfully, I gagged and vomited violently. My eyes wouldn't focus and there was a horrible ringing in my ears. I knew my breath was coming so quickly that I was hyperventilating. My body felt as if it was simultaneously freezing and burning.

I must be in shock, I thought detachedly.

I couldn't see and I couldn't hear, but I screamed in pain as a pair of strong arms lifted me from the ground. A familiar rocking motion pounded through my body and it seemed I was being hurled through space. My head fell forward onto bare skin and I recognized the scent of sweet grass, horse and warm man.

I'm home, I thought before I slid down into the abyss of unconsciousness.

I
was in a place of great darkness, and my first thought was surprise that it wasn't painful.

Hadn't I just been stabbed?

I didn't feel like it. Actually, I didn't
feel
anything.

This must be a coma, I thought with the same detachment with which I had earlier diagnosed my body's shock.

There was a brief sensation of settling, like a flock of birds coming to rest. Then more of the dark nothingness. It should be frightening. But it wasn't. I'd always imagined a coma victim as living consciousness trapped in the suffocating cage of a nonworking body, perpetually wanting to scream but unable to communicate with the outside world.

Well, I certainly couldn't communicate with the outside world, but it didn't seem so bad. It was kind of comforting, like a warm bath when you've had the flu and now your aches and pains have been soaked away. A nice place to stay for a while, which, as we all know according to Oklahoma vernacular, can be a heck of a long time…

Shannon my girl.

The endearment shook the dark solitude I'd settled into so comfortably. Who was it? The question tickled at my con
sciousness. The words sounded familiar, and they brought with them both positive and negative connotations.

Too hard to concentrate…too much effort…

Shannon my girl! You have to wake up.

Clint. The name popped into my disjointed thoughts. An image of strength and comfort came with the name recognition, followed quickly by an overwhelming sadness.

Clint was dead.

Part of each of us lives forever.

My mind struck out wildly, remembering the flash of a cruel blade and the rush of his lifeblood.

No! I retreated from the memory back into comforting darkness.

You can't give up. You can't let it all have been for nothing.

It's too hard. It was easier to simply float on the tide of blackness.

So, you'll kill your daughter, too?

That's enough. Now he's gone too far. My anger stirred up specks of light against my closed eyelids.

The fog that covered my memory lifted and my thoughts became more my own.

Of course I would never kill my daughter. Who the hell did he think I was, Rhiannon?

And with that thought I took a deep breath. Pain spiked through my side.

That's my girl
…The voice was fading fast….
Live for me, Shannon. I want you to live….

I felt as if I was rushing up out of a well of darkness, being sucked through a pain-spike tunnel of light.

My mouth felt really dry. Jeesh, I was thirsty.

My eyelids fluttered and the world blurred like I was trying to peer through a carnival mirror. I blinked rapidly, attempt
ing to bring anything into focus. Well, at least I was out of that Goddess-awful tunnel.

I took another deep breath.

Oh, shit, that hurt.

Speckles of haloed light crossed, uncrossed and multiplied. Nothing held still.

But blinking rapidly was starting to help. The pinpoints of light divided again, then stayed put.

Oh, I realized,
candles.
Lots of them. The room was dark except for zillions of candles. Dozens of huge candelabra were filled with dripping pillars, and there were even more mounds of thick candles set ablaze on sconces that protruded from the smooth marble walls. I heard a crackling sound. And a fire burned brightly—in a hearth.

The room felt pleasantly warm. Actually, except for the horrid pain in my side, a terribly dry mouth and a hot heaviness on my left thigh, I didn't feel too bad. A little disorientated, but not too awfully bad.

And the room was certainly familiar, my muddled thoughts reported.

You are home.
The clear voice of my Goddess sang within my mind, chasing away the clinging effects of unconsciousness.

My eyes traveled fondly over the room I now easily recognized. My bedchamber. In Partholon! In reality I knew I had only been gone a little over a week, but it felt like decades. My room looked much as I remembered it, except I didn't usually light this many candles, and there were normally fragrant bouquets of flowers covering any flat surface that would hold still long enough for my ever-busy nymphets to decorate it.

Well, it was almost winter. Maybe they couldn't find anything that was blooming. Goddess knows it couldn't be
from lack of trying, those little teenagers were perpetually in a state of rushing hither and yon (I have hypothesized that they do so because they are usually so scantily clad that scampering is about the only way they can keep warm). The dreadful lack of flowers was probably driving them crazy. I should remember to tell them a couple nice pieces of artwork and some fragrant candles would do just as well for decoration during the colder months. Goddess knows I hate a stressed handmaiden.

But what the hell have they put on my thigh?

I looked down at the offending object and felt my heart quicken. ClanFintan was lying on the floor beside the huge down-filled mattress we had nicknamed our marshmallow. His head was resting against my thigh. His face was turned away from me. From the deep, constant rhythm of his breathing I knew he was asleep. I smiled softly. He always looked bigger in real life than he did in my memory. Wonder why that was. My hand was shaking as I reached out and touched the thick mass of his black hair.

His head jerked up and whirled to face me.

How could I ever have imagined living without him?

“You have awakened?” His voice sounded gravelly.

Tears choked me and I was unable to speak. I nodded.

He pulled his human torso slowly upright, studying me intently. “Who are you?” The words seemed to be torn from deep within him.

For a moment I was stunned. Then I felt my brow furrow. Who am I? I looked closely at him, wondering if he'd been in a battle recently and had received a head wound, which would account for his moronic question.

Except for having dark circles under his expressive eyes and looking a little thinner than usual, I couldn't see any sign of injury. There did appear to be more gray in his hair than I re
membered, but that could be a trick of the light. He certainly looked like the same guy/horse/whatever.

I took a deep breath and winced in pain, which didn't help my tone when I answered him.

“Jeesh, I'm me! Who the hell do you think I am, friggin John Wayne riding in with the cavalry? Shit, I've been through hell to get back here and you don't even know I'm me?” Men in any form are the ultimate goobers.

At my words his face broke into a wide smile that radiated pure joy.

“Shannon!” His shout of celebration would have been deafening, but the cheering of the throng, which at that instant burst into my room, drowned it out.

Alanna led the way, followed closely by a gaggle of squealing handmaidens. My heart did a little skip at the sight of her.
She's alive,
my mind assured me.
She's alive.
And she was carrying an armload of roses that were bursting with bloom.

Well, there are the flowers my room's missing. I really wish Alanna would let the teenagers do the menial household chores. She's supposed to be The Boss when I'm not around.

Before the group reached my bedside, the handmaidens dropped to the floor in graceful curtsies. I noticed they were all smiling even though tears streamed down their faces.

“Hello, girlfriend,” I said to Alanna, ashamed my voice cracked so badly.

Alanna pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as she tried to hold back a sob. With the other hand she clutched the bouquet of roses to her chest. Then the sob burst into laughter.

“Oh, Rhea! We knew you had come back to us when the roses started blooming again.”

I gave her a quizzical look, worried that they'd all gone a little crazy while I was gone.

ClanFintan answered my unspoken question. “With your loss the flowers would not bloom. They withered and died as buds. In mourning, the sun hid itself behind clouds. Even the birds did not sing.” He raised my hand to his lips.

A chill traveled down my spine as understanding of the enormity of what his words meant penetrated my mind. And with that understanding came the clear knowledge that I had made the right choice, as had Clint.

Partholon needs her Beloved.

Alanna handed the nearest nymph the roses, wiped her eyes and hurried to the head of my bed. She touched my forehead with a shaking hand and smoothed back my errant curls. Bending gracefully, she kissed me.

“Welcome home, my Lady,” she said through her tears of joy.

“Welcome home, Beloved of Epona!” echoed the happily sobbing nymphets.

But I had eyes only for my husband.

He leaned forward and very gently took me in his arms. “Welcome home, my only love.” The velvet of his voice covered me and every particle of my soul rejoiced.

“I
f the mare begins to act nervous, we leave. Immediately,” ClanFintan proclaimed for the hundred-zillionth time.

“Okay,” I agreed innocently.

“I do not jest about this matter, Rhea,” he said severely, then continued to mumble, “I do not know how I let you convince me to return to this Goddess-forsaken…”

“Talking to yourself is a sign of old age,” I said brightly, trying to maintain my perky facade.

He snorted through his nose and gave me a long-suffering look. I reached forward and ran my fingers though Epi's waterfall of silver mane.

“You're not nervous, are you, beautiful girl?” I crooned.

Her ears flicked back attentively and she whickered a reply.

“See! Epi says everything's okay.”

ClanFintan was having none of it.

“Stay alert!” he snapped at the two centaurs that cantered easily alongside us.

I looked at Victoria and Dougal and rolled my eyes, but they were too busy scanning the forest for booger monsters to pay any attention to me.

“Epona said we were in no danger.” I repeated the words that I had said so many times they had become like a mantra.

“Hurmph!” ClanFintan said succinctly.

“We enter the forest here.” The Huntress's voice was strained and serious. Before she turned to lead us off the path, she pulled her crossbow from its resting place across her back and notched an arrow in the sight.

Dougal and ClanFintan unsheathed their wicked-looking claymores.

Epi and I sighed and followed them into the heart of the forest. A healthy kick against my right rib made me shift in my seat and I smiled softly as I rubbed what I was sure was the heel of a tiny foot jutting out of my swollen belly.

Two months had passed since I'd returned to Partholon, and it seemed as if I'd quadrupled in size. I had certainly recovered from my aversion to food. If it didn't run screaming from me I ate it.

It was late January. The winter had been mild and it looked like Partholon would be enjoying an early spring, but today the air still held the chill of winter, and I was glad of the ermine-lined cloak Alanna had insisted I wear.

ClanFintan pushed his way through the sparse winter foliage so that he and Epi and I were side by side again.

“I do not understand why you cannot be satisfied with the rituals you have been performing each full moon in remembrance of the Indian warriors.” His accent gave the word
Indian
a lovely mystical sound.

I had kept my promise to the forgotten warriors of Nagi Road. Every full moon my maidens poured libations of wine and honey and danced joyously in remembrance of their bravery. I hoped that somehow they knew.

But today wasn't about those warriors.

At first I had been unable to think about Clint at all. I had to force him from my mind. The thought of him entombing
himself with Rhiannon had been another open wound I could not bear touching.

As time passed and the wound in my side healed, so, too, did the horror of what Clint had done. I began to be able to think of him without being drowned in grief.

The first Partholonian snowfall smelled of him.

Birdsong reminded me of him.

Each time the soul of a tree called to me I heard the echo of his voice.

And I could not make love to my husband. He called the Change to him only once. When he stood before me in human form, all I could see was the image of Clint. Grief overwhelmed me. I couldn't make my tears stop. ClanFintan shifted quickly back to centaur form and comforted me wordlessly within the shield of his arms.

He hadn't attempted to make love to me since. And I haven't asked it of him.

The centaur cleared his throat and I realized he was waiting for my answer. I met his eyes.

“Today is for Clint, not for them.”

“I thought you brought libations for the souls of the dead warriors.” My husband held my gaze.

“No,” I answered him hesitantly. As usual I found it difficult to talk to ClanFintan about Clint. “I brought them for Clint's soul. It's time I faced this. His sacrifice deserves to be acknowledged.”

“As you wish, Rhea.”

“What if he can somehow tell?” My voice cracked. “I haven't been back. I didn't even get to thank him.” My eyes pleaded with ClanFintan to understand.

“I thank him every day,” the centaur said quietly.

I nodded tightly, afraid if I said anything else I would start crying. I had given ClanFintan an edited version of what had
happened while I had been in Oklahoma. I had left out some parts to save him pain, and other parts to save me pain. But he understood that Clint had given his life to send me back to my husband and the world to which I belonged.

And without ever acknowledging it aloud, I was sure he also understood Clint had loved me. And I him.

Recently I had felt the growing need to return to the ancient grove. It was a pilgrimage I needed to make. After two months I hoped I had healed enough to face my memories and my losses; and, ultimately, to give myself closure.

Maybe I could even forgive myself.

“We have reached the clearing,” Victoria's strong voice called back over her shoulder. Dougal followed her, then came Epi and me with ClanFintan by our side.

I pulled Epi to a halt and called to Victoria. She and Dougal paused and looked curiously back at me.

“I need to go first,” I said simply. Before their arguments could be spoken I held up my hand to silence them. “The Goddess has assured me I am safe.” And she had. Epona had even encouraged me to make this trip. As ClanFintan opened his mouth to protest, I pulled out my trump card. “Would I do anything to harm our daughter?”

“I will be beside you.” His tone said it wasn't a question.

I nodded agreement.

“Victoria and Dougal, stay close.” The two centaurs nodded and waited in tense silence for us to lead them into the clearing.

I closed my eyes and we passed through the tree line. Very slowly I tilted my head up and opened my eyes. The verdant leaves of the twin giants filled the sky. Even now, after I knew what to expect, it was a shock to see them fully clothed in green after traveling through a forest of naked limbs. There was a light breeze and the graceful foliage swayed rhythmi
cally. As we approached, I let my eyes travel down their massive length to the moss-covered trunks.

And a color rippled at the edge of my vision. For an instant I felt dread squeeze my throat, but quickly I realized it wasn't a dark, oily shape that I was seeing. My gaze fell to the forest floor and I gasped in surprise.

“What is it, Rhea?” ClanFintan snapped, worry thick in his voice.

“Oh,” I breathed happily. “It's nothing bad. It's wonderful. Look!” I pointed to the ground. The entire clearing was carpeted with small blue wildflowers. They were everywhere, and as we rode through them they gave off a sweet, heady perfume.

It was like the entire grove had been sprinkled with sapphires.

“I do not remember these being here before.” ClanFintan sounded disgruntled.

“They weren't. They're new.” I felt a rush of emotion. The grove hadn't forgotten him. This was the forest's tribute to him.

We drew near the trees. ClanFintan lifted me gently from Epi's back. I unlatched the saddlebag that rested over her withers and took out a skin filled with honeyed red wine. Then I turned to face the trees.

I swallowed my fear. There was nothing here that could harm me.

The pin oaks were more beautiful than I had remembered, so tall and regal and strong. I knew which tree I needed to touch. The blue flowers swished softly against my boots as I approached it. Near the base of the tree I suddenly stumbled over a protruding root, and ClanFintan's sure arms caught me before I could fall.

Oh, Goddess. This is exactly where Rhiannon had stumbled and fallen.

“Are you well, Rhea?”

I realized I had stopped breathing, and made myself draw a deep, steadying breath. Then I squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“Just visiting old ghosts,” I said softly before I stepped carefully around the root.

The ancient tree was enormous. Five men couldn't link hands around it, and its twin that grew on the other side of the small stream that separated them was just as imposing.

Uncapping the wineskin, I began pouring it against the base of the tree. I continued pouring as I made my way slowly around its enormous circumference.

The words came to me quite suddenly and with a trembling voice I spoke them, falling easily into the rhythmic chant.

I had completed a circle of my own. Tentatively I rested my palm against the tree's aged surface. I didn't have to see my husband to feel the tension radiating from him.

Welcome, Chosen One.
The aged voice was familiar.

“Hello,” I whispered. Then I spoke hesitantly, “I come…I come to…”

You come in remembrance, Beloved of the Shaman.

My body jerked in surprise at the title. ClanFintan stirred restlessly at my side.

“Yes, I come in remembrance.”

I feel that you are in pain.

I closed my eyes on sudden tears. And I'd thought this wound had healed. What a fool I'd been.

“Yes,” I said simply.

The Shaman wishes you to hear a message, Chosen One.

My heart beat wildly. Clint was going to talk to me?

Prepare yourself.
The thought rumbled within my mind.

I tensed in expectation of Clint's message and what came nearly caused me to yelp in surprise. Through my open palms flooded peace. No words, no message that was spoken or even thought within my mind. Just an overflowing of peace. The tingling within my hands reminded me of another night little more than two months before, when healing had flowed from a Goddess, through my hands, and into his body.

I finally understood that his sacrifice hadn't changed that healing. It had intensified it.

“Thank you,” I sobbed. “Oh, thank you, Clint.”

My eyes had dried when I turned from the tree.

“Are you well, Shannon?” ClanFintan asked. My mate rarely used my real name.

I realized that the eyes that searched mine were asking volumes more than a simple question.

I moved to his side and he wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder. I pressed myself firmly against him.

“Yes, ClanFintan. I am truly well.” I returned his gaze steadily and welcomed the flash of joy that crossed his handsome face as we understood that for the first time since I had returned to Partholon I could speak those words without feeling the taint of pain or guilt.

“Then let us go home, Shannon my girl.”

At the sound of the familiar endearment my eyes widened, but he was already bending to cover my lips with his own and he neatly stifled the question my mind was forming.

Some things are better not questioned, Beloved.
The Goddess's musical voice drifted softly through my mind.

She was probably right, as usual.

So instead of questioning him I returned my husband's kiss with the enthusiasm of a long-absent lover.

Our arms entwined, we walked back to where Epi and our centaur friends waited. The sweet smell of sapphire-colored flowers hovered around us like a blessing, and Epi's full-throated welcoming neigh mixed with the rustling of the oaks' rich foliage until the glade echoed with the magic of life reborn.