In the Wake of the Wind (43 page)

And if Elspeth was right, then
Serafina
was somehow in danger.

He stood, the decision made. “I’ll gather everyone. And I hope to God you know what you’re doing, for if any harm comes to my wife, I’ll hold you fully responsible.”

Elspeth arranged the room to her satisfaction, placing Aiden on Serafina’s left, Raphael on her right, Lord Delaware at her head and a strongly protesting Charlotte at her feet, exactly where she belonged.

Elspeth had a strong suspicion that
Serafina
had not fallen down the stairs by herself, but she declined to say anything. For the moment. She hoped that the truth would come out for Serafina’s sake, but she had more important work to do right now.

“I have no idea what this is all about, but I don’t like it,” Charlotte said, steely faced as Elspeth lit the candles and the censer. “I’m only here because Aiden asked me, not that he explained a thing. This looks disgustingly heathen to me.

Elspeth glared at her. “It is heathen, and you don’t have to like it. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut until I’m finished. I wouldn’t have you in here at all if I didn’t need you.”

Charlotte gripped the arms of her chair. “How dare you!” she cried. “I won’t be a part of this unchristian charade. Aiden, I cannot think what’s come over you to subject us all to this—this witch’s sorcery!”

“Be silent,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hear a word out of you, whatever happens. Consider yourself warned, Charlotte.”

Elspeth wanted to applaud. It was about time Aiden saw his sister’s true colors. He was going to see a lot more than that by the time she was finished.

“Keep your trap shut, there’s a good girl,” Lord Delaware said mildly. “Nothing else has worked for dear
Serafina
and Aiden seems to think Miss Beaton knows what she’s about. I reckon we’ll soon see.”

Raphael said nothing, but he watched Elspeth like a hawk.

“It is time,” Elspeth said. “And whatever happens, no one must speak.” She raised her arms and uttered the protective chant.

“I am protected by your might,
O
gracious goddess, day and night. Thrice around the circle’s bound, evil sink into the ground.” She recited the invocation of the goddess and the god. And then she began the task she’d been preparing herself for over countless years.

“Here is the boundary of the circle of stones.

Naught but love shall enter in,

Naught but love shall emerge from within.

Charge this by your powers, old ones!

Time will run back and fetch the age of gold…”

Serafina
fought through the swirling mist from which she could find no escape, images forming and vanishing, fragments of vision she couldn’t grab hold of. She only knew that there was danger, terrible danger. Time … time was all confused, running into itself, the past and present merged. And all she wanted was to find a way to escape, to go home to Aiden.

And then she felt him there with her in the mist, saw his beloved face, felt the pressure of his fingers on hers, steadying her. She pulled him toward her, taking strength from his presence. The mist began to clear, and images began to form in earnest, of herself and Adam, Clio, Michael, Leo, Bishop Margolis. But it was no dream. She and Aiden were the observers and the performers both, merged into one.

Serafina
finally understood. They were to journey together, back to the place where everything had begun. Danger … there was danger, and unless she discovered what terrible thing had happened in that long ago time and place and laid it to rest, the tragedy would be repeated.

She pulled on Aiden’s hand, urging him to come with her.

Elspeth’s chant sent chills down Aiden’s spine and set his teeth to chattering. He clutched Serafina’s hand and it grew warmer. She seemed to be tugging on it as if she were trying to draw him near. Yet he felt as if more than his hand were being pulled. It was as if his soul were being drawn out of him, bearing him toward something, something that filled him with the unbearable pain of betrayal, yet he was compelled to follow.

Elspeth’s voice came only faintly now, and Charlotte’s face swam before Aiden’s eyes, her expression twisted into one of loathing.
Mad,
he thought. She’s
mad.
And then he thought maybe it was he who was mad as her image shivered, wavered, transforming into someone else. Charlotte. But not Charlotte. A woman. Wearing a circle of gold on her head.

His confused gaze swept the room, but he was no longer in his bedroom at Townsend. He stood in a great hall before two thrones on a dais. And he was no longer Aiden, but a man called Adam. Adam of Kyrenia, prince of the city-state.

Raphael was there too, his dearest friend then as he was now. Michael. Michael
Angelus.
He remembered.
Oh, God. He remembered.
And Elspeth stood silently off to one side, only she wasn’t Elspeth at all, but Bishop Margolis, who had married him and
Serafina
the year before. No. That was right, his wife’s name was Sarah. And she stood next to him, her golden hair tumbling in a braid down her back. But there was something wrong. Something terribly wrong.

He realized that it was his father who sat in one of the thrones. His father, then called King Leo. And Charlotte sat in the other, only she was his mother, Clio of Curium, and she was hurling intolerable accusations at his wife and his most trusted friend.

“I tell you,
she
fornicates
with your
captain of the guard, Michael
Angelus,”
Clio spat.

“No,” he cried, each of her words biting viciously, painfully into his heart. “I do not believe it—I will not believe
it. What
proof, I ask?”

“I saw them together. I saw them with my own eyes.”

“She speaks falsely, Adam,” Sarah said, turning to him, her eyes huge and hollow in her white face. “You must listen to me and to Michael. This is all a fabrication.”

Adam looked over at his wife, his beloved wife, the only woman he had ever loved, ever would love. And he didn’t know what to think, what to believe anymore. His mother would never lie, not over something so important
as
this.

Sarah and Michael. They had grown close over the last year. And he had never had reason to suspect them, not until this afternoon when his mother had called them all together and pointed her finger, sworn to their adultery.

“Why would she fabricate such a thing, Sarah? What possible reason?” he demanded,
his
voice low and angry.

“She plots to invade Famagusta and she knew Michael was going to come to you and expose her scheming, so now she discredits him. Michael will tell you it is the truth, if you will only listen!”

“Nonsense,” Clio cried. “This is a feeble attempt to mislead you, my son, to divert your attention from their wicked deed.”

“What do you know of this, Father?” Adam asked, praying his father would shed some light, offer up an answer. But his father only shook his head, ineffective as ever.

“I know of no plot and no adultery either,” he mumbled. “But I feel sure dear Sarah would never be unfaithful. Isn’t that right, Father Margolis?”

“You fool!” Clio said furiously, not giving the bishop a chance to answer. “You would contradict me, when I have told you what I saw? You wait anxiously for your son’s wife to produce his heir, and now for all we know it will be Captain Angelus’s brat she
will drop—if she’s not barren altogether.”

“What say you,
Angelus?”
Adam asked coldly, the image of Michael and Sarah in bed together too terrible to contemplate.

“I say again that your mother accuses me falsely. I tell you that she plots for the Kyrenia army to overthrow Famagusta, that
I heard
of her plan and told her
it
was madness, that
it
would only lead to disaster.” He stood before Adam unflinching. “And it is not I who pursued your wife
with
lustful intent, but your mother who came after me
in
that manner. When I spurned her advances, she went into a rage and threatened retribution.”

“No!” Adam roared. “No more—no more of your lies, do you hear? You cannot think I would give credence to such a
twisted
story? How dare you first defile my wife and now accuse my mother of not only scheming, but of entertaining corrupt thoughts?”

“I only speak the truth, Adam.”

“You know nothing of the truth,” Adam said, rage half blinding him. “I should order you killed for your treachery. But instead I strip you of your rank, Michael
Angelus.
And I banish you from Kyrenia for all time.”

He held out his hands for Michael’s sword of office, the gesture nearly bringing him to his knees. Betrayed. By his wife. By his friend. Betrayed.

Michael placed the sword in his open palms. “You are a fool,” he said flatly. “I can only hope to God you realize it before it’s too late. Too late for your wife, who loves you and only you. And too late for Kyrenia, for you can be sure the king of Famagusta will take swift and brutal vengeance if he even hears word of your mother’s plot.”

Adam couldn’t bear to listen to another word. He turned on his heel. The bishop laid a restraining hand on his shoulder as he pushed past.

“Adam. Reconsider. You are not in possession of all of the facts,” he said quietly.

“I’ve heard everything I need to,” Adam snapped. “Do not think to interfere!” He stormed from the hall, his heart, his faith,
his
very soul torn to shreds.

“Adam—Adam!” Sarah had looked everywhere for him. She finally tore over the high meadow hoping to find him there. She had to make him see sense. She had to, although she didn’t know how. Adam loved his mother. He trusted her. Apparently he trusted her so
much that he believed Clio’s word over his wife’s. And his friend’s.

That hurt her terribly all by itself, that he doubted her love for him, her fidelity. But what was even more terrifying was that Adam refused to hear of his mother’s plotting. For Sarah had a terrible sense of foreboding that it would bring Kyrenia to ruin.

Her heart leapt with relief when she finally spotted him.

He stood on the flat top of the hill, his back to her, his face turned to the glittering sea. He didn’t hear her approach, but the minute she placed her hands on his arms he spun around.

She wanted to cry. His face was ravaged
with
grief,
his
dark eyes filled with anger.

“You,” he said, jerking away from her touch. “What do you want? Have you not hurt me enough for one day?”

“Adam, Adam—you must listen. I have done nothing, I swear it on my very soul, on every vow I have ever made you. I love you!”

“You love me,” he said harshly. “You love me so much that you could not resist Michael’s embraces. Does he please you more than I do in bed, Sarah? Or perhaps you were just growing bored with the same man, so betraying me didn’t weigh heavily on your conscience.”

“No!” she cried. “No—I have never betrayed you.
Never …
I
couldn’t, Adam. And Michael wouldn’t. He loves you far too much.”

“How fortunate I am to have two people who love me so deeply,” Adam said, his eyes snapping with sarcasm. “I’d hate to think of what depths the
two
of you would have stooped to if you merely liked me. Although I can’t think of much lower acts than adultery. Murder, perhaps?”

Sarah slammed her fists against his hard chest. “Oh, you can be a stubborn fool!” she cried in frustration. “I’ve told you the truth. Michael tried to tell you the truth. And all he got for his trouble was banishment.”

“Would you rather I’d had him beheaded?” he said, catching her wrists up. “I thought you’d prefer I leave your lover in one piece.”

“He was never my lover,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “And I never thought you would be so stupid as to believe the lies your mother handed you. I’ve seen her, Adam, stalking
Michael over
the last year like a hungry lion after a tasty deer. I believe Michael when he says she wanted retribution for his rejecting her—and I also believe she wants you to know nothing of her other scheme.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do not compound your sins by slandering my mother. She is a God-fearing woman, and although she may be disappointed by my father’s weaknesses, she would never break her marriage vows. Unlike you.”