Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (13 page)

Excitement quickened Jenna’s pulse as she delved into the tale of a farmer’s wife who’d been carried off by the faeries, but still returned every week to ready her children for church. One Sunday, she revealed how he might win her back from her captors. Following her instructions, the farmer, who loved his wife very much, waited until Hallowe’en, then hid himself in a copse of firs near where she’d told him the faery procession would pass. At long last, the cavalcade appeared, but the husband, terrified by the unearthly sights and sounds assaulting his senses, lost his nerve and let them go by. When the last of the faeries vanished from sight, he heard his wife cry above the din, “Dear husband, why did you not do as I told you? Now, you and the children have lost me forever.”

Disappointed by the unhappy outcome, Jenna speed-read the next few stories until she came to another involving a faery abduction. In this tale, the stolen wife appeared to her grieving husband on the road near a moat one night. “At the stroke of midnight, stand at the center of the moat and call me,” she told him. “I will then appear among several of the fair folk, but shall have on the whitest dress of any in the company. Take hold of me, and do not forsake me, however frightful their attempts to deter you. Keep hold of me until cock crow, when they will vanish and I shall be safe.”

The husband faithfully followed his wife’s directions. As soon as he took hold of her, the moat caught fire and the sky boomed with the most terrible thunder imaginable. Frightful birds and beasts came out of the fire toward him, but did not daunt his courage. He held onto his wife until the roosters began to crow, at which point, the fire went out, the storm cleared, and all the faeries disappeared. His wife, now as naked as the day she was born, remained in his arms. Giving her his coat to wear, he took her home.

As goosebumps crept down Jenna’s arms, she closed the book. The fire on the moat, the terrible storm, and the terrifying birds and beasts the faeries manifested did not sound easy to endure. If she did somehow discover the secret to freeing Sir Axel from bondage, would she also find the courage to see the task through?

Unsure, she returned the book to the shelf and moved down the row. Something kept pulling her back to the first book she’d been drawn to. Surrendering to the attraction, she withdrew the book from its place and opened the gold-imprinted red cover. Her hope spiked when she saw the illustration on the title page—an art-nouveau engraving of a young woman at the edge of an old well. In her hands was a flaming sword. Written on a ribbon underneath were these words: “Janet casts the flaming sword down the well.”

Might it be Tam Lin’s Janet?
With trembling fingers, she turned to the contents page and scanned the list of stories within.

Perhaps her intuition had failed her, because nothing sounded even remotely like Tam Lin. Optimism waning, she pressed on.

Finally, near the end of the list, she came upon a title similar to the one she for which she’d been searching. “Tamlane” instead of “Tam Lin.” A different version of the same story, perhaps? She turned to the page number listed and, with her stomach aflutter, began to read.

The story told of Young Tamlane, the son of the Earl of Murray, and Burd Janet, the daughter of the Earl of March, who’d long been in love and were engaged to be married. But, when the long-awaited wedding at last drew near, Tamlane disappeared without a trace.

Weeks later, Burd Janet went into Carterhaugh Wood to pick some broom, despite being warned not to go there. As she gathered her flowers, Tamlane suddenly appeared beside her.
When she asked where he’d been, he replied, “The Queen of Elfland has made me her knight. While hunting one day, I fell asleep and, when I awoke, found myself in Elfland.”

“Elfland?” Janet sputtered in disbelief. “The place where the fair folk dwell?”

“The very same,” said Tamlane. “And though I am a favorite of the queen’s, I fear it is myself she plans to tithe to the Lord of the Netherworld this Hallowe’en”

As she read the words, chills rippled over Jenna’s skin. Except for the part about their previous engagement and the circumstances under which Tamlane was taken, his story was uncannily similar to Axel’s. Eagerly, she read on.

“Tell me what I can do to save you, Tamlane,” a desperate Burd Janet replied.

“Tomorrow, Faery court rides through England and Scotland. If you would take me back, you must wait by Miles Cross and, with Holy Water, cast a protective circle all around your person.”

He then proceeded to tell Burd Janet what to expect and what she must do to free him. The following night, after mustering all the courage she possessed, Burd Janet reclaimed her beloved from the faeries.

Jenna, scalp prickling and trembling all over, read the tale twice more before closing the book and returning it to its place on the shelf. It was obviously a more sanitized version of the ballad than the one Mr. MacGregor and Mrs. Emerson had heard, but the information she sought was there. She must free Sir Axel during the Halloween ride; she must not let go no matter what the faeries threw at her; and she must truly love her knight in order to succeed.

She didn’t doubt her love for Sir Axel, but she did doubt her courage. Would she have what it took to keep hold of him even if he turned into a ferocious beast, poisonous snake, or flaming sword? Or, like the farmer who lost his wife forever, would she be too terrified to act when the moment arrived?

Self-doubt settled heavily over her heart. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t brave enough to stand up to William or her father, let alone a malevolent sorceress like Morgan Le Fay.

Her only hope was to somehow fortify her backbone between now and Halloween. If she didn’t, she’d lose Axel forever—and that unhappy ending was utterly unacceptable to her.

Chapter 10

That evening, Axel sensed a difference in Jenna as soon as he stepped across the cottage’s threshold. A quick examination of her person revealed no external change in her. She was still as beautiful as a Valkyrie, even in the unbecoming blue jeans and baggy sweater she’d donned for their nightly rendezvous.

Fear lanced his heart when he realized the shift was in the energy between them. Had her love for him cooled already? As he bent to kiss her, he probed her psyche. Soon enough, he found the culprit hiding behind a barricade she’d erected against him. She still loved him, thank the gods, but she was keeping a secret.

This, he could not permit. Like battle wounds, secrets should not be left to fester untreated. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, his probe broke down the wall she’d erected against him. What he discovered sent a chill down his spine.

Axel broke out of Jenna’s thoughts—and the kiss. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. Capturing her face between his hands, he stared into her eyes. “You must not do what you contemplate. It is far too dangerous for both of us.”

She blinked at him as if awakened from a deep sleep. “What are you talking about?”

“You cannot keep things from me, Jenna.” He held her gaze. “I know what you are planning. I do not, however, know where or how you learned of the Wild Ride—or what possessed you to devise a scheme as mad as the one you contemplate.”

Her eyes, anxious and searching, darted back and forth between his. “From a book of folktales I found at the library. Several of the stories told of people winning back their loved ones who’d been abducted by the faeries.”

“Those were just stories, Jenna,” he said in earnest. “What is to stop Queen Morgan from killing us both the instant you show yourself? My powers are no match for hers, as I have told you—and yours are still latent. We stand no chance against her sorcery.”

“I know it seems that way, Axel, but what if you’re wrong? What if our love makes us stronger together than we are apart? What if it makes us more powerful than she is?”

Her words slammed his heart like a battering ram. What she was describing was the essence of
Gebo
, the rune he drew just before he met her; the rune he had carved into the ring on her finger.
Gebo
contained the secrets of transcendence through partnership—the joining of two beings to create something greater than the sum of their separate parts.

Was that the rune’s message? Could they break his bonds through the magic of love?

Maybe, but if they were wrong, they would pay for the error with their lives. “If you fail, Queen Morgan will avenge herself upon us both by the cruelest means possible.”

“I know that,” she said. “And I’m afraid for us both. But there’s no other way to win your freedom.”

He let his hands fall to her shoulders. “Freedom is a state of mind, Jenna. Every mystic worth his salt knows that. Depending on your level of awareness, a prison cell can be a hermitage and a mountaintop a prison.”

“That might have been true when it was only you.” She held his gaze with blazing eyes. “But you have me now. And a prison that separates us is no utopia.”

“We could simply go on as we are…”

“Until she learns of our secret—or you fail in your quest.”

Insult lashed his pride and creased his brow. “I shall not fail.”

“I might share your confidence if I knew the nature of your mission.”

He looked away from her gaze. “It is better if you do not know.”

“I still want to.”

Turning back to her, he saw determination in the hard set of her jaw. “Even if knowing might turn you against me?”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Do you really have so little faith in me?”

What was he supposed to say to that? He closed his eyes, hung his head, and withdrew from her. “Very well. Though it rubs against the grain of my better judgment, I will tell you the nature of my assignment.” He licked his lips and lifted his gaze, avoiding hers. “First, I should probably provide a preamble.”

“A preamble?”

“Her reasons for giving me, in particular, this task,” he clarified.

“I get the feeling I’m going to need a drink.” She got to her feet. “Should I pour you one, too?”

“Please do.”

Over the back of the sofa, he watched her fill two glasses from the bottle. Though he dreaded telling her what his quest would entail, he wanted to be as open and honest with her as possible. If he was not, their relationship would become imbalanced scales. And he had not waited seven centuries for that kind of partnership. He wanted what his parents had—a marriage of equals who cherished and respected one another.

Returning to the sofa, she handed him his glass and reclaimed her seat. They sipped their drinks in silence while he worked out how much to disclose. Should he tell her about the queen’s order to kill Sir Leith’s wife and unborn child? If he did divulge that bit, how might she react? Would she understand his dilemma or throw him out on his ear?

There was only one way to find out. He took a drink of whisky and fingered the rim of the glass. “A few weeks back, Sir Leith came to the glen and asked me to speak to the queen on his behalf. Having fallen in love, he wanted to beg her to reverse the curse to spare the lass’s life. In exchange for this favor, he planned to offer himself as the tithe.”

Axel made Jenna wait as he took a sip of whisky to moisten his mouth and steel his courage. “Believing him to be sincere, I persuaded the queen to grant him an audience. From what I’ve been able to deduce, he made his proposal, but, rather than lift the curse, Queen Morgan locked him in her dungeon. In the meantime, his lover snuck into Avalon through another route, freed Sir Leith, and stole the queen’s Cup of Truth. Leith and his lady then escaped to Brocaliande, where, with the aid of the druids, they broke the curse and were married.”

“Where to begin?” She gulped her drink. “How about the Cup of Truth? Tell me about that first, and then the druids.”

“The Cup of Truth is a chalice over which no falsehood can be spoken,” he explained as simply as he could.

“What happens if someone tells a lie over this cup?”

“The chalice breaks into pieces.” With shaking hands, he took another sip of his drink.

“And this is the stolen item she wants you to retrieve?”

“Aye, along with Sir Leith, so she can offer him to Lord Morfryn come Samhain.”

“But—he has a wife.”

He looked down at his glass. “That is the problematic part of my mission.”

“Because you will make her a widow?”

“No,” he said miserably. “Because I must kill her—and bring the queen her heart to prove the deed is done.”

“Oh, Axel,” she cried. “You can’t. You mustn’t.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “Would you rather I refuse the mission and offer myself as the tithe?”

“No.” Her tone was emphatic. “I’d rather you refuse the mission and let me try to free you.”

His heart reared in protest. What she suggested was too dangerous. “Even if it costs both of us our lives?”

“I am almost sure that won’t happen.”

“Almost sure?” He cleared his throat and finger-raked his hair. “That falls a wee bit short in its persuasive powers.”

She held his gaze defiantly. “You would rather kill a woman than take a chance on freedom? I can’t imagine that is the choice you would have made back when you fought alongside Robert the Bruce.”