He looked up at her questioningly.
Her eyes were unusually large as she watched him look at her painting. Their green depths were dark with anxiety.
“It’s lovely,” he said, reassuringly.
She released her breath, and gave him a little smile and a shrug. “Some people hate my work.”
“Why? It’s beautiful.”
She bent down to pick up her paints, which had fallen when she’d lost her balance. “My guardian says they are too emotional. I believe he finds them disturbing.”
Morgan nodded his head. He could understand some might find that to be so. The painting did carry a lot of emotion within it. But he wasn’t disturbed by it, only intrigued. He’d never experienced anything like this before when looking at a painting—then, of course, he hadn’t spent much time looking at paintings. The only ones he’d ever seen were those of his ancestors hanging in the abbey, but clearly none had ever made much of an impression on him. And they were nothing at all like Adriana’s work.
Morgan marveled at the emotion in the painting he was holding. This time knew better than to ask her about it, but it was there—that desire, that need to escape that was sometimes so strong within him that he could barely contain himself. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he would go riding through the forest—riding as fast as he could. Or sometimes he ran, feeling the blood pumping through his muscles as he zigzagged through the trees. It made his heart pound. And that was what was depicted here in the swiftly flowing stream—the desire, the need, for freedom.
But it couldn’t be. Adriana was free. She wasn’t caged in like he was. She was free to go wherever she wanted, while he could never leave these woods.
No, it must be a mistake. He must be misinterpreting her painting. But there was definitely something there. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, straightening her hat and tying the ribbon underneath her chin.
“In the picture, it looks, er, feels, as if you want something.”
Her cheeks turned pink once more and she shook her head, but didn’t say anything. She turned to stare at the stream. Morgan allowed her a moment of silence to collect her thoughts. He had clearly hit on a nerve.
“It is nothing.” She took her sketchbook from his hand and carefully closed the book.
Whatever it was, he supposed she wasn’t ready to tell him about it. He let it go.
Remembering that he had come here to collect water for the animals, he walked down to the bank and bent down to fill the pail.
“How are the animals in your barn?” she asked, watching him.
“Most are better. There are still a few who have not yet fully recovered.” He stood up, careful not to spill the water. He had managed to fill the pail very full. “Would you...” he stopped. He’d almost forgotten—girls generally didn’t like animals. At least, none of his sisters had, although Kat had never seemed to mind them too much.
“Would I what?” she asked.
“I was going to ask if you’d like to see them, but I don’t suppose you would.”
“Well, yes, actually, I would very much. What sort of animals do you have?”
Morgan came closer to her again. “Squirrels, rabbits, hedgehogs, a vixen with her cubs. And there is a foal with his mother. Unfortunately, he’s having the hardest time of it. Are you truly interested?” He could hardly believe she would be.
Her smile was like a ray of sunshine. “Yes, I am. I would love to see them. May I?”
Heat shot through him as he gave a nod before leading her back to his barn.
How did Adriana make him so happy? Did she just know that wanting to see the animals would make him feel this way? Did she do it on purpose, or was she actually interested? Morgan hadn’t a clue, he just knew that his feet hardly touched the ground as he led her back to his barn.
Morgan propped open the barn door to let in some fresh air. It was getting rather ripe with so many animals all living together like this. He was almost embarrassed to have Adriana visiting when things weren’t so clean.
He poured some of the water into a trough small enough to allow even the smallest animals to drink from it, while Adriana stood looking out of place in her pretty frock.
Many of the animals, upon smelling a stranger, had quickly run to hide, but Adriana, after carefully placing her painting materials on a shelf by the door, sat down in the middle of the floor, heedless of her dress. She put her hands out, palm up and waited.
Morgan stood off to the side to see what would happen. After a few minutes, a few of the rabbits and a squirrel ventured out of their hiding places. Slowly approaching her, they sniffed, taking in her scent. Clearly they liked it as much as Morgan had, for they came closer, and even, eventually, allowed her to gently touch them.
She turned and gave Morgan a brilliant smile. Heat burned through him, hotter than if he’d been hit by lightning.
He could no more resist her allure than the animals. He walked over and picked up a rabbit that was sniffing at her skirt. He settled himself next to her, gently petting the bunny in his hand.
He saw her eyes slide towards him briefly, but she kept her focus on the animals surrounding her.
“They are so sweet,” she said, quietly.
“They trust you.”
“Well, I would never hurt them.”
“Neither would Kat, but they don’t come so near to her.”
“That’s right, Kat told me she sometimes comes to visit you.”
Morgan nodded. “She does, but very rarely does she interact with the animals. They usually keep their distance. But they can sense when someone is friendly and trustworthy.”
She gave a little smile, and a comfortable silence fell between them. It was so wonderful, amazing really, to just sit here with her like this—to share these little details of his life with Adriana.
“Freedom,” Adriana said quietly, while watching a fox cub smell around her foot.
“Freedom?” Morgan asked. He had been lost in his own thoughts, and wondered for a moment if he’d missed something.
“It was what I am longing for in the painting.”
Morgan felt his throat clench and he swallowed hard. He had been right! But it still didn’t make sense.
“How could that be? How do you not have freedom?” he asked, wishing desperately he could tell her that he had recognized the feeling—it was one he was all too familiar with.
“I told you I was here to become engaged to Lord Vallentyn.”
“Yes, but you said you were going to find a way out of it.”
“I had hoped I could find a way to do so, but Lord Devaux informed me today that I was going marry Lord Vallentyn no matter what and I should just get on with it and accept the proposal.”
“What would happen if you refused?”
Adriana shook her head. “My guardian would destroy all of my paintings and never allow me to sketch or paint again. It’s not something I could live with, and he knows it.” She paused to wipe away the tear that was making its way down her cheek and to take a deep shaky breath. Morgan marveled at her restraint.
“Painting is my life,” she continued. “It is my freedom. It’s the only thing I have... in a world where I am not even allowed out of the house without Lord Devaux’s express permission, painting allows me the freedom I desire— to roam the world. To visit places I long to go. To do what I want. If he takes that away from me...” She sniffed, taking in another deep breath. “He knows I would never give it up. I would rather marry a man I don’t know than stop painting.”
She turned her face to him. It was filled with such sadness, and yet she had the strength to endure her guardian’s dictates in order to keep what was most important to her.
This time Morgan didn’t pause, or even try to stop himself. He kissed her. Pressing his lips to hers, he let her know he understood exactly what she was feeling, and took all of her sadness, anger and frustration away. He knew—he knew so well—what it felt like to b
e imprisoned like this. To have your freedom denied to you. To want, no, to need to be free.
He longed to share with her what he had been going through. How he lived. Caged in these woods, he could no more escape his situation than she could escape hers. He too felt as trapped as she did—only she had her painting to free her. And he had... nothing.
Adriana pulled away. Everything rushing through her was disturbingly wonderful. She could hardly think—her mind was so full of Morgan, and how incredible he made her feel. But she had to think, she had to keep her wits about her, or else she would find herself in a situation that even Henrietta wouldn’t be able to accept. She had already gone too far, she knew, just by allowing him to kiss her. She would not give any more fodder to Lord Devaux and his disdain of her.
But when she was so close to Morgan... it was impossible to say no.
She needed distance. That’s what would allow her to regain control over her wayward emotions. Distance.
She carefully removed the fox cub that had crawled into her lap. Getting up, she tip–toed through the animals which surrounded them and moved toward the door.
She stared out at the seemingly unending forest of trees, trying to compose herself. Her lips were still tingling from their kiss, and her skin was hot where he had touched her. “How wonderful it must be to live here in the woods with the animals. You can do whatever you want.” She shook her head. She didn’t want to wallow in her problems any more than she already had. She wanted... she wanted what he had, the freedom to be carefree and to have fun.
She spun back towards him. “What do you do for fun—besides play with your dog in the river?” She took a few steps toward his horse, Apollo, who was watching her from his stall. “Do you ride?”
Morgan too stood up, and carefully moved away from the animals, which were wandering about now that they weren’t the center of attention any more. “Yes. That’s how I feel free. I ride or run through the forest.”
“It can’t be easy riding with all of the trees growing so closely together,” she said, peering outside again.
“There are some straighter paths where the trees aren’t so close. It is mainly around this area that the trees are so dense.” He followed her out of the barn door.
She looked around at the trees that surrounded his home. A neat and very definite line seemed to have been drawn between the well–tended ground around Morgan’s cottage, and the dense wild growth of the woods, making his home into a sort of haven amidst the forest.
“It must be a fun challenge to run as fast as you can without colliding into a tree,” she laughed, daring to forget her troubles, even if it would just be for a short time.
Morgan stood next to her and looked around at the trees trying to see them as she did. “I used to do that when I was young. Kat and I would have races through the woods—the toughest one was always going from here to the stream.”
An idea began to form itself in her mind. Adriana turned and gave him a sly little smile. “Ready?” She paused for the briefest moment and then said very quickly, “Steady. Go!” And took off running toward the stream.
She ran, wishing she could throw her arms out with abandon. She ran, taking the fresh air of the forest deep into her lungs and breathing in the freedom. She laughed as she weaved in and out of the trees, nearly colliding with one after another. She hoped she was running in the right direction—she thought that she was, but she wasn’t entirely sure of the way. Because of that, too, she laughed.
Ducking under the low reaching branches and skirting low growing brush, she ran as quickly as she could. It wasn’t easy, and she had to hold her skirt up indecently high, but she didn’t care. She glanced behind her to see Morgan not too far back, his laughter lighting up his whole face. A branch whipped at her cheek, causing it to sting. She turned back to watch where she was going.
She burst out from the trees to the bit of green by the edge of the stream and straight into Morgan’s arms.
He laughed as he caught her. Giggling and out of breath, she grasped on to his shirt to stop herself from falling, but he held her with a strength that was comforting and thrilling at the same time.
“How did you get here so fast? I thought you were behind me.” she asked, still laughing, and hardly able to speak for her panting.
Morgan laughed at her, hardly even breathing hard. “I’m used to running through the forest. It wasn’t a fair race to begin with.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She gave a little shrug. She didn’t care. She had just wanted to have some fun, and she had. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had run like that. Or felt so free.
Morgan’s face became serious for the briefest of moments, and then he leaned down toward her. Gently taking her face between his large hands, he pressed his lips to her cheek where it stung. When he pulled away, her cheek burned for just a moment where he had kissed it, but the stinging was gone.
She was still breathing hard, but now she didn’t know if it was because of her run or his kiss.
<><><>
The fire crackled warmly in the grate of the family sitting room as Tatiana stared into the flickering flames. She’d been summoned to another Vallen’s assistance.
She would go, of course. It was her obligation, and it was her pleasure. Helping others who’d lost control of their magic, or stopping the abuse of the power—it was her duty as High Priestess to see to these sorts of problems, as it had been her mother’s and her mother before that, and so on back for countless generations. Just as Merlin’s chalice had been passed down from generation to generation—and now was in her care.
She looked up at the chalice as it sat in the special nook she’d had made for it above the fireplace. The entire sitting room had been designed around that cup. It was a futile attempt to reflect its magnificence. The plush white sofa and black chairs, all of the tables of white marble with black veining—they were nothing compared to the perfection of the white marble chalice. Nothing could possibly come close to mirroring its beauty, because its splendor came from within—from the power that the chalice exuded, not from the stone of which it was made.
Tatiana knew that she would never use the chalice. It was a bitter knowledge, but one she had come to terms with. Merlin’s chalice was not for her—she was merely its keeper. Only the seventh child of the seventh generation was given the honor and the power to use the chalice. It sickened her that that child was Morgan.
Because Morgan was male, he would never attain the level of power necessary to wield the chalice. Never in all of the history of the Vallen had there been a male Seventh. It was unheard of. And Morgan’s lack of powers only confirmed what a mistake it was.
No, the chalice would have to go to Katrina, the sixth of the sixth of the seventh generation. She was strong and worthy of it. Tatiana had decided this, and so it would be. It would have to be!
“Well, I’m off to bed,” Kat said, standing up from her favorite chair and stretching like the cat she was so aptly named after. She had the honed senses of the animal. Tatiana had always found it very useful having the girl around.
She toyed with the idea of taking Kat on this little trip. Someday this obligation would be hers—if all went as Tatiana planned. But no, the girl wasn’t quite ready yet—and Tatiana wasn’t ready to give up what was still hers. It wouldn’t be for too much longer—but for now, she would enjoy the duty that had been a part of her life since she had turned twenty–one.
“I need to leave early tomorrow morning,” Tatiana said, stopping Kat from leaving the room so quickly.
“Oh?”
“There is some business in Bath which needs my attention.”
“But what about Adriana and Lord Devaux?”
“They will have to excuse me, I’m afraid. This can’t wait.”
Kat just looked at her, clearly shocked that she would be leaving at this important time, and indeed, it surprised Tatiana as well. But duty
was duty, and she couldn’t shirk it just because her son was a fool who didn’t know how to woo a girl.
“You will understand soon enough, Kat.”
“Ma’am?”
“Soon you will attain your destiny. When that worthless son of mine turns twenty–one, we will prove he is not capable of taking up the destiny that should have belonged to him, and then it will be yours.” Tatiana rose and stalked over to the fire. She paused for the briefest of moments to caress the chalice. Its heat and naked power tingled through her fingers. But it didn’t soothe. Just the opposite, it made her even more infuriated as she thought about Morgan.
“But I don’t want Morgan’s destiny. Aunt, please...”
“You don’t have a choice, Katrina,” Tatiana said, as she picked up the poker leaning by the side of the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the room, she jabbed at the flaming coals, enticing even more heat to come from them. “If he had done as he should have and been born a girl, then you would not be in this position.”
“But he is not to blame,” Kat whispered, too embarrassed, or frightened, to say it out boldly.
Tatiana jabbed at the fire once more. “You think I should take the responsibility for this? I assure you I will not. I did all that I should have, all that was within my power,” she said, knowing full well that the fault did in fact lie with her. But she wasn’t about to admit to such weakness, nor would she ever.
Yes, she had been the one to create the monstrous disappointment that was Morgan. She still could not believe it. How could she, the most powerful, talented Vallen of the century, have given birth to such a pitiful, weak little boy? A boy! After five girls, the one that had to be a girl...
That would have been bad enough even if he had been powerful. If he had been a talented Vallen with natural abilities such as was the right of the seventh child in her family... But no! He had been pitiful and weak. From the moment he was born, he’d had almost no magical powers at all.
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