He laughed and pulled her closer. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, finding her lips with his own. “If I’d had any idea you’d be this glad I would have made the attempt far sooner. I don’t suppose you’d agree to marry me by way of reward?”
She sighed and let him kiss her, then gazed up into his eyes and said, “It would be a very poor sort of reward, my dear. You can’t really wish it, and if you would only take the time to consider how unsuitable a wife I should make a great lord—”
He kissed her again, not releasing her until she stopped resisting. His expression was set when he finally did.
“I’ll not hear you, or anyone else, say such a thing,” he told her. “You are entirely suitable in every way.”
“I am a writer,” she told him. “And a mere mortal. There is nothing I can do to change either. Only think how desperately unhappy you’ll be when I press on with my writing, and how unhappy I’ll be when you do all that you can to stop me.”
He sighed and leaned his head against the wall. “Surely we can find a way around that troublesome problem. My love, I do try to consider myself not so vain as to believe that every woman in the world must leap at the chance to be my wife, but I confess that your refusals are most painful. Do you truly wish to be parted from me at the end of the Season?”
“Of course not,” she said, slipping her arms about his waist and laying her head upon his chest. “I hope that we shall never be parted. I can’t imagine wanting to live away from you now.” She hugged him gently and added, “I’m sorry to have given you pain, my dearest. Will it help at all if I say that I’ll be your mistress for the remainder of my life?”
“It would be a start,” he said rather petulantly as the effects of exhaustion worked on his countenance. “But it’s far from what I desire. And if you believe your parents would ever allow it, sweetheart, then you’ve clearly gone round the bend.”
“Yes, that’s so,” she admitted, sighing. “I suppose it must be marriage, then, though I do feel terrible about doing such a thing to you. You don’t harbor any real hope of trying to change me, do you, Malachi?”
He smiled at that, his spirits considerably revived by her agreement. “I should never be so foolish, my darling. Will you promise not to try murdering me in my sleep if I should stop the publication of your work?”
She looked at him very sternly. “No, I will not. You’d best escape such a fate this very moment by taking back your offer of marriage. I give you leave to do so.”
“No, love, I’ll take the risk,” he said happily. “We are fated to be, you know. The Guardians gave you to me as a gift.”
“A gift?” she repeated.
“When we stood in the fire with Steffan,” he said. “They spoke with me alone, and told me that they had given you to me as unoliaeth. Do you know what the unoliaeth is, Sarah?”
“Of course I do. It means those who are fated for each other. But I thought such unions were determined before birth.”
“They are, usually,” Malachi concurred. “And such a union was never foretold for me, so that I believed I would never find a perfect mate. But the spirits took pity on me and changed their minds. They saw that I loved you and fated us to be together. And so you see, my love, you cannot be parted from me even if you should wish it. You’d be desperately unhappy.”
“Will I?” she asked, smiling. “And you, my lord?”
“I should have been desperately unhappy with or without the unoliaeth. I loved you that first night at Glain Tarran.”
That mollified her. “I loved you, then, too,” she said. “My parents will be thrilled. Such a catch I’ve landed.”
He laughed. “You make me sound like a fish.”
“A fine, handsome fish,” she murmured, sliding her hands up to his neck. “I shall never throw you back.”
He readily met her kiss and began to wonder when he’d have another chance to be truly alone with her at Mervaille, but a disturbance at the kitchen door had him lifting his head.
“That’s odd,” he said.
“What is it?”
“It’s Philistia.” He was already pulling Sarah out the door and down the hall to the stairs.
“Philistia!” she said, hurrying behind him. “What’s she doing out of the house? I thought you—”
“Yes, I did, but she clearly got past the spell I placed. Or snuck out before it was set, which is what Julius did. I do seem to be rather preoccupied these days.”
“Was she with Llew?”
“Doubtless,” he said grimly as they entered the kitchen.
It was a very good thing that the occupants in the house were still slumbering beneath Malachi’s magic, for the moment the door was opened and Philistia saw her cousin, she burst into very loud tears and fell into Sarah’s arms.
“Philla!” Sarah cried, shocked by her cousin’s appearance. “What in heaven’s name did he do to you?”
“N-nothing,” Philistia said against her tears, letting herself be led into the house. “It wasn’t him.”
“By God it was!” Malachi declared wrathfully, following as the women made their way. “I shall have his head for this. Even the Guardians will refuse to protect him now.”
“No!” Philistia pleaded. “Leave him alone. It wasn’t his fault. I wouldn’t leave him in peace. He didn’t harm me. Please, my lord. Swear to me. Swear upon your honor.”
“You’re hysterical,” he said, sweeping the slight, sobbing figure up into his arms. “You need rest.”
Philistia flailed at him, deaf to Sarah’s sharp command that she stop. “Swear to me!” she cried frantically. “I’ll never speak to you again if you harm him! I shall leave! I’ll never come back! Swear you’ll leave him alone! Swear it! Swear it!”
“Very well,” he said impatiently as she weakly struck him across the face. “I’ll not harm Lord Llew. I swear it.”
She subsided, collapsing against him and sobbing on his neck. She didn’t resist as Sarah readied her for bed or when Malachi gave her a few drops of sleeping potion.
“This is becoming an embarrassing habit with my relatives,” Sarah said as she gently washed Philistia’s face and hands. The girl was so soundly asleep that she didn’t stir. “I do hope you’ll not be obliged to make entire vats of that mixture just for the Tamonys. Still, I wish you’d not given her your word regarding Lord Llew. He deserves a sound thrashing at the very least. Will he—will he have to marry her, do you think?”
“Yes,” Malachi said with a sigh. “He will. He’ll have no choice. There’s been a powerful change in Philistia. I do not mean physically, though there is that, as well. I’m sorry for her. He’s an evil, wicked devil.”
“I was afraid it was so,” Sarah said sadly. “She gave her heart to him, and now this. But, perhaps, if we take her away to the country her reputation might survive.”
“Morcar will follow,” Malachi told her. “He sent her away this morning very likely out of rage. I can only imagine how overset he is to find himself in such a situation. But no matter what he may be feeling now, he will soon be driven by an unconquerable compulsion to see her. They cannot be parted for long without becoming desperately unhappy.”
“No,” Sarah murmured. “No, Malachi, it can’t be.” His solemn expression filled her with dread. “Are you quite sure?”
He nodded. “They are unoliaeth, Sarah. Morcar Cadmaran and Philistia. It is far too powerful a change for me to mistake. How or why it came to be, I do not know. But it is. They will never know peace apart from the other now.” He gazed at Philistia’s small, slumbering form. “Poor child,” he murmured. “She’s been bound forever to one of the wickedest men alive, and there is nothing that I, or anyone, can do to set her free.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
With but two days left before the cythraul’s arrival, Malachi was obliged to make the most of the time he had. The first matter at hand was returning to the Tamony dwelling that evening, refreshed from several hours of sleep and a good scrubbing by Rh
ys, to take Sir Alberic into his confidence. It seemed foolish not to do so, considering that the man’s entire family had learned the truth about not only Malachi but also other magic mortals.
Meeting with Lady Tamony and Sarah in Sir Alberic’s study, Malachi stated the basic facts, not sparing what Julius had undergone at Serafina’s hands but taking care not to mention Philistia’s circumstances. Soon Sir Alberic would need to be made aware of the unoliaeth that existed between his beloved niece and the Earl of Llew, but the time for such a revelation wasn’t yet right.
Sir Alberic wasn’t well pleased by what he heard; Malachi hadn’t expected that he would be. But neither was he overset to know that magic truly existed or that the tales his daughter had written about were true. In fact, quite the opposite. “I always wished they were,” he said, pleasing Sarah a great deal. That his only daughter was determined to many a magic mortal, however, elicited a different response.
“I believe you to be a fine and true gentleman, my lord,” said Sir Alberic, leaning back in his chair and regarding Malachi levelly, “and I have no doubt that Sarah loves you. But can she be happy, being married to a man whose first loyalties will always be to those who give him their allegiance? Your duties to these magical Families you speak of do not recommend you as a husband, I fear. I would prefer that my daughter be bound to a man who puts her first in his life.”
“Sarah will always have that place in my heart, sir,” Malachi vowed. “And any children that God may bless us with. And as Sarah is as brave as she is beautiful and intelligent, I intend to take her with me as often as possible when I am called away to fulfill my duties as Dewin Mawr. She will not be abandoned in favor of the magical clans, for I shall never be able to abide being parted from her for long.”
Sarah beamed at him. “You see, Papa?” she said. “Nothing could be more perfect, or make me happier. Only think of the research I shall be able to do, and the sights I shall see.”
“You might also be reassured, sir,” Malachi added, “to know that Sarah has been unreservedly approved for inclusion in the magical Families. According to our laws, any union involving a mere mortal must be blessed by our elders before it can take place. No mere mortal woman has ever before been so quickly or readily accepted as Sarah was. There is great anticipation of our marriage, for they know what she will bring to us.”
In the end Sir Alberic gave them his blessing, though Malachi could see that it wasn’t easy for him to do.
“I’ll write an announcement for the papers,” Lady Tamony said, kissing first her daughter, then Malachi. “The wedding should take place at the end of summer.”
Malachi would have preferred to have it immediately but was willing to be patient. “I’d be grateful, my lady, if we can be wed at my ancestral home in Wales, Glain Tarran,” he said. “There is a beautiful chapel overlooking the sea, and the estate is large enough to entertain a large wedding party for several days. You may invite as many guests as you please. The weather will be ideal for such a gathering at summer’s end.”
It would be a very strange gathering, he thought silently, considering the number of magic mortals who would necessarily be invited. But that could not be helped. All Dewin Mawrs were wed at Glain Tarran and had been since time remembered. Sir Alberic and Lady Tamony, fortunately, were delighted by the suggestion.
Malachi was invited to stay for dinner.
“So you’ve a demon to confront and deal with,” Sir Alberic said, setting aside his wineglass at the end of the first course. “And you’ve only a handful of clues to determine where it will arrive?”
It was astonishing how quickly the Tamonys had become fascinated with the cythraul. Malachi glanced at Sarah and realized how she’d come by her inquisitive nature.
“Hopefully they will prove sufficient to lead us to the cythraul,” Malachi said. “Clearly the spirits believe they are, else we would have had more.”
“With but two days to decipher them, I should be pleased to lend you whatever aid I might,” Sir Alberic offered. “I know little of magic, most of it from Sarah’s writings, but I do know a good deal about England’s history, and Charles the Second has always been of special interest to me.”
“That’s good of you, sir,” Malachi said sincerely. “I’d be honored for any aid you might give me in deciphering the clues.”
Julius, who had grown suddenly quiet, set his fork aside and said, “I believe I know more.”
They all looked at him.
“More clues,” he said. “My memories are dim, but I believe that … she spoke of them. Miss Daray.”
“Are you sure, Jules?” Sarah asked. “Your memories might not be reliable, considering the spell you were under.”
“No, I’m not precisely certain,” he admitted, “but I remember them talking. Miss Daray and Professor Seabolt’s servant. You remember him, don’t you, Sarah? That odd youth who gave us such a fright when he opened the door?”
“Yes, of course. His name is Tego.”
“Tego.” Julius gave a nod. “Yes, that’s what she called him, so it must have been him. They spoke of the clues they’d gathered. I believe I might be able to recall at least one of them if I concentrate.”
“That would be useful,” Malachi said. “But you mustn’t weary yourself, Julius. It will be some time before you’ve regained your strength.”
“But time is just what we don’t have now, it seems to me,” Sir Alberic stated, pushing his plate aside. “Not if this demon is as powerful as you say. Two days will pass quickly, and you must be ready if you’re to keep us all from grave harm. If Julius can remember anything useful at all, we’d best get to the task of putting our minds together. Let us retire to my study, if you please, Lord Graymar, and we’ll see whether we can’t assemble the pieces we have into a proper picture.”
Sir Alberic’s comfortably furnished study became the center of discussion over the next many hours for those involved in deciphering the clues. Malachi and Sarah were there almost without ceasing, while Sir Alberic, Julius, Professor Seabolt, Niclas, Dyfed, and even Lady Tamony took turns coming and going. Philistia entered on the first day to greet their visitors, looking wan. She said little and avoided meeting anyone’s eye and retired to her room again as soon as was politely possible.
“There simply don’t appear to be enough clues to narrow our choices down,” Sir Alberic said grimly at the end of the first day. “The only definitive facts we know are that Glain Tarran is not the correct location and that the place that is has a bell with Charles the Second’s figure on the premises.”
“And,” Sarah added wearily, “that there is a flower of some type, if Julius’s memory about what he overheard is correct.” She looked at her brother. “Are you certain they didn’t say what kind of flower, Julius?”
He shook his head. “They only said ‘flower,’ but she seemed to understand what it meant. Indeed, she appeared to be quite confident in knowing the place where the spirit will descend.”
“Aye, she has the advantage of successfully discovering clues that were sent to both Morcar and myself.”
“I still say that the most important clue is the one that the Guardians gave to you twice,” said Niclas, who had been quietly standing near Sir Alberic’s extensive collection of books. “ ‘All become one or all will fail.’ It sounds very much to me as if the Guardians intend for part of the test to include some manner of unity. Perhaps the time has come to approach the Earl of Llew and suggest joining forces.”
Malachi cast him a look of fulsome displeasure. “No. He’d only use the chance to gain the cythraul for himself.”
“That is the risk you would take,” Niclas agreed. “But you have one thing in common. Neither of you wants Serafina Daray to gain such power. Would you not prefer chancing Morcar harnessing it? The demon is powerful, but Morcar would use it far less cleverly than Serafina, and is prone to making greater missteps. You’d have a better chance of besting him.”
“I’ll approach him only as
a last resort,” Malachi said. “Not before. Surely we’ll be able to sort this out before tomorrow night arrives.”
But as each hour passed, Malachi began to grow less certain. He sent greater wizards and sorceresses who gave him allegiance and who possessed the gift of fast traveling to the places in England listed by Sarah and Professor Seabolt to make certain that they contained bells bearing the likeness of King Charles the Second. Word returned that each place did. They were unable to scratch any of the possibilities from the list.
“It just gets worse and worse,” Sarah murmured. “You can’t be at all of these places at once. If you set guards, perhaps they could alert you in time when the demon arrives and you could use the fast traveling to get there.”
“It may come to that,” Malachi said. “But if Serafina is already present and ready …” He let out a tense breath. “I hate to think of it. If only we could understand what the spirits meant by the message they sent in the journal.”
“It does seem too plain to assume it simply means Glain Tarran,” Niclas said. “Or even, more closely, the ceremonial grounds.”
“The ceremonial grounds,” Sir Alberic said thoughtfully. “Perhaps that’s exactly what it does mean. That those ceremonial grounds aren’t the ones, but that the place where the cythraul will arrive is some other sacred Celtic land.”
Julius gave a shake of his head. “There are no sacred Celtic grounds that contain English memorial bells. But I do think we might dispose of the idea that the place must have been sacred to ancient peoples. Can the clue not merely point to any sacred land, either ancient or modern?”
“Cathedrals, churches, chapels, and monasteries, then?” Sir Alberic said. He looked at Malachi. “It makes sense, and would cut the list down a bit.”
“Perhaps,” Malachi said thoughtfully. “But I believe the clue is yet more specific than that. The ceremonial grounds at Glain Tarran are quite definitively of Celtic origin. There has to be meaning there, somehow.”
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