by Jenny McKane
She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “I have already answered that,” she said shortly. “I know that you think that I will soften, but I won’t. When I made the decision to let Everard live and go back to the Jarle, I was fully aware that this might happen.” She took a deep breath. “That I may have to face him and fight him—one day. That is the sacrifice that I made.”
“You know that I never agreed with that choice,” he said slowly.
Avalon laughed. “Yes, you made your feelings very clear,” she said. “Have you ever thought that it could have gone the other way? That Everard was wanted as a traitor in the realm and that they might have executed him or kept him imprisoned for life?”
He shook his head. “I always thought that they would keep him close. He knows so much about us, and that could be an asset to them. That was the reason I disagreed with you.”
Avalon stared at him. “I have wiped his memory,” she said. “He cannot recall anything of what happened when he was with us. It can’t be an asset to them.”
Skyresh sighed. “Avalon, you used a spell. They work with magic, too. Dark magic. The spell could be overridden if they have the power.”
Avalon scoffed. “The spell cannot be reversed,” she said slowly. “They have no sorcerer to do it since the defeat of the Black Witch.” However, she felt a stab of unease enter her heart.
“They do not have a sorcerer, yet,” he said. “But that could change. I think that letting Everard Varr live is a mistake. It always has been.”
Avalon looked away. “This is old news,” she said. “We will have to agree to disagree, as always, Skyresh.”
“So be it,” he said slowly. “But you must understand this, my queen. I will not hesitate to kill him if we are in battle together, and you must do the same.”
She nodded. “So be it,” she repeated. “And now, I really must tend my horse.”
She walked away, parting the curtains to the tent and disappearing.
Skyresh watched her go and sighed deeply. It was always the same. They still couldn’t talk about what had happened with Everard Varr all those years ago. It was like a wound that had closed over only marginally. As soon as it was picked at, even a little bit, it threatened to open entirely.
He stared at the swinging curtains. He was angry at Minna for mentioning that she wanted a commitment ceremony to Avalon. He hadn’t agreed to it, although he hadn’t firmly said no either. He had held his breath when Avalon had talked about it. He had wanted something from her, but she hadn’t given it to him.
Would he have preferred her to get angry and forbid it? Tell him there was no way that she would give her blessing? Yes, he acknowledged to himself. He would have preferred that—any indication that she still felt something for him, that she wasn’t happy about talk of him formally committing to another woman, any indication that the spark between them was still flickering.
But she hadn’t done that. She had remained impassive and said that they had her blessing. His heart tightened in his chest. She didn’t love him. She never had. She had made that clear years ago. He had tried to win her, and she had rejected him. She had made her choice, and he must live with it.
Why, then, did it still hurt so much? And why did the thought of her seeing Everard Varr again cause him to clench his fists in rage?
He tried to slow down his breathing. He had to focus and use this anger against the Jarle. Who knew what they would discover—and what would happen—when they travelled to this safe house?
But he was ready. He was always ready. He mightn’t be able to have his queen, but he was still her general, and he would fight to the death for the cause.
***
Skyresh looked down at Minna, tossing on the cushions. It was still dark, and he had risen in preparation for their ride to the safe house. Soon, the first rays of the sun would spread out from behind the mountains.
“Are you alright?” he said slowly.
“Yes,” she said weakly. A fine sweat covered her face, and she was pale. “Just give me a minute. I will get up.”
Skyresh stared at her, frowning. “Minna, you are sick. You won’t be able to come with us.”
She stared at him, her eyes glassy. “Don’t be silly. I am coming. It must have been something I ate. As soon as I get up, I will start to feel better.”
Skyresh watched her slowly stagger to her feet. She attempted to smile at him, but then suddenly lent over, retching into a bowl.
“That’s it,” said Skyresh, firmly. “You are sick, and you cannot travel. I don’t think that you would be able to even sit in the saddle.”
Minna lifted her head from the bowl. “I might start to feel better in a while.”
Skyresh shook his head. “We have to leave at first light,” he said slowly. “It’s alright, Minna. It could happen to any of us. It is much better that you stay here and rest. Live to fight another day.”
Minna sighed, shuddering. “I suppose you are right. Getting up made me feel worse—not better—but I am so disappointed. You know that I don’t like to be separated from you, even for a little while.”
Skyresh sheathed his sword, staring at her. “Sometimes that is just the way,” he said. “Go back to bed. I will tell the others.”
She did as he commanded, crawling back into the bed. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?” She looked so woebegone that he smiled faintly.
He leaned over her and kissed her briefly on the forehead. He could feel the heat in her body. She had a fever; he had no doubt of it. Briefly, he was concerned. Was it something serious? But then he shook the worry away. Everyone got sick from time to time. It didn’t mean it would be fatal. He had to concentrate on the mission at hand.
“Rest,” he said gently. “I will return in a few days.”
She smiled wearily at him from the bed. “Come back to me.”
He nodded, and then he walked out.
The others were all up, saddling their horses and going through their bags one last time. He saw Avalon talking softly to Sidsel, her beloved horse, smoothing his mane. Hansa was by her side, as always, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, as if she were laughing. Seeing him, she padded to his side, leaning against his leg.
He gazed down at the wolf, patting her gently. Her yellow eyes stared up at him. He loved Hansa almost as much as Avalon did. They had been through a lot together, especially in the Outlying Zone.
“Where’s Minna?” asked Brunn, staring at him. “We should get going soon. The sun will be rising any time now.”
“She’s sick,” he said, walking to his horse and rubbing him softly. His name was Terro, and he was a magnificent creature; he had a coat of rich chestnut and a single white star on his nose—between his eyes. The horse gazed at him with his soft brown eyes.
“What’s wrong with her?” said Brunn, frowning.
“I don’t know,” replied Skyresh. “She woke up sick, sweating and pale. I think she has a fever. There is no way that she would be able to travel.”
Brunn nodded. “Nothing we can do then,” he said slowly. “But I am concerned that we don’t have enough men. I will have to get someone else to come with us to take her place. Any suggestions?”
Skyresh pondered this. It was a small reconnaissance mission, really, although they did plan to ambush the safe house if the situation was right. They had only been planning to travel with a small group. Escolen and Mother Asta were staying behind to guard the camp in their absence.
“Niko,” he said slowly. “He has been proving himself a lot lately. I am sure that he would jump at the chance to travel with his queen on a mission.”
Brunn grinned. “I think you are right. I will go and rouse him.” He walked off.
Skyresh mounted his horse, and then he turned and looked at Avalon. She had already mounted her horse, as well, and was staring out over the mountains, watching as the first pink of the day was spreading above them.
He caught his breath. She was so beautiful, gazing at the mountain
s. A soft wind played with her long hair, causing it to billow gently behind her. He noted the small gold circlet on her head, denoting her rank.
“Minna is sick?” she said suddenly, turning to stare at him.
He nodded. At that moment, Brunn returned with a young man, and they both mounted horses.
“Ready?” called Avalon.
They all nodded. Then, they galloped out over the plains, skirting the fjord, before disappearing from view.
Chapter Eight
They rode hard for a few hours, climbing up the mountain tracks and deep into the vast, cold wilderness.
Avalon stared around her as they travelled, noticing the change of the season and the landscape. The Long Cold was definitely almost here. Higher up into the mountains, it was snowing already. Snowflakes fell around them softly. Avalon closed her eyes, briefly, as she felt the flakes fall onto her skin and dissolve. It was like magic, and something that she never grew tired of.
After she had left Skyresh the night before, she had groomed Sidsel for a while. The action had calmed her enough that she felt almost normal when she was done. She didn’t know why he still had the power to anger her so much. He had made his choice—with Minna. She had learned to live with it. The fact that he still questioned her judgment regarding Everard shouldn’t have surprised her, but she was disappointed nonetheless.
And there was something that he had said, about the Jarle reversing her spell. It troubled her so much that she put down the horse’s brush and made her way to Mother Asta’s tent. It was late, and the old woman would probably be asleep. If she was, Avalon wouldn’t disturb her, but if she was awake, she would ask the Mother for guidance.
There had been a single candle burning in the tent when Avalon had softly parted the curtains. Mother Asta was kneeling on a cushion in the center with her eyes closed. Avalon turned to leave. The Mother was obviously communing with the Goddess, and she was loath to disturb her.
“Wait, Avalon.” The Mother still had her eyes closed. “I am almost done.”
Avalon padded softly into the room, waiting until Mother Asta opened her eyes. The old woman looked disoriented for a moment, and then she smiled at Avalon.
“I was hoping that you would come to see me,” she said slowly. “We haven’t had a chance to speak.”
“I thought you were avoiding me,” smiled Avalon, gazing fondly at her. “You have been so quiet.”
“I have been contemplating,” said the Mother, rising to her feet. “There is a difference, my dear. I have been searching for answers about your vision. I often find that I must listen to the Goddess, at all times, and not get involved in conversations until the answers arrive.”
Avalon nodded. “And have you had any answers yet, Mother Asta?”
The old woman sighed, sitting beside Avalon. “It is still hazy,” she said. “But, I feel it has something to do with the journey that you are about to take. Something is going to happen, where the meaning of the Goddess’s vision will be revealed. I am sure of it.”
Avalon frowned. “Everard Varr is at the safe house that we are travelling to,” she said. “You thought that he might be the one the Goddess referred to in the vision, whom I used to call friend.”
Mother Asta nodded. “Indeed. I have a stronger feeling now that he will be involved in some way, but it is still not clear how.” She sighed. “The point is, you must take this journey, Avalon, and Skyresh must accompany you. You have to find a way back to each other.”
Avalon paled. “I am afraid that isn’t possible,” she said slowly. “I have just been talking with Minna and Skyresh. They want to have a commitment ceremony in the spring.”
Mother Asta gazed at her. “And how do you feel about that?”
Avalon shrugged, but she couldn’t stop the tears from springing into her eyes. “They have been together for a while now,” she said, looking down at her hands. “It is proper and right that they should want to make their union formal before the Goddess.”
Mother Asta sighed in frustration. “Avalon! That is not what I asked.” She stared hard at her. “How do you feel about it, Avalon? Are you angry, upset, full of joy?”
A small sob escaped her mouth. She pressed her hand against it, as if she could contain her sorrow. Then, she turned to the Mother.
“I hate it,” she whispered. “It fills me with pain. I can barely look at them both, but I must smile and wish them well. It is so hard, Mother! I feel like running out into the wilderness and screaming to the sky.”
Mother Asta smiled. “There. At long last. You have admitted it.”
Tears fell down Avalon’s face. “Why did you make me? What use is there in it? I must let it go. They love each other and want to be together forever.”
“Avalon.” Mother Asta’s voice was firm. “Look at me. No, look at me.”
Avalon reluctantly raised her head, gazing at the Mother.
“You are assuming too much,” Mother Asta continued. “Yes, Minna wants a formal commitment. That is hardly surprising. The woman has been in love with Skyresh since they were children…but have you asked Skyresh if it is what he wants?”
“He didn’t deny it,” said Avalon slowly.
Mother Asta sighed. “Well, he probably didn’t have a chance,” she said. “Minna is insisting that it will happen. He is confused. I am sure that he will be angry that she said anything to you about it.” She took a deep breath. “Avalon, I feel the ambivalence within him, swirling like a hurricane in his heart. He loves you still. I am sure of it.”
Avalon gasped. “Why would he be with Minna, and in such a serious way, if he loved me still?”
“Because you rejected him, you silly girl,” said Mother Asta, frowning. “You wounded his pride. Skyresh Sakr is not the type of man to hang on the fringes of your life, like a servant! It is important to him that he feels important, in his own right.”
Avalon trembled. Was what Mother Asta said right? Did he still love her?
“It’s too late, Mother,” she whispered. “Even if he still loves me. I couldn’t come between him and Minna. She hates me enough already. She has always thought that I was a threat to her.” She paused, thinking deeply. “No, it isn’t possible. I don’t like Minna. We have never been friends, but I couldn’t do that to her. Her heart would be broken.”
“But yours is broken already,” said Mother Asta, her eyes narrowing. “Are you saying that Minna’s life is worth more than yours and Skyresh’s? That he doesn’t deserve more than to commit himself to a woman he doesn’t really love, out of spite towards you? And that you don’t deserve more?”
“I am Queen,” said Avalon in a small voice. “My personal life does not matter. What matters is that I am strong and able to serve my people.”
“Poppycock!” There was acid in Mother Asta’s voice. “You would be a better queen if you were happy. It is as simple as that.”
“Mother, I cannot break them up,” whispered Avalon. “Please, do not speak of it anymore. I am in pain, yes, but I can manage it.”
“Your destinies are linked,” said Mother Asta firmly. “It is as clear as the comet that is even now travelling along the night sky.” She raised her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “But I shall not push you any further. You need to focus on your journey, and what is to come.”
“Mother, there is something else,” said Avalon quietly. “Something that Skyresh said to me tonight. We argued about Everard again. He is concerned that the spell that I used to make him forget might be reversed one day. That the Jarle will find another sorcerer, who is powerful enough to defeat it.”
Mother Asta nodded slowly. “The possibility is there,” she said slowly. “But you must have realized that already. Spells can be cast, but they can be reversed, too. It takes someone of equal power for it to happen.” She stared at Avalon. “Why is it worrying you now? It could have happened at any time since you let him go.”
Avalon sighed. “I don’t know; it just didn’t really occur to me tha
t it could be possible. Even though I do know that spells can be reversed. I reversed the spell where Everard was dying of old age, after all.” She stared at Mother Asta. “I just have a feeling that something might happen when I am on this journey. Everard is at risk, and it has something to do with the spell.”
Mother Asta took her hands. “Remember, take your amulet,” she whispered. “If there is sorcery afoot where you go, it will protect you, and I will give you a protection candle to burn, as well. However, it is important that you face what is to come, Avalon. It is very important.”
Avalon nodded. She stood up. “I should get to bed,” she said. “And so should you. I have been selfish, keeping you up.”
Mother Asta shook her head. “Nonsense. I wanted to talk to you, as I said.” She got up and walked to her drawer, taking out a candle. “Here is the protection candle. I will be with you and the others on your journey, Avalon. I am always close.”
Avalon nodded, squeezing the old woman’s hand. Then she had left, clutching the candle.
She looked over at Skyresh now, riding on his horse—Terro. His hair had grown back in the years since it had been shaved at the political prisoners’ camp that he had been imprisoned in. It was nearly as long as when she had first met him, with the sides neatly shaven. He let it flow loose today, and the wind caught it, streaming it behind him.
She watched his muscular legs guiding Terro, pushing against the horse’s coat, and his arms holding her reins. He was beautiful, there was no doubt of it. One of the handsomest men that Avalon had ever met, and one of the most charming. She still remembered how they had sparred when he had taken her prisoner when she had been a guardian. Even then, she had been acutely aware of his charm.
And now, he belonged to another woman. Her heart lurched, and she turned to the front, spurring Sidsel on. Why had Mother Asta made her reveal her true feelings?
There wasn’t any use to it. He was lost to her—forever.
***
Mother Asta parted the curtains to the tent, stepping inside.
