by Laura DeLuca
That hardly seemed an excuse for what Hecate had done. “But she . . . she killed him,” Morrigan argued. “He didn’t even do anything to her, and she just killed him. Like his life meant nothing! What if he had a wife and a family? People who loved him?”
Hecate huffed, “The land you sent her to has made her soft, Ceridwyn. Are you sure she is up to the task?”
“Hush, Mother!” Ceridwyn snapped. “She is stronger than you think or she would not have survived the journey.”
Ceridwyn gently stroked her cheek, and instantly Morrigan felt her heartbeat slow. Her breathing became less ragged. She felt a little calmer, almost relaxed. And suddenly she was extremely exhausted.
“I’m so . . . so tired,” she whispered.
“Come, Morrigan.” Ceridwyn helped her to her feet. “Let us find you a room. You have been through so much, too much for one so young, but the worst is over now. You have earned a decent rest in a soft, warm bed. But first, I will have the maids bring you water to bathe and a gown worthy of your status.”
Morrigan wanted to argue that new clothes and a bath weren’t going to wash away the horror she felt. Her mother’s voice was calming, reassuring, and she was so tired that her head was starting to feel a little fuzzy. She allowed her mother to coax her up from the ground. Morrigan leaned heavily against Ceridwyn as she led her away from the court room and into the vast castle walkways. She heard Hecate and Tiarn arguing behind them.
“Your job is done, dog. You should leave the castle, before I regret my decision to save your wretched hide.”
“You are correct, Hecate,” Tiarn agreed. “My pledge to you is fulfilled, but I have made a new promise. I will not leave this castle unless the Princess Morrigan commands it.”
Hecate sounded smug. “Suit yourself, but do not except a warm reception. You are an outcast on both sides. Good or evil, no one has use for a werewolf for long.”
If they spoke more, Morrigan didn’t hear it, and while a part of her wanted to come to Tiarn’s defense, she simply didn’t have the strength to fight her mother as she guided her down a maze of twisting corridors. As they walked, Ceridwyn whispered and cooed, as though Morrigan might still be that infant she had deserted in another world so many years ago. Morrigan didn’t mind. It was soothing to hear her voice and feel a motherly embrace for the first time in her life.
Morrigan’s legs were dragging. She didn’t think she would be able to climb another step when they finally reached a row of fabulous bed chambers. Beyond the large wooden doors was a stunning bedroom complete with a king-size canopy bed blanketed with layers of silky down covers and soft pillows. There were also dressers, armoires, and a desk that appeared to be straight out of a Shakespearean novel. It was strange how the furnishings of Tír na NÓg seemed to span so many centuries, from renaissance to early Victorian. On the dressers, sweet smelling smoke rose from several censors of burning incense. There was only a single oil lamp lit in addition to the roaring fire, which cast strange shadows.
In one corner, there was a huge claw foot bathtub. Maids with downcast eyes were filling the tub with steaming water, one bucket at a time. As they worked, her mother helped to undress her, again making her feel as though she were a child. She unfastened the servant’s gown and removed her damp undergarments. If Ceridwyn noticed the lingering smell from her earlier swim, she didn’t mention it. She did raise a questioning eyebrow when she came across the little raven tucked inside her bustier.
“And what is this talisman you hold so near to your heart?” Ceridwyn asked and placed the statue on the dresser behind them.
Morrigan had to blink a few times in order to see what she was referring to, and even then it was difficult to clear her head enough to answer. “Oh, it’s a . . . a gift,” she stuttered. “From Alden.”
Her mother seemed surprised. “Alden? The blind old man? What business had you with him?”
As she spoke, Ceridwyn had her step into the water. It was sweetened with fragrant oils and fresh flower petals, making it smell divine. A magic brew had turned the water light green. It seemed to sparkle like diamonds in the dim lighting. Morrigan had never experienced anything so luxurious. As she sunk into the warm water, many of her fears and doubts seemed to be washed away along with the filth and grime of her travels. Morrigan closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the cleansing water.
“Alden?” her mother prodded.
“Oh, he sent me the cats . . . I mean, the . . . ummmm Guardians.” Morrigan fought back a yawn. “He promised my father before he died he would do what he could to protect me.”
Ceridwyn had begun to wash her hair. She gently kneaded the sudsy concoction into her scalp in gentle circling motions. The relaxing touch of her hands was almost lulling her to sleep. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open.
“And what did Alden tell you of your father?”
“That Arianrhod killed him.” Even in her current state, it made her flinch to say the words out loud. “I’m sorry, Mother. It must be hard for you to talk about him.”
Ceridwyn took a deep breath before speaking again. “Yes, your father’s death was . . . very tragic. I prefer not to dwell on such troublesome memories. Did Alden tell you anything else? Did he speak of me?”
Morrigan yawned. She couldn’t stop herself. “No. He told me there were some things I needed to learn about for myself.”
Ceridwyn nodded. “That sounds like his wisdom.”
Her mother finished rinsing her hair with fresh, warm water and began to gently brush out the tangles with a silver handled comb. Just as the water was beginning to cool, she helped Morrigan step out of the tub. One of the servants appeared with a large, soft towel which they used to dry her off. Normally she would have felt awkward about the maids seeing her naked, but she was just too tired to care. They presented her with a lovely cream-colored gown embroidered with golden threads and laced up the bodice for her. When she was dressed, Ceridwyn led her over to the bed.
“It has been a long and treacherous road for you, my dear. Rest now. We can speak more when you awake.” Morrigan nodded and laid her head down on a soft feather pillow. Ceridwyn massaged her temples. Her eyelids were so heavy she could barely keep them open. “Sleep, Morrigan, sleep. I am sure things will seem much more pleasant when you awake.”
Morrigan listened to Ceridwyn’s soothing voice and the relaxing crackle of the fire. Before she knew what had happened, she had fallen into a deep slumber filled with dreams of golden fields. In the dream, she was having a picnic with her mother and grandmother. They were all happy and laughing, enjoying the beauty of a perfect cloudless afternoon. But they weren’t alone. The soldier, Caedmon, was with them. He was laughing at first, enjoying a drink from a flask of wine. Then Hecate picked up a knife from the blanket. Without a second thought, she raised the blade and slit his throat. Caedmon gasped and choked as blood soaked through the blanket and into the ground, drenching the hemline of Morrigan’s white gown. Even as he lay dying before them, Ceridwyn and Hecate continued to clink glasses and eat from plates splattered with blood. Morrigan tried to open her mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. Beside her, Ceridwyn and Hecate kept laughing and laughing, and then—
Morrigan awoke with a gasp. Her pillow was drenched with sweat and a scream was stuck inside her throat. The dream had left her with a dark feeling of dread and foreshadowing. Even as she attempted to catch her breath, her eyes scanned the room warily. Her mother was gone, but Danu and Dagda had somehow managed to find their way to her side. They snuggled and purred like typical contented housecats. No one would guess by their calm demeanor the powerful beasts that lay within them. Morrigan shuddered and wondered what other secrets were hidden within the seemingly quiet castle walls.
After the terrifying dream and the horrible memories of the great hall, Morrigan was relieved to have her pets snuggled up beside her. She pulled them close, basking in their simple familiarity in so foreign a world. Dagda nudged her hand with his head,
while Danu curled into a ball in her lap. As wonderful as it was, she knew she couldn’t hide in her room forever. She waited for her heartbeat to slow down and decided to go in search of her mother. She had so many questions, and now that she felt rested and her head was clear, she needed to get answers.
Morrigan pushed herself up out of the bed. She saw there was a plate of fancy cakes and tea waiting on a tray on top of the dresser. She shoved a few morsels into her mouth and slipped her feet into a pair of jeweled slippers she found on the floor. They matched her gown perfectly, but she was too preoccupied to admire their beauty. After guzzling a whole glass of lukewarm tea, she went out into the hallway and was greeted by a pair of young servant girls who instantly fell to their knees when they saw her.
“Princess Morrigan!” the elder of the two exclaimed, while the younger girl seemed struck dumb. “How may we serve you?”
“Please don’t do that,” Morrigan told them. She didn’t think she would ever be comfortable with people bowing. In her mind, she was still a foster child, not a princess. “You can stand up. Really. I’m not all that important.” They exchanged nervous glances. After a minute, they stood, but still refused to look her in the eye. They seemed absolutely terrified. Morrigan sighed. “Can you just tell me where my moth . . . where Queen Ceridwyn is?”
“Her rooms are down the hall to the left, Your Majesty. I believe she is in conference with the Queen Mother.”
“Thank you.” They still didn’t move out of her way. “Umm, that’s all for now. You can go back to whatever you were doing or maybe take a lunch break or something.”
They looked confused, but finally stepped aside. She left them in the hall, still staring at the floor. As she explored the large hallway, with the cats following close behind, she admired the paintings on the wall. They were all portraits of dazzlingly beautifully women that she could only assume were the royalty and nobility of past generations. She peeked into many empty rooms, all of which were beautifully furnished and immaculately clean. Eventually she came to a room with double doors that were sealed tight. She knew she had the right room because she could hear voices arguing through the thick wood.
“You allowed her to speak with Alden? You are a fool as well as a mongrel. He could have ruined everything!”
Morrigan flinched at the harsh raspy voice of Hecate, but she continued to listen, even going so far as to put her ear to door so she could hear better. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help it. Tiarn and her grandmother were obviously talking about her.
“Yet, he did not ruin everything, so I fail to see the problem,” Tiarn argued. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear his teeth grinding. “It is more likely you gave away your own secret, Hecate, when you killed that soldier in cold blood right in front of the poor girl.”
“Silence!” Ceridwyn ordered with all the authority of the reigning queen. “I should have you both whipped! You, you rabid dog! Spare me your false pity. If the girl did not expect you to be here when she awakes, I would have killed you already. And you, Mother! What were you thinking? You will ruin almost two decades of well-laid plans if you turn the girl against us before the ritual is complete. She is more powerful than we anticipated. We cannot risk losing her favor now, when we are so close to accomplishing our goal.”
“You dare to speak to me in such a manner, to question my judgment? You are an ungrateful child! Without my support, you would never have obtained the crown! It is I who passed down the dark arts to you. It was I who chose you to take my place! You would be nothing without me!”
If her mother replied, it was too faint for Morrigan to hear, and she had stopped listening anyway. She shuddered in horror and took a few steps away from the door. From the beginning of their journey, there had been hints. Tiarn had been surprised when she treated him with respect instead of cruelty. Hecate had so easily taken the life of that soldier. Morrigan recalled Brigid’s disgust when she had discovered her identity. Even the maids were terrified—it was all beginning to make sense to her now.
“You shall have only yourselves to blame if your plans come to an end,” Tiarn’s voice erupted. “I have regretfully done my part by bringing the girl to you. Since you no longer require my services, I shall take my leave, Your Majesties.”
Tiarn threw open the doors, and Morrigan was suddenly facing the three deceivers–the only three people she had ever believed in and trusted. Her heart overflowed with grief and despair. She ignored Tiarn as he reached out a hand, looking almost as lost and devastated as she felt. She was no longer going to fall prey to those lying eyes, no matter how pathetically they beseeched her. Instead she turned to her mother—the woman who had given her life and then ripped that life to pieces. She wished she could have sounded strong and fierce in her accusation, but instead her voice emerged a weak whimper. She clung to the wall for support.
“You . . . you,” Morrigan stuttered. “You are the dark witch.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Morrigan!” Ceridwyn exclaimed. She seemed shocked to see her there. “Please, darling, you do not understand. You must allow me to explain!”
“Explain what?” Morrigan demanded. Almost instantly, the overwhelming grief was replaced by an even more uncontrollable fury. Morrigan had to fight to keep her powers in check and not send all three of them flying. “Explain how you lied? How you tricked me into coming here? How you made me believe Arianrhod was the evil one when it was really you all along? Goddess, what have I done?”
Ceridwyn sighed with what appeared to be regret, but if it was, it was regret at being discovered, not at having done something wrong. Hecate remained quiet. She made no attempt to defend herself or their cause. She sat in a chair by the fire, casually stroking her beast of a hound dog, but she watched every move they made with her hollow eyes narrowed into angry slits. Tiarn was the only one who showed any real emotion, and he just seemed openly horrified. Ceridwyn didn’t speak again for several moments. Morrigan could see she was considering her words carefully.
“Oh, Morrigan.” Ceridwyn sighed. “Things are not as simple as you believe them to be. Life is not all black-and-white, good and evil. I admit I have not always made the best choices. Some may know me as the Dark Queen, but that does not make me evil. Even a queen is entitled to make mistakes on occasion.”
As she spoke, Ceridwyn inched closer to Morrigan. Her long gowns rustled as she glided across the embroidered carpet. Before she could pull away, her mother had grabbed hold of her hand. Instantly Morrigan began to feel drowsy and weak. The room was spinning, and her head felt heavy. This time she realized what was happening before things got too far. She pulled her hand away, enraged. Her mother was trying to control her with magic, but her renewed strength and her anger easily broke the other witch’s spell.
“What do you think you’re doing to me?” she demanded, still feeling a little dizzy. Beside her, Danu and Dagda sensed her sudden defensiveness, and the hair on their backs stood on end.
“I only wished to give you some comfort,” Ceridwyn replied sadly, but at the same time she gave the cats a nervous glance.
“Another lie!” Morrigan spat. “You’re trying to use your powers to trick me into feeling safe! Just like you did back in the great hall! But it won’t work this time, Mother.” She was amazed at the bitter sarcasm of her own voice. “I won’t be fooled by you again! I won’t be a mindless pawn in whatever game you’re playing with Arianrhod. I’m done with all of this, and I’m done with you!”
There was no way to explain away what she had learned. Her mother and grandmother were monsters. Yet, in her heart, Morrigan knew she was just as guilty as they were. She had helped them dethrone the rightful queen. She had a hand in putting a tyrant at the helm of the kingdom. She would be just as much to blame if the world of Tír na NÓg fell apart, if the land were plunged into war, if innocent lives were lost. That realization horrified her. Morrigan gave her mother one last glare and then turned on her heel and stomped aw
ay.
“Go after her, you fool canine!” Ceridwyn ordered. “Perhaps you can make her see sense. For some reason unbeknownst to me, she listens to you.”
Morrigan huffed and walked a little faster when she heard the sound of Tiarn’s footsteps sneaking up behind her. Even before he touched her, she smelled the earthy, natural scent she had come to love. She hated herself for the intense emotions it evoked in her.
“Please, Morrigan, wait,” Tiarn called. “You do not understand.”
“Go away, Tiarn! Like you said, you don’t owe them anything anymore. You fulfilled your debt. You don’t have to do what they say. So stop pretending like you give a crap.”
“It is not for Ceridwyn or Hecate, but for your sake that I wish to explain my part in all this. If it is possible, I want to save this wondrous thing that has sprung between us, before it is too late.”
Infuriated, Morrigan came to a complete stop, so suddenly that Tiarn slammed into her back. Her powers were starting to bubble to the surface, and some of the paintings in the hall trembled on their hinges. Danu and Dagda seemed almost happy to see the tension between them and hissed threateningly in his direction. The same two maids were loitering in the hallway, but had the good sense to back up when they saw Morrigan’s eyes flashing.
“There is no us!” Morrigan told him. “That was just one of the lies you used to trick me into coming here!”
“No!” He cursed under his breath. “It may have begun as you say, but as soon as I knew you, as soon as I realized you were not like them, everything changed. You must believe me, Princess! My feelings for you are no lie. Goddess help me, I love you beyond all reason!”
