I stared into the flames.
“Andraste,” I called sharply.
The fire crackled.
“Andraste.”
The flame flickered, and a moment later, a window opened to Ynes Verleath. There, I found Nimue.
“Where is Andraste?” I asked.
“Hail Queen.”
“Nimue, where is Andraste?”
Nimue shook her head.
“She is a coward. Tell her I will have the truth from her, one way or another.”
Nimue nodded. The expression on her face suggested that she was not in disagreement with my anger.
“Nimue, do you know the truth? Do you know the answer to the question I want to ask?”
“And what is your question?”
“Is Gillacoemgain Lulach and Crearwy’s true father?”
“I only know what you know. I see only what you see, Cerridwen.”
“And what is it that you see?”
“I see what you see,” she said with a soft smile and then the vision faded.
I sat back and ruminated on her words. Did she mean that her vision was blocked the same as mine, or did she mean that she and I saw the same thing—that Andraste had lied? That Gillacoemgain was their father. Was she trying to tell me that what I was realizing was true?
“You riddle, Nimue. Shame on you,” I whispered to the flames.
A moment later, Crearwy returned. She lay the blanket on the bed.
“Daughter, please come to me,” I whispered.
I could tell from the expression on her face that she was still unsettled, but she came all the same.
I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my head against her soft belly. How sweet she was, soft and warm with skin as smooth as butter. I sighed heavily.
“What is it, Mother?”
“If I have failed you, I am sorry. I did what I thought best for you. I may have been misled.”
Crearwy patted my head. “Then don’t be misled again. I’ll go get some water now.” Pulling from my grasp, she snatched two pitchers from the table and headed out the door.
I rose slowly, feeling dizzy as I did so. I set my hand on my stomach.
“Easy,” I whispered.
“Cerridwen?” a voice called from the door.
I turned to find Flidas there.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you, but I’ve seen something that confuses me.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve seen you at my mother’s grove. In my visions. Have you been there?”
“I…No.”
She nodded slowly. “No. You’re right. Your hair was different in my vision. I’m sorry. I was hoping you had news of my mother. I haven’t seen her in some time.”
“I’m sorry, no.”
She looked around the room. “I’m very fond of Sid. Will she be here soon?”
“I believe so.”
“Good,” she said then smiled happily. “It’s hard to find such honest souls. Again, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said then turned and left.
Flidas’ manner unnerved me, but she was right about one thing. I turned and gazed at the flames. Honest souls were in short supply.
Chapter 18
I spent the rest of the morning with Crearwy, indulging her whim to ride my horse.
“What do you mean he doesn’t have a name?” Crearwy asked as she rode him in circles around the coven square.
“I never thought of one.”
“It feels like he wants to jump into the heavens and run. He’s very swift.”
“How about Swift?”
“Swift,” Crearwy said with a laugh. “That’s perfect. You should have just called him that from the beginning.”
I chuckled.
Horseback riding was followed by hunting the woods for mistletoe, which mostly consisted of Crearwy chasing Beauty through the forest, digging for truffles, unsuccessfully tracking deer, and all manner of other curious but exhausting things. When we returned to the coven, Crearwy decided she wanted to work at weaving.
“I’ll take some rest,” I told my daughter.
“All right. I have to help Epona with the lunch soon anyway,” she said. Jumping up, she gave me a peck on the cheek then ran off.
My heart was filled with joy, but my body felt weary. I returned to Sid’s house. The fire was burning nicely. After our work that morning, the house was bright and clean. I lay down on the bed, promising myself I would only close my eyes for a few minutes. But sleep came quickly upon me. I was deep in my dreams when I felt someone sit down on the bed beside me.
“Crearwy? I’m sorry. Is it time to eat?”
“Almost time for supper,” a snippy voice replied.
I opened my eyes to find Sid sitting there. She was grinning at me.
“Sid.”
“Slept the whole day, did you? That’s what they told me. What, crown too heavy?”
“Something’s too heavy.”
“Oh, yes, Epona was whispering. Finally caught our man’s lightning seed, did you?”
I chuckled. “Apparently.”
“Well, that won’t complicate anything.”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re right about that, old friend.”
After I sat up, Sid handed me a package wrapped in parchment that looked more like leaves than paper.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A gift.”
“You brought me a gift?”
“Not I.”
“What is it?”
Sid chuckled. “That’s not how a gift works. Open it.”
I moved aside the brittle wrapping. Within, I found a pair of gloves. “What are these?”
“Gloves, of course.”
I chuckled. “I see that. But from whom?”
“The Unseelie Queen.”
I looked from Sid to the gloves to Sid again. “What?” While the Seelies were known to be benevolent, the Unseelies were another matter. The Unseelies, at least what I knew of them, disliked humans and often caused harm. While all the fey stayed away from humans, the Unseelies found mankind particularly repugnant.
“That’s why I’m late,” Sid said. “The Unseelie Queen came to the Seelie court to bring me these to give to you. Everyone was in a titter. Then the Seelies were vexed because they had no gift for you. I told them they needed none, but everyone was upset. And no one understood the gift, not even me, until I saw.”
“Saw what?”
“Those rosy fingers of yours. Can’t get the blood off?”
“You see it? You see it too?”
“Oh, yes. I’m just glad it stayed on your hands and didn’t get all over my bed. Gruesome. You must have had quite the time with your cousin to leave such a mark.”
“What is this mark, Sid? Why are these stains there?”
“It’s a curse. You’ve stained your very soul. Don’t you see? Such a pity. You always had such lovely hands. But try these on. They’re made with cloth found only in the land of the fair ones.”
A curse.
I had stained my soul.
I lifted the gloves. They were made of soft black fabric that felt like silk but was sturdier. The hems were trimmed with silver embroidery. There was a pattern in the material itself. It appeared and disappeared as I moved the fabric.
“Are they bespelled?”
“That’s what I asked. They are. But the Seelie Queen looked them over and promised they’d bring you no harm. My guess is that the spell quiets the bloody marks.”
I slid the gloves on, waiting for the red spots to soak through. But they didn’t. My hands stayed covered and clean.
“Did the Unseelie Queen say why she sent these?”
“No. And I didn’t have the nerve to ask her.”
“No matter what gloves I put on, the spots remained. The blood always soaked through,” I told Sid.