“What mischief have you been up to, my water horse?” I whispered once I mounted, leaning over to hug his neck and whisper in his ear. I inhaled his sweet, hay-frosted scent. The horse flicked his ears backward to listen to me then nickered softly. I patted his neck.
Tavis helped Madelaine mount her chestnut-colored palfrey then swung up onto his own steed.
Madeline smiled at me, the first rays of morning light making her red hair glow like flames. “Ready?” she asked, her green eyes twinkling.
I nodded.
With a click of the tongue, she spurred her horse away from the castle. Laughing, Tavis reined his horse in after her.
“Come on, Corbie,” Tavis called as we rode toward a forest trail. “And don’t fall asleep in the saddle.”
The air was cool and fresh. Once the sun had risen, it warmed my raven-black tresses. Despite my best effort to keep up with Madelaine’s energy, my head bobbed drowsily. She and Tavis meandered down the forest path, flirting shamelessly. Madelaine’s red hair shone bright as a cardinal amongst the trees, her gown, the color of brilliant blue forget-me-nots, hugged her perfect shape.
After half a morning’s ride, we came to a lush green valley between three high mountains where a small, still loch reflected the periwinkle-blue sky. Large white clouds were reflected on the smooth surface of the water.
“Let’s stop here,” Madelaine called when we neared a small clutch of apple trees. She smiled brightly. Such trips outside the castle were a rare treat. Only when Alister was away could Madelaine roam the countryside, always with Tavis at her side, enjoying her freedom. She was, after all, a wild thing. She moped like a caged bird in the castle, but the forest—and Tavis—brought her back to life. Since I was almost always part of her capricious plans, I enjoyed the change as much as she did, though I hated to wake up so early.
Tavis helped Madelaine and me dismount then spread out a blanket while Madelaine pulled a wine jug and goblets from her bag. I took off Kelpie’s bridle to let him wander where he pleased. He went to the loch and drank deeply from the fresh spring water.
Madelaine filled three goblets and handed one to each of us. “To this fine spring day,” she toasted.
“And to my ladies,” Tavis added, tapping his goblet against Madelaine’s and mine.
He drank his wine in large gulps, Madelaine refilling his glass when it was empty. She then corked the wine and lay back under the trees. A small wind shook the pink and white apple blossoms, showering her in petals. She giggled when the pearly wisps of silk landed on her face, but she didn’t open her eyes. Tavis laughed and gently blew the petals off. The sweet scent of the blossoms filled the air.
“It’s getting warm. I can smell the earth coming to life again,” Tavis said.
“Humm,” Madelaine commented as she stretched out, seeming to doze under the warm sun. She was settling in just as I was starting to finally feel awake. From the way Tavis was looking at Madelaine, I had an inkling they wouldn’t mind some privacy, so I decided to wander.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I said, standing.
“Leaving already?” Madelaine asked teasingly. Her eyes still closed, she didn’t see me roll my eyes at her.
Tavis rose and went to his horse, returning with a sword. “My spare,” he said as he belted the scabbard around my waist. His hands were deft, and as he leaned in close to me, I smelled the heavy scent of lavender oil on him. I breathed in deeply. My heart beat a little faster. “Yell if trouble finds you.”
“No trouble will find her,” Madelaine commented sleepily.
I raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
* * *
I stepped lightly around the lake. Salamanders and fish swam in the clear water amongst the high cattails. A soft breeze chased the winter chill away, filling the air with the smell of damp earth. Above me, a raven shrilled and flew into the valley. I followed it.
The raven flew from tree to tree into a very old forest. Here the trees were massive, the old oaks reaching far overhead. The bird hopped from one branch to another, leading me around a bog where bright-colored dragonflies zipped from place to place. It cawed at me then led me deeper into the woods. All the hair on the back of my neck had risen. Ravens were the emblem of my family. Surely the bird was a harbinger. I followed the inky bird to a stream where it roosted in a tall willow at the water’s edge. Cawing down once more at me, it then took off quickly, disappearing into the sky. My nerves were set on edge. I looked all around, expecting…something. But there was nothing. I sighed. I was in the middle of the forest near a fallen tree at the edge of a stream with only the eyes of the woods on me. I had followed the raven where? To the middle of nowhere. It was peaceful and far from the confines of castle life, but something told me Madelaine was having a much more exciting time than me.
Sighing again, I spotted a small clutch of snowdrops growing near a fallen tree. I picked a handful, relaxed into a niche amongst the branches, and started weaving a crown. I breathed in deeply. I loved the loamy smell of the earth and the sound of the babbling brook.
Intent on my task, I hardly noticed the passage of time. An hour must have passed when I was suddenly struck with a strange feeling. I felt someone near me. I looked up to find a woman standing on the other side of the creek, just twelve feet away, watching me. Fear washed over me; I bit my lip.
My hands trembling, I set the flower wreath on my lap and studied her. Was she friend or foe? Over one shoulder she had slung a game bag. An herb pouch hung from her belt, and she held a bow in her hand. She had long brown hair pulled into a braid. She wore the leather jerkin of a man and pants to match. On her hands she wore rough leather gloves, and the hilt of a dagger stuck out from the top of her boot.
“You are Gruoch,” she said calmly, her voice deep and raspy.
I didn’t reply.
“Gruoch, tell Madelaine the Goddess calls. Tell her to bring you at the full moon.”
My heart thundered in my chest. Gruoch. No one called me by that name except my father. When he had visited in my twelfth year, he and Madelaine talked in hushed tones deep into the night. Curious, I spied on them through a crack in the door.
“The Goddess will call her when the time is right. We will have to give her up then,” my father had said in his deep, gruff voice. I could just see him through a gap in the closed feasting hall door. A tall fire roared, casting orange light on them as they sat at the slat-wood table. His long black hair was pulled away from his face by two braids which were tied at the back with a silver raven knot pendant. His hair shimmered blue in the firelight. My father was a hulking creature, but as he leaned in toward Madelaine, who looked as thin as a goldenrod beside him, his rugged features were gentle. He tenderly took her hand.
“It will be hard to let her go,” Madelaine replied, and I saw her wipe a tear from her cheek.
My father kissed her on the forehead. “I am so grateful that you’ve loved her like she was your own. I could not…”
Madelaine shook her head and entwined her fingers in his, comforting him. “It was not in your hand.”
“But I love her so,” he whispered. “As much as I can. I hope she knows.”
“Even if she doesn’t understand now, one day she will. After all, we have the same blood in our veins. Our line must serve.”
“Yes…we all answer our call,” he said, touching an all-too-apparent bruise on Madelaine’s cheek. Such bruises were the ongoing handiwork of her husband, Alister. “No matter your will. No matter the price.”
Moving his hand away from her bruise, she replied, “We all endure. But where you can, use better sense than your father.”