At once, Rhiannon dragged her gaze about the hall…
10
The goblet in Morwen’s hand crashed to the floor, spilling its contents. Still, it didn’t faze Morwen, though it startled Rhiannon. For better or worse, the deed was done.
There was no telling how long they had.
Cael waited only another moment for good measure, and then, none-too-gently tugged Rhiannon to her feet.
Already, the draught was taking effect. Most of his guests were following suit, laying down their heads, some in their trenchers, others beside it…
A few toppled from their benches, and Cael made a mental note to secure his own position once the time arrived so he wouldn’t end up with a knot on his head, although perhaps if he did, it would better serve his cause.
“You poisoned her?”
Rhiannon sounded horrified.
“Not precisely.”
“What then?”
“A sleeping draught.”
“How did you know it would work?”
“I didn’t,” said Cael.
“That was your plan?”
“Aye,” he said. “But don’t worry, Rhiannon, she’ll wake in good time.”
“Oh, you mistake me!” she countered, and Cael smiled over the rueful tone of her voice. If any daughter had a right to despise her mother, Rhiannon had more cause than most.
He led her quickly from the dais, dragging her through the hall. “I’ll warrant, she’ll wish she were dead once she wakes, and she may see to it I am.”
“That is not amusing!” Rhiannon said, hurrying along behind him as they made their way through the guest-littered hall. They were dropping like flies amidst a cloud of smoked camphor. Only a few people remained awake—a handful of men and women he trusted. Everyone else was innocent of his plans, and he meant to make it clear they had no part in his ruse. Once the plan was fully orchestrated, those who’d helped perpetrate it would have to leave Blackwood. Already, they were gathering their numbers to flee.
By now, even the musicians were drowsed. Together, they sank to their knees, and collapsed, their instruments banging across the rough stone floor. The lute played a hollow note and one of the pipes rolled beneath a table.
As drogued as everyone was, no one paid any attention to the lord and his lady rushing from the hall. Cael doubted anyone could see further than the tips of their noses.
“I cannot believe you did this!”
“Oh, but I did not,” he countered, turning to wink at her. “You did it. I am but the besotted old fool who dared to trust his beautiful bride.”
“Beautiful?” she repeated dumbly.
“Infinitely so. And, in the eyes of the world, I am not the first husband to be betrayed, and neither will I be the last.”
She sounded terrified. “But, Cael… she’ll not believe you.”
“Too late, Rhiannon. ’Tis done. You’ll be gone ere she wakes, and even if she does suspect me—and she won’t—she needs me. Without me, she has very few allies remaining.”
“It doesn’t appear this way to me! What of those Welsh lords she brought?”
“What about them?”
“Wait!” she protested, and tried to resist.
Cael wouldn’t allow it. There was no turning back, no matter how many Welsh kings she’d brought. For better or worse, Morwen was now drogued, and come morning, Rhiannon must be gone. Daring to waste no time, he led her out of the hall, through the courtyard, past the cauldron her mother cherished above all else, and straight toward the hidden portal at the back of the chapel. He wondered if Morwen even knew it was there, it was so well hidden.
Perhaps the child she had been once knew, but he was hoping the creature she’d become had long forgotten.
“Remove your manacles,” he demanded, releasing Rhiannon’s hand to clear a path through the tangle of underbrush…
Rhiannon froze, but only for an instant, realizing that, in truth, this was happening exactly as he’d promised. Only now she was terrified to go.
Why?
Because… suddenly it mattered more than words could say that her mother wouldn’t wake and punish Cael for deceiving her.
“Don’t worry,” he said, mistaking her hesitation. “You’ll be safe very soon. I’ve engaged the services of a capable guide.”
“I am not worried for me,” Rhiannon confessed.
He was moving too quickly; she daren’t fall behind. Removing the ribbon holding the key from about her neck, she took care not to drop it in the weeds. She called out after him, “How can you be so sure she’ll not suspect you?”
She heard the levity he tried to impart, but it didn’t ring true. “Because… I, too, will be drooling in a trencher once she wakes, and you will be long gone. Only for good measure, I’ll be wearing your manacles.”
“Nay!” she exclaimed, and shook her head. “I’ll not leave without them. Anyway, why would I use them on you?” she reasoned. “For anyone but a dewine, the shackles are no more than a pair of bracelets. I beg you! She knows me well enough to know I’d never leave them to be used again—unless you intend to use them on her?”
“Nay,” he said, stopping if only for a moment. “You take them.” And then he ducked beneath a small tree, forcing Rhiannon to follow.
“Cael!” she pleaded, using his given name. “Please, come with me!”
“Nay, Rhiannon, but don’t worry. She’ll not blame me. She’ll blame you.”
“She’ll blame both of us,” Rhiannon persisted.
The foolish man couldn’t possibly know what she knew, and perhaps he didn’t understand the danger he was in.
Alas, he was moving too swiftly through the tangle of brush and she was already out of breath. Having been shut away so long, she hadn’t much stamina, and no strength to continue arguing with such a stubborn, foolhardy man.
“Be damned!” she said, pausing for breath, and then, as best she could, in the darkness, whilst following, she scratched the small key near the aperture of the lock, and her heart did a wild leap of joy when the key sank into the metal.
Like a lover waiting to be kissed, she savored the click.
One manacle fell away, and she immediately felt a surge of energy return to her from the aether.
Gleefully, hoping her feet would meet even ground as she stumbled through the underbrush, she sank the key into the other manacle, unlocking it as well, and her breath hitched with relief as the second bracelet fell away.
“At last!” she exclaimed.
Only now she saw stars swimming before her eyes as the hud returned to her full force—not merely to her limbs. She felt the lift like an inspiration of breath through her lungs, a wellspring of vitality that lifted her feet and gave her the sensation she could fly—she couldn’t of course. She could barely even keep up with Cael. Tripping herself rudely, she followed through the underbrush, her limbs awkward and all her pleas sticking in her throat.
“Here it is,” he said, somewhere ahead. He grunted, then struggled with something large in front of him.
Rhiannon could spy the outline in the dark. It grew in clarity as she came closer, her eyes growing accustomed to the night. With a final grunt, he shoved open a portal, and to Rhiannon’s utter shock, she found that woman from the hall on the other side…