He slapped her bottom gently. “Good morning, wife.”
Rhiannon smirked. “No regrets for having wed a witch?”
“None at all,” he said, lazily caressing the sting from her flesh. It was only then that she realized that, sometime during the night, he’d risen to retrieve his reliquaries. He was naked still, but for those twin chains, and the reliquaries they were bound to. Both fell heavily between them and she dared to lift one up to better inspect it.
“One belongs to me,” he said. “The other to your mother.”
“So you said. What are they?”
“Grisial huds, so I’m told.”
Magik crystals—but to what purpose?
Rhiannon thumbed one of the crystals, brushing it thoughtfully.
She really didn’t know, Cael realized, thinking back to his conversation with Marcella.
Of course, he didn’t say it then, nor had Marcella asked. Alas, though, he realized he couldn’t keep the truth from his wife. Reaching out for the chain in her hand, he explained the reliquary’s purpose, waiting to see disgust in her eyes.
“Shadow magik,” she whispered.
Cael’s soul was bound to the reliquary, his body borrowed—usurped from a man he’d never met, save through the intricacies of his body. He’d assumed a dead man’s name instead of his own after Morwen summoned him back to this realm. Unfortunately, he’d always known she could and would return him from whence he came.
“So then… d’Lucy is not your true name?”
“Nay,” he said.
“What, then?”
Cael shook his head, unable to speak the rest of his truth.
God’s blood, what could he say? He was born before she was ever a thought in her mother’s head? That her great, great, great, grandsire was his foe? That he was murdered six hundred years before she was born?
Nay.
It was inconceivable. The very thought of speaking those words made him feel like a madman… except that… it was all true.
And nevertheless, he could offer a partial truth.
“What Mordecai is, that’s what I am, too.”
“A… Shadow Beast?”
There was contempt in her voice. Cael tugged his reliquary from her hand and let it drop between them. “If that’s the name I must bear.”
“Nay,” she said. “You are not what he is! I know that in my heart!”
And yet, he was…
“Oh, my love,” she said gently, catching his cheek in her palm. “A man is not the sum of his body parts, but rather, the sum of his deeds.” Very gently, she moved her hand to his chest, laying it atop his beating heart. “I know you! You are not the same as Mordecai.”
Cael swallowed whatever words he’d been about to say.
He wanted desperately to believe she spoke true… wanted to see himself through her eyes—not as the shell of a man he’d become. Later, he decided. Later was soon enough to reveal the rest—later, when he hadn’t any choice.
Right now, bathed in the light of his wife’s love and adoration, he couldn’t bear it if she turned away. One last time before they rose, he longed to taste the sweet nectar of her body and revel in the warmth of her touch. Forgoing any more words, he rolled atop her, lifting himself up and taking his cock into his hand, he gave her a lazy smile…
34
Morwen did not appear that day, nor the next, nor the next.
Every moment that passed stretched by as taut as the string of a bow; something terrible was looming, no doubt.
Even the air began to thicken like a mire.
Anticipation bubbled like a yeasty brew.
Outside the castle, a few common black crows had begun to congregate, perching in nearby trees like an infestation of fleas.
Knowing intuitively that six alone could never defend against Morwen, they dispatched Jack to Drakewich in order to engage d’Lucy’s cousins. Cael wasn’t entirely certain they would feel compelled to make this fight their own, but regardless, if indeed, Morwen should descend upon these parts with an army of Welshmen, Drakewich was too close not to be warned. At the very least, they should be armed with information and be allowed to choose a side—not that Cael had any delusions that his “cousins” had any true regard for him. They’d met but thrice, and despite that Cael did hold Blaec with the utmost respect, they were hardly close. They were cousins in name only—pressed upon the details of their affiliation, Cael would surely fail such a test.
And nevertheless, what was there to apologize for? He was not the one who chose this man’s body. He was simply the one forced to occupy it. Whether the true d’Lucy lord was kind or cruel, Cael hadn’t a bloody clue.
Such as it was, no matter what happened here in these parklands over the following weeks, and no matter whether he confessed himself to Rhiannon, the lords of Drakewich would never hear the truth from him.
In spirit and mind, they were aligned.
Rhiannon found him poring over the reliquaries late one afternoon, trying to determine how best to employ them. If only he could determine which was his, beyond doubt, he could destroy the other.
And yet, he wasn’t even certain that would have any bearing on Morwen’s presence in this realm. It was a crystal, no more, and her soul was already bound to the body she’d appropriated.
Well, at least hers bore the same blood in her veins.
He was someone else, and his true self was a man long forgotten.
Worse yet, Rhiannon did not fully grasp the truth. In Mordecai’s case, he, too, was returned to his own body.
Conversely, Cael was not who Rhiannon believed him to be.
She leaned over his shoulder, examining the reliquary in his hand, watching him fiddle with the crystal, poking at the place where it sat mounted—seamless.
“Even diamonds can be destroyed,” she said. “They crack when struck. Have you tried?”
Cael nodded solemnly. “I have,” he lied.
“Have you tried burning them? Even the strongest of metals will melt given the proper degree of heat.”
Cael sighed, and shook his head, ashamed to say that he had, in fact, never intended to destroy his. Only once, in his anger, had he ever attempted to crush the stone, and he was heartily relieved when it refused to break.
She slid her arms about his neck, leaning close so he could feel her warm lips on his cheek. “You know… I once saw my sister battle a Shadow Beast…” She peered at him, offering a smile, and teased, “Perhaps you can shift shapes, as Mordecai can?”
Her jovial tone intimated she didn’t believe it. But it wasn’t particularly amusing, and Cael did not laugh. “’Tis not an art your mother ever taught me.”
“Of course not,” she said, withdrawing, but leaving a hand on his shoulder. “Why would she share anything with anyone?”
She still didn’t understand, he realized. He sensed she understood that he was bound by the reliquary, but not how he was bound to it. He longed to say more… ached to find the words to tell her the truth—everything.
Fear caught and held his tongue.
“At any rate,” she said. “My sister spoke words to bind the Shadow Beast to his body. That alone was not meant to destroy him, only to keep him from shift—”