Epona sat back and sighed. “The gods play games. They move us as they wish, and then leave us blind as they wish. What did Andraste say?”
“That they were Duncan’s children.”
“And how many hard choices did you make based on her words?”
My life. My whole life had been set into motion based on those words. “Many.”
“The gods move us, Cerridwen. Andraste, she has become like them. Perhaps she is a goddess now, I cannot say. The magic she uses is beyond my understanding,” she said then shook her head. “But I have never cared for her meddling. Nor for her, to be honest.”
“Then it is possible that they are Gillacoemgain’s children after all? Is that what you’re saying?”
“My visions were no more exact than your own. I cannot say for sure Duncan was the father. I saw children. I saw you round with twins. But the father…”
My knees felt weak. I sat down.
“You must ask Andraste. That secret, black, and midnight hag. You must convince her to tell the truth. After all, it’s done.”
“What’s done?”
“The deed without a name.”
I was about to ask Epona what she meant when the door opened to reveal Juno, whom I had met only once before, and two women I did not know.
I rose.
“Cerridwen,” Juno said with a smile. “Many welcome returns.”
“By all the gods, this is Cerridwen?” the older of the two women asked.
Epona laughed lightly. “Cerridwen, this is Tully.”
I smiled at the woman. She had long, pale blonde hair streaked with grey. Like Uald, she wore trousers and a tunic. Her skin was tanned and weathered, a testament to her days on the road.
“I’m so pleased to finally meet you,” I said, moving to embrace her. All these years, I had heard tale after tale of the mysterious Tully who wandered the country looking for new recruits, following wherever the Goddess led, traveling to each of her sacred groves.
“Your timing is auspicious. I am about to travel north, now that our new rulers have things quieted down,” she said with a wink.
Epona chuckled lightly. “Cerridwen, this is Flidas,” she said, introducing a girl with long, brown hair standing behind Tully. At once, I noticed the girl bore a tattoo on her brow that was not unlike Banquo’s.
“Sister,” I said, inclining my head to her.
“Flidas is called by the nature spirits, creatures of the wood. Her mother is the leader of another coven,” Epona explained.
“It’s good to meet you, Cerridwen. You are much spoken of here. And well-loved.”
I smiled at her, feeling uneasy under the sharpness of her gaze. It was almost as if she was seeing through me to someone or something else. “I’m pleased to meet you as well.”
Flidas smiled at me.
“I was about to make breakfast,” I said, picking up my bowl once more. Turning to the fire, I lifted the pan and began ladling cakes thereon.
“Epona, let us finish your work,” Juno said, taking the water pitcher from Epona’s hand.
Epona relinquished her work without complaint then sat on a stool before the fire. She watched me work. The other women went into the kitchen of the house, chatting busily.
“The other covens,” I said to Epona. “I am in a position to do more. To help. It would be helpful to know where—quite literally—I can be of use.”
“Balor,” Epona said. “Speak with Balor. I do not have the say I once had.”
“Perhaps not, but I think you must still have some influence,” I said, casting a glance at Flidas.
Epona chuckled. “A raven’s eyes miss nothing.”
I grinned but said no more.
Aridmis returned not long after, Crearwy along with her.
Once my cakes were made—and I felt rather proud of myself that I had managed not to burn any—everyone sat down to eat. Once more, I sat at the table with my sisters. I hadn’t been Queen of Scotland for a week, but in Epona’s home, I felt more at ease than I had in some time. But the starkness of the meal wasn’t lost on me. While the offerings at the coven had always been humble, they had never been meager. As I looked at the others, I realized Aridmis looked far thinner than I remembered. Worries bubbled up in me.
Crearwy sat beside me, Beauty squeezing into the small space between us. Much like Thora, Beauty waited for scraps, but she was far more elegant in her manner. Lifting her paw, she gently nudged Crearwy. Crearwy fed bits of bread and dried meat to her dog. Beauty ate cleanly, not dropping a bite. If I had not already been sure of her lineage, Beauty’s outstanding ability to win bits of food certainly would have convinced me Thora was her dame. Yet Beauty’s manner was far more refined than Thora’s. Where Thora would chomp and slobber, Beauty waited politely and ate cleanly. Crearwy had picked a good name for her dog.
The others chatted as they ate. I kept quiet, watching Crearwy as she interacted with the women. My sisters treated my daughter well, but Flidas’ eyes missed nothing. And I did not miss hers. I sensed no malice in the girl, but there was magic at work within her. When the meal was done, Crearwy took my hand. “Come, Mother. We have work we must attend to. The others will help Epona.”
“What work, my love?”
“You’ll see,” she said.
I looked at Epona who nodded. Crearwy led me out of the house and across the square to Sid’s home. We opened the door to find the place dark and dusty.
“You tend the fire. I’ll remake the bed,” Crearwy told me.
“Is Sid coming?”
“That’s what Nadia said.”
“Nadia?”
Crearwy nodded. “She came to me when I was feeding the horses. I told her you were here. She left to get Sid.”
“So you see her…always?”
“Only when she wants to be seen.”
“You were born in this room,” I told Crearwy.
“So they tell me. I’ve seen this room, Epona’s house, Aridmis’ house—all the little houses—the barn, the smithy, and the forest. My world,” she said, a bitter tone in her voice. “They tell me Madelaine has castles. And my mother has a kingdom. I have the coven.”
“Crearwy,” I said, stopping to look at her. “You must understand…I mean, I am certain Epona has explained…”
“That I’m here for my own safety? Yes, I understand. My brother Lulach will become king, and I will rule the trees.”
I stared at her, shocked to hear such a harsh tone in her young voice.
“Things are not easy for women at court. Here, you are free. You can live any life you please. I’ve given you a free life. You can choose any life you want.”
“Any life?” she asked.
“Well…I mean…”
“Hmm,” Crearwy mused then opened the door. Carrying a blanket with her, she went outside and shook out the linen.
I turned back to the fire. Rattled by Crearwy’s dark words, I nearly burned my fingers on the flames when I set a log in the hearth. I pulled my hands back only to see the spots of blood thereon once more.
Sitting back, I looked into the fireplace. Flames flickered to life.
Outside, I heard Crearwy snapping dust from the linens. I lifted my hands and looked at them. I had murdered my cousin. I had married the man who killed my husband. I had forsaken my druid for Lulach’s sake. I had left my daughter behind, a daughter who appeared to resent my choice. And if she disliked it now, how much she might grow to hate me in the future? I had done all these things because I’d believed Andraste’s words.