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The stars were shrouded by clouds as I reached the clearing. I had expected darkness, with the new moon this eve. I squeezed the nectar from some sweet honeysuckles, thinking that if the potion tasted a bit palatable, Siobhan might drink it all. I added Siobhan’s golden hair from her very own body. And much to my surprise, I barely flinched when it was time to cut the wren’s neck and add its blood to the potion. There. the death drink was complete.

“Oh, Goddess,” I whispered, “here I do display the chalice of death. Whoever drinks this shall journey to the land of darkness and dwell there until she comes to realize the error of her ways.”

I dipped my athame in the chalice, then held the blade up to the sky. “A bitter potion to end a bitter evil!” I said. I placed a cloth over the chalice as drops began to fall from the sky. Cool, cleansing raindrops. From the distant hills came the rumble of thunder—the Goddess’s answer. She had heard me. “So mote it be,” I whispered.

The sun rose on a newly cleansed earth. I sat in bed, grateful that Síle was still resting comfortably. I arose and began to wash and dress. It was getting more and more difficult to find a place for my girdle between my belly and my breasts. Soon the world would know I was expecting a child. If all went well, I would have a husband before then.

I had just finished eating my breakfast of warm gruel and apples when Norn appeared at the cottage door, bearing a basket of biscuits.

“I have come to give you a rest from nursing your ma,” she said, her beady eyes shining in her wrinkled face. “Go forth. You need some fresh air and release.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a cloak to cover my belly and ward off the morning dew. “I have need of some time to commune with the Goddess,” I told her. I started out the door, then turned back to retrieve the pitcher containing the death drink. “Let me not forget the ceremonial wine,” I said.

“It is good that you are working your own spells,” Norn told me. “Your mother must be pleased. Has she told you that you’re likely to be our coven’s next high priestess?”

“N-no,” I said, surprised at her words. “But Ma has taught me well.”

Norn smiled brightly as I headed down the path, on my way to Siobhan’s cottage.

The trip to Lillipool had begun to seem shorter now that I’d traveled this way so oft of late. The sun was still low on the eastern hills when I rounded the hilltop near the heather fields. The MacMahon cottage sat in the sun, a young lad of five or six playing about near the woodpile beyond the house. He had long golden hair that hung to his shoulders and a smudge on his cheek. Probably Siobhan’s younger brother, I wagered as I approached him. Perfect!

He was scalping the bark from various tree branches, his own unskilled attempts at carving figurines. When I drew close, he glanced up at me curiously. “Hark!” he said. “Do you come to visit me?”

“I come with a gift for Siobhan,” I said, holding up the pitcher. “But since the hour is so early, I dare not disturb the household. Do you know her?” I asked.

“Aye! I am her brother Tysen.” He eyed the pitcher curiously. “But what gift have you there?”

“ ’Tis a sweet nectar from her love,” I said. “Siobhan is to drink this first thing upon awakening.” I lowered my voice, adding, “I think perhaps he has put a love spell upon it, hoping to capture your sister’s heart. Do you know Diarmuid?”

He grinned. “Aye, I know him well. He owes me a ride upon his shoulders.”

“I shall remind him of that,” I said. Carefully I handed the pitcher to the boy. “Do you think you can handle a task of this magnitude?”

“Aye.” He smiled proudly, his pale eyes gleaming. “ ’Tis an easy task.”

Tysen headed toward the house, and I headed back the way I had come with a new sense of righteousness and balance. Siobhan had struck down my mother, but her evil magick was now cycling back to her.

When I returned to the cottage, Ma was sitting up and eating biscuits with Norn.

“Look who’s feeling better,” Norn said, all smiles as she took the kettle of tea off the fire. “That’s some powerful magick you wrought yesterday, Rose. Síle, your daughter is truly blessed by the Goddess.”

“Indeed,” my mother said. “I have always admired her powers. I am fortunate she was at hand yesterday when I was in dire need of them.”

I thanked Norn for her help, and she insisted on leaving the biscuits behind. After she departed, Ma moved back to the bed to drink her tea.

“What a world of difference,” I told her as I sat at the table. I bit into a biscuit and brushed flour from my fingers. “You look so much better.”

“Thanks to you,” she said. “You have come a long way in your magick, Rose.”

I smiled. Perhaps Ma finally realized that I’d been working hard to learn the ways of the Goddess.

Ma sipped her tea, then let her head drop back. “But I must say, my mind traveled to some frightening places in my dreams. I saw you concocting a dark spell, inviting in evil, conjuring a potion with the intention to hurt someone. I saw your athame raised to dark thunderclouds and—did it rain last night?”

“I think it did,” I said innocently. The biscuit was now wedged in my throat, and I no longer had the appetite for it. Ma’s insightfulness scared me. It was difficult to fool a high priestess—especially if she was your mother!

“Such frightening visions,” Ma said.

Brushing off my hands, I went to my mother’s bedside. “Shall I change the dressing or wait?”

“Let it wait,” Ma said, lifting the cloth to show me the wound. “It seems to be healing.”

I nodded. “It does look much better. But you should sleep. You need to heal.”

“I will, though I fear my sleep will be haunted by more of the same dreams.”

“’Twas but a vision of your delirium,” I assured her. “Now that you have no fever, your dreams will be gentle.”

Síle smiled. “Advice from my daughter?”

I nodded. “Sage advice.”

12. Reversing a Spell

While Ma slept, I went down to wash at the brook, trying to think of a way to sneak off and see Diarmuid. I could not abandon Ma in her current state, not for a long period. And although I was grateful that she was healing quickly, my patience was wearing thin.

“You need your da,” I said, rubbing my belly as I waded in the cool shallows.

I would have to give Ma one more day. After that, perhaps I could convince Kyra or Norn to stay with her while I went to fetch the man who would become my husband.

Feeling cleansed and refreshed, I headed back to the cottage. When I came upon the main road, I spied Kyra tramping along, a basket on her arm.

“I have sweet oat cakes for your ma,” she said, “and dreadful news for you.” She took my hand and pulled me off the road. “Did you cast a spell over Siobhan? Some kind of deadly potion?”

“I did.” I squared my shoulders. “After what she did to my mother, I—”

“I’m not blaming you,” Kyra interrupted, “but rumor has it that Siobhan’s younger brother has fallen ill. The boy seems to have a sleeping sickness, his breathing slowed to frightening depths, his body racked by convulsions.”

I gasped. “He drank the potion?”

Kyra nodded sadly. “The poor little thing.”

I thought of Tysen, carving the bark diligently. The way he had been so proud to bear the pitcher to his sister. I’d had no idea he would drink it himself. But then, he was only a child—perhaps a mischievous one. I should have realized that when I handed him the death drink. I bit my lower lip, wondering if all of the death drink had gone to the wrong person. “And how is Siobhan?” I asked, hoping that she might have had a few sips herself.