“She’s trying to teach you.”
“Well, if chastisement and disapproval are teaching, I’ll not be her student.” I went to the altar, where the moonstone sat in the dappled sunlight. Ma always said spells were best cast at night, and it was certainly safer, but it was nearly impossible to steal off and make magick under the moonlight with her watching me as she did. After making certain we were alone, I bowed to the Goddess, asking for Her blessing over this stone. As always, I summoned the power of earth, wind, water, and fire. Then I turned and handed the moonstone to Kyra.
“Hold it next to the pounding in your breast,” I told her.
She pressed the stone to the bodice of her gown.
I felt the power above me. Lifting my chin, I saw the moon in the sky through a clearing in the circle. It was full and visible today, thrumming with life force and power. So much power for tonight’s Esbat. I went to my stash of tools and took out my athame, a long wand I’d made from a tree branch and a lovely pointed stone I’d spied in the river. Standing in the center of the circle, the athame in my right hand, I felt the moon trembling in the crown over the trees. I raised my arms directly above me and clasped them both at the base of the athame.
“I now draw the power of the moon into myself,” I said, “merging with her power, the pure essence of the Goddess.” My breath came sharp and fast as the moon flashed onto the tip of my athame. I could feel it there, coursing down onto the sharp stone. I let the moon fill the athame, then brought the tool down and pressed its sharp tip to my chest.
At once the power danced through me. Molten silver filled my breast, my body, my whole being. Beside me I heard Kyra gasp, but I could not turn my head to look over, so engrossed was I in drawing down the moon.
When I was fully saturated, I swung around and pointed my athame at Kyra, touching her chest to let the power soar into her. Her dark eyes reflected the silver light as she watched it stream through my athame.
“In this day and in the hour I call upon thee, ancient power.” I spoke slowly, steadily. “Kyra has a need that must be met, a true love to draw to her, Falkner to call for her. Charm this stone, O Goddess of Light. Bring her love to cherish and delight.”
The spell complete, I pulled the athame away and dropped to the ground, pulling Kyra along beside me. I had learned from coven circles that so much power could sap a witch, making the head light and the body weak. Grounding was essential.
After a few moments Kyra sat up, blowing dirt from her hands. “The Goddess has truly blessed you, Rose,” she said. “The way you summon Her power, ’tis like a circle with the elders, who have so much more experience.”
“The power runs in my blood,” I said, neither bragging nor awed by it. I had come to accept that my destiny was intertwined with the Goddess, even if my own ma wasn’t nearly so sure.
It seemed like hours had passed drawing down the moon, but the sun was still high in the clear sky. Carefully I hid away my tools, and we returned to the road to Kirkloch.
When we reached the gathering of cottages at the edge of Kirkloch, Kyra resolved to go directly to the market, but I would not have it.
“We must stop at the blacksmith first,” I insisted. “I have grave need of sharp objects for tonight’s spell of protection.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Aye, and whose father happens to be the blacksmith of Kirkloch?”
It was none other than Falkner, I knew. “I’m here to help you get beyond your fears,” I teased her. “Where would you be without me, Kyra? Hiding in your cottage, under your ma’s skirts?”
“I would not,” she insisted, but she came close and kissed my cheek lightly. “But you’re a good friend, Rose MacEwan. A good friend indeed.”
I smiled, sure that our destinies were to be filled with love and happiness. It was such a good feeling after the heaviness that had fallen upon me of late, the pressing danger of persecution from the Christians, the unfair hatred from every rival clan. I took Kyra’s hand and skipped ahead merrily.
“I’ll drop my basket!” she protested, laughing.
“Well, then, hold on tight,” I said as I pulled her along. Outside the blacksmith’s shop, I let her compose herself before we ducked around the post and faced the blaring heat of the fires under the overhang. There was the usual wild flurry of activity as the black-smiths clanged and banged horseshoes and the like, sparks flying and fires hissing. It brought to mind the many times I had accompanied Kyra here and, indeed, to other places in pursuit of her beloved Falkner, who now stood off to the side, prodding the fire with a long poker. How many times had I encouraged her to speak to him, to smile at him, to call his name? All to no avail. He usually gave her a frightened look, then skulked away.
But today would be different.
By the power of the Goddess, my Kyra would have her boy’s love.
“Touch the moonstone,” I whispered to Kyra.
Reflexively she pressed a finger to her neck, where she’d strung the stone onto a piece of twine. Her eyes flashed to Falkner, who looked up from the fire.
And dropped his poker.
It was as if he’d never seen Kyra before. His heat-ruddy face went pale as he ignored the poker and crossed over to the railing where we stood. Kyra lowered her eyes, but her huge smile revealed her interest as she greeted him and offered a biscuit. Falkner accepted gratefully but didn’t take his eyes off her as he lifted the morsel to his mouth and took a bite.
I clapped a hand to my cheek, thrilled that the charm was working.
Blessed be. All thanks to your power, sweet Goddess.
Falkner and Kyra were still gazing at each other when Falkner’s father, a witch in our coven, finished with a customer and bade us good day. “And who’s been baking here?” he asked. I knew John Radburn from many a circle. He was a jovial man, far more spirited than his son.
“I baked with my ma,” Kyra said, lifting the cloth to offer him a biscuit.
He took one and set it aside on a tin plate. “That’ll go nicely with my beer at midday, thank you. And what can I help you with, lassies?”
“We came to trade the biscuits at the market,” I said. “But while I’m here, do you mind me poking about to find leftover sharp objects? Ma needs them to. to scare off the crows from her garden,” I lied. Blacksmith Radburn probably knew of the spell of protection to be cast at the mill, but it wouldn’t do to have strangers overhear talk of our magick.
“Help yourself.” The blacksmith moved the toe of his boot through the dirt to reveal a few jagged pieces of metal. He picked them up and set them on the rail before me. “But mind you don’t touch anything that’s still heated.”
“I’ll take care, sir,” I said, slipping the sharp items into a thick pouch.
The blacksmith turned back to his work, and I set to searching the ground for sharps. Falkner helped me a bit as he chatted with Kyra; then he, too, returned to tend the fires. When I had a pouch full of splintered nails and shards and arrowheads, Kyra and I thanked the blacksmith and headed away.
Falkner gave an excited nod of farewell, as if Kyra had just brought him a priceless gift.
She squeezed my arm as we made our way toward the market. “Did you see? Your spell worked. The charm is drawing his love!”
“Of course it worked,” I said. “You cannot doubt the Goddess.”
“No, but I have doubted how strongly one could be connected to Her. Until now. You have summoned Her power to bring me love! Oh, Rose, ’tis the most wondrous thing!”
“Aye.” I thought of my mystery boy. I still didn’t even know his name.
“And I’ll see Falkner tonight at Esbat circle. And at every circle. And from now on, when he looks at me, he’ll truly see me instead of staring right through me. What could be better?”