*
“You mentioned thatBrython is part of a prophecy,” Curtis said as he led Elle and Melusine out into the sunshine. “Where is this gate to Annwyn supposed to be?”
Melusine was clinging to Elle, walking alongside her. When Curtis came to a halt at the edge of the moat, gazing up at the enormous walls, Elle came to a halt as well, and Melusine leaned against her, laying her head on her cousin’s shoulder.
“It is in the vaults underneath the keep,” Elle said. “Much of these lands are rocky, and there are caves about. The gate to Annwyn is in a natural cave beneath the castle, but there is water. A small pond. The gate is beneath it.”
“Fascinating,” Curtis said, his gaze still on the walls. “Tell me what you know of the history of this place. All I’ve ever heard has been from my father’s scouts.”
Elle still wasn’t entirely comfortable with telling him everything about Brython, handing over something she deeply loved on a silver platter. Or silver sword, as it were. She had to force down the argument she’d presented to Christopher, howthey were making it seem so easy when this was something that had gutted her to her very soul.
Her loss was their gain.
“It has been standing here for many ages,” she said. “It was built by a prince of Powys long ago who wished to build on this sacred site to protect it. It is built from the great blue stones that are found to the west, stones with magical properties, it is said.”
“Is that so?” he said as he began to walk toward the gatehouse, pulling her along by her wrist. “It seems this place was meant to be magical from the beginning.”
Elle felt as if she was walking into a tomb. A tomb of her dreams, of her life, that was. She must have slowed down, because Curtis turned to look at her, but she really didn’t know why until they reached the drawbridge that had been partially repaired so that a man, one at a time, could walk across the moat on three long planks to get to the gatehouse. Elle wasn’t looking at the drawbridge.
She was looking at the state of the gatehouse.
He was looking at her because she’d come to a stunned halt.
“This place was meant to be magical from the start,” she said, her tone soft. “My lord, I do not mean to be difficult, but the last time I was in this place, I was fighting you. I was fighting for my life. You must give me a moment to mourn what I have lost before I go in there with you. I’m simply not… ready.”
Curtis let go of her wrist. “You will have to go in there sooner or later.”
“Everyone is allowed to mourn a death. You must allow me to mourn mine.”
He looked at her a moment before turning his attention to the castle. It was in a terrible state. English were swarming over it, mostly the gatehouse and the western wall that had been so badly damaged. They had already begun repairs. However, Curtis wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to Elle’s feelings. This hadbeen her home, and she had fought hard for it. She was looking upon her failure and having difficulty with it. But even as he thought on that, something else occurred to him.
“May I ask a question?” he said.
Her focus was on the twisted portcullis that several soldiers were trying to remove from the front of the gatehouse. “What would you ask?” she said.
He gestured to the castle. “From what you have told me, your life was not a good one,” he said. “Is that a fair statement?”
She looked at him. “You know everything,” she said. “I have told you what my life has been.”
“Then it was not a good life.”
“Nay.”
His gaze fixed on her. “Then why would you mourn a life that was not good?” he asked. “I can understand that you would mourn your dreams and goals, but to mourn a life where you only had one set of stinking clothing and did not get enough to eat? Why would you mourn such a thing?”
He had a point. Melusine lifted her head from Elle’s shoulder, looking at her cousin to see what her reaction was going to be, but Elle didn’t have an answer for him. He seemed to point out things she didn’t want to acknowledge, not even a life that hadn’t been the most comfortable or the kindest. But it was the only life she’d ever known, so the question frustrated her. Pulling her arm from Melusine’s grip, she charged toward the drawbridge.
“Then let me tell you of this terrible place that will now become your home,” she said. “Let me show you the keep where you can be comfortable. I will tell you everything you need to know so you know the quality of your prize.”
She was stomping across the drawbridge, and he motioned to Melusine to follow. He brought up the rear as the three of them passed through the gatehouse and into the bailey, which wasquite vast. It was longer than it was wide, rectangular in shape, and on a slightly uphill angle. This was the first time Curtis had been inside, so he found himself looking at everything curiously. All around him were the ashes of things that had been burned, ponies that were corralled up as a few men dumped grain into buckets for them because they hadn’t been fed. All around them were remnants of a life that had been, a Welsh life, and the English were moving in to consume it.
Already, the English were putting their mark on it.
“There is no money here, but I suppose you already know that,” Elle continued, breaking into his train of thought. “We do have ponies and chickens, and you can sell them if you wish for the money, but there is nothing else of value here. Just a broken castle and broken people.”
She was verging on some kind of rage or breakdown. He could see it. Melusine hadn’t said a word so far, surprising for a woman who seemed to speak first, think second, but she was looking at her cousin with sympathy. Curtis could have addressed Elle’s comments, but he didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Not now. He was hoping they would move beyond her wild behavior, so he chose to ignore it.
For now.
