In the vision, Issylte saw the queen’s guards ride hard with Gigi deep into the forest, where they stopped abruptly and pulled her roughly from her horse. Two guards in gleaming armor pinned her thin arms behind her back as an inconsolable Gigi pleaded with them, struggling against their unyielding hold, tears streaming down her desperate face. While two armored guards held her pinned tightly against them, a third horseman grabbed a handful of Gigi’s hair and yanked her nurse’s head back to expose her vulnerable neck.
Issylte, her heart thumping out of her chest, watched in horror as a fourth guard unsheathed his sharp dagger and tore open Gigi’s throat before her very eyes. Blood spurted from the beautiful neck, Gigi’s frail life force flowing freely into the dead, rotting leaves. The huntsmen threw the fragile body to the ground, covering it hastily with thick branches. The four royal guards, resplendent in their finest livery, mounted their magnificent horses and galloped away, abandoning Gigi’s crumpled body in the darkest shadows of the Hazelwood Forest.
Gasping, unable to breathe, Issylte became aware of a voice calling from far away. Viviane gently tapped her on the cheeks, crying out, “Lilée… Lilée… Come back to me!”
The darkness cleared, the water lilies welcomed her, and the sunlight reflected off the lake once again. Slowly, her breathing calmed, and she was able to speak to the distraught High Priestess beside her.
“Viviane, I saw whatreallyhappened to my nurse!” Issylte panted, sobbing, struggling to get the words out.
“I had been told that she was dismissed. That the queen decided I no longer needed a nursemaid. The entire castle had been told that Gigi was being returned to her sister.” Her heart pounded frantically. “But I saw what really happened. Thewicked queen had herkilled!” Issylte jumped to her feet, flailing her arms, pacing along the sandy shore of the lake. “My evil stepmother tried to kill me—twice. She forced me to flee my father’s castle. Later, I had to flee the Hazelwood Forest. She killedTatie,Bran and Dee. And now, I find that she killed Gigi, too!”
Issylte fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, tearing at her hair in frustration and anger. “That wretched queen even sold Luna. She has taken everything and everyone that I love!” Issylte grasped Viviane’s hands. “My father is indanger. The queen is going to kill him, too. I know it. I must do something, before it is too late.” Issylte implored the Lady of the Lake. “I must help him, Viviane. Heneedsme. The leeches, the bloodletting…they are not healinghim. They’rekillinghim. I must go to him. I must help him.”
The Holy Priestess of Avalon held Issylte in her arms, consoling her with soothing words and a comforting embrace. When Issylte was finally able to listen, Viviane said gently, “I know you are desperate to help your father. You fear for his safety—and rightly so. You’re the victim of the queen’s evil wrath. I am so terribly sorry she has caused you such pain. Killed so many you love.” She hugged Issylte, rocking her in cradled arms.
A few minutes later, when Issylte’s whimpers had abated, Viviane whispered, “We did discover something today. You do indeed have a tremendous gift for thesight. I am sorry the vision was so horrific.”
Viviane lifted Issylte’s face, the depths of her blue eyes as profound asle Lac de Diane.“One thing is for certain, Lilée. You cannot return to the castle. The queen wouldkillyou before you could even reach your father. She’d have you arrested the moment you set foot into the castle. And execute you at once.”
Imparting words of wisdom to Issylte’s unwilling ears, the Lady of the Lake said solemnly, “You are the sole heir to the kingdom of Ireland, and the greatest threat to her power.”
And, with nearly the same counsel thatTatiehad given her years ago in Ireland, the High Priestess of Avalon said sagely, “It is difficult to be patient when we feel compelled to act. Yet often, we must wait, knowing that the Goddess has determined our fate—which has yet to be revealed.”
The Lady of the Lake kissed Issylte on the head and rose to her feet, beckoning her to stand as well. “Come,” she said gently, “let us go tola Fontaine de Jouvence,and be rejuvenated by the sacred spring. You’ve had an arduous ordeal, and it will help to restore you. There is nothing you can do to help your father right now. Youmustbe patient—no matter how difficult it is—and trust that the Goddess will reveal your fate, when the time is right. For now, let us heal your troubled heart with the sacred waters of Avalon.”
They walked slowly back up the hill, where the sight of the apple trees abundant with ripe, red fruit made Issylte think of Ronan, who had promised to return to her soon. At the memory of the handsome Elf, a wave of longing washed over her. She was simultaneously suffocated with tremendous guilt and overwhelmed with yearning for him.I am safe here, amid this natural beauty, awakened by the passion of Ronan’s kisses, while my father lies ill in his bed, threatened by the wicked queen and her horrid wizard. I must find a way to help him. Before it is too late.
Atla Fontaine de Jouvence, Issylte drank the rejuvenating water of the sacred spring under the watchful gaze of the Lady of the Lake. Deep within her grieving heart, the Emerald Princess vowed to help her father. Somehow, she would find a way to save him and stop the wretched, wicked queen.
Before it was too late.
Chapter 23
A Call for Aid
After his induction into the Tribe of Dana, Tristan returned tola Joyeuse Gardeand spent the rest of the summer learning the otherworldly sword-fighting techniques that Lancelot had mastered while training with the Elves of Avalon. Every day, Lancelot and his knights Judoc, Darius, and Gaël drilled Tristan mercilessly. He loved every minute of it. But now that summer was ending, Lancelot and Tristan were sailing back to Britain in the morning, in time for the autumnal equinox in Camelot and the final year of training to become a Knight of the Round Table of King Arthur Pendragon.
This evening, the Blue Knight of Cornwall sat with his host Lancelot in the vibrant banquet room on the final night before their sea voyage. Servants were clearing away platters of roast boar, refilling goblets of rich burgundy wine. Lively music of fiddles filled the jasmine scented air as knights and their ladies began to dance in the adjacent ballroom under the soft candlelight of the sparkling crystal chandeliers. Couples strolled in the moonlight along the glistening lake, where the pair of swans swam among the water lilies. Lovers kissed under the wisteria vines as Tristan and Lancelot sat contentedly at their table amidst the music, gaiety, and romance.
Tristan saw Judoc kiss a lovely brunette in a deep blue gown. He thought of Nolwenn’s long dark hair, lithe limbs and intoxicating amethyst eyes. His body stirred at the memory of the deliciouswelcomeinto the Tribe of Dana. His tongueloosened by several cups of wine, Tristan leaned towards his companion, his mouth curved upward in a smug grin. “You never told me howyoubecame a member of the Tribe. How did the legendary Lancelot of the Lake get inducted?”
Lancelot leaned back in his chair and extended his long legs. The White Knight of Avalon took a long pull from his goblet of wine, swirling it in his mouth to savor the dry fruity flavor. With his boyish grin, he fixed Tristan with blue eyes filled with mirth.
“The Priestesses of Dana are the guardians of the sacred waters, wielding the divine curative powers of the Goddess. Laudine is the Lady of the Spring—the sacred fountain where you and Esclados summoned the storm.” He took another mouthful of the fine burgundy, smacking his lips as his eyes twinkled in delight.
“When I was sixteen, living in the Forest of Brocéliande in my mother’sChâteau de Comper,a young priestess named Lysara had just been appointedLa Dame du Serein—the Lady of the Fairy Waterfall.” He took another large swallow of wine and grinned at Tristan. “She wasn’t at Landuc this summer, but you might meet her next year. She’s petite, brunette…beautiful.”Lancelot’s deep blue eyes swam in the soft light.
“My mother Viviane created a magnificent moonstone necklace—imbued with magic—as a protective talisman for Lysara. A gift to celebrate her becoming a Priestess of Dana.” Lancelot retracted his legs, reached his arms over his head, and stretched his broad back. He glanced out at the dark lake, glimmering in the moonlight, his thoughts lost in the past.
The music played in the ballroom, the fragrance of wisteria blossoms wafting in from the open doors overlooking the courtyard and lake. As he gazed at the moonlight reflecting on the gentle waves of the deep water, Tristan envisioned the young priestess with her enchanted moonstone necklace.
“Dwarves inhabit the forests ofBretagne. Like Bédalis, whom you slew to save Laudine,” Lancelot continued. “Many of them practice dark magic. They try to obtain our sacred objects—like Lysara’s magic talisman. A dwarf named Gorin learned of the necklace. He knew its value was immeasurable, because of the magic my mother had imbued into the moonstone gems.”
A servant refilled their goblets of wine. Tristan leaned back to enjoy the rich, earthy taste, enthralled by another of Lancelot’s captivating tales.
“One day, when Lysara was bathing in her fairy waterfall, she laid the necklace on a nearby stone. Gorin, spying in the woods, grabbed it and dashed off into the forest. Lysara came running back to my mother’s castle, hysterical with grief, desperate to retrieve her precious talisman.”
Lancelot gulped from his goblet and smirked. “I flew into the saddle, raced through the forest, and tracked him down. I slew him as he crouched over it, laughing greedily, muttering to himself.” Pride gleamed in his warrior eyes. “I was invited to join the Tribe for saving the precious talisman.” He took another gulp of wine, a big grin illuminating his bemused face. “Lysara showed her appreciation by welcoming me into the Tribe.”
