“I’d like to amend my earlier assumption.”
Prudence was still not looking at her, but her voice was less distant.
“So I am not a nihilistic villain anymore in your estimation?” Rhiannon wanted to smile.
“Only when it comes to the island and the town and the craft. Otherwise, I believe you are all heart. Maybe too much of it, so I agree with Christian about you wanting too much. My three caveats stand, however.”
Rhiannon wanted to recoil. She wanted to hit the brakes and tell this woman, who had somehow found herself at the very core of Rhiannon’s life on the island, to get out and let her breathe. Couldn’t she see that Rhiannon had not been able to draw a full-chest breath since they had met? That she had had to work double and triple time to keep herself from spilling her magic all over these damned rocks, just to keep them all safe? And herself alive?
Prudence’s voice broke through her nascent panic attack. In fact, she didn’t even realize she was having one up until a warm hand landed on hers on the steering wheel and a curious tone reached her ears.
“Before you take us both off the cliff, to prove my very point about the fact that not only are you not a villain at all, but that’s just what you want everyone to think so they’ll leave you alone, can you humor me and answer a question?”
Prudence was finally looking at her fully, not stealing furtive glances. Her eyes were huge, shadowy, full of unshed emotion Rhiannon was not prepared to untangle. Certainly not when she was driving and certainly not while her chest was an open mess of muscles and tendons and fear.
She reached for her patience. Maybe it would save them both.
“I’ll answer anything, Prudence. I’m an open book.”
Prudence’s laughter was melodious, a burst of rain shaken out by a treacherous wind.
“Since I don’t know how to call you out on that one without saying that you are the biggest liar with her pants on fire, I’ll just ask my question. Why did you name your cat Boleyn?”
Rhiannon smiled and shrugged. What a non sequitur.
“She’s been through a lot.”
Prudence kept looking at her, ignoring the world outside of the car’s windows or the fast-approaching Viridescent Cliff and the luxury of their destination.
“She’s Boleyn because she’s been through a lot?”
Rhiannon could feel that this line of questioning was leading somewhere, Prudence’s eyes too avid on her. Still, she chose to answer. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Anne Boleyn was one of the many women in history who were given the shortest end of the goddamn stick because a man didn’t want them anymore. Executed for what? So that a monster could go on raping other women and murdering them in his quest for male progeny?”
Rhiannon’s voice went high, the sudden tears frightening her, and she pulled into the parking lot a bit too abruptly. When she turned to face Prudence, the gray was nearly black in those calm eyes.
“You decided to right a generational, historical wrong by giving one Boleyn a life of ease and love and peace, even if she is a cat this time around. Hence you spoil her and go above and beyond what a reasonable cat owner would ever do for their cat. Makes sense, Rhiannon. Makes perfect sense for a nihilistic villain.”
Rhiannon felt her cheeks flame.
“There’s no such thing as a cat owner. One doesn’t own cats.”
Prudence laughed again, sincere and delighted, and Rhiannon watched those beautiful features transform with joy. The frayed scars on her heart tugged painfully.
“No, I suppose a cat owns you. And your familiar more so than any other, given the lifestyle she leads.”
“She’s not my familiar. I sure hope Ceridwen isn’t filling your head with that kind of garbage, because one doesn’t need a familiar to be a witch?—”
Rhiannon stopped mid-sentence and wanted to curse herself for a fool. She wasn’t even sure what was Prudence goading her into saying, but she was becoming too easy prey, and that needed to change, and soon.
“It doesn’t matter. Ceridwen can teach you whatever she damn well pleases, she will anyway. Sorry I brought up Christian’s earlier assessment.”
Prudence opened her own door and got out of the car, looking at Rhiannon over the hood of the little Mercedes.
“She taught me how to make flowers bloom and how to use water to allay hurts and pains. And she and Seren think neither Earth nor Water are my elements. Though I could’ve told them that weeks ago and saved us all some time.”
As Prudence walked away in the direction of the bright lights of the resort, Rhiannon’s hands flared, the craft rearing its head against the barrier spell, reaching for its mate.
