The Solstice Bride Read online

  “It would be nicer if you asked permission,” Falke said.

  Heat flashed into her cheeks. “I just … I wanted to …”

  “Ask politely to scan me for falsehood,” Falke said calmly.

  “You’re very strong. Few people can even detect when I read them,” Ravenna replied.

  Falke just sat there, looking at her.

  She sighed impatiently. “May I verify what you’re saying?”

  “You may,” Falke said. He opened his mind—but only so much. There was a lot that was closed.

  “Are you going to let me in?” Ravenna demanded. But it was easy to see in his mind that he was telling her what he believed to be the truth.

  “You’ve seen what you were there to see. Once we trust each other better, perhaps we can have an exchange. Until then … no. That’s enough,” Falke said.

  Ravenna got up angrily. “You’re the one who came sneaking up to the circle! Why should I do anything you say?” What if this is some sort of trap—some test by the queen to see if I’m as loyal as she wants me to be?

  “The Goddess sent me,” Falke said steadily.

  “The Goddess wants to murder the queen?” Ravenna demanded.

  “No,” Falke said carefully. “The Goddess wants to right a wrong. There’s a lot to tell you,” he said. “And only after I’ve explained things to you. Then, I’ll have to ask you the most important question of your life.”

  “You’re not going to tell me now?” Ravenna exclaimed.

  “No. It’s too much on top of the surprise of our meeting,” Falke said. “Let’s do this in stages. When do you think you can slip out again?”

  Ravenna head was throbbing. She was so torn and conflicted by this man. This half-brother. This Falke Drunemeton. “They’re probably looking for me now!”

  “Please,” Falke asked.

  That simple appeal was so compelling. “Next lunar celebration, I guess.”

  “We don’t have time to wait that long,” Falke said. “Can you get out again tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? I have the rehearsal for my initiation on Midsummer Eve,” Ravenna said.

  Falke’s gray-blue eyes widened. “What?”

  Run!

  Chapter Two

  Morgaine

  Morgaine ran her hand slowly over Paul’s muscled abdomen. When she’d first bed him eighteen years ago, that stomach had been ridged and hard from his life as a “footballer”—the closest this age came to a warrior. But now he was “team manager”—which she understood to be something like a tribal war leader of her time.

  Paul Tryfan was the only lover who was allowed in the royal bedroom, or to stay after they had sex. He was also one of the very few she’d kept after a few trysts. In his last life, he’d been Sir Bedevere, loyal member of the Round Table, and King Arthur’s faithful knight. She had seduced Bedevere when he was younger, after Arthur rejected her.

  Oh, Arthur, I wanted you so.

  King Arthur was both the source of all her pain and love. Somehow, he had defeated almost every ploy, every trick, every scheme she had tried. Well, with the help of Merlin, of course.

  How her soul had cried out for Arthur over the long years! How many hours had she sat by her fire thinking of that young, lithe boy she’d lain with in the Goddess hut: his gentle touch, his sexual strength? And what an oak he’d grown into! But an untouchable one. He’d grown into a ruler and the husband of another woman. Later, he became the lover of still another woman—an enemy. Anya.

  In the end, it had been Morgaine and her Avalon priestesses who had taken dead King Arthur off the field of Camlann. She had bathed his body in magickal herbs and deep spells, then laid him in a crystal cave. And there he was still, perfectly preserved.

  Yet he was dead, and she was not.

  Morgaine had been forced into the hell of waiting—almost 1,500 years—by that controlling little bitch, Anya, and that conniving entity, the Goddess.

  But Morgaine had turned the tables on the lot of them.

  After so many years in exile, here she was, now called Queen Ava of Britain, finally the ruler of the kingdom owed to her. The people of Britain thought they had a beautiful, magical, red-haired queen (and dark-skinned king) to rally around and rebuild the kingdom. A pity they didn’t know it was really her—Morgaine. Still, she was the ruler, and that little Anya-reincarnation was not. It had been a pleasure defeating Anya-Ava at what seemed her moment of triumph.

  The thought often made Morgaine smile.

  Morgaine stretched like a cat and played with the flame pendant she’d recently redone in even more precious stones. She let her eyes sweep the beautiful room. Nearly every surface was covered with gold, elaborate ornamentation, or expensive cloths. It was truly a queen’s room.

  But it didn’t have Arthur in it.

  She let the pendant drop back onto her chest.

  Paul’s abdomen suddenly jumped and jiggled as he laughed.

  Morgaine glanced at the hologram playing across the room. This age was mad for its entertainments—the more idiotic, the better. Electronic technology threw life-sized mummers into one’s home to prate and dance as if they were really there. It disturbed Morgaine—a magick she didn’t control. She usually didn’t permit the machine’s use, but the prince’s show was on, and of course, Paul—the proud father—wanted to watch him.

  At that moment, Prince Robert “walked” into the room. Morgaine shuddered, reminding herself that it was just an image. The boy was not really there. But it felt uncanny, the sixteen-year-old, black-haired, green-eyed boy with the Nordic complexion strutting about the other side of the room, spouting silliness to Paul’s gales of guffaws.

  Robert was the finest of all her works, contrived with Paul’s willing assistance, and deep magick calling the proper soul to her womb. At last, someone who is loyal only to me! Robert was handsome, clever, quick to respond to her training, and a strategic thinker who often saw deeper into a situation than she did. Robert had charisma, a way of attracting people to him that she could not match. He would be a powerful king one day. He accepted his part in her plan next year to kill the failed reincarnation of Arthur, Ron (ridiculously named King Arthur II), and install the boy as Prince-Regent.

  She had never felt such a powerful emotion—love—as she did for this boy.

  “Zoom-zoom!” the holographic Robert shouted before exiting.

  Paul roared with delight.

  Morgaine smiled, as well. However, she could feel that part of Paul’s amusement was pride. Does he think that simply because he fathered the boy it gives him some access to the throne once Robert attains it? As if his essence gives him any privileges! The boy is my creature. She would have to consider things carefully. It might be time for Paul to meet with an unfortunate accident.

  Paul’s rod stiffened, and he grinned down at her.

  Perhaps not quite yet.

  Languidly, she mounted him, letting him caress her in the ways she liked. The practiced touch was well done. He knew all the places to ignite her desire. It would be difficult to train another to this perfection. She took the amulet he wore on a necklace into her mouth and used it to pull him to her.

  She was just letting herself sink into the coils of the rut when she heard:

  Run!

  Morgaine sat bolt upright in the bed. The voice wasn’t in the room—it was miles away and said to someone else entirely. But she knew immediately who it was who’d shouted that command. She’d not heard the Goddess’s voice since the Healing. Morgaine had gone to great lengths to block that meddlesome deity from her realm. And for all this time, She’d been silent.

  Why now? What is happening?

  “Ava-baby, what is it?” Paul said, kissing her neck.

  “Leave me,” Morgaine commanded.

  “Hey,” he chuckled, rubbing her thigh with his wet, hard rod.

  “I said leave me,” she snapped. The walls of the room bowed out with the power of her anger.

  Immediately, he slipped
off the bed. “As you wish, my Queen.” He scooped up his clothes and hurried out.

  Morgaine gathered her power and focused carefully on her domain. Who had the Goddess been telling to run? And why?

  It didn’t take long before she realized the answer.

  Ravenna.

  Damn the girl.

  Ravenna should have been the perfect child. Created on an ensorcelled Merlin, Morgaine had planned to make the girl wholly her own little creature. But nothing had quite gone as planned. Somehow, Ravenna had been able to resist Morgaine’s controls. It had been a pity, but Morgaine had stooped to the even more brutal methods she’d used in her Avalon days: humiliation, shame, pain, and isolation. That didn’t sway Ravenna, either. In fact, it had served to strengthen the child.

  Morgaine had sent her to the Temple years earlier than most initiates. After she got Robert, she’d seriously considered poisoning Ravenna, as she had the twin brother, Aiden. But then, about five years ago, after receiving one of the Dark Lord’s rare direct commands, Morgaine had discovered the value of the girl: a way to defeat Ravenna and grow Morgaine’s powers. And it was all about to come to fruition in just one more week, at the Midsummer Eve rite, as part of Ravenna’s supposed consecration as a priestess.

  And suddenly the Goddess shows up.

  “Inferi, get Heinrich,” Morgaine said to her AI assistant, which monitored all rooms for her commands.

  “Yes, O Queen,” the obedient metallic voice said. “Contacting Heinrich.”

  An image of her spymaster appeared above the surface of the bedside table. If he was surprised to see her unclothed, he didn’t show it. “Yes, my Queen?”

  “The girl, Ravenna. Where is she?” Ava demanded.

  His eyes slid to a screen she couldn’t see, then came back. “Her embedded GPS tracker shows she is in her room at the Temple asleep, ma’am.”

  “Have her room checked,” Ava demanded.

  “But the tracker—” he started to explain.

  “Go verify that she is in her room, Heinrich! Or do I need to find another spymaster?”

  “As you wish, my Queen. Right away,” he said bowing until she turned off the image.

  But Morgaine knew the girl would not be there.

  And what would cause the Goddess to take the girl now? There must be some catalyst. What …?

  Her questing mental power came upon something new in the kingdom. Somethingsomeoneshe had not noticed until that moment. Someone who was a very real threat to all that she’d built.

  Morgaine stood up and screamed, “Why have you come back now, Falke Drunemeton?!”

  Chapter Three

  Falke

  Run!

  Falke’s heart exploded with joy and fear at the disembodied woman’s voice.

  “What … who was that?” Ravenna asked.

  “It was the Goddess,” Falke whispered, wondering how a priestess-initiate could not know. He said in a stronger voice, “We have to go. Right now.”

  “This is crazy. It’s stupid! I can’t just—” Ravenna argued.

  Falke summoned his power to grow and glow. A shimmering light radiated all around him. “Ravenna Cerdwen, come with me and do as the Goddess commands or go to your death!” His voice boomed in the small room.

  She shook all over, her eyes were enormous. “I will do as the Goddess asks.”

  Immediately, he regretted going into “priest-mode,” as he pulled her out of the chair. He’d probably looked scary and threatening, and that’s not what he’d intended at all. Falke took a breath and returned to normal. He knew by her remarkable aura—a deep indigo, one of the rarest types of souls in the world—that she was stubborn, strong-willed, and deeply intelligent. She would fight him every step of the way if he couldn’t convince her of the need to move immediately.

  There was a feeling at her touch, as if he’d shuffled across the carpet wearing thick socks in the winter, then brushed up against something metal. It was disturbing and thrilling all at once. Brusquely, he asked, “Do you have anything on under that robe?” She was wearing a white initiate’s robe that would stand out in the areas they would be traveling. He hoped she had something on underneath that was better suited.

  Ravenna snatched her hand back and eyed him warily. “Um, panties.”

  That sounded entirely creepy. I am such an idiot sometimes. In a calmer tone, he asked, “Do they have an employee locker room? Maybe someone left some clothes.” Before Ravenna could answer, Falke grabbed her hand—and there was that spark again. “Come on!” he said, dashing to the locker room.

  As they entered the employees’ room, Falke called up his power, and all of the metal doors flew open at once. He dropped her hand and went to paw through the contents.

  Ravenna gasped. “Those belong to other people!”

  Falke suppressed a laugh that she was so offended at taking something from other people in an emergency. He pulled out a long shirt from one locker and a pair of stretch pants from another. “Those people aren’t about to be killed. Put these on!”

  Ravenna folded her arms across her chest. “Ew. Those are dirty. I won’t take them.”

  “Get them on,” Falke commanded. “This isn’t a joke. You’re in danger, and we have to get out of here, now!”

  Reluctantly, Ravenna took the clothes from him, looking at him as if he were completely mad. “All right.”

  Falke grabbed an orange poncho from another locker and stuffed it in her hands. “I’ll be out in the hall.”

  When she was finished changing, Ravenna joined him.

  Falke looked her up and down, captivated by her looks. She was slender and shapely, which was highlighted by the leggings and the long shirt—she’d yet to put on the poncho. Had she not been his half-sister, he would have been strongly attracted to her. That creamy-looking skin, tumble of glossy black hair, and those brilliant green eyes pulled him to her as no woman had. He chided himself for his inappropriate musings and forced himself to observe her dispassionately.

  The outfit was obviously not to her taste, and her discomfiture with wearing dirty clothes radiated off her, making her look “wrong” even to someone who wasn’t an adept. “Well, it will have to do,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “The Exclusion Zone first,” Falke said more confidently than he felt. He took her hand and felt that sparking sensation again. As they passed through the hologram room, Falke deliberately looked away from that carefully constructed lie, facing the opposite wall.

  And stopped dead in his tracks.

  “What?” Ravenna asked.

  “She actually rewove history,” he said, slowly walking up to the two large tapestries.

  “What do you mean?”

  The arras showing King Arthur in his bedroom with Guenevere and Lancelot had been reworked so that an image of Morgaine—complete with her fire pendant, stood behind the king. “She put herself in Merlin’s place,” he whispered.

  “It wasn’t always like that?” Ravenna asked.

  “No,” Falke said. He walked over to the huge tapestry of the Round Table. All the knights and lesser kings were in their places around the large, separated circular table. But in Merlin’s seat was Morgaine with the label “High Priestess of Avalon.”

  “You saw these before, and they were different?” Ravenna asked.

  “They were kept in the Sacred Grotto beneath Drunemeton House for 1,500 years. Dad, Ron, and Ava presented them to the government to show their bona fides, along with all the regalia.” Falke looked around. He spotted Excalibur mounted on the wall—missing its magical sheath. There was the crown, the gold Saxon necklace, and King Arthur’s ruby dragon ring.

  But nothing of Merlin’s.

  She erased her greatest foe, Falke thought in stunned wonder.

  Move!

  Yes. Sorry, he said to the Goddess.

  Cautiously, they went out into the park that surrounded the Center. Falke guided her under the moon-shadowed trees as he headed t
oward the nearest city gate.

  This is going too fast. He hadn’t planned to take Ravenna away from the Temple at this point. The Sisterhood had suggested he go to her over two or three nights before Midsummer. Make his case in stages. Build up her confidence in him.

  He’d never been that convinced of his persuasive powers and argued that he should start sooner. Maybe go to London three or four months prior to the Solstice next year. Get Ravenna to trust him slowly.

  But the leadership of the Daughters of Arianrhod—also known as the Sisterhood—had insisted they couldn’t expose him to the possibility he’d be discovered. They gave him less than one week to convince the girl, get the artifact, and accomplish their task. But now he’d taken Ravenna way too early. He was committed to this path, though, come what may.

  His turbulent thoughts were interrupted by Ravenna asking in a hushed, quavering voice, “So the vid everyone’s watched countless times on the Net and in the Center is a fabrication?”

  It was risky, talking as they escaped, but he hoped it would distract her, “It was the middle of the day—noon on the dot—and a gray rain was coming down. I can’t explain why the queen would change it to a clear night, unless it simply looked better.”

  The sound of slamming doors in the Healing Center stopped them in their tracks. Quickly, he led her into a sort of cave of bushes. It was true dark inside the leafy enclosure. They could see out, but Falke was reasonably certain they couldn’t be seen.

  Elongated shadows punctuated by flashlight beams spread out over the eastern side of the park—on the opposite side of where Falke and Ravenna were hidden. Falke could feel Ravenna shivering with fear.

  Falke realized Ravenna was nearing a full-on panic attack. Her emotions were radiating off of her in such a flood, the feelings threatened to drown him, as well. Of course she’s terrified. She’s never been out of the Temple, and I just show up and make her leave behind everything she’s ever known. I need to keep her mind off of things. He forced himself to do the calming breaths he’d learned in his many years of study and whispered in her ear, “Let’s see, what else was different about the Healing? Um, Ava was wearing a green robe, not red.”