“Will!” she screamed, dropping her pen.
Terror a living force consuming her, Elizabeth heard Will calling for her to come to him.
Trembling, she fumbled to dress in a loose gown and coiled her girdle around her as she stumbled down the narrow steps of the cottage.
In the courtyard, Charles Grey looked up from mounting his horse. “Elizabeth, what is wrong, child?”
“It is Will! I must reach him in time!” she cried.
He tried to stop her but she wrenched free, grabbing the reins and leaping upon the horse. “He is at the secluded glade. Follow me.”
Fear squeezing like a vise upon all her senses, her blood running cold, she galloped over the fields to the place where Will had found her.
Her frigid blood froze her in horror, seeing him on the flat grass, his blood soaking red the earth beneath him.
In her need to reach him, she half fell from her horse, scrabbled to her feet, stumbled toward him to sink to her knees at his side. “Will, I am here. Love, I am here.”
Slowly his eyes opened and she saw a flame flicker in their depths. “I knew you would come.” His breath, shallow and low, filled her with terror.
“Yes, love. Always. I shall save you. I promise.” Tears nearly blinding her, she pressed a jeweled crescent from the girdle against his wrist. As before, the wound closed into a moon-shaped scar. “I can heal you with my magic,” she sobbed, pressing the crescent moon against the stab wound in his back.
Her breath caught in horror.
It is not healing.
In roiling, scalding desperation, she pressed another crescent against the wound and another and another, held each tighter, held each longer, yet still Will’s blood bubbled around her hands and into the earth.
Her moans of anguish were carried by the wind, rustling the leaves above her.
“It is too deep, too deep,” she sobbed, cradling him in her arms, rocking him as her tears wet his face and hair.
“Elizabeth, my love. Must…overcome…Carlyle’s magic,” he gasped, his breathing more labored, the flame flickering in his eyes.
Through her dark agony arose a great swell of strength, and a shuddering understanding of her power washed over her.
“We shall overcome Carlyle.” She kissed Will’s cold lips, trying to warm them. “Love, do not fear this darkness, for it is but a moment. This is not the end for us, my love. I know I carry your child and I promise Stephen will be granted his birthright. For us, heaven can wait. If it takes a thousand lifetimes, we will be together again.”
“I believe you…Elizabeth…” His eyes drifted shut and she pressed her lips to his to feel and taste his last breath.
She flung back her head, crying out her rage. Dark clouds rolled across the sun above her. Jagged shafts of light cut the blackness and the heavens roared.
Beneath her, the earth trembled before she heard the horses galloping toward them.
Cradling Will in her arms, she looked up into his grandfather’s face.
Aging before her eyes, Charles Grey knelt beside her, Will’s soldiers at his back.
Sick to her soul, yet full of primal knowledge of what she must do to secure the future for all of them, she lied. “It was the thieves who roam these woods who did this deed.”
Raindrops mingled with his tears as Will’s grandfather nodded. “Come, child, we must take Will home to Dunham Castle.”
Tom, frank tears and anguish stark upon his face, lifted Will into his arms, carrying him to his horse.
“No!” Elizabeth screamed, not wanting to relinquish her love.
Charles Grey, his eyes steady and full of knowledge met hers. “Will is gone, Elizabeth.” His arms surprisingly strong, he held her back. “You must let his bodily remains be put to rest.”
Trembling, her world a storm of vengeance and disbelief, she fell to her knees, weeping.
“Elizabeth, remember what Will would wish you to do.”
The challenge in his grandfather’s voice snapped her back to the moment. To what she knew she must do to keep her promises.
With Charles Grey’s help, she rose to her feet, and leaning upon him, climbed onto her saddle for the long, agonizing ride home to Dunham Castle.
The heavens opened and a storm of raindrops mingled with her tears and those of Will’s men.
Charles Grey had sent a scout ahead with the tragic news. As they slowly entered the strong, high walls of the castle, the bells tolled, and in the courtyard, the duke and Laurel waited.
Elizabeth, wild with grief, searched for Carlyle, her fingers eager on her dagger, ready to pierce his heart.
His face still and blank, he stood beside the duke. Yet she saw that he gave away his fear by rubbing the hilt of his blade with his long fingers.
I cannot destroy him for the sake of my unborn child I sense within me, for my power has told it is true. I must protect Stephen and keep my promises to Will.
Weeping, the duke gently took Will’s body into his arms and sank to the cobblestones. “My son. My son,” he cried his anguish to the heavens.
Laurel threw herself down beside him, her fine hair a veil over Will’s still face, before she collapsed in despair.
From Elizabeth’s agony arose a strength she could not have believed possible. Her world lay shattered around her yet she found the courage to rise, to command. I will not reveal my knowledge to Carlyle until the moment is right for my revenge.
She nodded to him, standing stiffly over the body of the brother he had slain, before she turned to stare into the duke’s grief-stricken eyes. “Will must be taken to the chapel, your Grace,” she said gently. Somehow her steadiness and the truth of her words reached him and he nodded. “So be it.”
At some point, she realized Alice was beside her. Recognized her bedchamber. Allowed Alice to strip from her the clothes soaked with Will’s blood.
Her body performed its duties, yet her mind remained separate, steadying on what she must do to secure the future for those she loved.
Alice, her eyes red-rimmed and as frightened as Elizabeth had ever seen them, studied her. “Can you do it? The duke has sent a servant to escort you to his chambers.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin and followed.
Charles Grey was waiting in the warm, softly lit room. He gripped her hands and stared into her eyes, a question in his.
“It is as it was written in our stars,” she whispered, trying to believe it herself.
“I accept and understand our destinies.” He nodded and closed the door, leaving her alone with the duke.
Eyes wide and wild with grief, tears coursing down his strong face, he paced from door to fire and back again. “This is my punishment. To lose those I love most.” He turned to face her. “I know of Will’s great love for you. Tell me your free choice and I shall give you my kingdom as I should have given it to Will.”
Led by instinct and the power of her promise to Will, she clasped the duke’s hands and looked steadily into his dazed eyes.
“I shall be your daughter as Will was your son. The union between the House of Lennox and the House of Wharton will take place. The people will be happy and secure in our alliance.”
The duke shook his head in disbelief. “But without Will shall there ever again be joy in our hearts?”
She held her hands over her womb and thought of Stephen. “I swear before God there shall be joy. I vow to show you the way as Will would want me to do.”
Dunham Castle, 1601
The heavens weep tears for us and the great winds carry our sorrow across the land.
The court is in mourning, each of us finding our way through this dark torment. In my chamber, feeling Will’s child within me, holding his son in my arms, his sweet, soft cheek pressed to my bosom as I relive again and again t
hose final moments with my love in the glade.
Again I feel the terror of finding Will fallen upon the grass, blood gushing from his wounds, staining red the earth beneath him.
Again feel my joy when I press a crescent from my celestial girdle against his flesh and it heals into a scar of the waxing moon upon his wrist as it did on Laurel’s forehead.
Again the blackness consumes me as the powers of my celestial girdle are not great enough to heal the deep stab wound in Will’s back.
My greatest enemy, Carlyle, rubs his fingertips over the jeweled hilt of his dagger, his eyes hooded when he looks at me now. He does not know if his evil deed is secret. If I know he wielded the dagger which killed Will.
Yet I must marry him. In his grief and with my encouragement, the duke has declared the wedding must go forward, the alliance between Wharton Keep and Dunham Castle forged. He says it will give him pleasure to call me daughter even though the ceremony is brief and there will be no merriment.
I will act well my role in this play.
Then when the moment is right I shall step to the edge of the stage between the light and the darkness beyond. From this place, hidden yet exposed, I will claim what is right and just for those I love. It shall be on my wedding night, for then I can secure the future I promised Will.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth moved through the first week of life without Will in a waking nightmare.
Her wedding day dawned and Alice helped bathe and oil her body as if for a lover. Elizabeth was a lifeless statue, allowing Alice to coil her hair with pearls and choose a gown with a low bodice, so her breasts swelled above the lace ruffle.
As Elizabeth swept from her chamber, Alice stopped her. “You don’t need to do this. You can come back to Wharton Keep with me. All would welcome you with open arms.”
Saddened to lose her dear friend, her last link to the security of her home, her old life, Elizabeth kissed Alice’s warm cheek. “I can’t. This is my destiny.”
It was as if she stood outside her body, watching the ceremony which made her Carlyle’s bride. She felt nothing, heard nothing. The only touchstones of reality were the loss-stricken eyes of the duke, the tortured smile of gentle Laurel, and the knowing eyes of Will’s grandfather. Throughout, she did not recoil from Carlyle’s touch as every sense demanded in rebellion. Nor did she flinch from his gaze, although the force of her will shuddered in the struggle. As she had planned, Elizabeth acted well the dutiful bride.
Alice gone, Elizabeth dismissed the remaining servants. Alone she awaited her groom in her chambers, which were lit with low candles and a roaring fire.
At a scratch on the door she called, “Enter.”
Florea walked slowly into the darkened room.
Elizabeth now knew Florea’s true nature. She did not move to help the old nurse’s tortured walk across the chamber but remained silent in front of the fire.
“My lady, I come with a small offering.” Florea gazed upward into Elizabeth’s face as she held out a beautifully embroidered night robe of silver and gold. “Long ago I wove this to be worn by Carlyle’s bride on their wedding night. Would you indulge an old woman who has loved Carlyle from his first cry? I have wished for him to possess all that is rightfully his and I know with you it shall be true.”
Elizabeth took the robe into her hands. “Yes, with me Carlyle shall receive what is rightfully his due.”
She watched Florea shuffle out, having foreseen that within a fortnight the old woman would die of a broken heart, deserted by the one she loved. She would die alone and unmourned as she deserved.
Elizabeth turned, throwing the robe onto the burning logs. She watched as the silver-and-gold threads sparked red before dying into embers.
Carlyle did not knock or ask permission to enter. He walked proudly in long strides to claim his prize. Yet in the chamber’s cobweb of shadows and light, she caught the glint of uncertainty in his eyes. Of fear.
In that moment, she stepped out of the shadows to confront him. “Yes, be afraid, Carlyle. For I know you murdered your brother.”
His eyes narrowed into slits alive with both fear and vengeance. “Elizabeth, I did only what the old gods decreed. The magic which existed between you and Will was ordained by the gods. It was his destiny to die because of his love for you as it is our destiny to be together. You know I am the one to release your full powers. As I shall do this night.”
Rage and grief tore through every fiber of her body as she knew that his words were true. The price of her magic was Will’s life. She lifted her chin, and through the agony in her chest, answered him. “Yes, you speak true, Carlyle. Through your abominable cruelty and deceit you have made me recognize and accept my full powers. Powers you shall never possess. This night or any other,” she taunted.
His eyes blazed with rage. “Silence, witch! You cannot defeat me and what has been destined to be. The old gods have spoken!” He reached out his hand as if to cover her mouth.
He lunged at her, again and again, and each time Elizabeth’s powers pushed him away. Tiring of his hated presence, she waved her hand and Carlyle was flung across the room, crashing against the stone wall, falling, tangled in the tapestry which had covered it.
Gasping, his eyes narrow, he laughed, the sound low and guttural in his throat. “This trick of yours is nothing. My power is becoming greater each day. More than enough to thwart you and your so called great love.”
Through the soul-wrenching loss of Will at Carlyle’s hand had come the realization of her power. At last she understood the birthright, Cybil, had prophesied. “I foresee that you and I shall duel through time until I defeat you, Carlyle. I know the exact moment you will draw your last breath. And I promise you, I shall be there.”
She saw fear and his coward’s plan in his eyes and smiled. “Yes, Carlyle, flee from this place, from me, believing it will keep you safe. It shall not.”
“We shall see whose power is greater. I’ll return when it is time to defeat you, my bewitching Elizabeth,” Carlyle promised her, backing from the room.
As her wedding night faded into the new dawn, the wind biting at her skin, she watched from the parapet as Carlyle rode away with his men. Their saddlebags bulged with her dowry and much of the duke’s treasury.
Slowly, she walked to Will’s chamber and was startled to find Alice, a slumbering Stephen in her arms.
Grinning, Alice rose and carefully gave Stephen into her keeping. “You’ll be wanting him, I’m thinking. I sent his nursemaid away and took the liberty of telling her I’d be taking her job.”
Weak with surprise and blazing relief, Elizabeth sank into the chair, clasping Stephen to her breasts. “I don’t understand. I thought your greatest desire was to return to your family at Wharton Keep.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking you might be needing me.” Her snapping brown eyes slid to Stephen and settled on Elizabeth’s womb. “Don’t have the eye but I’ve got eyes in my head. And I’ve been thinking about destiny. Seems to me Granny Cybil saw Tom was mine. That’s why she told me I needed to come with you. Surely that boy’s got a bit of the Scots in him with that carroty mop. He needs a good English lass to keep him in line, don’t you think?”
The return of joy came with a slight tickle, and she chuckled. “I think Tom is a very lucky man.”
“Me, too,” Alice said with her usual cheekiness. “I’ll leave you alone now, Elizabeth. But I’m here. To stay.”
Grateful, she sat rocking Will’s son. Once he awoke and blinked up at her with his father’s eyes before his lids drifted shut again. Now he slept again upon her breasts.
Hours later, the duke found her there still, holding Stephen.
His face grave, he knelt beside her. “Carlyle has gone, Elizabeth.”
She lifted Stephen high in her arms and stood to confront the duke as she
had planned. “It matters not that he has fled. Stephen is your rightful heir. Through him live Maude and Will. Through him you shall feel their love. Once again feel joy.”
She knew in her heart that the duke did not yet fully realize her words were true for all time.
Very soon the day shall come when you must understand.
He left her then, alone, in the chamber of her lover. The father of the unborn child she cherished within her.
Cradling the sweetly sleeping Stephen on her lap, Elizabeth pressed her lips against her Posey ring.
The forces of nature which she had unleashed gathered around her. Became a part of her. Filled her with primal knowledge, lost and now rediscovered. Together we are invincible. She knew it would always be true for through the veil of time she had seen the truth.
I shall find you, Will.
It is written in our stars.
It is our destiny.
Dunham Castle, 1603
From the moment I met Will, I could not see life without him by my side. Now I see the future in the smile of our beautiful daughter, Serena, and in the wide, wise eyes of the son of my heart, Stephen. With them by my side, I do not fear that we are besieged.
Carlyle and his mercenaries are encamped on the plain outside our walls. The duke came to me at dawn but it was not necessary. Rumormongers say there is a woman with him and a boy-child she names his heir.
The duke has aged before my eyes, growing grayer and more lined since our sweet Laurel has grown weaker despite all Charles Grey can do to heal her. I sense his strength of purpose seeping away. The children and I will nurse his invisible wounds to keep him whole.
He awaits my counsel. Carlyle demands an audience and I tremble at the thought of once again confronting the instrument of my torment. Yet my powers tell me that he fears me. I know this meeting shall be our last until I witness the moment of his death.
A part of me seeks vengeance now, longing to wield cold steel with the strength of my sorrow. I settle my thoughts on Carlyle and whisper a challenge to the wind which blows between our camps.
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