by Lisa Jackson
Bryanna couldn’t help but smile. “So he’s come,” she said. “Rhi’s colt.”
“Aye. You knew it to be male?”
“Of course.”
His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t quite trust her. “Listen, witch,” he said, “what is it you know? Can you foresee the future?”
“I thought you didn’t believe.”
His grin slashed white in the darkness. “You made a believer of me.”
“Is that so?” Bryanna rubbed Alabaster’s velvet nose.
Nickering, the mare turned away, took a step toward her newborn, and nudged at him with her face. Still wet from the birth, he struggled several times before his spindly legs finally perched under him. When he was finally on all fours, he pressed his nose against his mother’s white flank and found her udder.
Truett gazed at the animals in fascination. He pointed at the black foal and smiled widely.
“I think he’s claimed the foal as his own.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s not even walking.”
“But he’ll need his own steed.”
“First his own two feet. Then we’ll talk about putting him upon a horse,” she said skeptically, though she knew it would happen. She could see it laid out before her as they walked out of the stable and into the heat of the summer day. Horseflies buzzed, the sails of the windmill turned with the breeze, and the sound of hammers rang through the bailey. She knew a lot more than she admitted to her husband, for though her vision of the future was limited and sometimes unclear, she knew that their son would grow strong and healthy, thriving in the arms of his two loving parents.
As if he knew that she was thinking of him, Truett turned his gaze to her. He was a handsome boy with red hair, rosy cheeks, and blue eyes, though one held a spot of brown in it, a reminder of his heritage. Hallyd.
She knew that her son had been conceived in the union of Dark and Light spelled out in the prophecy. But she also realized that his was an innocent soul, one that could be guided and taught, brought up in love.
Of course Gavyn knew the truth, but once, when they were in bed together and she lay awake worrying about the boy, Gavyn levered himself up on one elbow and stared deep into her eyes. “He is my son, Bryanna. Whether of my blood or not, I will raise him as my own. There will be other children, if we are fortunate, and they will all be as one family.” His jaw hardened and she realized then that he meant it. Having lived forever without a father’s love, he would not pass that rejection to another generation. “Now,” he said and kissed her forehead, “we will speak of this no more. We will raise him to be a good, fair man. ’Tis the best we have to offer.”
Now, as she plucked her son from his father’s arms, she sensed that their years together would be long and happy. She also could foresee that Truett, conceived of good and evil, would have many tests, many choices, many battles. He would struggle. He would make mistakes. But his true destiny was not yet decided. In the end it would be up to Truett, the Chosen One, to decide which path he would follow.
“You are worried, wife,” Gavyn said as they walked past a hayrick, where a wheelwright was mending the spokes of a broken wheel.
“’Tis a mother’s fate.”
“And a father’s, but,” he said, his eyes twinkling with devilment, “worry not. Today, while I was out hunting, I saw an old friend hiding behind a rotted stump.”
Her head snapped up. “The wolf? Bane?” she asked, disbelieving. Could it be?
“She was there.”
“You’re certain it was Bane?” She thought he might be teasing her.
“Aye, ’twas no other.”
Bryanna thought of the mother she’d never known. Could it be true? She hadn’t seen the beast since that final battle at Holyhead, and had feared she would never lay eyes upon her again.
“I have a feeling the wolf will follow us to Agendor.”
“Do you?”
“Aye, wife, I do,” he said. With their son nestled between them, he drew her into his arms as the sun sank lower on the horizon.
“It seems impossible.”
“Many things do,” he said, whispering into her ear. “But you, sorceress, of all people, should know that above all else, there is one thing you must do.”
“Is there? And what is that?” she asked, amused.
“Have faith, Bryanna,” he said. “Do as you taught me.”
“As I taught you? And all that time I felt sure you were turning a deaf ear to me.”
“Aye, ’tis all you must do.” He kissed her, then lifted his head and winked. “’Tis simple, wife. Just . . . believe.”
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