The Druid Chronicles: Four Book Collection

by Phillips, Christina

  But still he released her, allowed her the choice, and another agonized groan seeped from his soul when she didn’t pull off him, didn’t retreat, but instead increased the pressure of her mouth enclosing his straining shaft.

  He flung back his head and pounded into her, shooting his seed down her throat. On and on, as if it had been years since he’d last emptied his sac instead of only that morn. Stars exploded behind his closed eyes, volcanoes erupted deep in his groin, and summer sun flooded through his hammering heart.

  Dimly, beyond the sound of his rasping breaths, he heard a strange gargling noise, as Carys slid her mouth from his still-pumping cock. He watched her sink back onto her heels, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock.

  He reached out a shaking hand and pulled his discarded tunic toward them. “Here.” Tenderly he tugged her hand from her face and wiped her mouth with a corner of his tunic. “Spit,” he added helpfully, bunching the material for her convenience.

  A light blush stole over her cheeks. She pushed the tunic away with one finger and then held on to his wrist.

  “I swallowed.” She sounded torn between pride and surprise by the admission. “Most of it,” she added with a delightfully bemused frown.

  He only just prevented a laugh from erupting. No woman had ever said such a thing to him before. But then, no other woman came close to Carys. She said and did things all the time that astounded and intrigued him.

  “I’m honored.” He cradled her chin and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. He could taste himself on her. “That was an unexpected pleasure.”

  She flashed him a seductive smile. “I know. I wanted to surprise you. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to try before but you’re different.”

  For a fleeting moment his gut twisted with acidic fire at the thought of Carys pleasuring another man in such a way. And then her words sank into his brain and he sucked in a long breath.

  She had given him a part of herself she had never allowed her previous lover. He wound a lock of gold around his finger and tugged. “And so are you, Carys.”

  She was different from all the women of Rome. Different from every Celt he’d encountered. And as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bedroom, an outrageous notion filtered through his mind.

  If her current status caused such antipathy among the peasants, he could imagine how her kin would react. There was only one way to ensure Carys would forever be his, only one way to ensure her undivided loyalty.

  As his wife.

  * * *

  In the early hours, before dawn tinged the horizon, he woke. Even with his eyes closed, he was aware Carys was awake, was staring at him, and something kept him from stirring.

  She moved soundlessly, obviously trying not to disturb him. Her warm breath fluttered over his jaw as she leaned over him and brushed her lips against his.

  “I love you, Tiberius Valerius Maximus. I’ll love you forever.”

  A deep sense of peace, of rightness, filled his soul as she stealthily molded her body against his. She wasn’t the first woman who’d said she loved him. But she was the only one who mattered.

  His earlier thought, on somehow persuading the Emperor to allow him to take a foreigner, a woman of a conquered race, as his wife suddenly seemed less inconceivable, less audacious.

  Suddenly, it was infinitely possible.

  * * *

  Early the following morn, as Maximus watched her ride from the settlement with only slightly less irritation than he’d shown the previous day, Carys pressed one hand to her churning stomach in an effort to still her nerves.

  She would do everything in her power to avert the Renewal tonight, but in case the spiral once again rejuvenated, and swept through the land in a death-wielding wave, she intended to have a backup plan in place.

  In an agony of anxiety she waited at the sacred spring for patients who never arrived, before she returned to the spiral and spent the rest of the morn and midday meal with her cousin and Morwyn.

  Until finally it was time to put her plan into action.

  By the time she reached the Cauldron and tethered her mare, her hands were shaking. But she knew she was doing the right thing. It was the only way she could ensure Maximus would remain safe, whether a battle ensued or not.

  “Sweet Cerridwen, give me a sign.” She closed her eyes and waited for her goddess, but Cerridwen remained elusive.

  Carys bit her lip and glanced at the sparkling spring. If her goddess appeared and told her she was following the wrong path, would she turn back? Would she allow Fate her hand and risk Maximus’ death?

  She drew in a deep breath. This was the only way she knew how to protect her beloved. And nothing would stand in her way.

  She pulled out the pouch containing the shards of bluestones. The magic incantations thrummed in her mind, the shielding spell Aeron had uttered during the Feast of the Dead when he’d activated the sacred spiral.

  He used similar incantations for each Renewal, but Carys was staying with the original, as she had that night Maximus had become her lover.

  She prepared the potpourri, burned the incense, meditated over each individual shard of bluestone. Unimaginable power hummed from each stone, a mere fragment of the power harnessed by the massive stones circling the cromlech, but more than enough for her purposes tonight.

  Finally, the illicit incantation was complete. Aeron would have her head on a spear if he discovered she’d tapped into his power, but he wouldn’t find out, and within moments her crime would be concealed by the very power she was forbidden to invoke.

  She kneeled on the grass and reverently placed the first bluestone in place.

  “Carys.”

  Her fingers froze, her breath hitched midway between lungs and lips, and a chilling terror raced along her spine. She wanted the earth to open and swallow her, swallow the evidence of her actions, but all she could do was slowly turn her head and look across to the other side of the stream at the Druid on horseback.

  Druantia.

  Chapter 31

  She watched Druantia urge the horse through the shallow stream, toward her, and couldn’t move from her knees in any attempt to hide the damning evidence. Only when the great queen beckoned her forward to help her dismount did feeling return to her numb limbs, and she dropped the bluestones in a heap and hurried to the elderly Druid’s side.

  “What— Why are you traveling outside the spiral?” Carys hovered around Druantia, and wondered if she could possibly bluff her way out of this. There was no reason why Druantia should know what she was doing. Not if the Morrigan could no longer see her. And surely Cerridwen didn’t disapprove to such a degree that she had summoned the great Druid?

  “I left the spiral to find you, Carys.”

  Druantia had never left the spiral before. Guilt clawed her gut. “I was coming to see you later this eve.”

  Druantia leaned her weight on Carys’ arm. “What are you doing with the sacred bluestones, my child?”

  Heat flared through her brain, burning her cheeks. Druantia’s eyesight was poor. But still she knew of the bluestones, hidden in the grass.

  “The bluestones?” Could she pretend not to know what Druantia meant? “I don’t—”

  “Carys.” Druantia sighed, a featherlight whisper. “My love for you drew me here. I knew you were doing something against the edicts of the goddess, but this— What is this, my child? Do you seek to snatch power from Aeron as he invokes the Renewal?”

  “Of course not.” It was foolish to pretend she wasn’t in possession of the sacred stones. “I care nothing for Aeron’s power.” She took Druantia’s free hand and kissed her twisted fingers. She had promised Morwyn to keep her counsel, but her heart couldn’t believe it right to keep their great queen in ignorance. “Druantia, do you know what’s going to happen tonight?”

  “The battle that shall not be a battle?” Druantia gave an odd smile, as if the phrase darkly amused her. “The Morrigan has long urged for such, but the go
ds are divided.” She paused for a moment. “Last night Morwyn told me of Aeron’s plans that Gawain had discovered.”

  “How can he plan to attack when he hasn’t told us?” Carys could feel her agitation rising once again and struggled to contain it. “As far as he’s concerned, none of us are aware of what he has in mind.”

  Druantia patted her hand, as if trying to comfort her. “I love Aeron as a son of my bloodline. He’s proved his worth as a Druid many times over, despite his humble birth. I always believed you were destined for him and yet now—I fear you were right to choose another.”

  “But you gave me your blessing yesterday, Druantia.”

  “I did, and I meant it. But in my heart I still believed you’d made a mistake in refusing Aeron.” Druantia peered into the sky, then studied the grass. “I was blinded by my love. For many moons the Morrigan has shown me the growing unrest among her kin. I thought it was all concerned with the Romans. But now, my eyes are opened.”

  Unformed dread weaved through Carys’ heart at the realization Druantia wasn’t infallible, that her queen could be deceived.

  “What do you see?”

  Druantia closed her eyes for a brief moment. “It’s Aeron who’s been causing the dissent among the goddesses and gods. I don’t know why. What reason can he have? And yet the Morrigan is convinced, even though she stands alone on this.”

  “What does Cerridwen believe?”

  Druantia looked at her. Pain clouded her faded eyes. “Cerridwen hasn’t honored me with her presence since the hour of your birth. I’ve known nothing of her for the last twenty summers.”

  Prickles of alarm skittered over her skin. Druantia was their queen, the great Druid, the ancient one. Although she was affiliated with the Morrigan, her power was such that she could commune with all their gods and goddesses.

  Why had Cerridwen turned from Druantia?

  At the same moment the Morrigan had turned from her?

  “So tell me, my child.” Druantia’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Why you’re using the sacred bluestones at Cerridwen’s Cauldron? What is her purpose here?”

  She couldn’t let Druantia believe Cerridwen was engaged in subterfuge. She’d have to confide in her.

  “This isn’t by Cerridwen’s command.” She hitched in a shaky breath and hoped Druantia would at least try to understand. “I’m calling on the power of the spiral to protect my lover tonight, to keep him safe while the battle rages.” If the battle raged, but she wouldn’t burden Druantia with that added knowledge.

  Druantia’s wrinkles multiplied as she frowned in evident confusion. “Your lover intends to hide here tonight?”

  Carys swallowed the nerves that threatened to render her speechless. “No. He knows nothing of this. I plan to—to lure him here. And then give him a sleeping draught.”

  “You’re going to drug him and keep him hidden whilst his countrymen rid the scourge from our lands?” Druantia sounded incredulous, as if she couldn’t believe she’d properly understood.

  And of course Druantia hadn’t, because she hadn’t told the Druid the entire truth.

  “I don’t want him to die.” The words were defiant. If Aeron had his way tonight and the spiral swept through the land, her Roman would never surrender, never retreat. Therefore, he would die.

  She wouldn’t allow it.

  “Perhaps he would rather die than be kept from fighting for freedom by your magical potions.”

  “I don’t care.” One way or another, Maximus would survive this night. That was all that mattered.

  “But what of the morrow? No man of honor would wish to live with such shame.”

  Injustice bubbled deep in her gut, heating her blood, rousing her temper. She refused to think of the morrow, didn’t want to contemplate how Maximus would react when he discovered what she’d done, or what had happened while he’d been unconscious.

  Tomorrow could take care of itself. But tonight she’d do anything within her power to ensure Aeron didn’t destroy everything she loved.

  “There will be no shame.” But if the Romans were defeated, if they were driven from Cymru, what did she imagine Maximus would do? Stay with her? Embrace her culture, her Druidry?

  “Your lover saved you from certain death in the immortal realm.” Druantia’s grip on her fingers became painful. “He is no sniveling coward, Carys. His love for you will die if you continue with this selfish action.”

  Carys snatched her hands free. “It’s not selfish to try to prevent senseless bloodshed and death.” And that was what she was trying to do, that was what she was going to do, and the only reason she intended to hide Maximus was in case Aeron still managed to Renew the spiral.

  She didn’t know if Maximus loved her or whether he only enjoyed her company because of the sex. It didn’t matter. She loved him, and intended to keep him.

  And she wouldn’t think of the consequences.

  “Hush.” Druantia raised her finger in warning. “Someone comes.” She paused, and Carys tried to calm her stampeding heart and turbulent thoughts, and concentrate on the earth, on the subtle changes that heralded unseen events.

  She felt nothing. Trepidation trickled along her nape. Where was Cerridwen?

  * * *

  Maximus dismounted as he entered the wood that led to Carys’ special glade. All morn he’d ignored the sense of urgency that had throbbed in his brain since the moment she disappeared from sight, but no longer could he put off scouting the area.

  It had nothing to do with regard to her safety, or the possibility that today she might not return to him. Despite the annoyance that spiked through him at the knowledge she would never simply sit in his dwelling all day and wait for his return, he didn’t actively mind her visiting her kin. He knew, with solid certainty, she would always come back.

  This urgency was completely unconnected with her, and focused entirely on the anomaly of the shrunken forest.

  And the closer he’d ridden to the forest, the more insistent the desire to enter it became.

  Even his fury for the Druid bastard, which coiled around his guts and raked through his chest every time he recalled the scene in the glade, diminished beneath that all-consuming need.

  He hadn’t expected to see Carys by her spring, but she was there and appeared in deep discussion with her companion.

  She whirled to face him the moment he stepped from the shadows, as if something had warned her of his approach. The woman she was with also turned, and his heart ricocheted against his ribs. Never had he seen such an ancient creature. She appeared so fragile, so wizened, he could scarcely comprehend she was still in the mortal realm.

  Slowly he advanced. Tension crackled in the air and the look of frozen horror on Carys’ face as she shielded the old lady from his sight was like a blade through his heart.

  He halted and removed his helmet as a sign of trust. His eyes never left Carys.

  “Carys, who is this man?” The old woman spoke in Celtic, and hobbled to stand beside Carys, her milky eyes fixed on him with chilling loathing.

  Carys swallowed and shot him an agonized glance, as if begging him not to acknowledge their relationship. “A Roman tribune.”

  Every nerve tensed. Was that all the introduction she deemed necessary? All the introduction he deserved?

  He tore his gaze from her and stared at the other. “My name is Tiberius Valerius Maximus, at your service.” He spoke in her language and inclined his head as a show of respect for her great age.

  The old woman advanced two steps, before Carys clutched at her arm and halted her progress. “And I ask again, Carys.” The woman’s voice was clear and strong, at startling odds with her appearance. “Who is this man?”

  He watched the blood drain from Carys’ cheeks, as if she too guessed the old woman already knew the answer.

  “He saved me from attack in the settlement.”

  Not a lie. Yet not the full truth. And again he wondered whether she had spoken such to him.

&nb
sp; A shudder rippled over the woman’s frail frame, but when Carys went to comfort her, she held up one trembling hand in autocratic disdain.

  Carys sprung back, as if the action scalded.

  “This is the one who found you in the goddess’ domain.” It wasn’t a question. And still those eerie eyes bored into him, as if searching out the secrets of his soul.

  Carys cast him a despairing glance and he took a step toward her, wanting to support her against her antagonistic kin, but he stopped short when she sank to her knees before the old woman.

  The blade in his heart twisted. Carys didn’t belong on her knees. She was proud, independent, beholden to none, so why did she hold this old crone’s hand in a gesture of reverence, kiss her fingers as if she begged for mercy, and look as if she was worshipping at the altar of one of her wild, heathen goddesses?

  The sight offended him. More, it enraged him. And yet he could do nothing, for Carys clearly loved this wretched woman and didn’t want her displeasure.

  For Carys, he would hold his tongue and still his sense of injustice. But he couldn’t prevent the warning glare he shot the old one’s way.

  “Druantia, please forgive me. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  The old hag finally severed eye contact with him and focused on Carys. “Thank Cerridwen that the Morrigan can no longer see you, child. For if she could, you would be naught but dust beneath my feet.”

  Carys visibly blanched, and he gritted his teeth at the threat.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong, Druantia. Please. You understand? All I’ve done is love.”

  Druantia hooked her twisted fingers beneath Carys’ chin and peered into her upturned face as if searching for words unsaid. Then she gave a rasping sigh, as if the last breath from her body was escaping.