Daughter of Destiny

by Evelina, Nicole

  Aggrivane mirrored my gesture. “I am safe, love. As you can see, we were victorious, though at a high cost. Were it not for Arthur, your father would have perished at the hands of the Saxons. He owes Arthur his life.”

  “He mentioned that in his letter, but I have not had much chance to speak with him about it.”

  “I would not bring it up.” Aggrivane’s voice grew serious. “Your father is a proud man who does not like to be reminded of his weaknesses, much less that he is in debt to another. I have no doubt he will find a suitable way of repaying our king for his kindness.”

  “I suppose,” I said, unable to suppress a yawn. I pulled Aggrivane back down to the covers, suddenly weary of talking. “Let us sleep now, my love. We can speak of this more upon the morrow.” I gave him a long, lingering kiss. “Hold me in your arms tonight and let us dream of future happiness.”

  As the castle fell silent around us and dreamers took to their beds, I allowed myself to hope this time would be different. Our next sighting of the morning star would mark the beginning of our lives together, just as it had once heralded our separation. Only this time there were no Druids, no priests, to keep us apart. All we had to do was make sure we were not caught. But the more I thought about that, the more difficult it seemed, especially in a house that bred spies like lice. We would have to be very careful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next several weeks passed in a blur of alternating pleasure and fear, one emotion when I was with Aggrivane and the other anytime anyone else was near us. I was so frightened someone would discover our affair and tear us apart again, something my long-neglected heart, only recently stitched up by Aggrivane’s love, would not abide.

  Some nights I carried a change of dress with me as I prowled the halls, praying to make it safely from one bedroom to the other. On others, when Aggrivane had an early morning call to duty, I dared ferry only myself across the border between the ladies’ and gentlemen’s chambers. I felt like a thief in my own home, stealing minutes, hours of happiness from a family that seemed adverse to its very nature. No matter how many times I sneaked back to my room, I would never lose the fear of being met by a guard before I could get inside, or worse yet, finding Lyonesse waiting for me when I thought I had made it safely.

  Each night as I sank down into the bedcovers, I resolved to apologize to Isolde the next time I saw her. During my weeks of intrigue, I developed an appreciation for what she went through each time she sought joy in this house, and slowly began to realize what a hypocrite I had been. I had condemned Isolde for exactly the same behavior with Galen that I now so willingly embraced with Aggrivane.

  We lay together in the cramped bed, gazing at the flames dancing in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows on all four walls of the small room.

  “I am sorry I cannot offer you better accommodations,” Aggrivane said. “This is certainly no Beltane bower.”

  I smiled at his concern. “But it is not the stables, either.”

  I felt his laughter before I heard it.

  “I forgot that Lyonesse is well aware of who you are,” I admitted. “I should be grateful she lets you lodge here at all. There is little love for your family under this roof.”

  Aggrivane turned his head so he could see me. “Ah, but the king favors me, so she must, as well. But I am surprised you can get away from your chambers. I figured they would have barred the door.”

  I giggled. “They did that for a while when Isolde was here. But she found a way out. I would have too. Nothing can keep me from you.” I kissed his nose. “Though I don’t think he knew for sure we escaped, Pellinor made Lyonesse swear she would never do such a thing again. That is probably why it has not happened.” I reconsidered for a moment. “That, and I doubt they think I would be so bold with my father under the same roof.”

  Aggrivane shook his head. “A year’s time and they do not know you at all, do they?”

  “My true nature has never mattered much to them. They simply cast me in whatever light suits them best at the time. Now that I am out from under Isolde’s corrupting influence, they choose to imagine me more like their sainted daughter. But what they do not know is that Isolde taught me many of her tricks. After all, she is the reason I am here with you.”

  Aggrivane’s eyes held a kind of wonder. “You speak of Isolde often. She must have meant a great deal to you. I wish I could have met her.”

  I smiled at the memory of my friend. “She seems to think we will meet again, so maybe you will still have the opportunity.”

  We both fell silent for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Outside, the watchman announced the midnight hour.

  “You said there were many sides to the story of what happened after we parted. I know what happened to you. Now what about Evrain?”

  Aggrivane sat up and stretched. “He is one man I wish I could send to the Saxons. He would not last a minute, and that would be fine by me.”

  I had never heard his voice so bitter.

  He lay down on his back, hands supporting his head. “While I was off trying not to get myself killed, my brothers, Gawain and Gaheris, were attempting to negotiate peace with Evrain. Of course, he wanted none of it, refusing all efforts on the grounds that neither of my brothers were landed lords and therefore were beneath his dignity. Arrogant cur. One of these days I will repay his many affronts to my family. Anyway, he refused to speak with anyone other than my father, who, as you know, was busy at the time, plotting to take over the throne. As Gawain tells it, one night Father had an epiphany and stormed out of the castle well after dark, intent on visiting Evrain. The result is that Evrain is now related to the king, or so he thinks.”

  I turned over to face him. “Say that again?”

  He grinned. “You heard me. In exchange for his loyalty and forgiveness of my offense, Father offered Evrain—a widower at the time—the hand of his daughter, Amelie.”

  I was confused. “His daughter? Is she not also your sister?”

  “No, not fully. She is a bastard some six years younger than me and was reared by her mother in another city. Up until the tournament, I had never even met her. But Evrain does not know that. He thinks she is my mother’s child and, hence, niece of the king. You see, my father figured out Evrain’s weakness—his ambition. He saw that Evrain was trying to use the tension between him and Arthur as an excuse to make his own bid for power. So my father offered him something more valuable than he ever could have imagined—the chance to be related to the king. He knew that Evrain would think that having Arthur’s niece in his family could be a suitable device to manipulate the king. He was right. Evrain happily joined my father’s cause, all past grievances forgotten.”

  I was awestruck. “Does your father’s ambition ever end?”

  Aggrivane smiled but said nothing.

  “What is it? What is on your mind?”

  He turned to face me. “I spoke to my father today.”

  I sat up, pulling him with me, our hands clasped tightly. “And what did he say?”

  Aggrivane composed his features, looking more serious than I had ever seen.

  My stomach knotted.

  “He is not certain of your fidelity to me.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. I started to defend myself.

  “He wants to know,” Aggrivane continued, his face like stone, “if you were the one who sent the flower to the Breton bastard who defeated me at the tournament.”

  Slowly, I realized he was joking. Relief rushed out of me in a spray of saliva as I exhaled.

  “Sorry.” I dried his cheeks with my thumbs then affected my most proper voice. “You may tell your father that it was not I who behaved so rashly, but my dear friend Elaine.”

  Aggrivane caught me up in his arms and showered my face with kisses. “He is very amenable to our engagement and gives his blessing. He likes you, Guinevere—”

  I stopped him mid-sentence, kissing him with more force than even I anticipated.

  Aggrivan
e submitted happily and then finished his sentence as he pulled me into his lap. “Although I think he likes your dowry more.”

  “The lands south of Stirling? Let him have them if it means we can be together.”

  “Do not speak so lightly of them just because you have never seen them,” Aggrivane chided. “Those lands make you a very valuable wife because they mean you have influence over the Votadini, and through them, the whole area. You—”

  I stopped his thought with a kiss whose meaning could not be misinterpreted. I wanted nothing of politics at that moment, only to be lost in him.

  I lost track of time in the aching passion that followed, but soon he was holding me again, both of us breathless.

  “So is it true? Are we really to be wed?” I asked.

  “Yes, it is, if you will have me.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “My father promised to speak to Leodgrance and obtain his permission as soon as possible, but it may take some time. As you know, this must be approached with utmost delicacy, given the household we are in and what is known of our past transgressions. But he swore to me he will not fail, and I have complete faith in him,” he said, confidence in his voice.

  I smiled and reached up to stroke the thin line of hair that ran along his jaw, nuzzling my cheek into his chest. I wanted nothing more than to remember this moment forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The autumnal equinox came and went without a single word from the Irish. The council formulated a plan that would go into effect if any hostility was detected, so Arthur decided it was time to return to his own lands. Pellinor, ever the gracious host, insisted on organizing one final celebration to honor the king before he left.

  As the first light of dawn colored the horizon, I joined some of the servants in the kitchen to gather supplies for the hunting party. I found them speaking animatedly in hushed tones. From what I could gather, one of them had received word from Isolde, who had arrived home safely some weeks before.

  “She is keeping her promise,” someone said.

  That was all I was to know. All conversation ceased when I entered the room, a spy in the enemy camp.

  But the absence of the kitchen maid who had accompanied Galen and me on our ride did not escape my notice, nor did Liam’s sudden departure, allegedly to work in another household. Isolde’s conversation with Guildford during my fighting lessons so long ago drifted through my mind, and suddenly it all made sense. Isolde had begun her revenge by slowly poaching Lyonesse’s servants. But how far would she go? I pushed the troubling thought from my mind and busied myself seeing to the provisions for the hunt.

  By mid-morning, the sun shone brightly in the clear sky overhead and we reached the summit of the hill from which we would watch the action. The maids unpacked our wares, and Elaine and I spread a cloth over the dying grass, still damp with dew.

  “You were saying your husband takes full responsibility for the breach of peace?” inquired one of the ladies, whom I thought to be the wife of Arthur’s foster brother, Kay.

  “Yes,” Lyonesse said as she arranged herself on the blanket. “He sees now that it was through his fault that the misguided girl left. He really was hard on her—treating her like a servant simply because she was foreign, with no regard to her nobility whatsoever. It is a shame really; she could have prospered under a more charitable hand. I cannot tell you how many times over the years I said to him, ‘My lord, do you not think we should accept her as a daughter and treat her with the respect accorded to her station?’ But he nearly took my head off at the very suggestion.”

  The ladies who had gathered around Lyonesse tittered disapprovingly. I busied myself with unpacking the supplies so that my tongue would not be tempted to set her straight. As usual, she was projecting her own harsh actions onto her innocent husband.

  “I tried my best to instruct her.” The drama built in Lyonesse’s voice as she continued. “I think she was coming along until that Pictish brute darkened our door. Oh, how he had us all fooled—a demon wrapped in the guise of an angel! I told Pellinor that had he not placed all of his attention on Elaine and Galen during that time, the girl would not have acted so rashly, but he refuses to see it.”

  Of course, Lyonesse refused to call Isolde by her name, and I bristled in response. She continued to disrespect her even now.

  Lyonesse sighed sorrowfully. “All the poor girl ever wanted was a father, and not finding one within our walls, she took flight with the devil. I doubt God will have much mercy on her soul in her homeland, filled as it is with the stench of pagan lies.”

  “All you can do is pray for her soul,” one of the women replied earnestly.

  At that I nearly lost my composure and dropped the basket I was carrying. Lyonesse turned and regarded me coldly, but only Elaine was able to see my face. I had thought her still cross with me, especially on this subject, but to my surprise, she smiled in empathy.

  “And then there is the matter of the treaty,” Lyonesse continued. “I doubt her people will see it as we do. It was not a sign of antagonism on our part. We had nothing to do with the actions of a disturbed child. We have sent word to them that we still desire peace, but I dread to think what such a breach of charity will do to this house.”

  Yes, Lyonesse, make the entire situation about yourself. You always do.

  Disgusted with the turn of events, I sneaked into the woods. I could listen no more to the lies that Lyonesse crafted as naturally as breathing. The sad thing was that over the past year, I had come to learn she truly believed what she said; no amount of testimony to the contrary would convince her that reality was different from what she had fixed in her mind. Therefore, she was an angel of mercy, her husband an unrepentant sinner, her daughter an innocent victim, and I of no consequence.

  I followed the sound of the hunt north, the rumble of the horses and the baying of the hounds not far below. Now and again, I would catch sight of one of the men, a muted blue or burgundy cloak standing out against the dull bark of a dying tree or a patch of tangled bracken. Through the last of the season’s leaves, I could see my father’s hair, still bright despite a generous dusting of gray, standing out from the others. He was laughing and talking with Lot. My stomach fluttered in anticipation of what they could possibly be discussing.

  With a whoop and a sudden thunder of hooves, Arthur, Aggrivane, Gawain, Kay, and Pellinor took off ahead of the others, following the trail of Kay’s falcon, who was dutifully stalking their prey from the sky. As I ran to keep up with them on a parallel path, I kicked at what I thought to be a stone in the grass, only to feel a squish and a slight wetness at my toe as my boot made contact with a half-rotted apple. Cursing, I dragged my foot along the grass to clean my shoe and noticed more fruit lying on the ground. Looking up, I discovered I had stumbled upon a small copse of apple trees.

  Below, the quintet of hunters slowed. I wasn’t sure if they were just listening or had lost the trail. I swung myself up into one of the trees to watch them, a habit my body happily remembered from Avalon. Smiling, I recalled many afternoons spent among the branches of kin to these fragrant trees with my sisters, all of us young girls with heads full of faerie tales and dreams.

  When Aggrivane removed the bow from his shoulder, I realized my dreams were coming true. If our parents were discussing what I suspected, tonight we would be able to announce our intentions publicly.

  A snap reverberated through the trees, and the king’s horse shifted nervously. Arthur calmed the beast and cocked his head to one side, signaling to the others to remain silent. The snap came again, followed by several smaller cracks; each seemed to be closer than the last. I listened intently, holding my breath along with the hunters.

  “Guinevere! There you are.”

  I started and clung to the branch overhead to keep from falling. I looked down. Elaine stood at the base of the tree.

  “Elaine! You startled me.” My heart was pounding.

  “Sorry. I saw you leave the c
amp and was wondering where you went. May I join you?”

  “Certainly.” I warily extended a hand and helped pull up her small frame onto the branch opposite me. What were her motives? As far as I knew, she was still mad at me, in spite of her earlier smile.

  She rummaged in her pouch. “I almost forgot. This is for you.” She handed me a small roll of vellum. “I thought you may want it, and I surely have no need of it.”

  I unrolled the paper slowly, uncertain what it might contain. Staring back at me was a startlingly life-like charcoal drawing of Isolde. Elaine’s talent was rare for one of our people, who preferred spiraling, abstract images with no clear beginning or ending. But Elaine favored her Roman tutors in this regard, drawing in a classical style that, should her parents ever see evidence of it, would surely see her punished for putting undue emphasis on human images. By offering one of her drawings to me, Elaine was giving me the power to betray her, should I choose.

  I looked up at her, speechless. I had seen drawings like this before, lining the walls of her bedroom—which no one but Isolde and I ever entered, and even then in defiance of Pellinor’s orders. Most of those were images from her imagination, scenes from the epic poems of the bards. I had no idea she had been drawing us.

  I suppose this means she’s forgiven me for whatever role she thinks I played in Galen’s escape.

  Elaine was never one to offer an overt apology when she realized she’d done wrong. She preferred some small gesture of amity. I recalled a time when, as young girls, we quarreled over which of us had more royal blood and she had called my mother a series of dishonorable names she could have only learned from her mother’s lips, insulting me by association. She hadn’t apologized then either, just showed up the next morning with a fistful of daisies, which she thrust at me, all enmity forgotten.