Belladonna e-2

by Anne Bishop

  Then he thought about what he’d said and just sighed. No point chiding himself for words being taken in a way he hadn’t meant. At least he knew how to fix this.

  He packed up the remains of their meal and set it aside. Then he stretched out beside her, propped on one elbow so he could see her face.

  “I still want you to see it,” he said quietly. “I want that for myself and for those people. But I’m beginning to understand how much weight you already carried on your shoulders, and now you have more. I don’t want to add to the burden more than I’ve already done.”

  She’d been staring straight up, ignoring his closeness even though his face must have blocked half her view of the sky. Now she frowned, and those green eyes shifted to look straight into his.

  “Ever since I met you, you’ve been helping my family in one way or another—and putting aside your own tasks to do it. You haven’t been on your island looking after your own because you’ve been looking after me and mine.”

  She gave him an odd look. “What makes you think one is different from the other?”

  Am I yours? Something in him shimmered with joy, and for a moment he could have sworn the air tasted sweeter and the sun shone brighter. Suddenly, this delicate connection between them was more important than anything else in the world. Her feelings were more important than anything else.

  He shifted until he halfway covered her, so that, when she looked up, he was all she would see.

  “If I’m yours, how would you feel about a few kisses?” he asked, giving her a smile that was equal parts playfulness and charm in an effort to lighten the mood.

  She looked more amused than charmed. “Why are you so interested in kisses?”

  He did his best to shift his expression to confused sincerity. “I’m a man.”

  Laughter lit her eyes while she struggled to keep a straight face. “I suppose we could indulge in a few kisses.”

  “Maybe more than a few,” he said, touching his lips to the corner of her mouth as he changed the tone of the song forming between them. “But not more than kisses. Not here. Not today.” He raised his head and saw the confusion in her eyes. “Not for our first time. For that, I want a bed…and candlelight. I want to drift on the scent of your skin and float on the touch of your hand. And in all the years to follow, when we’re laughing and quarreling and living, I want to see the memory of that first time shine in your eyes whenever I touch you, fill you, love you. I want that, Glorianna, for both of us. So, for today, I promise nothing but kisses.”

  “Do you keep your promises, Magician?” she asked, her voice husky with desire.

  He brushed his lips against hers. “I do.” And the truth of that was bittersweet. “I most certainly do.”

  Then his mouth closed over hers, and he spoke to her in a language that had no need of words.

  Who was this man who could kiss her and make the world melt away and still had the self-control to roll to his side of the blanket and say, “Best to stop now, darling, while I still have a few brains left in my head”? How could he understand so much and still understand so little?

  But he understood the land, understood what he was seeing—and not seeing. It had sobered both of them after they’d gathered up their things and continued the ride.

  No word was spoken, but they both reined in as soon as they came within sight of Lighthaven’s buildings.

  “Well,” Michael said. “It could have been worse. There’s fresh water and fish in the streams. There’s woodland, so there’s game for food and wood for the fires. And there are meadows and pastureland and the acreage that’s been farmed.”

  “The land is sound and can sustain itself,” Glorianna agreed. “Can the people?” She noted his reluctance to look at her and had her answer. Unfortunately, it matched her own opinion of the people who tended this Place of Light. “They hobbled themselves, Michael. The Places of Light tend to be separated from the world around them because, long ago, the Guardians who took up the task of nurturing the Light decided that a simple life helped the heart and mind remain at peace. But the people who live in those places usually are not without resources…or knowledge. They may live simple lives, but there is nothing simple about their skills. If isolated, they could survive.”

  “Until they died out.” Now he looked at her. “I don’t know how it is in the other Places of Light, but I’m not blind to the look and feel of this place, Glorianna. Lighthaven belongs to the Ladies of Light. Men may come up from Atwater and the surrounding farms to do manual labor—of all sorts—” he added in a mutter, remembering the hungry, speculative looks he’d gotten from some of the younger Sisters while he was saddling the horses. “But they don’t live here. And I’m thinking we’re not going to find anyone outside this community on this land. Not a cottage, not a farm. No one.”

  “My concern is more immediate,” she said. “How many of these women have ever nocked an arrow to a bow and gone out to hunt their dinner? How many have chopped down a tree or even chopped wood? How many have thrown a line in the water to catch fish? How many have tilled the land before they planted a kitchen garden? What about feed for the animals? Oats? Hay?”

  He swore softly and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Well, can’t you—no, I guess it would be Lee, wouldn’t it—can’t he put in one of those bridges?”

  “To go where?” She waited to see if he understood the question, but there was only confusion.

  Reminding herself that, until a few days ago, his view of the world had been fairly linear, and a straight road between two places actually would have taken him between one place and the other, she dismounted and gave the horse a long rein so it could graze while she gave the man her full attention.

  He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the reason for her action, then did the same.

  “Borders and boundaries.” She fisted her hands and held them out, pressed together. “When two similar landscapes belong to the same Landscaper, they can be fitted together as a border—a place where people can cross over without using a bridge.”

  “Like the Den butting up against the part of Elandar where the waterhorses dwell?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, like that. The waterhorses are demons and live in a dark landscape. The Den is a dark landscape inhabited by humans and demons. Both are mine, and they resonate with each other.”

  He brushed a finger over her fists, pausing at the line made where they were pressed together. “It’s a wonder, isn’t it, that two places physically so far apart can be reached just by stepping over a line.”

  She separated her fists, leaving a fist-sized gap between them. “Boundaries are formed between the pieces of the world that belong to different Landscapers and also between places that belong to the same Landscaper but don’t resonate with each other in a way that forms a border. Those require bridges in order for people to cross over from one to the other. Even then, a stationary bridge can be created only between two landscapes that want to be connected. The hearts in both of those places have to want something that forms a link. Do you understand, Michael?”

  “I think so.” He frowned at her fists, then tapped one. “Lighthaven.” Tapped the other. “The rest of the White Isle. Two…landscapes…now. Two Landscapers.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “So…” He tapped a finger on one fist, then formed an imaginary arch to the other fist. “Lee makes one of his bridges and connects—”

  “No.” This was going to hurt him. She knew him well enough now, could feel the depth of his heart and know this would hurt him. “Heart wishes are powerful magic, Magician. A true heart wish can change your life. It can change the world. In those moments when Ephemera was manifesting the heart wishes that were reshaping this part of itself, two women said in anger, ‘I don’t want you.’ And they meant it, Michael. They meant it.” She lowered her fists, watched him physically brace for the verbal blow. “These two landscapes will reject each other because the hearts that Ephemera used to d
efine these landscapes had rejected each other. So these landscapes can’t meet. At least, not right now. Maybe never. Lee could build a thousand bridges to connect Lighthaven to the White Isle, and every one of them would fail.”

  “But…” He sank to his knees. “Does Caitlin know?”

  She crouched in front of him. “No. And there’s no reason to tell her. Not yet.”

  “She’s not a child,” Michael said, the snap of temper in his voice. “Don’t you think she should know what she’s done?”

  “Not yet.” She touched his cheek. He immediately reached up to press her palm against his face, holding on to the contact. “She’s been told for so long where she doesn’t belong. Let’s find the place where she does belong. I said it yesterday, and I’ll say it again. No one who stood by that gate was innocent, and no one is more to blame than the others for what has happened to the White Isle.”

  “I started this,” he said, his voice rough with the clash of emotions. “I started this by writing a letter sixteen years ago.”

  Who would have guessed the man would even think of wallowing in blame, let alone actually do it? “Opportunities and choices, Magician. You wrote a letter; Brighid chose to answer it. And she chose to have the three of you live in Raven’s Hill. She could have brought you back here to the White Isle and found a family willing to foster the two of you if it wasn’t possible for you to live with her at Lighthaven.”

  He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “The demon-spawn children? Our new ‘family’ would have thrown us in the sea as soon as Brighid was out of sight.”

  That he believed the words was a weight on her heart. But she gave him a light kiss and stood up. “As a child, you believed that,” she said briskly. “As a man, it’s time to adjust some of those beliefs. Let’s go.”

  She meant to ride on to the buildings enclosed within their stone wall. Like the Landscapers’ walled gardens. Something to think about since no other Place of Light had shut itself away quite like this. But the lake pulled at her, and she reined in a man-length from the edge and studied the black water.

  Brighid had been Lighthaven’s anchor at one time. While the Guardian’s heart had maintained the simple way of life that suited a Place of Light, Glorianna suspected the ebb and flow of feelings within the community of Sisters had been more natural. For one thing, there must have been children in order for the bloodlines to continue. Therefore, there must have been lovers, however temporary.

  Now Merrill was the anchor. And Merrill, so fearful of the feelings that lived within the human heart, had managed to deny the Dark currents so strongly that Ephemera had created a dark landscape to provide an outlet and a balance.

  A shimmer of thought, a butterfly of feeling fluttered through her. Something there. Something to remember.

  Then the moment was gone, and it was time to face the next part of the journey—and all the troubled hearts now stirring up the currents in this landscape.

  Merrill brought in a tray and set it on the table before studying the woman who stood at the window, staring out at the gardens they had both helped plant so many years ago.

  “Does it look the way you remember it?” Merrill asked.

  “Yes,” Brighid answered quietly, sadly. “It hasn’t changed.”

  “I kept it as it was. Shaela wanted to change some things, but I was the leader, and I kept it the same.” For you.

  “Why didn’t you let it change?” Brighid asked, turning away from the window, the dried tracks of tears still visible on her face. “The songs that mark the waxing and waning of the day should remain the same because they are tradition. They ground the heart and give us the comfort of knowing that these same words have flowed through the air and seeped into the land going back to ancestors who are nothing more than myth. But living things should change, must change. Shaela loves you in ways I never did, never could. You should have let her change the gardens, Merrill. The two of you should have planted something new.”

  “But now that you’re back…” Something in Brighid’s face strangled the rest of the words.

  “I’m not staying,” Brighid said. “Something is missing. Has always been missing. I was destined for Lighthaven, and I did my duty and came here. As much as I loved this place, it was like a shoe that should have fit but always pinched a little. I don’t know why.” She paused, then sighed. “You blamed Michael for writing the letter asking me to come to Raven’s Hill.”

  “I didn’t blame you for leaving. You were obliged to stay with the children and—”

  “I chose to stay.”

  The steel in Brighid’s voice reminded Merrill of why Brighid had been chosen as their leader at so young an age.

  Brighid shook her head. “Leaving here wasn’t a completely selfless act. Yes, the children needed me, but I also needed to go, and that letter gave me a reason to leave.”

  “What was out there that you couldn’t find here?” Merrill cried.

  “I don’t know!” Brighid’s voice rang with frustration. “Life. Love. Maybe something as simple as lust. I don’t know. I never found it.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “I never found it. Just like Maureen never found whatever her heart needed. She loved Devyn. I know she did. But it wasn’t enough. And Caitlin…”

  “Doesn’t belong here,” Merrill snapped, feeling the sting of rejection all over again. They were back to where they were sixteen years ago. Despite what Brighid said about things changing, nothing had changed. Nothing. “Even the other sorceress said so.”

  “Guide of the Heart,” Brighid murmured. “I never thought I would stand face-to-face with a true Guide of the Heart.”

  Everything should have been wonderful, but it was all breaking apart.

  Merrill looked down at the cuff bracelet she had worn for so many years, thinking it had meant…

  She pulled it off and held it out. “You gave me this. When you left. A family heirloom, isn’t that what you said?”

  “That’s what it is,” Brighid replied.

  “You gave it to me as a reminder of what we had meant to each other, what we might have meant if you hadn’t…” She trailed off.

  “I gave it to you as a farewell gift,” Brighid said softly. “I never intended to come back to the White Isle.”

  Merrill dropped the bracelet and turned, knocking into the table as she rushed to the door. Before the sound of the slamming door faded away, she heard the crash of cups and saucers hitting the floor.

  Michael took a seat between Lee and Kenneday, more relieved than he wanted to admit that he was no longer the only man at Lighthaven.

  “Never saw anything like it, in all my years at sea,” Kenneday said. “One minute the deck is clear; the next, this one is standing behind me. And then, when we’re standing on the shore of a lake that hadn’t been there a couple of days ago, he’s calmly transferring all the gear we had packed in the wagon onto this bit of an island only he can see.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Lee said, helping himself to some bread and cheese. “There are times when everyone can see the island.”

  Kenneday just snorted.

  Michael helped himself to some of the food on the table and said nothing. Clearly everyone had had an exciting time over the past couple of days.

  “It was the strangest thing,” Brighid said, responding to Caitlin’s question about the different table. “The leg just gave way. It must have been loose—may have been loose for years—and getting bumped with the weight of a tray on top of it was enough to break that leg.”

  Michael noticed the look exchanged by Glorianna and Lee, then did a quick survey of the room. Where was Merrill? Wouldn’t Lighthaven’s leader want to be here for this meeting? Besides his aunt Brighid, the only Sister in the room was Shaela.

  “So,” Lee said, accepting a cup of tea with a polite smile, “the lake does, in fact, circle Lighthaven. Dark, cold water. Weedy. Foggy. I spotted animal tracks going to and from the water, so I think we can assume the wat
er is drinkable. Might be fish in there that are edible. And we confirmed that you can see Lighthaven from the White Isle shore.”

  “Like a dream it is,” Kenneday said. “Like something that fades away as soon as you reach for it.”

  That got Glorianna’s attention. “It’s doing the same thing that the White Isle did?”

  “We didn’t get in a boat to find out, but my guess is it will do the same thing in that you can see it from a distance, but it will fade away completely before you get close to it,” Lee said. “I’m wondering if that’s the nature of this Place of Light. Maybe it was never meant to be found. Maybe it was meant to be like a dream—you take comfort in knowing it exists, but its allure is even more potent because so few people can reach it.”

  “Being hard to reach isn’t the same as being impossible to reach,” Glorianna said. “And some people will need to find it.”

  “Why?” Shaela asked. “We’re supposed to remain apart from the turmoil of the world.”

  “How many of the Sisters were born here?” Glorianna asked.

  Not many, if any, Michael thought, watching Shaela take in the significance of the question.

  “A resonating bridge would work,” Lee said. “Stationary bridge won’t hold between the two landscapes—I did try to create one—but a resonating bridge isn’t keyed for specific landscapes. Thing is, since people around here don’t know about landscapes and bridges, we’d want something no one would mistake for something else.”

  “Too bad you can’t put a pair of Sentinel Stones in the middle of the lake,” Kenneday said, cutting another hunk of cheese off the wheel. “Be romantic like, taking a boat out with the dawn breaking and the mist on the water, and those great black stones rising up from the middle of the lake, and you watching that shore that looks as wispy as a wish and not knowing if it will fade away completely or become real.” He glanced around at the people now staring at him and cleared his throat. “Just a passing thought.”

  “Tell us about these Sentinel Stones,” Glorianna said.