Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (19 page)

“That is quite the accusation,” she said finally.

“I know, but I can’t help the events. Marared wants me to leave. She threatened to hurt me if I didn’t, and now the only one who might have been able to tell us if the milk was tampered with is dead. What am I to believe?”

“Do you believe she is capable of magic?”

“I don’t know.”

“And she is supposed to marry my brother?”

I’d forgotten that part. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any proof of her involvement in Nest’s death or her claims of magic or know whether she poisoned me.”

A knock at the door interrupted our speculations. Angharad rose to open it, a slight lean to her step. She locked the door after and returned to the table, a letter in her hand. “For you.”

I recognized Alrik’s handwriting. I opened it and frowned.

“What is it?” Angharad leaned forward, and I handed the letter to her.

Her eyebrows drew closer. “If Marared was in the company of several women all morning, who killed the girl?”

I reread the note again. “I don’t know.” I was so sure of my convictions. “If her hand didn’t brandish the blade, she still could have paid or threatened someone to do it for her.”

Angharad shrugged. “I’m afraid the more speculation you add to your accusations, the more watered down and less conceivable the entire plot. I think for now, we had best lay one specter to rest. Marared did not, in cold blood, murder Nest.” She emptied the last dregs of the wine into her cup. “Therefore, the matter of the heartless wretch that killed her still needs to be resolved.”

“I’m sorry.”

She straightened her shoulders and patted the seat beside her. “It’s done. Now, enough talk of death and murder for one day. What’s going on between you and your Viking?”

I grabbed my cup and joined her. “Alrik feels it unjustified that I blame Marared for what happened to me.”

“A concession perhaps that he might have been right?”

I swallowed another mouthful and shook my head. “Someone tampered with the milk; I’m certain of it. Sigy is good with plants, and Marared supposedly learned from the fiercest witch in all of Wales. The sensation and illness proved much worse, the decoction decidedly slanted toward hallucinations, but the more I think on it, it was not unlike what I experienced with Muirgen’s laced wine. Each time I ingested the stuff, I couldn’t tell the difference between where I lay and what I experienced in the moment. It all seemed real. The water clock ticked off three days—the precise amount of time in Marared’s threat. I will not be swayed on my suspicions that she induced my illness, whether through Otherworldly means or poison. I’m confident her threat to me was in no way deterred by Alrik’s well-intentioned discourse on the matter. In light of recent evidence, I will however concede that she did not personally kill the girl.”

“What do you think transpired between the two of them?”

“Alrik clearly loved Marared at one time, or cared enough for her to overlook her instability.”

“Perhaps you should leave Wales.”

“I can’t leave Alrik.”

“But he could meet up with you after the conflict with Rhodri is finished. You could be safely away from Marared and her threats.”

“True, but I’d be giving her exactly what she wanted, a chance to get Alrik back in her clutches.”

Angharad laughed. “You have little to worry about on that front. The girl is a shadow to your beauty and spirit. Alrik will not be turned from your bed or your heart.”

I wasn’t so certain about that, given all that had transpired.

“I know I wouldn’t.” She leaned forward. Her lips hovered over mine.

The ache in my stomach tightened with a delicious mix of uncertainty and excitement. She closed the distance and smiled against me. Her tongue swept the underside of my top teeth.

My hands curled tight at my sides. I didn’t know where to put them, or what to touch, or not touch. “I don’t know what to do.”

Cool air passed between us as she pulled away and giggled. “You just need to relax.”

She reached down and took my hand in hers, coaxing the fingers to open one at a time. “Let’s start with something simple.” She eased me back until I reclined on the couch, looking up at her in wonder. She was beautiful—her lips a deep red, her eyes a verdant green that shimmered with flecks of gold in the warm candlelight. She leaned over me, her hair pooling on my chest. “Touch me.” Her voice teased, a faint whisper as she nuzzled my ear. Her lips suckled my neck. “Explore my body.” Her lips found their way back to mine and her kiss deepened, her lips swollen with passion. My body responded.

My hands found their way to her back and fanned out to the deep indent of her waist, creeping higher up her ribs, pausing beneath her breasts. My heart pounded hard in my ears. I wondered if she could hear it too.

She sat up and lifted her breasts free of the kirtle. The hem created a shelf, as if her breasts were on display. I studied them, fascinated. Her nipples were half the size of my palm, and a deep tanned color against her snow white skin. They were much darker than mine. Tentatively, I reached out and brushed the tip. I watched in amazement as the entire thing tightened, the bud hardening. She let out a whimper of longing, and I brushed it again. I tried to imagine what would feel good to me. I cupped and massaged her breasts with my palms and rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, tugging ever so slightly.

She reached beneath her skirt. “I’m going to pleasure myself. Don’t stop.”

Her movements pulsed, and her moans and whimpers grew louder, more desperate. I watched in amazement as her breath quickened. Her rhythm became frantic. Her legs trembled, her body shaking. She braced her free hand on the edge of the couch. My desire crested with her. Her head tipped back and she cried out, coming undone in front of my eyes.

She looked upon me with a satisfied grin. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

I nodded, wordless.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“I can’t …”

“Shhh.” She placed a finger on my mouth. “I don’t expect you to do that in front of me.” A glimmer of mischief raised one side of her mouth. “Yet.” She fixed her dress and pulled me up into a seated position. “Scoot forward.”

I did as directed, until I perched at the edge of the couch. She placed her hands on my thighs, pressing outward, until they slid wide apart. She sat on the rushes between my legs. She kept her eyes locked with mine as her hands slipped beneath my kirtle. Her fingers caressed my ankles.

She smiled. I swallowed.

She tucked a thumb over the hem and slid her palms up my shins. The dress hiked higher. She stopped at my knees. My body trembled with desire and anticipation. My palms, slick with sweat, gripped the edge of the chair. She folded the fabric, letting it rest on my thighs.

“Lean back and hold on.”

My shoulder rested against the back of the chair, and I reached out my arms, gripping the curved rail.

She slid her hands beneath the dress and pulled the fabric up my thighs. She reached around and grabbed my backside, squeezing. Kisses traveled up one leg and then the other, until her lips hovered between them. I needed her to touch me. Every inch of my body begged for it.

She slipped a finger into the wet folds, and my legs flinched. I tightened my hold on the chair. My breath hitched shallow and fast. My heart raced.

“Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

I met her gaze, forcing myself to keep eye contact.

Her tongue reached out and lapped at my center. My legs turned to liquid. Her fingers dipped in and out. Her mouth and tongue caressed every part of me. They explored every facet of passion before focusing on the spot that would be my undoing.

“Stay with me.”

I wanted to throw my head back and ride the crest, eyes closed, but I held on. I met her bold challenge. The pressure built higher. Her touch drove me to the edge, but it was her voice echoing in my mind, her eyes challenging, that catapulted me over.

“Come for me, Avelynn. Let me see you.”

I dissolved, disappearing into her gaze, my body overcome with release. I collapsed, panting. She slid down my dress and drew my legs together.

She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m so glad we finished our conversation.”

I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped.

A summons at the door interrupted our parlay, and she moved to answer it.

The girl held out a letter. “A messenger arrived this morning, but the missive got misplaced. I’m sorry, m’lady.”

Angharad frowned, but her mood was light. “No harm done.”

The girl handed Angharad the note and curtsied, shutting the door behind her. Angharad locked the bolt. “It’s from Ealhswith.” She cracked the seal and unfolded the stiff parchment. Her eyes scanned the page, her smile bright before it disappeared. Her face drained of color.

I stood. “What is it?”

She handed me the note. Ealhswith’s neat hand scrawled across the page.

Dearest foster sister,

I hope this missive finds you well. Much has happened since we spoke last. But first, the good news. I am with child. Alfred is overjoyed, and the news has cheered him greatly. He has been under much duress and strain with the Vikings pressing their threats and campaigns. Aethelred has taken to his bed, getting weaker by the day. The Witan has met to name Alfred the king of Wessex should his brother succumb to his injuries. Wulfrida is beside herself; the thought of losing my own husband terrifies me. These are such terrible times.

You will remember my dear friend, Avelynn. She has met with the most desperate of troubles. She has fled England, a spate of crimes on her head. Her uncle wants her returned to Wedmore and delivered into his care. He has offered an exorbitant sum for her capture. I fear for her safety daily and pray she is somewhere far away from Osric’s reach. Her betrothed, Demas, who you will remember from my last letter, has worked a miracle and is healing. The very priest who tended Avelynn’s wounds after she was tortured managed to rouse the vile bastard to life. The lord works in mysterious ways.

I was dismayed to hear of your troubles with Gwynedd. It seems there is no place free from strife. I pray you are keeping well and hope the conflicts end in victory for Gwgon.

Yours in friendship,
Ealhswith

My hands trembled, and I sat down on the nearest chair.

Angharad retrieved the letter. “If the message has reached me, surely the news is being received around Wales. Your story is sensational. This will spread like wildfire.”

Demas was alive. It was worse than I imagined. I couldn’t remain here. Angharad was right. I needed to leave Wales. I had to get as far away from Demas and Osric as possible.

“I will help you any way I can.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say; we just need to sort out how best to proceed.”

Her words made me laugh despite myself. “You sound so much like Ealhswith. She was always the calm one. Always planning.” I missed her terribly

“It’s too late now, but tomorrow, you must bring Alrik. I will have Gwgon meet us here. I will come up with something.” She squeezed my hand. “Try and get some rest. We’ll figure it out.”

The following morning, we gathered in Angharad’s chambers. Gwgon and Alrik sat on one of the benches, while Eadfrith reclined on the couch, watching his cousin pace the floor. I wasn’t sure why Angharad had invited Eadfrith to this secret meeting, but I trusted her judgement. I sat rigid with worry on a chair.

Angharad took charge of the proceedings, sharing the crux of the letter.

“Those are serious charges.” Gwgon’s tone was flat. “We risk our reputation by association.”

“We risk damning an innocent woman if we do nothing. You were quick to come to the aid of Marared and the accusations laid by Llewlyn at her feet. I expect you to do the same for my friend.” Angharad waited, arms crossed.

“I will agree to the request out of respect for Jarl Alrik, but should matters worsen, I cannot guarantee Avelynn’s safety.” Gwgon’s gaze settled on me.

“I appreciate your charity,” I said.

Angharad continued, relaying my plight and how the charges came about. “Demas and Osric are evil, ambitious men. No one must know Avelynn is from Wedmore. No one must make the connection between the woman wanted for treason and witchcraft and the woman seated here.”

I swallowed and looked across at Alrik. If I were caught, the hefty reward for my capture would ensure a one-way return trip to England. Once Osric got his hands on me, I was as good as dead. Since Demas had managed to stay alive, that death would come slowly and painfully.

“How long before we are to confront Rhodri?” Angharad asked Gwgon.

“We’ve set the assault for a week’s time. Rhodri is camped far in the north, near the borderlands of Ceredigion. We will march to the coast and block his advance.”

I directed my own question to Gwgon. “Do you have any ships we could use? Or means of acquiring a sail large enough to outfit a long ship?”

Gwgon shook his head. “I do not own a fleet. The few ships I have are small carracks and merchant vessels, barely enough for a handful of men to sail, never mind sixty warriors and all their gear.”