Twilight of a Queen (26 page)

Meg rubbed her temple, fighting to deny the image. The scene in the crystal had been so hazy. She had not been able to see the face of the one behind her, the one betraying her to the queen’s soldiers. Even the voice had not been clear. She had thought it rather high-pitched, almost womanish, rather like Alexander Naismith. But that made no sense unless Sander had somehow survived the fire. Unless he was still alive …

Meg shuddered at the thought. She nearly jumped out of her shoes when she felt someone’s arm slip about her waist. She stumbled and would have fallen, but for Seraphine’s steadying hand.

“Whoa. Easy there. This is not the best place for woolgathering. It will be a very poor beginning if the next Lady of Faire Isle had to start her new reign by curing herself of a broken ankle.”

Meg responded to her friend’s raillery with a pained smile. “Oh, please don’t tease me, ’Phine. Not tonight. I am already too nervous.”

Seraphine’s mischievous grin softened to a gentler expression. “Poor babe. You are taking all of this much too seriously.”

“It should be taken seriously,” an indignant voice broke in. Meg glanced up to see that Carole had dropped back from her group of friends to join them.

“The choosing of the next Lady of Faire Isle is a momentous occasion.”

Seraphine leaned closer to Meg, speaking in a dramatic stage whisper. “Beware, my dear. It is our rival. No doubt she plans to shove both of us off the edge of the cliff to rid herself of the competition.”

Even in the gathering dusk, Meg could see the way Carole flushed and scowled. Ignoring Seraphine, she addressed her remarks pointedly to Meg.

“There is no competition as far as I am concerned. I am sure I have no real wish to be chosen. It ought to be you.”

“I feel the same way,” Meg murmured. “Far better that the next lady should be one of you.”

“Oh, please!” Seraphine rolled her eyes. “Are we not all such good little girls, too modest and demure to grab for the only chop on the plate. If we were men, we would be ready to fight each other to the death for the honor.”

“But we are not men, thank God.” Falling into step on the other side of Meg, Carole regarded Seraphine with a scornful sniff. “Although I daresay dueling with swords would suit you just fine.”

“It would indeed. I could take you blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.”

“That is hardly to the point,” Carole snapped. “Since the
Lady of Faire Isle is supposed to be a promoter of peace and harmony.”

“No, there would be a point. Quite a sharp one, in fact.”

Before Carole could retort, Meg cut in. “Please stop. I am tense enough without you two engaging in another of your quarrels.”

“We don’t quarrel. We bicker,” Seraphine said. “It takes two people of equal wit to make an argument.”

Carole sucked in her breath, but for once she did not rise to Seraphine’s baiting. “I am sorry, Meg. I would never want to distress you. I just wanted you to know that whatever Ariane has decided, I will be content.”

When Seraphine snorted, Carole insisted, “It’s true. There was a time when I was all but an outcast on this island. An ignorant, uneducated girl bearing a child out of wedlock. I have already learned so much from Ariane and I now have many kind friends and my beautiful little son. There is nothing more that I want.”

“What a load of rubbish. If you truly don’t want to be the Lady of Faire Isle, why don’t you just find Ariane and tell her so?” Seraphine demanded.

“Because I am afraid there is the smallest chance she might lose her mind and chose
you.”

The path narrowed ahead so they could no longer walk three abreast. Seraphine took Meg’s arm and maneuvered her so skillfully, Carole was obliged to fall behind.

Meg was not sorry if it brought their sniping to an end, but she feared Carole’s feelings might have been hurt. There was no use remonstrating with Seraphine, who found Carole as prim and irritating as she did Jane. And once
Seraphine took a dislike to anyone, there was no changing her mind.

All Meg could do was cast an apologetic smile over her shoulder as Seraphine hustled her along, leaving Carole farther behind. It was difficult not to feel a twinge of guilt.

She had known Carole far longer than Seraphine. Their friendship dated from the time Carole had been lured into becoming a member of the Silver Rose coven. She and Carole had formed a tight bond despite the difference in their ages, both of them alarmed and repulsed by the coven’s plans and activities.

So why had Meg allowed that bond to wane? Perhaps because Carole was an inadvertent but painful reminder of those dark days or perhaps for another reason more shameful. Of the two girls, Seraphine was by far the more intelligent and exciting, a sparkling diamond compared to the dull luster of a pearl.

It was growing dark enough that she and Seraphine had to quicken their steps to catch up to one of the women lighting the pathway with her torch.

Meg nearly had to run to match Seraphine’s long strides. As soon as she could catch her breath, she angled a glance up at her friend and asked, “So what about you? Do you wish to be the next Lady of Faire Isle?”

“I don’t know.”

“You twitted Carole for not being honest. Your answer strikes me as just as evasive.”

“Not evasive, just undecided. I am not sure that I wish to spend most of my life confined to this island.”

“It is a woman’s lot to end up confined somewhere.”

“That sounds like something your Lady Danvers would
say. As you well know, we are not mere women, Margaret Elizabeth Wolfe. We are daughters of the earth and are free to roam where we will. At least we should be.”

Seraphine’s mouth softened with a rare wistful expression. “God, how I miss my home, Meg. Faire Isle is a pretty enough place, but I am used to dwelling beneath the grand shadows of the Pyrenees. And if I did covet the title of Lady of Faire Isle, I fear it would be for a less than noble reason.”

“Which is?”

“I enjoy issuing commands, telling people what to do. I think it would be good to be queen of something, even a tiny island.”

Although Meg laughed at her friend’s appalling frankness, she shook her head. “I don’t. I fear the responsibility would be enormous, terrifying.”

Seraphine cast a knowing glance at her. “And yet you still would like to be the Lady of Faire Isle.”

Meg fretted her lip before confessing what she had scarce been able to admit to anyone, even to herself. “I do want it, ’Phine. I want it so badly it frightens me, although I fear my reason is no more noble than yours.”

When Seraphine regarded her questioningly, Meg added in a low sad voice. “If I was the Lady of Faire Isle, perhaps people would finally forget that I was ever the Silver Rose.”

THE BONFIRE BLAZED, HOLDING THE DARKNESS AT BAY AT THE
top of the cliff. The ring of standing stones loomed like ancient sentinels guarding the small group of women from any intrusion upon their council.

Some sat upon fallen logs, the younger ones upon the ground, feet curled beneath their skirts. They ranged themselves about the Lady of Faire Isle perched upon a flat rock that formed a kind of throne. An uncomfortable one, Ariane thought, shifting her hip. She wondered what those women gazing up at her so respectfully would think if they realized that their revered Lady just longed to have this over with so she could return to her own comfortable home at Belle Haven.

Perhaps it was the task of naming her successor that was making her feel so old tonight. She was hard-pressed to remember the stalwart young woman she had been at the age of twenty, so bold she had even once dared to threaten the Dark Queen.

“I am warning you, Catherine. I mean to revive the council of the daughters of the earth, the guardians against the misuse of the old ways as you have done. Even you cannot fight us all, a silent army of wise women.”

She believed she had succeeded in alarming even Catherine, but these days it was but a hollow threat; Ariane’s “army” was sadly diminished. Their method of communication in coded messages dispatched by a relay of trained pigeons had long since broken down. So many of the older generation were long gone, her mother, Marie Claire, old Madame Jehan, taking their wisdom with them.

How much Ariane would have given to have had their advice in this, the most difficult and important decision of her life. As her gaze skimmed the crowd, taking in the faces of Carole and Meg, finally coming to rest upon Seraphine, Ariane prayed she had made the right choice.

The conversation in the clearing had faded to a low
hum. An attempt had been made to conduct business as usual. Any woman who had something to say, grievances to air, tidings to report, or any newfound remedies to share was to come forward and seize the staff of office, thus silencing all other tongues.

But such sharing had been desultory, the birch staff now resting against Ariane’s rock, unclaimed. There was only one matter on everyone’s minds tonight, the choosing, and Ariane supposed the time had come to get on with it.

She stood, taking up the staff of office. An expectant hush fell over the crowd of women. For a moment, Ariane felt tongue-tied, scarce knowing where to start.

Her mother’s simple wisdom filled her mind.
The beginning is always the best place, my dear
.

“Once upon a time,” she said. “there lived a group of women known as the daughters of the earth.”

Ariane saw many faces wreathed in smiles at her words, like children eager to once again hear an old and familiar story.

Clutching the staff, she paced before the small group and continued, “These women were revered for their wisdom, skilled in all the arts of healing and white magic. According to our legends, they lived in a peaceful time when men and women were considered equal and shared in the governing of the various kingdoms.

“But as time passed, the power shifted, men coming to dominate with their warlike ways. Women were gradually denied their rights to govern and to learn.”

Seraphine hissed, drawing a spate of giggles from the younger women, looks of reproof from some of the older ones.

Ariane merely smiled and went on. “Many daughters of the earth accepted these changes. Some became angry and took their vengeance by learning the darker arts.”

To Ariane’s dismay she saw a few pointed glances cast in Meg’s direction. Jane wrapped her arm about the girl’s shoulders, but Meg still colored and ducked her head.

“But some women persisted, struggling to keep our ancient ways alive, despite the threat of being accused as witches. They passed on the secrets of the white magic to their daughters for generations. Many of those women came to settle here on Faire Isle.”

Ariane sighed. “Alas, during my lifetime, I have seen those brave few become even fewer. Mistrust and suspicion of those ignorant of our ways, and the raids of witch-hunters have helped to decimate our ranks.

“But I fear the chief reason may be something more insidious and difficult to fight. Many daughters of the earth, overwhelmed by daily cares and the current turmoil of the world, are simply finding it easier and safer to surrender, to corset themselves in the roles expected of women.

“I do not envy the next Lady of Faire Isle. I fear she will face far greater challenges than I ever did, to preserve our ancient ways and knowledge.”

“But I am sure she will be well prepared by you,” Josephine Alain piped up.

“That’s right. You have already taught young Carole so much,” Madame Bevans said, fondly patting Carole’s hand. The broad nature of her hint was not lost upon the other women.

Agatha Butterydoor leaned forward where she sat, to
glare at Madame Bevans. “The Lady has been teaching other girls as well in case you hadn’t noticed. My young Mistress Meg already knew a great deal of magic to begin with.”

“Yes, but what sort of magic?” someone muttered while Madame Bevans responded, “Traditionally our Lady has always been chosen from the women who inhabit this island.”

“That’s not true. Ariane’s mother Evangeline was half-English, wasn’t she?” Jane spoke up and then looked immediately abashed by her own temerity.

Ariane smiled and gave her an encouraging nod, but one of the girls clustered around Seraphine broke in. “But the Lady Evangeline was connected to the island. She was a
niece
of the previous Lady.”

The other young women applauded, laughing and nudging Seraphine as though some important point had been scored. But Louise Lavalle was quick to disillusion them. Of all the women present, the aging courtesan was the most neutral.

Knowing Louise, Ariane suspected the woman merely enjoyed deflating the bevy of younger beauties.

“There is no truth in that statement either,” she drawled. “Although it pleased the lady Eugenie to claim Evangeline and her daughters as kin and bid them call her aunt, there was no blood connection.”

“Well, whoever is chosen,” Madame Bevans called out, “it should not be someone with any connection to the dark ways.”

“You mean like Carole Moreau?” Aggie retorted. “I believe she was once a member of the Silver Rose coven.”

“She was taken by force, tricked and coerced, you old
bat,” Madame Bevans shouted back, half-rising. “And let us not forget who actually is the Silver Rose.”