Chapter 8

"Thank you for lending me the ballad." Huw was still pale, but strong enough to wolf down a good portion of the pheasant and turnips Selene had prepared. "I've heard the tale before, of course, but it's different when you read it. What I wouldn't give to find a maid like Jennet for my own!"

"I think the tale is so popular because we all wish for a love that strong," Selene observed, a rare, wistful look in her shadowed grey eyes. "Jennet rescued Tam Lin from the faerie queen by sheer force of will. Most people, at least, long to find someone who will hold them tight no matter what evil should happen to befall."

"She's right." Rhodri grunted out the words grudgingly between bites. Love was the last thing he wanted to discuss anywhere in the vicinity of the fair Selene. But he'd been Huw's teacher for too long not to finish the lesson. "When the queen tests Jennet's love by changing Tam Lin into first a snake, then a bear, then a searing brand, Jennet refuses to let go, regardless of pain or fear. In real life, we search for a mate who can withstand war, illness, a poor harvest, or loss." But, to Rhodri's regret, not the literal transformation from man to beast. No real woman should be asked to handle that.

"How true." Selene lay down her spoon, the mashed turnips on her trencher only half eaten. "And, sad to say, that sort of devotion is something not many people find. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, today was rather tiring. I believe I'll leave the dishes for the morning, and retire to my loft. Goodnight."

She'd left before the tears spilled over, salvaging a precious little trace of her pride. She knew he hadn't meant to be cruel, discussing love with the young man who idolized him, but it had hurt all the same.

She wasn't tired, had no delusions that she would be able to sleep, so she lay there in the gathering darkness, listening to the men, and listening to the clamor of her own thoughts. She heard Rhodri help Huw back to his bed, heard the light-hearted banter between the two, and could sense the depth of affection between them. Why did Rhodri not have children of his own? He'd have made such a remarkable father. There was still the swirling darkness in his aura, that deep, festering sadness she had yet to be able to penetrate.

Once Huw was back in bed, she expected to hear Rhodri leaving. Instead, she heard the sound of the kettle pouring, and the rattle of silver. He was cleaning the dishes! She'd never understand men, she decided. Not if she lived to be a hundred. It was perhaps the kindest gesture she'd ever been given. No bluster or posturing, just silent attention to detail.

Once the dishes were done, she heard the sounds of the fire being banked, then the creak of a rocking chair. Was he never going to leave?

"I know you're awake, Selene." The voice was but a whisper, it wouldn't disturb Huw in the next room. "And you've every right to be angry with me. I'm sorry."

There he went apologizing again. Didn't he know that's what she was angry about? She sighed. Probably not. He'd have seen the kiss as a dishonorable act, and he'd doubtless rather have his eyes poked out than smudge his honor, even a little.

"Come down and talk to me, Selene. I promise to keep my hands to myself."

How to tell him she'd rather he didn't? One thing was sure; she couldn't do it from up here. She wrapped a shawl around her kirtle and descended the ladder.

He dipped a cup of the wine she'd mulled to go with their dinner, and handed it to her after she'd sat in one of the rocking chairs before the fire. Then, with a larger cup for himself, he pulled the other chair close and sat down beside her, both of their chairs facing into the flames, rather than at each other.

"You are a remarkable woman Selene. Beautiful and skilled as well as kind. You should be married, with half a dozen babes clinging to your skirts."

"I'll admit to being a romantic. I chose not to marry, rather than wed for aught but love. I am content with my lot." Or she had been until a tall Welsh knight had ridden into her life.

"Selene - " Whatever he'd meant to say, he apparently couldn't. He took a long gulp of wine, then set the goblet down and leaned his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. "You deserve a husband. By God, if I were free to wed, I swear, it would be you!"

What? She jumped, sloshing wine onto her lap. She ignored the red stain dampening the linen of her kirtle as she pondered the implications of his words. "I asked you once if you had a wife. I thought you answered nay, but perhaps my question wasn't clear. Are you married, then, Rhodri? Or promised elsewhere?"

"Nay." He went silent for a long moment, then sighed and straightened his spine, his eyes now focused directly on her. "Do you believe in magic, Selene?"

"I - " She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to frighten him away, either.

"I think you do." He didn't wait for her reply, just forged onward. "I've watched Huw's recovery, you know. And I've seen many, many battle wounds in my lifetime. I've never seen one heal as quickly or cleanly as Huw's. So yes, I believe you to be familiar with magic."

Her hand flew up to clutch her throat. The very blood grew chilled in her veins.

"Rhodri, what you're saying - you do realize that the church could burn me at the stake on the basis of your words alone?"