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Morgaine was our distant cousin, if you counted the crossover of time, and she was shorter than Menolly. Petite, barely four-eleven, she had hair that reached her knees, bound back in an intricate pattern of braids and free flowing locks. A silver crescent had long ago been branded on her forehead. She was pretty, even lovely in a way, and her eyes were dark. When she was working magic, they flashed silver, much like my own. She was old—she’d been alive before the Great Divide, and she had to have taken the Nectar of Life at least once. Half-Fae could not live that long without help.
But Morgaine was greedy, whereas Titania and Aeval had no need for avarice. Morgaine craved power, and we weren’t sure exactly to what lengths she’d go to get it. At this point, Aeval and Titania kept her in check.
She motioned to the robed attendants, and they shed their anonymity with their robes. A sick feeling lurched in the bottom of my stomach.
The one who had toweled me off was Mordred, Morgaine’s nephew. He hated us—he resented our family connection to her, and like his aunt, he burned for power. He gave me a narrow look, and the leer on his face disturbed me. Hatred and lust were ill-met partners. I’d learned that all too painfully from Hyto.
The other attendant was Arturo, an FBH who also had taken the Nectar of Life. He was in love with Morgaine. He followed her at her will, and she commanded him but seldom showed him anything but the barest of courtesy. Now he nodded slowly to me, smiling faintly.
“Aeval waits for us in the center of the Grove.” Morgaine’s voice grated over the Dark Queen’s name. “She has claimed this night of teaching.”
I prepared to follow my cousin, but she stopped, turning to me.
“You may sit in the favor of the Queen of Shadow and Night, but you have much to learn, my girl. I gave you the chance to join my court and you snubbed your nose. But let Aeval snap her fingers and you come dancing like a puppet. I will never forgive the insult. While I will not interfere with your training—I take my duties seriously—at some point, my dear young cousin, we will meet head to head, and I will teach you what it means to truly bear our lineage. For now, however…we go to meet the Night.”
And with that, she turned abruptly and headed down the path, into the grove. Mordred shot me a sickly smile, and as I passed by him, he let out a soft snicker, and one hand shot out to grab my ass.
I caught him by the wrist and gazed up at him, and said one word. “Smoky.”
Mordred pulled away, but the look on his face told me that he was definitely my enemy. And both he and I knew it.
Chapter 8
Morgaine led me down a narrow path, and at my back, Mordred and Arturo followed. I wasn’t at all comfortable with Mordred so close behind me, but there was nothing I could do.
We entered the glade in which I’d had my initiation into Aeval’s Court. What happened that night would remain secret—as all highly personal rites should. Nobody, except those who were there, knew what I’d done.
As we exited the confines of the path and entered the clearing, the clouds parted to let the crescent moon shine down. We were almost at waxing, and the silver light from the Moon Mother illuminated the glade.
Aeval and Titania stood in the center of a pentagram that was marked in the grass. Between them stood a tall man, and in the light of the crescent moon, he practically glowed. As we approached, Morgaine stepped into the center, standing just outside the inner circle.
Aeval looked beyond me at Arturo and Mordred, and a faint sneer appeared on her lips. “You are dismissed. Both of you. Return to Morgaine’s court and wait for her there.”
Mordred stiffened, gave Aeval a short bow, and turned to stride away. Arturo was more courteous and gave her a deep bow before sauntering off. They were trouble, that pair, though Mordred was far more dangerous than Arturo.
Aeval waited for a moment, then turned to Morgaine, and what was said, I could not hear, but something passed between them and Morgaine shot me a venomous look.
Titania cleared her throat and motioned me forward. I approached them, unsure of how they wanted me to enter the sigil in which they stood. The Queen of Light and Morning noticed my hesitation and gestured toward the top point of the star. “You may enter at that gate.”
I silently circled the pentagram, then entered the path that would lead to casting the rune in a deosil—or clockwise—manner. As I stepped onto the trampled grass that made up the first line of the symbol, a rush of energy washed over me and I caught my breath in the beauty of the power. It summoned me in. If I hadn’t been invited, it would have burned me to cinders.
As I followed the line, stopping at the center where they stood, Aeval broke into a smile and beckoned me in. “Camille, welcome, my child.”
I swallowed my caution and joined them, and she draped her arm around my shoulders, drawing me near. Catching my breath, I wondered what was up. The Queen of Shadow and Night was seldom this demonstrative. Something must have her feeling good. Either that, or I was in for hell week and she was cushioning the blow.
The man standing between Aeval and Titania turned to me, a cunning smile playing on his face. Something seemed familiar about him. He was pale as the moonlight, with curly blue-black hair to his shoulders and dark eyes. His lips were ruddy. Not the red of lipstick, but naturally dark. He was around Trillian’s height, not extremely tall, and his frame was lean and muscular. He wore a pair of black trousers and a white shirt that was open to the waist, showing a glimpse of thick chest hair. Gold and silver chains hung around his neck. A black vest completed the pseudo-pirate look, but somehow he made it work.
Aeval glanced at him, then at me. “Camille, before your training tonight, we have several things to discuss. Matters best left for here, in the sacred grove where all is protected from spies.”
Uh-oh. That didn’t bode well. I waited, not sure what to say.
“I want you to meet Bran. Bran, this is Priestess Camille te Maria—Camille D’Artigo.”
I held out my hand. Instead of shaking it, he lifted my fingers to his lips, then turned my palm up and pressed his lips to my wrist, and I swear he nipped the skin as he kissed me. A spark of hunger ran through me, and the arousal I’d felt earlier, in the pool, returned full force. I had to catch myself before I gasped. I pulled my hand away as quickly as I could without being rude.
“Pleased to meet you…” I still didn’t have a clue who he was, though something inside told me that I knew him, that I’d felt his energy before.
Titania caught my eye. “What Aeval has neglected to mention is that Bran is the son of Raven Mother and the Black Unicorn.”
