Page 78 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana’s lips curled in her restrained smile. “I do not lie, as you know, brat,” she said lightly. “When he could not repeat his glamour, I made an assumption. Emerlyn was very, very angry, and she promised that, in this instance, the council would act swiftly, and as one.”

“Did you know Dama Vivyan was with Ursula?”

Morgana shook her head. She described the entire conflict, although Braithe thought, as she listened, that the priestess was leaving out the most frightening details. She would press her on them later. “We can be glad Emerlyn has retained such impressive power, despite her age. Ursula and Vivyan together are formidable. Were formidable.” Morgana drew a small, satisfied breath. “I have no doubt that the council has blocked their magic as well. Emerlyn will have seen to it.”

“How do they do that?” Braithe asked.

“Emerlyn says they have to work as one body, but they have done it before. It is a powerful concentration of magic, much like the work we did at the Temple, I believe, in dealing with the changeling. Of course, among the Nine the magic is somewhat sparse, and it took great effort to focus it. We cannot say that about the Royal Council of the White City.”

“All that magic,” Braithe mused. “They could do so much with it.”

“Too much magic, do you think, Braithe?”

“Too much power,” Braithe said. “Everything comes too easily. They have forgotten what it is to work.”

Braithe pushed the platter of bread and cheese toward Morgana, and the priestess finally took some on her plate. “I agree,” she said. “Emerlyn strives to prevent the extinction of her kind, but I fear it is an effort that will fail.”

Braithe chewed on an apple slice for a moment. “There is a stanza,” she said.

Morgana chuckled. “Of course there is. Recite it for us.”

Braithe glanced down the table at Idhri, whose cheeks bulged with a huge bite of bread and cheese. She was glad to see his appetite return. He still had to deal with the horror of his memories, but she thought, when he returned to his master and the redoubtable Emma, he would find a way to do that. At least, in this moment, he seemed the healthy lad he should be. His mouth was so full he couldn’t speak, but he nodded agreement.

She said,

The honey is sweet

The making of it sweeter still.

Idhri swallowed and said, “What does it mean?”

Braithe said, “The stanzas mean different things to different people.”

“And nothing to some,” Morgana added.

Braithe laughed. “That would be a great disappointment to the Lady.”

Morgana nodded. “They are her legacy.”

Braithe’s laugh faded. “I would say they are part of her legacy, Priestess. You are the other part. The indispensable part.”

“That may be so,” Morgana said. “I confess I feared for one moment today that my part was finished.”

Braithe pressed a hand to her heart. “Thank the Lady it was not.”

“And thanks to Emerlyn. She found greater strength than she believed she had.”

“Do you not think the Lady had a hand in that?”

Morgana’s narrow lips curved, just at the corners. “I have no doubt, brat. No doubt at all.”

All three of them slept soundly that night in the guesthouse. To Braithe, it felt as if a fresh breeze had swept through the place, taking with it the bits and pieces of their fears and worries and grief, leaving the air clean and untroubled, sweetening their dreams. Even Idhri had begun to recover from the shock of his memories. Morgana had fulfilled her promise to the Blackbird and was eager to return to the Isle. Braithe, though she was careful not to boast about it, was elated at the growing power of her magic. Her only worry was that when she left the White City, her newfound abilities would fade.

Not her only worry, in truth. The thread of premonition, of fear of something yet to come, still troubled her, but she had no way of knowing what it meant. She thought of mentioning it to Morgana, but she put it off, not wanting to spoil the moment.

She had showed off, just a little, when they returned to the house, pronouncing the cantrip before Morgana had a chance. Idhri and Morgana had both laughed and congratulated her. Braithe privately wished that Priestess Iffa, who had so often lamented her lack of skills and even tried to expel her from the Temple, could have been a witness.

Of course that was silly. It no longer mattered. On this lovely morning, they all slept right through the delivery of their breakfast. They didn’t gather in the kitchen until the sun was fully up and the heat had begun to rise. Councillor Emerlyn arrived while they were still at their meal, and Braithe convinced her to sit and drink a cup of cider.