Angharad of Llyr is heir to a matriarchy: a line of enchantress-queens that has ruled her island for centuries. Her destiny from birth: to rule as sole authority and ensure that her powerful bloodline endures for another generation. Devoted to her p...
"Like keeping a serpent as a houseguest," Angharad muttered. Regat's mouth twitched.
"It was much to accept, all that I told you last night," the queen acknowledged. "I ought to have given you more warning, Angharad, and I regret not doing so. Your reaction was...understandable, under the circumstances, and I give you my pardon."
Angharad wrested her eyes away from her mother's gaze, stared at her own clutched hands, and quelled an urge to break into hysterical, wild laughter. Pardon, oh yes - a relief, indeed! She pressed her lips together and held her breath, feeling dizzy. Arianrhod squinted at her curiously. "Are you all right, love?"
"We had a rather...unpleasant exchange, last night," Regat explained, before Angharad could answer. "She approves neither of seeking aid from Achren, nor the necessity of her own marriage — and while I sympathize with her feelings, the time has come for feeling to bow to duty."
Arianrhod sighed, her expression full of genuine sadness. "Oh, dear. Must it come to that, Regat? There are no enchanters worth any salt young enough to appeal to our Angharad, unless they're hiding in a dark corner somewhere."
"It is unfortunate," Regat admitted. "But we need any and all power we can amass just now."
The priestess shook her head. "There is more than one source of power," she sighed. "But you would never avail yourself of any other. That archaic law—"
"Is the law," Regat cut her off with finality, her face tight. "And she is bound by it, as I was; as you never were."
"Enough." Angharad blurted the word as though it tore her. "I won't be talked about as though I'm not here." She sprang up so abruptly that her chair toppled backwards, and faced her mother. "You know very well I will do whatever you tell me I must. It is what I have always done." Heat rose in her throat, choking her; tears stung, unshed, behind her eyes. "But I won't pretend to be happy about it, or that fulfilling my...duty...or destiny...or whatever it may be...is a satisfaction that somehow makes up for all I must relinquish." The tears spilled out anyway, in spite of her efforts; her voice shook, even as it rose louder. "It won't. And when I'm queen," she gasped, and pounded her fist upon the table; the platters rattled. "When I am queen, this law will die with you, and all the rest of our line who had not the courage to change it. I swear it."
"Angharad," Arianrhod gasped, horrified.
"Stop this," Regat ordered, white-faced, and Angharad knew she had dared too far, but it was too late, and another bridge was burning, gods, how many of them would she burn?
Her hand fell, by chance, upon her knife, unused at the meal; before any cautious, conscious thought could interfere the princess flipped it blade-up and raked her palm along it, held up her clenched fist, dripping red upon the table linen. "I swear it," she repeated, voice suddenly steady, buoyed up by a surge of power that filled her lungs and throat, pulsed through her veins, twined around her fingers in invisible strands. "My daughters will be free to wed whomever they please. They will choose by their own hearts: sorcerer or shoemaker, prince or pauper. And if they find none worthy of their hearts they will be free to belong to themselves alone. If our line perishes for it, then it perishes."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
