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...
The princess stood, in an agony of numb horror, did not hear the dismayed clamor of the crowd over the furious, anguished cry of her own heart that filled her up. It did not reach her lips, for she had no breath to give it voice; it beat against the cage of her ribs, drowned out the conscious thought of her mind, until she was nothing but a silent scream, a door shut against all other voices. Motionless, she stood, as Geraint's hand was torn from her grasp and he was led away by guards, his eyes holding hers until his face was lost in the crowd; wordless, she made no answer to her mother's demand to choose from the remaining enchanters. She refused to look at them again, though they jostled themselves in front of her, vying for her attention, and finally the queen stood, in a desperate bid for control, and announced that the decision would be made by the morrow, and bid the assembly to disperse.
The confusion that followed, Angharad did not remember. The darkness in her mind expanded, covering her in blessed nothingness, until she came to herself and knew, by the feel, she was in her own room, lying on her couch, but with no notion of how she had come there. She was cradled in her sister's embrace, and around her, voices spoke, in fervent debate.
"...don't know what sort of spell it was," Elen's voice broke into her consciousness, "so there's no way to re-create it, is there? and no way for any of you to know what it would do now, even if you did."
"What difference does it make, anyway, if we still can't get to all the gems?" Eilwen broke in impatiently. "We know what Arawn is after, now, at least. I should think we ought to let the thing stay where it is, and concentrate on keeping him away from it."
"It is not enough," Arianrhod said. "Regat will not be content to let it lie. And I am not certain, myself...though probably not for the same reasons."
Angharad heard the furl of pages turning, dusty, smelling of magic. The spellbook.
"Do you think she realized that the third gem is the one on the pendant?" Eilwen murmured.
"I do not know. It was wise of him not to reveal it there — Llyr, too clever by half. But she may yet get it out of him."
"Where'd she take him? — Aunt, you don't think she's going to—,"
Angharad stirred and whimpered, and they all fell silent. Eilwen jiggled her gently and kissed her cheek. "Wake up, love. You're all right."
The princess opened her eyes, sat up slowly, examining herself in a daze, sensing something unfamiliar. Frowning, she raised her hand, staring at her own clenched fist in confusion, and opened it slowly to reveal a silver chain entangling her fingers.
The crescent moon pendant dropped from her grasp, the gem held between its horns sparking ice and fire as it fell.
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