Haunted Moon (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #13)

Haunted Moon (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #13) Page 15

A sadness crept into my heart when I realized that my homeworld was changing, but then again, it had originally been a part of Earthside, and it seemed natural that both worlds should integrate back together.

On one level, I secretly hoped the portals would rip, that the division wouldn’t hold, and that Otherworld and Earthside would reunite, but I also knew that might entail a great disaster. Even though I liked the thought of unification, I realized it wasn’t necessarily best.

We turned down another road, and as the carriage rumbled through a heavily wooded patch, opening out onto a cottage and a grotto beyond, I knew where I was. I’d initiated into Aeval’s Court here, during the winter solstice. As the driver helped me down, handing me my staff, my stomach fluttered. Magic was in the wind, magic was in the very land here, imbued with the elements and the energy of the moon and the sun.

The cedars and firs hadn’t changed since the winter solstice when I’d been here, except for the bright green of new growth. But the deciduous trees had blossomed out, and their young leaves now crowded the branches, creating a tapestry of shadow and light as the last of the sunlight shimmered through them.

Huckleberries were growing thick, as were ferns and brambles, and wild rhododendrons that had somehow become seeded here. Rowan trees, also known as mountain ash, ringed the grove, and their berries were white, not yet ready to turn the brilliant orange that marked them in the late summer and autumn.

The drone of bees and insects hummed in my ears. Overhead, the fading remnants of the day began to give way, and twilight took hold. Morgaine’s time was beginning to fade as Aeval’s rule ascended.

Sometimes I wondered why, though Morgaine had been assigned to train me, it was to Aeval’s Court that I’d been ordered to pledge myself, and why Aeval so often took over the training. But when I approached the subject, no one would answer, and I had come to the conclusion that the more I pressed, the less likely I was to find out, so I had quit asking. I knew when to back off.

I carried my bag and staff into the cottage, which was used as a preparation area. I had begun to sort out my garb for the evening when an acolyte approached. She looked a little scared, and I grinned as she stumbled over her words.

“Lady Camille? I have word…I’m here…they wanted me to tell you…” The poor girl looked so starstruck that I took pity on her.

“Don’t be nervous. What’s your name?”

“Tanya.”

That surprised me. Tanya was a human name and not one found in most Fae families.

“Well, Tanya, if it’s bad news, just tell me.” I had the feeling her nerves were a result of the star-factor thing, but I had learned never to assume. That could land you in a whole world of hurt. Or embarrassment.

Turned out, I was right. She blushed, then gave me a little shrug. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. I’ve heard so much about you. Okay, let me start again.”

As she took a deep breath, I realized Tanya was an FBH, not Fae at all. That alone was enough to make me blink, but before I could ask about it, she launched in again, and this time the words came out without any problem.

“Mistress Morgaine asked me to take your regalia and staff. She bids you take a ceremonial bath in the hot springs first, and then cross to the other side, where you will be dressed for the ritual. You may leave your clothes here.”

That was odd, but I just nodded and entered the cottage.

The living room was lit with dozens of candles that flickered brightly in glass hurricane jars. The little house had four rooms.

The kitchen was the color of pale sunshine. It held a round table with eight chairs and had a wood cookstove, but the stove wasn’t made out of cast iron. I wasn’t sure just what it was made from, but it worked really well. There was also an old-fashioned icebox that was kept chilled through ice and snow magic. With only cold running water, the stove was used to heat water for washing dishes.

The Fae Queens did believe in plumbing and had hired contractors to install septic systems. The bathroom contained a shower. With the hot springs outside, who needed a warm bath?

The other two rooms were the main gathering room—essentially a living room—and a chamber to the side, the size of a small bedroom. It was used as a ritual locker room.

I hurried to change. Best not to keep Morgaine waiting. Even more so, Aeval, and I had a feeling she would be there tonight as well.

Stripping, I hung up my clothing, then slid into a sheer robe that was hanging on a peg on the wall. I tucked my purse into one of the wooden lockers. I’d already handed my staff and ritual garb to Tanya, who was waiting for me in the living room. With a quick pit stop in the bathroom, I took care of business and washed my hands. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I wondered if I was up to whatever challenge lay ahead. But there was only one way to find out. Exhaling slowly, I rejoined Tanya.

She led me out the back door. The smooth slate path was cool under my bare feet. As we headed down the slight incline, the last glimpses of daylight began to vanish. Menolly would be waking up now, I thought, then brought my focus back to where I was. Magic required absolute concentration, especially when working with the Dark Queens.

A hush settled over the grove, the echo of birdsong reverberating from tree to tree in the cool scent of the evening. The temperature was brisk, a hint of moisture hanging heavy in the air, and I shivered beneath the light fabric of the robe.

Tanya said nothing more—she kept her eyes on the path in front of her, carrying my bag of regalia and my staff. I followed behind her. A flutter rustled in the brushes nearby, and I glanced just in time to see something dart through the foliage. Whatever it was, I knew it was neither human nor animal. Fae, perhaps—but most likely an Elemental, as tied to the earth as I was tied to the moon.

After a few minutes, we reached the shore of the hot springs. It was large—a pond, really—and steam drifted from its surface, creating a fine mist that rolled across to the other side. The scent of warm water and moss and sand rose to greet me, and I let the robe slip from my shoulders, draping it across a bush. Tanya curtsied, then picked up the robe and headed off down the path.

Cautiously, I put one foot into the water.

It was as warm as I remembered it, sending a delicious shiver up my spine. Step by step, I descended into the pool. Gentle waves, stirred by the breeze, lapped steadily around me, parting as I waded through them. The soothing water began to calm my nerves. I paused for a moment when it was hip deep, resting my hands on the glistening surface. As I closed my eyes, the energy began to flow through me, soaking into my skin, washing away stress and worry and fear.

My breathing eased, the knot in my chest dissolving. Once it vanished, I noticed the crick in my neck, the bruise on my leg, the faint ache at the base of my tailbone. Wading deeper into the water until it was chest high, I paused again, my breasts lightly resting on the surface.

A dark eroticism began to creep into my thoughts, my nipples stiffening as I grew aroused. My stomach fluttered as an ache began to build between my legs. I tried to ignore it, tried to brush it away, but the slow burn flickered through my body, and I found myself breathing heavier as the water caressed me.

Not quite sure what to do—nobody had given me instructions on how to handle it if I suddenly found myself horny as hell during my training Circles—I decided to just push through and move on. I breathed through the wave of desire, then waded to the center of the pool, where I ducked under. As I came to the surface, I began the journey out again.

When I reached the shore on the other side, Morgaine was waiting. She motioned for me to stand before her, naked and covered with a sheen of water. Two cloaked figures stepped forward. One moved to the side as the other gestured for me to assume the Priestess Pose.

I stretched out my arms to my sides, and spread my legs, chin tilted toward the sky. The figure knelt and began to towel me off.

This could get tricky. The person holding the towel gently stroked the material down each leg. I did my best not to shudder at the soft material grazing my skin. As the towel reached my pussy, and quietly, softly, dried my pubic hair, it took every fiber I had not to respond, not to let out a moan or even a sigh.

My attendant rose and dried my torso, then stroked the towel up over each breast. Again, I restrained myself, biting my lip as I stared up at the first stars creeping into view. My arousal was strong now and it took everything I had to ignore it, to focus through the desire and lust. For all I knew, this was part of the training, and that thought kept me from breaking my stance.

When I was dry, the robed figures stood back, and Morgaine gave me a brilliant, if slightly terrifying, smile.

Two women stepped out from behind a nearby huckleberry bush, carrying my garb. One held my dress, and I raised my arms as she slid it down my body, making sure the halter was firmly tied behind my neck. She fastened my silver belt around my waist.

The other held my matching kimono. Both dress and kimono were made from spidersilk—the strongest fabric in Otherworld—sheer, warm, yet lightweight. The dress and kimono were woven with the pattern of peacock feathers, in blues and greens and plums.

After I was dressed, the first attendant held up my circlet—a silver band. In the front, a round moon sparkled silver, with a bronze crescent atop it, horns pointing up. She placed it around my head, then handed me my staff.

Morgaine nodded, walking around me. “Very good, very good. You are ready.”

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.