wondering how on earth to respond, she smiled with what seemed like genuine amusement.
―I have misphrased that question,‖ Matilda said, ―for I did not mean to suggest that it
could not be possible for William, or any other man, to love you, for you are a desirable woman,
but only how it is that William can have come to love you. Has he fallen in love only with
rumour? Or did he somehow hold you as an infant, and he but a small boy, and conceive then his
great passion for you?‖
There was absolutely nothing in her voice but intense curiosity, and I think that surprised
me as much as…as the idea that William loved me.
He hated me. He‘d always hated me.
―I…he can‘t love me,‖ I said.
In response Matilda simply nodded to my lap. ―You‘re bleeding,‖ she said.
I looked down. At some point in the last few moments I‘d stuck my needle into my left
index finger. I pulled it out hastily, wincing, and sucked at the pinprick of a wound, feeling like a
child.
―On our marriage night,‖ Matilda said, ―William paid me the courtesy of being honest.
He said that I would never be the great love of his life. Ah, do not fret, Caela. I accepted that
then, and I accept it now. But for these past sixteen or so years I have thought my rival to be
Swanne. Now I realise that it is you that William loves beyond all others—and you him. Caela, I
ask again, and in simple curiosity and not in judgement, how can this be so?‖
My left hand was back in my lap, and now I looked down at it, and wondered what to
say.
―All my marriage,‖ Matilda continued in a soft voice, ―I have known that William was
somehow very, very much more than ‗just‘ the Duke of Normandy. That there is another level,
another purpose to his life that he has kept from me. Is it you, or are you just a part of it?‖
―A mere part of it,‖ I said.
She was silent, waiting.
―Matilda, to tell you would be to involve you in such dark witchery that—‖
―Swanne is dark witchery,‖ Matilda said. ―You are not. Swanne had the power to ruin my
life. You have the power to enrich it. I am not afraid, nor threatened by you, Caela. Please—‖
―Matilda.‖
We both jumped slightly, and looked to the door.
William stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded, his eyes unreadable.
I had no idea how long he had been standing there.
―Matilda, my love,‖ he said, unfolding his arms and walking into the room, ―I would
speak privately with Caela for a time. Do you mind?‖
―Of course not,‖ Matilda said. She rose, kissed first me and then William on the cheek,
almost as if she were blessing us, and left.
Finally, my heart pounding, I raised my eyes and looked into William‘s face.
SIXTEEN
―You are well served in your wife,‖ Caela said after a long, uncomfortable pause.
―She is a better wife to me than you were,‖ William said, taking Matilda‘s chair.
―She has made you into a better husband than I managed,‖ Caela said.
The skin about William‘s eyes crinkled in humour. ―So Cornelia is still buried in there
somewhere.‖
―We are all who once we were, only—‖
―Changed,‖ he said. ―You are far lovelier than you were as Cornelia, and that loveliness
is not just reflected in your features. You are calmer, more at peace with yourself. Stronger.
Wiser.‖ And more still, he thought, but could not put words to that difference.
―And you?‖
―As you said, I am a better husband.‖
Silence, as both looked away from each other.
―Why did you lie with my father?‖ William said eventually.
―You saw?‖
―Yes. My father, Caela?‖
―What care is it of yours?‖ she said.
―Why?‖ His voice was very soft now.
She lowered her gaze, her wounded hand making a helpless gesture. ―He reminded me of
you. He had your look, save gentler, and kinder. More weary. I was lonely and in need, William.
I was in no mood to reject what
he offered. He was a mistake. I lay with him only that once.‖
―Did he please you?‖ His black eyes were steady on her face.
―No.‖ She paused. ―Not as once you did. He was your father, but he was not you.‖
―You should not have lain with him, Caela.‖
―What concern is it of yours? What?”
Now it was William who spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ―None. I know that. I
just…I just wish you had not. Not with my father.‖
―I‘d wished it was you,‖ she said, ―but I could not have you. I thought Silvius could fill
the void. I was wrong.‖
―I heard what Matilda said to you, Caela. But I do not love you. There is too much shared
hatred for us to
―I know. You do not have to explain.‖
―Damn it,‖ he muttered, looking away.
―William—‖
―I did not come here to talk to you of love,‖ William said. ―There are more urgent
matters, as I am sure you realise.‖
―Yes.‖
―Caela, do you remember those bands I wore about my limbs?‖
Her shoulders tensed at this change in subject, and he did not miss it. ―Yes.‖
―Someone has been moving them.‖
―Yes.‖
There was a long, heavy pause. ―Do you know who?‖
―Yes.‖ Another pause, and Caela kept her eyes directly on him. ―I have.‖
William‘s mouth dropped open, and he stared at her for so long and so incredulously that
Caela eventually had to look away.
“You shifted the bands?‖
―Yes.‖
―How? How? Only I or the Mistress of the Labyrinth could have touched those bands!
And possibly Silvius, as he was once their Kingman also.‖ William‘s voice was rising, and Caela flinched as he slid forward on the chair, then stood up. “How could you have moved them, Caela?‖
She studied her hands clenched in her lap a long moment, then looked up. ―The Troy
Game has changed, William.‖
―What do you know of the Game?‖
Caela visibly steeled herself. ―The Game was left alone a long time, William.
Uncompleted. It changed.‖ She gave a small, helpless shrug. ―It became attuned to the land, and
the land to it. William, the Troy Game is no longer the passive thing I think you believe it to be.
Something that waits for your touch. Yes, it wants completion. Yes, it wants the strength that
will come with that. But it also wants that completion and strength on its terms.‖ She paused.
―And this land wants the Game completed on its terms as well. Land and Game are agreed on
how this should be done.‖
William stared at her for a long moment in silence. How was it that she spoke on behalf
of the Game and the land? He spoke, one single, expressionless word: ―Yes?‖
―The Game wants the male and female elements of this land to complete it, William. It
means it will become one with the land. Completely melded with it.‖
―Explain that to me,‖ William said, his voice now dangerously quiet.
―In simple terms—‖
―How good of you.‖
Caela winced. ―The Game wants the female and male elements of this land, the
reincarnations of the ancient gods Mag and Og, to complete the Game as the
Mistress of the Labyrinth and the Kingman. It does not want you or Swanne to—‖
― What have you done?”
―I have done nothing! William, the Game has—‖
―Are you still Asterion‘s pawn?‖
―No! William, I beg you, listen to—‖
―This Game is mine, and Swanne”s.”
She took a moment to respond, steadying her nerves and her voice. ―The Game is its own
being, in partnership with the Mistress of the Labyrinth and the Kingman.‖
―Who you say are to be the reincarnated Mag and Og.‖
She nodded.
William abruptly stood and walked over to a window. He stood for long minutes, staring
outside. ―I have not come all this way to be told that,‖ he said finally, turning about. ―I have no
reason to believe you.‖
Caela stood, and approached William. He tensed slightly as she neared, but made no
move to stop her when she lifted his hand and placed it flat against her breastbone. ―See who I
am,‖ she whispered, holding his eyes with her own.
He found himself standing within the circle of stones he had once known as Mag‘s
Dance.
Save that the stones were no longer solid, nor even stationary, but instead appeared to
have become creatures of wraith and movement and song.
He spun about, both scared and disorientated, and saw that a woman approached him
through the spinning circle of dancers.
It was Caela, clothed only in mist and her loose, blowing hair, and with such power in
her eyes as William could never have imagined her— or any woman— possessing.
“See,” she said, and looked to one side of the circle.