“I created my own spiral.” It no longer mattered what she told Maximus. There was nothing left to hide from him. “I wanted to save my love.”
He stared at her, his face almost unrecognizable with the blackened skin and strange blue hue from the circular flame. And yet she would know him anywhere, however he looked, because she didn’t need her eyes to see him. All she needed was her heart.
“Cerridwen told you to do this?”
“I don’t know.” Had Cerridwen guided her hand? “This eve didn’t go the way I planned.”
She had intended to hide Maximus here, where he would have been protected from any battle. But there had been no battle. Had Aeron ever intended there would be one? Or had he expected to control the collapsed spiral, bend it to his will, use it to eradicate all those who stood against him?
But with his death, no longer enchained by Aeron’s dark incantations, the spiral of Annwyn had erupted with rage. This magical circle, far from shielding Maximus from harm, would have imprisoned him. And as it sucked in the destructive power of the gods, Maximus would have been slain.
Because of her own selfish actions.
He looked up the fiery column, then glanced around the eerily illuminated countryside. Still the spiral pumped from the forest, and still the white-blue flame captured its fury.
“The rest of Cambria is being spared.” Finally he turned his attention back to her. “Roman and Celt alike.”
Was this what Cerridwen had wanted all along? The flame glowed, unnatural and hypnotic, and ice trickled over her arms.
Do not let us be extinguished.
“The flame in the darkness.” The flickering, vulnerable light she’d tried to reach for in her vision. The tiny glow in the blackness of Rome.
Only the future. Cerridwen’s cryptic whisper, from when she’d been in Maximus’ old quarters, vibrated with shocking clarity through her brain.
Hating Maximus would never change the past. But if she had chosen to hate her enemy in the future, she would have ensured the devastating destruction of all she held dear, all she loved.
By loving Maximus, and defying her people, her gods and her fellow Druids she’d been driven to create this illicit spiral. And by attempting to save Maximus from the Druids rage, she had instead harnessed the immortals fury. Inadvertently, she had protected them all.
“The Legion will investigate.” Maximus’ fingers tightened around hers, and she let out a dry sob. The Legion would decimate her traumatized kin, no matter how brave their resistance.
“Carys, move.” His voice was harsh as he tugged her brutally toward the forest. “We don’t have much time. Your kin need to leave this area before the Legion arrives. Do you understand?”
She shot him a comprehending glance as they ran through the whipping grasses. “Yes.” Relief meshed with awe, and she shivered with fear. Maximus was going against his beloved Rome to repay the debt of life she’d given his Legion. Would he ever be able to forgive her?
When they finally reached the cromlech—how short the journey seemed now, when there was no need to circumnavigate the area and backtrack to avoid leaving noticeable pathways—few Druids remained and Druantia’s body had vanished.
“Carys.” Morwyn rushed toward her and gripped her arm, steadfastly ignoring Maximus. “We’ve been searching for you. Hurry, we’re to leave instantly for—” She snapped her lips together and shot Maximus a suspicious glance. “To where your mother awaits you.”
The Isle of Mon. The Druids’ most sacred sanctuary.
“No.” Pain engulfed her heart and crushed her lungs, at the knowledge she might never see her mother again, might never see any of her kin again.
This was the sacrifice her goddess claimed. And it was a sacrifice that would forever wound her spirit.
But the alternative meant she would never again see Maximus.
Morwyn shook her arm. “We have to leave. Gather our strength once again. But we will come back, and we will reclaim Cymru for our own.”
Panic clutched deep inside, cold and deadly. Her vision had shown her the end of Druidry. The end of everything they held dear, unless they embraced Rome. But how could her culture survive alongside the unrelenting claws of the Eagle, if all her fellow Druids left?
“Stay, Morwyn. You and Gawain and any others who will listen.” And let her mother return. “Our people need us now, before they forget all the old ways.”
Morwyn gave her an odd look, as if she didn’t understand what Carys could mean. “They’ll never forget our ways. And we’ll return in a moon or less, as soon as the anger of the gods diminishes.” Her tone held no doubt, as if the devastating events of this eve could be easily forgiven, easily forgotten. Her fingers tightened on Carys’ arm. “Carys, you can’t stay. The Romans will crucify you.”
“Rome will never touch Carys.” Maximus unlaced their fingers and wound his arm around her shoulders. “We’re not complete barbarians. We can honor a foreign princess.”
Morwyn flicked him a disbelieving glance. “The Morrigan commands we leave now,” she said, turning back to Carys. “Before the cursed Romans arrive.”
A chill entered her heart and shivered along her arteries, as a certainty threaded through her brain. A certainty that solidified and expanded and became absolute.
She stood at the crossroads.
The all-seeing Morrigan, who could no longer see Carys, demanded her Druids follow her down her path.
And Cerridwen, standing by the other path, demanded nothing but the continuance of her sacred Cauldron—or perhaps her Flame—of Knowledge.
By whatever means necessary.
This moment was the reason the Morrigan had turned from her at the hour of her birth.
She cupped Morwyn’s jaw and gently stroked her thumb over her split lip. “I’m staying, Morwyn, to be with the man I love. The one Cerridwen brought to Cymru.” She hitched in a shaky breath. “Tell my mother she’s forever with me.”
Morwyn’s eyes sparkled in the light of the fires. “I’ll miss you, Carys.” There was a choke in her voice, and as they embraced, Morwyn whispered, “Goddess be with you, my princess.”
As Morwyn pulled back and turned and fled into the forest, a great, molten rock throbbed in the center of Carys’ chest. She gasped and pressed her hands to her breasts, as the agony engulfed her in a wave of despairing grief.
Maximus dragged her roughly in his arms and she clung to him, fighting back the tears, fighting back the sensation of utter isolation.
“Don’t cry.” His voice was gruff. “I’m sorry it came to this. But, gods, I couldn’t bear to lose you.” His hold tightened, crushing her bones, squeezing the breath from her lungs. “I love you, Celt.” He dragged in a harsh breath. “I love you, Druid. Stay with me because you want to, not because your goddess commands it.”
I love you, Druid. She gave a gasping laugh that sounded like a sob, but it didn’t matter because Maximus accepted who she was, what she was, even though it went against everything Rome stood for.
“I wanted to stay with you when I thought that was the last thing my goddess wanted.” She freed her arms and speared her fingers through his hair, his short military hair that fascinated her as much now as it ever had. “I’ll always be a Druid. It’s what I am.”
He gave a heavy sigh and slid her braid through his fisted hand. “I’ll learn to live with it.”
She had to tell him. “I’m glad you didn’t have to betray Rome by warning my kin. I’m glad they’d already made the decision to leave.”
His fingers stilled on her hair. “It wouldn’t have been betrayal. I promised you I’d never harm your kin.” His sigh echoed through the core of her existence, the foundation of her love. “I’ll always honor my promises to you, Carys.”
And in the distance, vibrating through the earth at her feet, she felt the approach of the Roman Legion.