Crusader by Sara Douglass Page A

to hide in the safety of hearing what had happened above. She wanted to tell him about her encounter with Isfrael. She wanted him to know that the Earth Tree had gone, but that was all right, because in her belt she had—
    He slid an arm about her waist and pulled her gently against him. “I missed you.”
    “Who are you?” she whispered, somehow terrified of this being that Drago had transformed into.
    “The same man,” he said, his eyes travelling slowly over her face, “but deeper.”
    “Harder?”
    He shook his head. “Softer.” His arm tightened fractionally.
    “Qeteb—”
    “Qeteb can wait. Faraday, talk to me.”
    She took a huge breath and closed her eyes momentarily. What had the Mother said? Until you learn to dare, you will never live. Take that risk, Faraday…take that risk.
    “I will not betray you, Faraday,” DragonStar whispered, and she realised he was now very, very close. So close that his warmth burnt through the layers of linen between them. “Trust me, trust me…” His voice drifted off and she opened her eyes.
    I will never betray you, she heard him whisper in her mind, not for another woman, not for riches or glory, and not for this land.
    “I do not require your blood,” he said aloud now, although still in a whisper, “Tencendor does not require your blood.”
    And still she had not spoken.
    Faraday…
    How hateful, she thought, that I have found it so difficult to accept his love.
    Faraday.
    How hateful that I have found it so hard to accept the Sanctuary of his heart.
    Faraday .
    How hard that I have found it so seductive to allow myself to remain the perpetual victim rather than allowing myself to live.
    Faraday .
    She shifted slightly in his arms, exploring the feel of his body against hers.
    DragonStar , she whispered back into his mind. And then she smiled, and laughed a little, and relaxed against him, and then laughed a little more at the smile on his face.
    “I have loved you forever,” she said, and those were the easiest words she had ever said in her many existences.

Chapter 8
The Ploughed Field
    D ragonStar’s witches sat in a circle on their straight-backed wooden chairs, their hands folded in their laps, eyes downcast.
    Faraday was dressed again in her white linen gown, the Mother’s rainbow sash about her narrow waist holding the entwined arrow and sapling against the womb of her warmth. Her small feet, clad in elegant red leather slippers, were crossed beneath her chair. Her newly-combed chestnut hair tumbled in a restrained but joyous manner down her back, save for the single thick strand which had somehow wound itself over one shoulder and curved against one breast.
    She had a tiny and almost secretive smile on her face. The past few hours had been sweeter than any Faraday had ever experienced previously. All fear had left her, all sense of betrayal had gone. All that was left was the warmth and memory of DragonStar as she had left him in the bed.
    Leagh sat similarly clad and shod, although her distended belly allowed no encumbrance of sash or belt. Her face was as happy and content as Faraday’s, and glowing and relaxed after her days of rest and good food within Sanctuary. Her thumbs surreptitiously pressed against her belly, feeling the tiny movements of her and Zared’s child safe within.
    An infinite field of flowers, Faraday had told her. She was growing an infinite field of flowers within her belly.
    A tiny tear slipped down Leagh’s face, but it was the result of joy, not sadness.
    The third female witch, Gwendylyr, sat slightly less gladsome than Faraday and Leagh. Her lover and husband still throve, as did Leagh’s lover and husband, Zared, but Gwendylyr and Theod shared the sadness of having witnessed the death of their twin sons. Tomas and Cedrian had passed into the Field of Flowers from the Western Ranges and, while Gwendylyr knew they lived and played among the flowers and paused in awestruck delight atop magical cliffs that thundered