The Dawn Stag: Book Two of the Dalriada Trilogy by Jules Watson Page A

her hands. ‘By my side a man stands with a great sword; the protector to vanquish the eagles – I have seen his face now and know he is Eremon. And we have been charged by Her to bring the Source into balance and guard it for all the people – by ridding Alba of the Romans.’
    Linnet stepped closer, taking hold of Rhiann’s arms above the elbow. ‘You should have told me.’
    Rhiann swallowed. ‘I would not allow myself to believe it for so long, but then Declan was sent a vision about Eremon, and it was the same, and that is why I gave Eremon my support for the alliance. Before … before I gave him my heart.’
    Linnet’s sigh clouded the chill air, and Rhiann clutched at her hand. ‘This is what is drawing me, aunt, don’t you see? This is the message: I must fulfil that task first, out of love and duty for the people and my land. And once I have proven myself worthy, then I know I will also find my true self once more. I know it is the path back to Her.’
    The words swelled with a desperate longing. Disentangling her grip, Linnet gently stroked the side of Rhiann’s face with her hand. The night wind soughed through the trees, blowing shadows across her features, making them unreadable. ‘Much of your path is dark before me, as it has always been, yet this dream does hold some sense of truth.’
    Rhiann breathed a harsh sigh of relief. ‘You see?’ She wiped her eyes and cheeks with both palms, raking back the hair that had blown free from its braids. ‘It is the answer, aunt, it is what I must do. The pain came to remind me, to make my path even clearer … that’s what it was.’
    Now Linnet cupped both of Rhiann’s cheeks, staring down at her, unmoving. Since the day Rhiann told Linnet the truth of the raid, they had often read each other’s thoughts. Yet now it was as if Linnet’s mind was shuttered. There was only the warmth of her hands, a steady glow on Rhiann’s skin.
    ‘Come.’ Linnet’s voice was tinged with a strange distance. ‘The night grows late and chill, and you need your strength. Let me brew you a gentle sleeping draught, to keep your dark memories at bay.’
    Long after moonset, Linnet remained awake, watching Rhiann in her bed by the faint glow of the coals.
    Nothing moved in that darkened room but the shadows and her hand, softly stroking Rhiann’s forehead to soothe her down into sleep. In the firelight, Rhiann’s pale skin gleamed, her hair a dark spill over the linen pillow. Her eyes were closed, and one hand was tucked up under her chin, in the same way she had slept as a baby.
    Dercca’s snores floated from behind the other wicker screen, but Linnet ignored them and listened closer to Rhiann’s breathing. She would keep vigil for her daughter until Rhiann was truly asleep.
    Outside, the wind had risen, scraping the branches of the young oak tree in the yard against the mud walls. But inside all was still and warm, and at last Rhiann’s breathing changed, sliding into the slower cadence of deep, healing sleep. As it did, Linnet’s hand stilled.
    After a moment she rose, stirring up the coals to flame before sinking onto her hearth-bench. And only there, alone, did she allow her shoulders at last to bow, as she buried her face in her hands. A sob choked her throat, but she would not give in to it. For that was the crown of her burden. Rhiann could not know that Linnet carried it, or how heavy it had grown. So heavy, so painful that she felt it might tear her heart apart.
    Linnet clutched at the moonstone pendant around her neck, fingering the smooth stone as she repeated the brutal words that after all these years her heart must accept: I cannot give her the understanding; she must find it herself. The path must be walked alone or the knowledge has no value .
    So many times she had clung to these words, given to her by the Goddess on the day of Rhiann’s birth, when Linnet glimpsed in vision the great deeds – and griefs – of Rhiann’s life. She had understood