"You have it, now," Anabelle whispered. "And you have the power to vanquish any foe. I am blessed by the gods to have such a fierce, brave husband and King."
I laid there and thought about her words long after she was asleep in my arms. Fierce and brave. I hoped that the coming days would see her beliefs come to life.
I had never faced a foe such as this before. How could one defeat such dark magic? Even with all of the resources at my disposal, there was a chance that we would prove powerless against Arthur's powers.
Anabelle stirred in my arms. I looked down at her; she was so trusting, so sweet, so beautiful. And her keen intelligence had proven a major benefit to me earlier today. Even Gaeth appeared impressed at her foresight; I had no desire to take credit for her point, and was pleased to give credit to my cunning wife.
I remembered my vow to her, the night of her coronation. How I had pledged my life and protection to her. I remembered the feeling of holding her to my chest as we flew together through the night. She is mine, I thought.
Still, even the words of the dragon and the certainty they carried could not stop the human side of my consciousness from adding, and I am hers.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I left Anabelle's side before dawn the following morning; I was both unable to sleep well and eager to get a glimpse of the drills the men were being put through. I dressed quickly and quietly, then took one last longing look at her as she slept peacefully. I had no wish to disturb her; her sleep would be far less peaceful once the war began, I predicted.
The morning was a full one. Between my briefings with the captains and a council meeting to which I had invited both Gaeth and Syeira – the council members looked even more overwhelmed than they had the day before, when Rhiannon and Anabelle had attended – there was hardly time to think. I had asked Anabelle to join us at the meeting, and was disappointed to find her elsewhere when I arrived. Rhiannon was there, however, looking noticeably more confident with every passing minute as we detailed the plans we'd laid out. This was more the Rhiannon I remembered, full of fire and spirit and conviction.
"How long do you feel it will be before the men are ready for battle?" I asked.
"At least three more days, your highness," the captain of the troops told me. "While they could feasibly head out today if called upon to do so, I would feel more secure with each additional day."
I turned to Syeira. "And what of any spell or enchantment which can be placed over the men to defend them?"
She smiled. "I am consulting my oldest books and scrolls. It turns out there are many ways in which to battle a member of the other world and emerge victorious. Your shields and swords will be fortified with a series of enchantments which will make them powerful against whatever army Arthur sees fit to face you with."
"And Gaeth? What of the blocking spells you've cast?"
"As far as Arthur is concerned, life here in County Cork is moving along as usual," he told me. "There is nothing amiss. I've layered so many spells and blocks, there is no way for him to break through and know what is truly going on. It would take a million years; clearly," Gaeth chuckled, "he is not going to wait that long. I feel that he will be satisfied with what he sees. He is so certain of his strength and cleverness that he would not guess that he's being tricked. It simply doesn't enter his consciousness as a possibility."
I glanced at my mother, whose eyes were narrowed and whose chin was set. I knew this expression. It meant that she sensed a challenge and was eager to meet it.
I turned to Dogal. "What about the work in the library?"
"Gaeth was good enough to pay us a visit yesterday, and was extremely helpful. He located several books, which seem to be much more informative than anything we previously uncovered; I have a half dozen servants there right now, poring over the pages. We are bound to find something in the next day or two."
I looked around the room and was nearly overcome by a wave of affection and appreciation. It finally looked as though we had a plan in place that would work. For the first time since the vision of our destruction was seen in the flames, I felt hope.
Once I had dismissed the council members, the wizard and the gypsy queen, I asked one of my guards to see what had kept my Queen away from the meeting. I had hoped to calm her fears; I knew, from my mother's reaction to all she had seen, that her own fears were calmed.
"Oh, Caside!" she exclaimed once the room was ours. She threw her arms around me. "I am so relieved."
I smiled broadly at her, and at my brother. "I think we have a real chance. What do you think, brother?"
He returned my smile. "I feel much more secure than I did just a day ago. Thank the gods for good luck."
Just then, the door to the chambers swung open. "Your highness," my guard reported, "her majesty is ill."
Good luck, indeed.
We fled to my bedchamber, which is where we were told Anabelle still lay. She had not risen from bed since I left her that morning.
"Caside," she whispered, and held a hand out to me. I went to her side and placed my lips upon her hand, then held it to my cheek.
"My love," I murmured, brushing the hair back from her forehead. "What is it that troubles you? I hear you're ill." I was perplexed; she looked healthy enough. Her color was as strong as it had ever been, her eyes were clear and bright.
"I know not the cause, my dear, only that I seem to have taken a chill of some sort. I feel extremely cold." I noticed then that she was, in fact, covered in a pile of fur blankets. The fire, too, had been stoked and was blazing strongly; the room was beginning to feel like an oven, in fact. Yet she did not perspire. I touched my hand to her forehead and felt the cool skin beneath my palm.
"This is perplexing," I told her, "but nothing serious, I am sure. You likely just need some rest. We have all been under a tremendous amount of stress these past days; I'm sure you have not been taking proper care of yourself." She cast her eyes down, like a chastised child. "I thought so," I said, lovingly. "Take the day, take as long as you need. Rest here, and should the priests come to examine you, do not fail to follow their advice."
I looked to the lady-in-waiting closest to the bed in which Anabelle lay. "You'll be sure that she follows the advice of those who know better, will you not?" The woman nodded fervently, and looked lovingly yet sternly at my Queen. I knew that her ladies loved her fiercely and would have put their own lives in jeopardy before they allowed any harm to come to her. It warmed my heart to see the sort of affection and faithfulness my Queen inspired in everyone around her.
The next morning, however, Anabelle was no better than she'd been the day before; in fact, she was much worse.
I sat in meeting with my advisors and knew that I should be paying close attention to everything they said, but my thoughts continued to stray to my Queen. While normally the thoughts in my head would be of carnal pleasure, now they were of fear for her health and safety. This illness had taken her over so quickly. Throughout the previous night her condition had only grown more extreme.
At times she cried out as if in pain. "It's so cold in here!" she would shout. "Is it never warm in this accursed place?"
I knew that she was not in her right mind when she spoke this way, and the feeling of absolute helplessness as I watched her suffer was nearly too much for me to handle. She was so fine, so good. She was so well-loved. What had she done to deserve this illness?
The moment the meeting was over I rose from my chair and bolted back to the chambers we shared. As soon as I entered the room and I looked at her, I knew there was something dreadfully wrong. She was shivering uncontrollably under a thick pile of heavy fur blankets.
"Ca-Ca-Casiiiide," she whimpered as she shivered. "I am so c-c-cold."
The room was blazing hot, the fire blazing away after being fed a pile of wood. Still, it seemed as though nothing could warm my beloved. She was shivering more violently than I had seen even the most gravely ill of men. I had the memory of watching one of my father's beloved childhood friends die from an impossibly high fever once, and he too had shivered just like this before he was ultimately stilled forever.
I climbed into bed beside her, hoping that the warmth from my body would warm her. My blood always ran hot; in fact, most nights we slept far apart in bed because, as my queen put it, sleeping beside me was like sleeping beside a burning log.
In fact, I realized, the night before she was taken ill was the first night she had slept in my arms until I awoke. Was she ill even then and we did not know it? Had she caught a chill – perhaps when we were on the balcony and she was so sparsely clothed? My heart ached at the thought of being the cause of this illness.