Page 103 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana’s eyes were very gold, alight from within. She didn’t smile, but her mouth was relaxed, and although they had both sat with the Blackbird all night, not sleeping at all, she looked well, despite her sadness. “She asked to be invited back to the Isle,” Morgana said.

“Very good. That means she wants to know us better.”

“Yes. I feared she and Niamh would clash, but I believe Emerlyn sees Niamh as the strong woman she is.”

They turned together to walk up to the Temple. “I wonder what Priestess Niamh thinks,” Braithe said.

Morgana sighed. “She will say little about it, but I hope, in time, she will understand the pressure Emerlyn is under, the hopeless task she has. That forms her, as it would anyone.”

“Priestess Niamh could say that the pressure she herself is under has formed her for the better,” Braithe said.

“She would be correct. But Emerlyn has to overcome a lifetime of prejudice.”

“Let us hope she has time. She is far from young.”

“True. Which brings me to one thing she told me, and which I need to pass on to you.”

Braithe nearly missed a step. “What—what could that be?”

“Do not look worried, Braithe,” Morgana said, and now she did give one of her rare smiles. They were always beautiful to see. She never showed her teeth, but her lips curved gracefully upward, and her eyes glimmered. “Emerlyn was aware that your time in the White City brought your magic to its full bloom.” They had reached the entrance to the Temple, but Morgana paused to finish her thought. “She said your magic will make your life long and full, brat. Perhaps not as long as one of the fae, but longer than you might have expected otherwise.” She took Braithe’s hand and pressed it with her fingers. “I wonder if you can imagine how happy that makes me. For you, but also, very much, for me.”

“Priestess, I…” Braithe stammered. She was as moved by Morgana’s feelings as she was by what was probably good news, although she would have to ponder it.

“I think you should call me Morgana, don’t you, brat?” Morgana said. “You are going to be advisor to the king. You have earned your own position, through your own merit, a worthy achievement.”

“They keep calling me priestess.”

“They are your people now. They should call you what they choose.”

Braithe, unlike Morgana, had always been quick to tears, and now they fell freely over her cheeks. Morgana said, “I do hope those are tears of joy.”

Braithe nodded, smiling, and returned the pressure of Morgana’s hand.

Morgana chuckled as she released her, and the two of them went on through the Temple toward the residence, to lay their plans for the trip to Camulod.

Idhri, waiting on the dock, spotted Braithe on the path from the residence and trotted up to relieve her of the bags and baskets she was trying to carry. “You didn’t have so much with you on the trip from home,” he said, filling his arms with as much as they could hold.

“Priestess Morgana is coming with us to Camulod.”

“To stay?”

“For a little while. She is so sad about the Blackbird. I persuaded her to come for a visit, to rest a bit.”

“Good idea,” Idhri said. They made their way past the acolytes’ dormitory and on down toward the garden. “I saw that Councillor Emerlyn was here.”

“Not your favorite person, I think,” Braithe said lightly.

“More like I am not hers.”

“She may change,” Braithe said. “I am learning that people do.”

“That’s a change that’s overdue.” Idhri knew he sounded bitter, but the councillor’s dismissal of him as a half-blood still stung. He wished he could put all that behind him, but there were so many people like him still in the White City, and they didn’t have the option. He blew out a breath and changed the subject. His right hand began to hurt, and he shifted one of the heavier baskets to his left. “Are you moving rocks to the castle?”

Braithe laughed. “No, but I am bringing all my things. I will be staying at Camulod.”

Idhri gave her a startled look. “Truly?”

“The king has requested it.”