Avelynn by Marissa Campbell Page A

you can kill two birds with one stone. I’m sure he will be very pleased to hear of your resourcefulness and enterprise.”
    â€œYou can’t make me do anything, girl.” He stalked closer.
    â€œI believe she can.” Leofric stepped between us. “You’ll do as she says, or the priest here will record in the charter your willful refusal of a direct order by your lord.”
    Sigberht turned and glared at Father Plegmund, sitting piously at the table, recording the proceedings. Bertram stood nearby, leaning against the wall.
    â€œThat would be four witnesses to swear to the neglect of your duties as reeve,” I said, resting my hand on the hilt of my sword. “A grave crime, the least punishment for which is to lose your position; the next penalty, your hand.” I knew I was wading into dangerous territory. Sigberht was not likely to let this public humiliation go unanswered. But what choice did I have? If I could not earn his respect, I could only force his compliance.
    He glared at me for a long moment, the only sound in the hall the crackle of the logs on the hearth. “Very well.” He bowed slightly to me and the men present. “I will leave forthwith.” He spun on his heels and stormed out of the hall, Eata scampering to catch up.
    I let out the breath I’d been holding. My palm was sweaty where I held the sword, and my hands trembled slightly.
    With the drama concluded, everyone left but Bertram. He studied me closely. “How do you feel?”
    â€œLike a bully.” I rose, releasing the cloak from my shoulders.
    He nodded. “I can’t say he didn’t deserve to learn his place. I only worry that coming from you, he will not take the chastisement lightly.”
    â€œNo. I imagine he won’t.” I sighed. “At least we can travel to the coast.”
    â€œAre you sure you need to do this?”
    â€œI missed the winter solstice. I cannot let the equinox pass without honoring Her properly.”
    â€œThen we will leave on the morrow.”
    *   *   *
    With only two days left before the twenty-fifth of March, I left Milo in charge of the estate, and Bertram and I headed to the coast.
    In winter, the coastal areas of Somerset were sodden with brackish water, and vegetation was sparse, but in the spring, the water receded, and spongy marshland, full of rushes and withies, sprung up. A bit farther inland, heathland abounded with peat, coarse grasses, shrubs, and heather. Dense and sprawling woodlands intermingled with all, carving their way through the landscape. We were headed for a location almost a full day’s ride from Wedmore. Bordered by thick forest, it was one of the few places along the coast that boasted a beautiful sandy beach.
    Like Avalon, the coast was a mystical place. It was the farthest west we could travel before falling into the sea and was therefore the closest we would come to the mystical veil between the worlds of the living and dead. Since this part of Somerset was uninhabited, it was also sufficiently removed from cynical souls who would condemn me for my beliefs.
    To the Christian church, March twenty-fifth was the beginning of the liturgical New Year—the day an angel appeared to a girl named Mary, informing her about an upcoming divine birth. In the pagan faith, it marked the vernal equinox—the juncture when day and night were equal. It was a powerful and auspicious time.
    I had been raised to become a high priestess of the Four Directions. While I hadn’t been able to officially achieve that illustrious status before my mother died, I was nonetheless an anointed priestess of my faith. I believed in one Goddess, She who has no name but has four parts, four personalities or manifestations that I could entreat—four Goddesses who guided us on life’s path. Tomorrow, I would honor Her in a ceremony bound by beliefs and rites thousands of years old.
    The ritual would take