Becoming Crone by Lydia M. Hawke

Author:Lydia M. Hawke [Hawke, Lydia M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michem Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“So. A synopsis.” Keven said, handing me a basket, a ball of twine, and a small knife. She’d brought me out to the kitchen garden after lunch instead of resuming our lessons. I was grateful for the reprieve, though I suspected it was as much for her own benefit as it was for mine.

I nodded. “Yes,” I said, “but first, can I ask why you call Lucan mutt the way you do?”

She grunted. “Ours is a long history, milady. We serve on the same side now, but we didn’t start out that way. And not all wounds are easily forgotten.”

“You were enemies?”

“His kind was created by evil. I was brought to life to fight them. Others got in the way.”

“Merlin—”

“Do not mention his name!”

I stumbled backward into a patch of strawberry plants, shocked by the gargoyle’s swift anger—and the pain underlying her snarl.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean...”

Keven shook her head and scuffed a foot on the ground, leaving a furrow six inches deep and a foot wide. She scraped the soil back into place and pressed down on it. “It is I who should apologize, milady. You meant no harm.”

She drew a breath and hunched her shoulders. “You know of the Battle of Camlann?”

“The war King Arthur was killed in.”

“A war that had nothing to do with king or kingdom,” she grated. “The wizard brought it about in his quest to destroy good—to destroy Morgana.”

“Morgana? But she was—”

“A servant of the Morrigan, like you,” Keven said. “Rewritten by history, as all witches and their kin have been.”

Oh.

“Shall I continue?”

“Please.”

“When the wizard realized he was losing, he employed the darkest of magick to change his soldiers into wolves. Morgana countered by bringing me and my kin to life and sending us after the wizard. Many died. Too many. Some were innocent.”

The pain had returned to Keven’s voice, along with a rawness that sounded like grief. This time, I waited for her to finish.

“I found him. The wizard. But the mutt’s—” she stopped, curled her free hand into a fist, and corrected, “Lucan’s family stood between us. His wife and son. I didn’t even hesitate.”

Oh God. I stood in the middle of the strawberries, clutching at my basket, unsure how to respond. What did one say to a story like that? What could one say? I put out a hand and patted tentatively at a rough granite arm.

“I’m sure you...” What? Didn’t mean to?

Keven looked down at my hand. “He says he has forgiven me,” she said gruffly. “But I haven’t. Keeping distance between us, continuing to think of him as my not-friend—it makes it bearable. Most days.”

She straightened her shoulders, shrugging off my touch in the process, and pointed at a patch of basil. “You may gather that. Small bundles, or it will mildew before it dries.”

She moved a little way beyond to the yarrow growing along the garden’s stone wall. “As for your synopsis, it is simple. You are a witch. You have always been a witch. And now you are chosen as Crone.

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