Chapter Twenty

IT wasn’t the way she’d planned to spend the great American holiday, but it seemed appropriate to celebrate it at Warrior’s Peak.

The details of transporting everything, dealing with the food, the preparations, calmed her. Though she had expected the key to be the first order of business, Rowena had other ideas.

“This is an important ritual for you, for your friends.” In the vast dining room Rowena laid plates on the grand table. “It must be observed.”

“It’s a gorge-fest,” Zoe told her and, unable to help herself, stepped over to stroke Rowena’s hair. “You don’t have to do this. You still look a little pale. We’ve got plenty of hands around here. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?”

“I want to have a part.” Thoughtfully, Rowena circled a finger around the rim of a plate. “I need time to settle myself, and something to do until my mind’s quiet again. You understand this.”

“Yeah, I do.” Surprised, and touched, Zoe rubbed Rowena’s arm when she leaned against her.

“I thought, for a moment, I thought all was lost. His power was so full of hate and fury. I wasn’t prepared for it. Perhaps I couldn’t have been. All I know, all I am . . . but I couldn’t stop him. Even Pitte would have fallen.”

“He didn’t. We didn’t.”

“No. I’ve learned a lesson in humility.”

“Rowena, she gave me the sword. How could that be?”

“As I miscalculated Kane’s power, so did Kane miscalculate the king’s. His power, his patience, his purpose. He gave you Kyna’s sword, through her image.”

She began to set the table again. “I’m allowed to see this now. Allowed to see that the battle in my world, for my world, has never ended. Kane gathered strength while we searched here for the chosen. He bargained with the darkest of forces, traded his own soul for power, even as those who followed him used might or intrigue or sabotage to keep the king and those loyal to him focused on maintaining the balance behind the Curtain.”

Her movements still a bit stiff, Rowena walked around the table. “Much has been lost since we were sent here. But there was never defeat. I feared that,” she said, looking over at Zoe. “Perhaps my fear made me weak when I finally stood against Kane. But my king is not weak. Kane mistook his ability to love, his kindness, and his compassion for weakness and forgot his wisdom and his terrible power.”

“I saw him,” Zoe said softly. “I saw him, a gold buck with a jeweled collar. This morning, standing outside the house, watching me.”

“He has watched us all, more closely than I knew. He waited, grieved, fought, planned, three thousand years for the ones who could free his children. You were the only ones who could. I was not shown this until now. All these years, the failures, the preparations, they were all leading to you.”

Gently, she smoothed a napkin. “If you, any of you, had turned away, there would have been no others. Had I known . . . had I known, I’m not sure I could have borne it. So, I was not to know.”

Because her legs felt suddenly weak, Zoe reached out to the back of a chair. “That’s a pretty big chance to take with three women in Pennsylvania.”

Rowena’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I would say the gods chose very well.”

“The sword . . . I’d already found the key. I’d completed my quest. I understand that Kane tried to stop us from using it, that what had grown in him, or what he’d decided to use, allowed him to try to stop us from using it. But once I found it, the rest was really between the gods, wasn’t it?”

“You’d done what you were chosen to do,” Rowena agreed.

“Then why did he give me the sword? Why didn’t he give it to you or Pitte? Or just take Kane out himself?”

“He would not battle Kane on this field, in this place. For such matters, a champion must be chosen.”

“Pitte, then, or you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Tears glimmered in her eyes for an instant, then were gone. When she spoke, her voice was very strong. “Because we are not forgiven.”

She set the last of the flatware in place, stepped back to study the table. “This is not the time for sorrows. We have much to be thankful for. Tell me—I have spent as little time as possible in kitchens—what comes next?”

Something had to be done, Zoe thought. But she smiled because she knew Rowena wanted it. “Ever mash potatoes?”

“No.”

“Come on. I’ll teach you.”

THEY gathered around the table with the fire roaring and the candles gleaming. Whatever unhappiness Rowena knew was well masked by laughter and conversation. Champagne sparkled in glasses that were never empty. Platters and bowls were passed from hand to hand in an endless carousel of abundance.

“You’ll want plenty of these,” Zoe told Pitte as she offered him the mashed potatoes. “Rowena made them.”

His eyebrows shot up. “How?”

“The same way women have been doing it for a number of years.”

From the other end of the table, Rowena angled her head. “Pitte is now debating whether to risk them. My brave warrior wonders if he’ll be forced to eat paste and pretend it’s ambrosia.”

As if to demonstrate his bravery, or his love, Pitte piled a small mountain of potatoes on his plate. “You wear his ring,” he said to Zoe, nodded at the diamond on her finger.

“Yes.” To please herself Zoe wiggled her fingers and watched the ring shoot fire.

“You are a fortunate man,” he told Bradley.

“I am. I’ve got to take that ugly midget along with her.” He sent a wink toward Simon. “But I figure she’s worth the sacrifice.”

“So many weddings,” Rowena announced. “So many plans. Have dates been set?”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Flynn began.

Malory fluttered her lashes at him. “We’re not busy now.”

“Oh.” He lost a little color. “Guess not. Well . . . I don’t know. Um . . .”

All attention turned to him, had him squirming. “How come it’s my deal? There are three of us in this boat.”

“Looks like you’re at the wheel, son,” Jordan said and continued to eat turkey.