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” Then her eyes narrowed again, and she said, “Speak the truth, niece, do you think a reflecting pool is what the spring should become.”
I licked my lips and glanced at Doyle, trying to ask with my eyes what to say.
She yelled, “Do not look at him for an answer. If you are to be queen here, then be queen. Answer me!”
“No, I do not think it should be a pool.”
“Then what should it become, niece of mine?”
Rhys’s arms tightened around me in warning, though I didn’t need it. I could feel her anger, but she was trapping me. If I lied, something deep inside told me, I would be betraying the very magic that had brought the earth and water together. I could not lie, but she did not want the truth, no matter what she said.
She began striding toward us, dragging Gwennin, so that he screamed and moaned and begged and scrambled at the ground with broken hands. “What would you have of this new spring, Meredith. Some happy, bubbling stream?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, that would be good.”
The earth shivered again, and this time it began to fold away to make a path for the water to fill. The ground was shaping banks and a streambed for the water. More rocks began to appear to break up the flow, so that it would bubble and sing.
She stood now beside the still pool and its fountain. With its rock set with permanent chains, waiting for victims. “I want a formal garden on either side of this stream you are making.”
I started to agree, but she held up a bloody hand. “No, Meredith, do not simply agree. Say something else, but make certain that you want it here. Make certain it is the framework you wish your happy, little stream to wander through.”
I looked at Adair and Amatheon. “You helped make it, what say the two of you?”
“Meredith, Meredith,” she said, “you cannot share power and rule.”
“It was not my power alone that brought the earth here, or the spring. It took all three of us to make it. Why should they not help form it?”
To that she had no answer, but merely frowned at me. Even through the blood and gore, I could see her puzzlement.
The two men glanced from one to the other of us. Rhys had gone very still against my body, as if he was afraid to breathe.
“Answer her, oak lord, earth man, answer her,” Andais said.
“A meadow would be nice,” Amatheon said. “A nice flat piece of ground with tall grass, and flowers. Good rich soil that could grow anything you wished.”
Adair nodded. “A nice sunny meadow, yes, that would be good.”
I smiled at them—I could not help myself.
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