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stars. So shall it be.”
    Aeron only just prevented a sneer from escaping. He saw the future. And the Morrigan was no part of it.
    “I’m humbled the great goddess feels I am worthy.” The words choked him, but Druantia didn’t appear to notice. “Can she bestow advice as to how I might win Carys back to my bed?”
    Druantia considered him in silence, and he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Not that he needed advice from this bitch or her redundant goddess. Carys would be his because that was his desire. And when that time came, whether she submitted willingly or not was entirely up to her, but made no difference to him.
    And then Druantia spoke. “Bring us fresh moon blood from Carys’s next cycle. This must be collected by your own hand, Aeron, to prevent any contamination from another.”
    Interest flared. The image of sequestering Carys’s blood aroused him, caused his shaft to thicken and balls to ache.
    “I understand.” Yet he had no intention of attempting any such thing. He had no need of the Morrigan’s help in this or any other matter. He took Druantia’s hand and bestowed another fleeting kiss. “Thank you, Great Queen.”

    It was late afternoon before Carys made her daily visit to Druantia. The wise Cerridwen had not been forthcoming as to how Carys could ensnare her Roman’s continued interest, but Carys knew that wasn’t a bad omen. It was simply because Cerridwen wasn’t overly interested in sexual liaisons.
    Besides, it wasn’t hard to bring the conversation around to sex with her fellow Druids. Sex was a topic they all discussed frequently, and in great detail. It was simply that before today, Carys hadn’t been especially interested in the specifics.
    “Carys.” Druantia rose from her moss-covered log and held out her arms. Carys embraced her great-grandmother’s sister, secretly sorrowing at the Druid’s fragility. She sometimes feared the faintest breeze might splinter her slight physical form. “My sweetest girl. Still you put yourself in danger for your people.” Pride laced the old lady’s tone.
    Carys helped Druantia resume her seat upon the log before sitting in her usual place at her feet.
    “There isn’t much danger. Cerridwen protects me, as she has always protected me.”
    Druantia began to unwind the ties binding Carys’s hair. “Alas, child. There is always danger. Only here within the spiral are we truly protected from the invaders.”
    Carys gave an impatient sigh. “But what good are we here, Druantia? How can we help our people if we aren’t with them?” She turned as Druantia began to gently tug her fingers through her still-damp hair. Hair she had washed with scented flowers for the pleasure of her Roman.
    She shivered and thrust the thought aside. She couldn’t think of Maximus now. Not when she was in the presence of Druantia, and in the sacred grove of the Morrigan herself. She forced her mind back to the present. “How much longer do we have to hide?”
    Druantia continued to unplait her hair. Normally Carys found the ritual soothing. But this afternoon she couldn’t be soothed. Because all she could see was an endless existence stretching before her, where she could never be allowed the true freedom her soul craved.
    “Darkness is descending.” Druantia’s voice was hushed with sorrow. “Everything we cherish is on the cusp of oblivion. How else can we protect our ways, Carys, except by shielding them from the Romans?”
    Carys turned to stare at the great Druid. “But for how long ?” Maximus hadn’t derided her religion. Why couldn’t it be possible for the Druids to educate the Romans into the light? Was that truly such an impossible dream? That they might, someday, live in harmony with each other?
    Druantia sighed, a soft, wistful sound that sank into Carys’s soul and ached with everything they had lost. “I fear for us, Carys,” she said, and Carys held her hand, tracing her fingers across the delicate skin that barely covered