Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [119]
‘Uh-oh…’ Shane whispered.
Selene glared at Nell before tossing aside her pack and pulling her jersey over her head. She wadded up the thick material and stuffed it into her bag. Underneath she wore a tight-fitting bodice of sky-blue satin laced up the front with a black silk cord. She threw back her shoulders and planted her hands on her hips. At the top of her left breast was a single rose tattoo, entwined with a small black serpent.
‘So you do,’ Nell laughed. ‘Lovely—and already adorned, I see.’ She waltzed out into the grass, searching for patches of purple daisies. ‘Come on, then. A few flowers won’t hurt. This colour is perfect for your hair.’
Selene didn’t respond.
‘It’s all right,’ Shane said. ‘This isn’t so bad. Poppies and chamomile blooms are everywhere, and look at the red daisies and yellow morning bells. They’re beautiful, don’t you think?’
Selene still didn’t budge. ‘When did you become a botanist?’ She stood with her feet wide apart, her hands crossed in front of her, a snarl on her face.
‘You’ll be stunning,’ Jarrod said, leaning towards her. ‘And it shows you love the floral goddess, so come on!’ He tugged at her hand and pulled her into the field, catching up with Nell.
‘Another tune, my bard?’ Nell said to Shane. She bent her head towards Selene. ‘We know he won’t need encouragement.’
Selene’s lips parted in a half smile.
‘None at all,’ she answered.
Nell gave her hand a squeeze before picking an armful of sunshine poppies.
When they passed through the gates of Treeon Temple, Jarrod felt a chill, as if the breeze had fingers. He didn’t look directly at Nell but saw from the corner of his eye that she’d felt it too. Her temple cat bristled, his hackles rising briefly before they folded back into a smooth veneer of rust-red and black shine. Nell would have cautioned the creature—act easy, stay loose. He took the advice himself. They must all appear to be immersed in the Beltane reverie—eyes and ears alert, outer appearance carefree. He told himself they could pull it off.
He walked beside Nell, Torgan between them, and Selene and Shane followed. The couple from Tensar appeared to be over their tensions for the moment. They held hands, whistling a jig. He sensed it was an act, though a convincing one. Others who passed nodded and winked, singing out greetings, though none called Nell by name. Jarrod waved back. Oddly, Nell was not recognised by anyone. When he turned to her with a question on his face, he saw why. The witch had spun a glamour, and a fine one at that.
The shape of her body hadn’t changed. It was still strong, sensual and lithe, but her face belonged to a younger woman, a girl in her late teens, with hair as purple as ripe forest berries, tied in ribbons of bright red. Her eyes were no longer dark hazel but emerald gems, and her skin was white like fresh cream. She skipped along as they passed the bards and dancers, tossing about yellow flower petals from her basket. She was definitely blending in, touching the shoulders or arms of young men as they passed, laughing when they stopped to kiss her cheeks. She shone like the sun, radiating joy and anticipation—a girl thrilled with the prospects of Beltane eve.
‘Where are the maypoles?’ she called out to a group of mentors gathered in front of a candle maker’s stall.
‘On the training grounds,’ a woman replied, smiling back. ‘The dances are sure to be starting soon.’
Nell sang out her thanks and led them all to an apple juice stand. Stacked on either side of a bench were crates of apples, both red and green. Two barefooted lads were at the press, a large wooden vat with a handle on top, twisting the lid down, round and round, continuously pressing out the sweet cider as the apples were crushed between the wooden plates. She paid them a few coins and collected four mugs from the bench, filling them with sticky juice directly from the tap. She passed them around, lifting her mug in a toast, clicking rims with the others. Hiding her lips as she spoke, she said, ‘We need to get as close to the High Priest as possible. Follow