The Pearl of the Soul of the World - By Meredith Ann Pierce Page 0,70

she touched his cheek. "Two years were all we had, love," she whispered, "and we squandered them."

The pearlstuff in her blood was seething now. Make an end to it, quickly, Ravenna within her warned. If passion overrules you, all the world is lost.

"Be king in Avaric," Aeriel managed, "and think no more of me."

Fierce triumph lit the eyes of the bandit queen. Her gaze pounced on Irrylath.

"No!" he cried. "Don't leave me. Aeriel, you are my wife, the keeper of my heart..."

Grief had her by the throat. She could not speak. The pearl's radiance within her brightened dangerously. Her breast ached where there should have been no pain. Irrylath, too, seemed to feel some twinge. He frowned, wincing, laying one hand upon his breastbone. His gaze fell on the Edge Adamantine.

"What have you done?" he gasped, astonished, like one pinned through with a sword. She knew that she must pull away from him at once, lest the roiling sorcery within her scathe him. "Aeriel, what have you done?"

"Give your heart to Sabr," she managed. "Of course you are drawn to her." Fool! she cursed herself.

Fool not to have understood before. "For you see yourself in her—your very image—unbroken and unscarred. You as you might have been if the Witch had never touched you."

Sabr started eagerly forward, but her cousin warned her away with a savage look. "Never!"

Aeriel tried desperately to pull away, but he still held fiercely to her hands.

"I'll not wed Sabr."

The joy that lanced through Aeriel to hear him say it was almost too sweet to bear. She wanted to savor it, so tempted then—as she had been in the Witch's tower—to forget the world and go with him.

She wanted to weep, to fall into his arms, but her eyelids were marked with white stars from the Witch's touch, and she had no power of tears anymore.

Enough. The Ancient voice reproved her sternly. No more of this. You have sworn to renounce him for the sake of the world.

The pearlstuff rose in a white-hot, singeing flash. Aeriel cried out in surprise, heard Irrylath's echoing cry. He dropped her hands. She saw him gazing at his own as though they were numbed or burned.

"Take care!" she cried, bitterly aware her warning came too late. She should have broken from him long since, and yet, selfishly, she had lingered. Irrylath shook his head as if dizzy. He was able to flex his fingers a little, slowly. She remembered the white fire of the burning sword and hoped fervently that his hurt was not great, not permanent. He gazed at her, dumbstruck. The chain about her wrist had begun to glow.

"The Ravenna has enchanted you," he whispered.

Aeriel tugged at the chain, but it would not come free. "Some of her sorcery is in me now."

"Has she given you her sorcery to wield at your will, or does her sorcery wield you?" he demanded, staring at the chain. "Are you now become the Ravenna's creature as wholly as I once belonged to the Witch?"

The thought horrified her. She could not answer him.

You gave your oath to me voluntarily, the pearl-stuff within reminded insistently, but Aeriel took no comfort. The fine, interlocking links of Ancient silver glimmered, unbreakably strong.

"Be my husband if you must," she bade Irrylath, "in Avaric. I shall be far away in NuRavenna."

His eyes grew hard and bright, hands clenched into fists at his breast. "I'll win you back," he whispered. "On my life, I swear it! I'll find a way to break the Ancient's spell and bring you back to me."

Her heart leapt to hear him say it. But she feared he did not believe a word. How could such brave nonsense ever come to pass? Surely he must realize that Ravenna's sorcery—even scattered and diminished as it was—was far too mighty for any mortal to overcome. She had no doubt she would never see him again, and the taste was bitter, bitter on her tongue. He called her name.

"Aeriel. Aeriel!"

She could not bear the pain of gazing on him more and forced herself to turn away.

Someone was approaching over the black marsh flats, coming very slowly with a halting step. He must have been in view for some time, Aeriel realized, unnoticed by anyone. A heron, perfectly white, skimmed the air ahead of him and alighted on the ground before Aeriel.

"We missed the battle, I see," she remarked, cocking her head and looking about. "Just as well."

"Who comes?" Aeriel asked, though even as she said it, she knew.