Free The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) by Roberta Trahan Page A

Ffion a second time. When Cerrigwen unwisely attempted to gain title and lands for her daughter, Cadell had declared them exiled, with the warning that death awaited them both should they ever return.
    “How would you know this?” Cerrigwen queried, more suspicious than shocked. “Cadell would never have told you, nor would Hywel, if he knew.”
    Finn’s gullet cinched tighter as the only other possibility came to mind. Machreth had a hand in this. His next thought was to affect a quick escape, but Cerrigwen had moved closer to Clydog —and further from the vestibule. What could Cerrigwen possibly hope to gain here now?
    Clydog continued as though he had not heard her question. “But if there were, somehow, a child whose lineage was tied to both the reign of Seisyllwg and the legacy of the Stewardry, I might be persuaded to acknowledge this sibling and offer my protection against any threat my brother might pose.”
    “No.” Had she been near enough, Cerrigwen might well have spat in his face. “You will not use my daughter to further your gains, Clydog, nor Machreth’s. I will not aid usurpers, not anymore.”
    Clydog smiled at her. “Upon further reflection, I’ve decided you will accept my hospitality and remain here until Machreth can join us. Then, together, we will claim your daughter and the prophecy, in my name.”
    Cerrigwen backed away as she realized the danger, and reached under her cloak to pull the little bone-handled dagger tucked into her belt at the small of her back. Finn readied himself to intercede and hoped Pedr was close and alert.
    “My men search for her as we speak, and when she is found, she will be brought here, to me. So you see, Cerrigwen, there is really but one choice to be made.” Clydog moved the four soldiers at his sides into motion with a tip of his head. “And I am prepared to help you make it if you fail to see the way on your own.”
    Before Finn could put himself between her and Clydog’s guards, Cerrigwen made her move. In a swift, fluid twist she had unsheathed the dagger and slashed open the half-healed gash across her left palm. The cut was deep. Clydog’s men froze in horror and fear as the sorceress held forth her hand and allowed the blood to pool in her cupped palm.
    “Behold my power, Clydog.” Cerrigwen swept her arm left to right, in as wide an arc as her reach would allow, blooding a thin trail across the stone floor between her and the guards. She stared piercingly at Clydog, muttering spellwork in an old tongue. “ Dial ar sawl croesi fy rhybudd .”
    Though Finn did not understand the words she spoke, it was easy enough to recognize that they were a threat. The four soldiers stood their ground and drew arms, but remained well out of striking distance. Finn pulled his own blade and prepared to defend the line that Cerrigwen had drawn.
    “You will carry this blood curse the rest of your days, Clydog , son of Cadell.” Cerrigwen rubbed both palms together and held her reddened hands outstretched, confronting her enemy with her magic. The room fell into shadow, as if her words had conjured a sinister cloud above the lodge.
    “Take care you never cross my path again,” she commanded. “Neither you nor any man or beast or vile creature sent on your bidding—lest you be visited with suffering so horrible, even death will bring you no relief.”
    The fire in the hearth behind Clydog sputtered and flashed, giving the young prince and his men a good start. Cerrigwen turned and brushed past Finn, eyes wide and wild. She had the look of the banshee again. Finn lagged long enough to stare down Clydog’s captain, hoping to make him think twice about following . With a little luck, by the time the guardsmen shook free of their daze and found a way around Cerrigwen’s hex, Finn would have her well away from here.
    “What happened?” Pedr waited astride, holding rein on the other horses.
    With a swift step and a spry leap, Cerrigwen was seated in her saddle