Pagan Fire Read Online Free Page A

Seelie?” She scooped up a willow basket half-full of bread and cradled it in her arms. “Why do you mock people all the time? It’s not Christian, you know.”
    Seelie laughed. “I’m sorry, my friend.” She affectionately squeezed Maere’s arm. “Forgive me?”
    “I suppose I’ll have to, since you asked.” She spun around and headed for the kitchen, calling behind her, “Of course, if you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t’ve had to now, would I?” Maere dropped the basket on the well-worn wooden counter then paused for a moment. Her smile faded as she looked out the small window over the soapstone sink. Beyond the outer walls was a thick stand of trees. She felt the eyes again, watching, boring into her. She made a quick sign of the cross over the center of her chest.
    “Maere, I was speaking to you.”
    Startled, Maere spun around and almost dropped the heavy clay cup she had absently picked up. She juggled it back and forth before finally steadying it enough to put it down. “I’m sorry, Seelie. What was it you were saying?”
    “I asked if you’ve seen the new monk who came to visit the convent yesterday.” Seelie held her arms out to her sides and twirled around. Her long blonde hair, unbound, fanned out around her from beneath her small veil. “He’s so young and handsome,” she sighed.
    “Of course I haven’t noticed him. I have more important things to do with my time.” Maere placed the cups into the round washtub. She dragged an iron bucket of water over to the hearth and hoisted it onto the hook to boil. She wiped her brow then returned to the dining room for more dishes. Seelie was always on the prowl for good-looking men. Of course, she never admitted it to her confessor, so she’d yet to be beaten as penance for it. “Why do you ask?”
    “Why do I ask? Is there something wrong with you, girl? Have you no eyes in that head of yours?” Seelie followed Maere back into the kitchen with several trenchers in her hands. “Can you honestly tell me you’ve never noticed a man or thought what it might be like to be with one?” She shook her finger as she put the plates down. “Don’t lie to me now, Maere cu Llwyr. I’ve known you for too long.”
    Maere’s back stiffened. She fumbled and dropped one of the cups on the floor. With a loud clatter, it broke into a several large pieces. Her friend crouched down and picked up the shards. She put them in the garbage barrel and turned back to Maere. “I’d say that answers my question,” she said, dusting her hands on her apron.
    “You have to swear not to tell,” Maere cried. “Promise me!” she all but shrieked. Seelie might be a friend but even she didn’t know the details of her dreams. If anyone other than Abbess Magrethe even remotely suspected she kept seeing a man in her sleep, why, who knew what might happen to her?
    “Is there something wrong in there?” one of the sisters called through the kitchen window as she walked past. “Did I hear something break?”
    “Everything is fine, Sister Emmanuel. Nothing to worry about,” Seelie answered. She looked at her companion and smiled. “I’ll strike a bargain with you, Maere. If you pretend that I’m in your cell tonight, praying, I won’t tell any of them your secret thoughts.”
    “You want me to lie?” Maere asked, incredulous. Oh, she had been given to telling monstrous tales as a child. The abbess told her once she talked on and on about big cows who watched her wherever she went. About the Fays and other little people she’d seen dancing in the forest, and about a young boy who was her best friend. But, thanks to the good sister’s help, she’d long since outgrown that childish obsession with spilling forth whatever thought entered her head.
    Seelie shrugged. “Either that, or I’ll have to have a talk with Father Ambrose when he comes to visit. I’m certain he’d be most interested in hearing about this affliction of yours.” She narrowed her eyes and