The Last Days of Magic Read Online Free

path through the bustle leading two horses. People instinctively moved out of his way. Reaching Aisling, whose face had brightened at his approach, he handed her the reins of one of the horses.
    “Is everything prepared?” he asked his counterpart, Haidrean.
    Over the years they had become surrogate parents to the twins, Haidrean as tutor—primarily to Anya—and Liam as fighting instructor—primarily to Aisling, though foremost among Liam’s duties was that of bodyguard. Anytime either or both twins were not with him, he took great measures to ensure their safety within the strong walls of the castle keep, which were fortified with incantations.
    “I renewed the enchantments myself. Anya will be fine,” said Haidrean. A drop of rain fell heavily at his feet. “You two better be on your way.”
    “The high king sent word that he will be coming to the full-moon ritual as well. We will stay overnight with him there—”
    “So Liam can sleep off the ale,” broke in Aisling.
    “So he can escort us to Tara,” corrected Liam.
    Anya threw her arms around her sister. “Can you believe it? Next time I see you will be at our coronation. We will finally be Goddesses!”
    “One Goddess,” corrected Haidrean.
    “In four days, then,” said Aisling. She kissed her sister on the cheek and slipped from her embrace.
    Haidrean ushered Anya into the keep, knowing that Liam would not ride out until she was secure inside.
    “Breakfast before studies,” declared Anya, taking the corridor toward their private dining chamber. The guards followed closely behind them.
    When they eventually moved to the library, Anya was laughing at a comment Haidrean had made about the bishop of Rome’s being unable to read or write.
    “It gives him an excuse to keep a stable of young scribes he callsinto his bedchamber to read to him at night.” Twitching his ample eyebrows, Haidrean added, “Young male scribes.”
    Anya leaned toward him. “So you’re smarter than the pope?”
    “They don’t seem to elect popes for their intellect,” Haidrean responded, and Anya slipped into laughter again.
    As he had done in the dining chamber, Haidrean took a large iron key from his pocket, so large that it would not have fit the lock if he had tried. Instead he touched it gently to the door, which shuddered as if it had been struck with great force, indicating that the room was sealed. Anya plopped into a chair at the heavy wooden table, which was ornately carved with intertwined foliage and fanciful animals in the Celtic La Tène style. Screens constructed from stretched sheep intestine, scraped almost clear, were set into the tall, narrow windows, keeping the increasing rain and wind out of the stone chamber on the second level of the castle. What little light entered from the exterior gloom was reflected off the lime-washed white walls and supplemented by four candles in a silver holder on one end of the table and three simply stuck into a mound of wax on the other end. Expensive wax candles, because Haidrean refused to subject his books to the smoky animal fat of cheaper tallow. “The king may grumble, but he can afford it,” said Haidrean as he lit another candle and stuck it on the mound.
    “Perhaps he can also afford a second candle holder,” Anya offered, rolling a ball of fresh wax between her thumb and forefinger.
    A large fire radiated heat and a warm glow. On this gray day, it was the only operating hearth in the castle without dogs sleeping in front, as druids do not keep dogs. Books were stacked in large piles on shelves and chests around the room. Hadrian placed two books on the table, the title Rome written across their buckskin covers, and opened them to reveal vellum pages dense with script.
    Crossing her arms, Anya gave one of her rare frowns. “Aisling gets to ride around with Liam, learning to fight, while I’m confined here with you, learning the ways of these Roman Christians.”
    “Before you were born, the Morrígna