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Cléo seemed to notice Issylte’s fascination with the brightly colored gems. “I am one of the priestesses here who will teach you the many healing properties of our sacred stones.” She picked up a luminous white gem, glowing from within.

“Moonstone is the Lady Viviane’s sacred stone—you may have noticed the necklace she wears.

” She turned the gem so that it glowed softly in the light.

“It is a stone of great power…and protection. You will learn to channel the divine energy of the Goddess as you enhance your skills as a gifted healer.”

The bells chimed, indicating the evening meal was being served, so Nyda and Cléo escorted Issylte to the dining area.

As they walked past the ebullient fountain, acolytes and priestesses hurried past them, chattering gaily.

Their faces were merry, carefree, their hearts young and full of life.

Issylte felt isolated, sorrowful, and withdrawn—in stark contrast to their exuberance and joy.

Guilt flooded her again, choking her with grief.

She thought of Tatie and the little stone cottage that she loved so much.

If not for me, Tatie, Bran, and Dee would all still be alive.

It’s my fault they are dead. How can I ever be happy again, like these women?

I do not belong here. I bring nothing but death to the ones I love.

Viviane caught up to Issylte and her two escorts, rushing to join them.

Her voice was as bright as her brilliant blue eyes.

“Ah, Lilée! I am glad I found you. I’ll present you to the acolytes and priestesses, then join you for supper.

That is, if you do not mind my company?” she asked with a cheerful grin.

Issylte replied softly, “That would be lovely, Lady Viviane.”

The banquet room sat across from Le Centre on the opposite end of the courtyard, with a wall of windows facing the spraying fountain.

As they entered the building, the Lady of the Lake introduced Issylte to the other acolytes and priestesses, who were seated at four long rectangular tables, eagerly chatting as they enjoyed their meal.

They glanced up from their conversations to greet her with a friendly smile, then returned to their light banter and giggling, oblivious to Issylte’s pain.

The kitchen staff had set up a generous banquet table, where two large urns of steaming vegetable soup emitted the enticing blend of onions, carrots, green beans and potatoes.

The delicious smell of fresh, crusty bread and the sweet scent of succulent strawberries, ripe cantaloupe, and fat juicy grapes perfumed the air.

The familiar herbal scents of rosemary, garlic, and sage evoked painful images of Tatie’s cozy kitchen, where they’d chopped vegetables and herbs from the gardens together, cooking savory meals over the glowing hearth.

Issylte’s stomach clenched. She doubted she could eat, despite the appetizing array of food.

Pitchers of water from the sacred underground spring sat beside ceramic goblets atop crisp white linen tablecloths throughout the cheerful, sunlit room.

“We serve ourselves,” the High Priestess demonstrated, ladling the hearty soup into a ceramic bowl, “and sit together to discuss the lessons we have learned. Or request further practice sessions, or plan treatment for our patients.” Issylte heaped some of the steaming soup into her bowl, took a slice of bread and a few pieces of fruit, as Viviane did.

She followed the Lady of the Lake across the room to where Nyda and Cléo were sitting with two priestesses and two acolytes, with two seats reserved at the table for Viviane and Issylte.

They joined the group, who were deep in a discussion of herbal treatment for one of the injured patients. While the conversation continued in the background, Viviane spoke softly to Issylte.

“Most of the acolytes rise early and wash before the morning meal, which is served at seven.” She took a spoonful of soup and hummed in contentment.

“Mornings are devoted to lessons taught by the priestesses, who will demonstrate herbal preparations, the curative properties of the different waters on our islands, and how to channel the healing energy of crystals and gemstones.” She spooned more of the savory soup into her mouth, wiping it delicately with the corner of her linen napkin.

“The three sacred elements of the Goddess—forest, water, and stone.” Her brilliant blue eyes glinted in the setting sun.

Viviane offered Issylte some of the nutty whole grain bread and freshly churned butter.

“After classes have finished, the bells chime to announce the midday meal. Afternoons are free to study in the library, travel to one of the villages, practice new treatments or spells, bathe in the spring, or simply enjoy music in the conservatory.” With a sad smile, she mused dreamily, “Although we do have a magnificent harp, no one here is skilled enough to play. Perhaps one day, someone will grace us with its musical magic.”

The Lady of the Lake seemed to perceive the somber mood and lack of appetite of her newest acolyte.

She placed an arm around Issylte’s shoulder in a comforting embrace and whispered, “I know you’re overwhelmed with your new surroundings, especially given the circumstances of your arrival.

” Her luminous eyes shone with compassion.

Viviane’s voice was soothing. “You’re still in shock from Maiwenn’s tragic death, and I know you were very close to her grandson Branoc and his wife as well.

” She paused, as if to allow her gentle voice to calm Issylte.

“I know you’re frightened of the wicked queen, but you are safe here with us.

I have cast powerful spells of enchantment which protect all of Avalon.

No evil can harm us here. We will take good care of you, Lilée, and I truly hope you will learn to be happy among us.

” After another pause, she added, with a smile, “Perhaps Ronan can help, with his horses.”

Issylte tried—and failed—to hide her sadness as she nodded in silence. Perhaps, as she’d done when her father had remarried, she could find solace in the saddle. Horseback riding might prove once again to be her salvation.

The next day, Issylte followed the acolytes to wash in the spring, take the morning meal, and report to Le Centre for lessons.

She was placed with two other novices who were working with a priestess in preparing salves for the treatment of skin conditions.

Soon, the bells chimed for the midday meal, and Viviane joined Issylte once again.

“How are you today, Lilée? Are you becoming acquainted with Le Centre ?” she asked brightly.

Issylte nodded and replied softly, “Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

After they finished eating in the dining area, Viviane indicated, with a tilt of her head, the familiar blond warrior who had brought Issylte to Avalon.

“It seems Ronan is here to escort you around the island.” Motioning for him to approach, the High Priestess said gaily, “Good day, Ronan! Lilée is ready for today’s excursion.

I hope you will show her the village of Briac and your blacksmith shop.

Perhaps introduce her to some of the horses in your stables. ”

“It will be my pleasure, Lady Viviane,” Ronan replied. He turned to Issylte. “I have a horse ready for you to ride. The same chestnut mare that you rode yesterday. Her name is Maeva, and she is eager to run. Shall we?” he asked, politely offering his hand to help her up from the table.

Issylte accepted it timidly, said goodbye to Viviane, and headed off to explore Avalon with Ronan.

The afternoon sun was shining off the waters of the glistening lake where the pair of white swans swam peacefully amid the pearlescent water lilies.

Jasmine vines, apple blossoms and fragrant aubépines perfumed the air as they rode from Le Centre down the cobbled stone path towards the densely wooded forest. Her chestnut mare galloped across the plain, and Issylte let her hair flow freely, grateful that she did not need to keep it covered, as she’d done in Ireland.

The wind whipped her hair, the sun kissed her cheeks, and the thrill of being back in the saddle lifted her heavy heart.

When they reached the edge of the thick woods, they slowed to a trot, and Ronan said, “Today I’ll take you to the village of Briac, on the western side of the island. I’ll show you my shop and introduce you to my horses. Follow me, my lady.”

Issylte spoke up. “My name is Issylte, but while I am here in Avalon, Lady Viviane wants me to be called Lilée.” She leaned forward to stroke Maeva’s mane. “You may call me either, but please, there’s no need to address me as my lady.”

To which Ronan replied, “Very well. But you must call me Ronan, Issylte.”

How wonderful it is to hear my own name again. She’d been églantine for the past four years in Ireland and was now Lilée to everyone in Avalon. It was liberating to just be herself and not an imposter—at least with Ronan.

As they rode through the forest, he stopped suddenly and pointed to a garland of églantine flowers, placed near the path they were following.

He dismounted, picked it up, and brought it to her.

With a deep chuckle, he grinned, his eyes as verdant as the dense woods.

“It appears the forest fairies wish to welcome églantine to Avalon.”

He handed her the floral wreath, and, at the sight of the flowers for which Tatie had chosen her name, Issylte was flooded with emotion as tears welled up in her eyes.