Page 75 of The Witch's Knight
‘Dad, you said you checked the building…’
‘I know, I know… I just, I remember feeling…’ he pushed his hand through his hair, looking at her as calmly as he could but at a loss as to how to make her understand. ‘I just knew that whatever was in there, it was nothing to worry about. It was OK.’
Emily stared at him her mouth open. She might have said something then, called him crazy, made a deal out of the fact that he hadn’t done his job properly. And he knew he wouldn’t have been able to defend or explainhis action. There was no time for her to form a response, however, as at that moment, the great iron handle began to turn.
Tudor instinctively grabbed hold of the now shivering Emily and pulled her behind him. The door latch could be heard springing free and the door swung slowly open. Taran got up, giving a couple of deep barks of excitement, as a woman stepped forwards. She dropped a hand onto the hound’s head and patted it fondly. She was tall, with dark hair and bright eyes. She looked to be in her late twenties, no more. She was dressed in unremarkable, everyday clothes, a simple linen skirt teamed with a soft, loose jumper with a scooped neck. The colours she wore were muted earth shades, and she had a simple silver chain around her neck. The most striking thing about her was her smile. When she saw her visitors her face was transformed by a smile of such warmth, such joy, that Tudor felt himself bathed in its glow. Beside him, Emily stopped shivering.
When the woman spoke her voice was rich and soothing and had a light, Celtic lilt to it.
‘Tudor. I knew you would find your way to me,’ she said, the sound of his name on her lips making his blood race. She looked at Emily then, and offered the girl her hand. Emily took it, and the woman clasped her with great tenderness. ‘And Emily. You are verywelcome, my dear,’ she said, ‘You both are.’ Taran pushed past her and disappeared into the apartment. The woman gestured through the door. ‘Won’t you come in?’ she asked.
Emily started forward but Tudor checked her with a hand on her shoulder.
‘Wait,’ he said, and then, ‘Whoareyou?’
The woman paused for a moment before replying and in her eyes there was a faraway look, as if she were briefly lost in a distant memory. She collected herself, stepped aside to allow them to walk through the door if they wanted to, and said simply, ‘My name is Rhiannon.’
