The Wedding Witch (Graves Glen #3)

Chapter 21

Tamsyn had had lots of experience conning people over the years.

And no, she didn’t love using that word, because it wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do, conning a person, but she’d figured out a long time ago that there was no sense in calling ugly things by pretty words just so she

could feel better about herself, so she was all for calling it like it was.

Which meant that right now, she was attempting to con the absolute shit out of Lady Meredith.

The two of them were sitting in the formal dining room, a pile of evergreen, holly, and copper wires before them. All the

women guests at the house with the exception of Elspeth, who was busy enjoying her wedding night—well, wedding evening —were at the table, taking the boughs, the berries, and the wire, and twisting them into wreaths. A Yule tradition, Tamsyn

had learned, and if she wondered why it was one that only the women seemed to do while the men ran around drinking whisky

and shooting things, she reminded herself that it was the ’50s, after all.

And making wreaths was kind of nice, what with the snow falling outside and candles flickering along the table and on the walls. It reminded Tamsyn of Christmases back home, everyone gathered around, baking, making ornaments, that kind of thing.

Bowen would probably be shocked to learn she’d had such a basic upbringing, given what she did for a living, but that was

another story she could tell him once they were home together. She had to keep telling herself that that was going to happen,

because otherwise, it made all this—the wreaths, the candles, the quiet gathering of women—feel like the lead-up to her funeral

or something, and that made her shiver from a lot more than the cold.

So no, they were getting home. If it hadn’t been Harri and Elspeth getting married, then Bowen must’ve been right all along,

and it was YSeren, and that meant getting some answers from Lady Meredith.

It’s why Tamsyn had basically bowled that Lora woman over to be sure she got a seat next to the lady of the house, and why

she also kept surreptitiously topping off the little “tipple,” as Lady Meredith had called it, from the crystal decanter of

gin on the table between them.

“It’s so lovely getting to participate in all these Yule traditions, Lady Meredith,” Tamsyn said now, shamelessly sucking

up. “I really didn’t know much about the holiday before Bowen and I were married.”

She really did love saying that, which was incredibly stupid, but at this point, she was going to be happy for any little moments of joy she found. That clock was ticking, and if it ran out...

Nope, focusing on the task ahead.

“And thank you again for lending me your clothes. I really don’t know what I would’ve done since I don’t think nudity is a

Yule tradition.”

From farther down the table, Lora shot her a scandalized look, but Lady Meredith just laughed merrily, patting her golden

hair with one hand. “Well, this Yule it seems to be,” she said, throwing Tamsyn a saucy wink. “Two sets of newlyweds in one

house, one can practically feel the energy crackling through the place, darling. I’m surprised we haven’t all gone up in flames.”

Tamsyn laughed, too, even as she blushed, ducking her head a little. She’d spent only a little time with Lady Meredith, but

from what she remembered of the older version, the woman had enjoyed being the one to scandalize or shock, so Tamsyn had to

be sure to play her part, too, the blushing newlywed who couldn’t believe all these daring things a lady of Meredith’s standing

was saying.

“It’s been so kind of you to share so much with us, sincerely,” Tamsyn went on. “Your home, your clothes... even your jewelry!

Those pearl earrings you let me borrow yesterday were so lovely.”

Lady Meredith waved one elegant hand carelessly. “Oh, darling, I have more than I could wear in one lifetime. It would be

wrong to hoard it all like a dragon. Even if I am Welsh.”

She laughed and took another sip of her drink, and Tamsyn seized her opening: “And you have so many gorgeous pieces. That brooch you were wearing the night we first arrived? Stunning. I’ve really never seen anything like it. Is it a family heirloom?”

“YSeren?” Lady Meredith asked, and gave a rather unladylike snort. “God, no. That’s a piece Caradoc picked up for me from

some local family desperate to sell the thing. Tacky, if you ask me, but it is seasonal, and Caradoc loves me in both emeralds

and rubies, so I’m always forced to trot it out this time of year.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer Tamsyn had been hoping for, and she frowned, sucking at her thumb from where a piece of holly

had pierced the skin. “Is it... It’s just that Bowen told me that some pieces of jewelry have spells attached, or are infused

with magic. That piece was so striking, I assumed it was something like that.”

“Rhiannon’s thighs, no!” Lady Meredith said, then gave a little burp she tried to cover with one hand. “It’s just an extravagantly

ugly piece of decoration that undoubtedly cost some poor sod entirely too much to have made, which is why Caradoc got it for

a song.” Frowning, she set down her pile of evergreen and holly. “Why is it men take such pleasure in giving you a gift and

then telling you how little they paid for it?” Then she shrugged and took another drink. “In any case, if you admire it, you’re

welcome to wear it tonight when we all go wassailing.”

Tamsyn had no idea what “going wassailing” entailed, although she had a vague memory of the concept from some Christmas carol, but it could’ve meant dashing naked down the high street, and she would’ve done it happily if it meant Y Seren was in her hands.

“Thank you, Annie,” she said, sincerely, and Lady Meredith startled, one hand flying to her impressive bosom before she tilted

her head to one side, considering.

“Annie,” she mused. “Do you know, no one’s ever called me that before, and I should probably rap your knuckles for the informality,

my girl, but I rather like it. Annie. Yes.”

Half standing out of her chair, Lady Meredith leaned on the table and called down: “Do you hear that? You’re all to call me

‘Annie’ from now on. Well, not you, Lora, but the rest of you who are my friends. Annie.” Then she sat back in her seat and

reached over, taking Tamsyn’s hand. “I don’t know why I like you so much, but I do, Tamsyn Penhallow.”

Tamsyn almost corrected her without thinking, but then, as the words sank into her bones, warming her as well as any bath

she’d ever had—well, maybe not any bath—she was glad she hadn’t.

If nothing else, if this all went tits up and there was no saving them, at least for the next and maybe last day she’d spend

on earth, she’d be Tamsyn Penhallow.

It was past ten o’clock that night when they all gathered in the front hallway of Tywyll House, the whole party dressed in

evening finery, but covered in long velvet cloaks of the deepest green, each of them wearing a holly crown and holding a lit

taper in their hands.

Tamsyn wore an evening gown in a deep, deep scarlet, and sitting heavy over her heart, hidden by her cape, Y Seren glittered.

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Bowen yet. After all the wreath making, she’d been hustled up to her room by one of the

maids, who’d actually helped her dress and assured her that Bowen had a valet in a separate room doing the same for him.

So when he joined her in the crowd by the front door, she moved in close, opening her cape just the barest bit so that he

could see the brooch.

His eyes went wide, then flew back to hers. “How—” he started, but then Lady Meredith was coming down the stairs, resplendent

in gold, holding a thicker candle than the rest of them, and calling, “Beloved guests. Shall we brighten this dark night?”

A cry went up from the group as a footman circulated with a silver tray of tiny crystal glasses filled with a clear liquid,

and each guest took one.

Tamsyn threw hers back like she saw everyone else doing and quickly regretted that decision, because whatever was in the glass

tasted like someone had managed to distill a Yule log—evergreen and fire and smoke.

Eyes watering, she put her empty glass back on the tray just as Madoc made a jump for his own glass.

The footman skillfully lifted the tray over the little lordling’s head, and Madoc’s frown was fearsome. “Traditions are traditions!” he insisted. “You cannot wassail without Fire’s Draught, and I am lord of this manor! Every tradition has to involve me, because if it doesn’t, that’s how houses end up cursed . In the thirteenth century, a Lord Meredith was denied his Fire’s Draught, and that same year, a dragon descended on the house and ate them all up !”

“Absolutely none of that happened, Madoc, and you know the rules about Fire’s Draught. Not until you’re fifteen. Speaking

of...”

With another one of those graceful gestures, Lady Meredith indicated Emerald should step forward. For once, she was without

her velvet ribbon, her hair in a sophisticated updo tonight, her dress black and spangled with silver sparkles.

Eagerly, she took a glass from the tray and sucked it back with the same enthusiasm the adults had, only to immediately turn

bright red, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, that’s vile!” she cried, but that only made the other witches laugh, and Caradoc

thumped her heartily on the back.

“You’ll be glad for it once you’re out there for hours, sosej, ” he said, then turned to the assembled crowd. “A happy Yule to all. It has long been Meredith family tradition to greet the

dawn of this holiday with a visit to the village, bearing candle, holly, and song. Are we all ready?”

“Are we?” Tamsyn asked Bowen in a low voice, and he nodded at the spot on her dress where YSeren was hidden by her cloak.

“Here’s hoping,” he said, and with that, he took her arm, and the party headed out into the winter night.