Gene of Isis

and avoided any chance of a misunderstanding. I considered that I might turn out to be rather better at this marriage business than I had imagined.

The wedding dress Susan had selected suited me very well. I trusted her judgement more than my own when it came to important decisions about attire.

There was a woman staring back at me from my mirror, a woman who was about to embark on an amazing adventure. I was so glad to be her.

Normally, a bride would be getting a talk from one of her parents at this point, but my mother was no longer with us and I had yet to speak to my father. It didn’t appear as if he was going to break the silence either. My treasure stone itched my hand as if requesting the summons.

‘Albray,’ I complied. ‘Albray, Albray.’

The knight leant against the wall staring at me for the longest time.

‘Please say something.’ I begged for an opinion.

Don’t marry him, he appealed in all seriousness. Marry me.

He broke into a smile and I knew he was joking. ‘I thought you were serious!’ I held my hand to my chest when I realised he was not. ‘I’m nervous enough without you giving me heart failure.’

You look absolutely beautiful. Danu shines through you this day. He pushed himself away from the wall and approached to look into the mirror with me. If I still lived, I’d marry you myself.

Albray had no reflection, and that was probably for the best—literally, I could never see us together. Albray would have made a fine husband. ‘Did you ever marry?’ I had struck a chord; he distanced himself from me.

The woman I loved was not the marrying kind.

At first I thought he meant she’d been beneath him, but I couldn’t imagine Albray thinking that way and he did not sound ashamed of his love, but proud. I thought it more likely that she was an exulted being in his eyes. I wanted to ask him who she was and what had happened to her, but clearly he did not want to speak of it, and I had no desire to try exerting my will over him.

She was Lillet du Lac of the House del Acops.

The House of the Waters. I noted the English translation. Both ‘del Acops’ and ‘du Lac’ were titles cited in French Arthurian romances. Lancelot du Lac translated to Lancelot of the Lake, as in the Lady of the Lake and the Isle of Avalon. ‘Was Lillet a priestess of some kind?’

Albray nodded gravely. ‘And a Grail princess…much as you are.’

I scoffed at his exaggeration, although I thought it very flattering. ‘Did she love you too?’ The pain in his expression made me wish I hadn’t asked and I quickly changed the subject. ‘So you have no advice for me this day?’

He shook his head. I can advise you along the way. He reminded me that he was not being left behind. But when it comes to affairs of the heart, as I have already warned you, I will be useless to you.

I recognised Nanny’s knock and I bade her enter. She fiddled with my attire, admiring my appearance, and yet she seemed a little awkward, as if she were pondering words she did not want to speak.

‘If your mother had been here today,’ she began, and I knew at once where the conversation was heading.

I was quick to save her the trouble.

Unlike most unmarried women my age, I actually knew what sex entailed. Love affairs are far and away what most people think about, most of the time, and being a mind-reader since birth, well…need I say more? Women of my age, gender and marital status were banned from reading any literature on the subject, including romance novels, but thankfully Susan and I had not had that kind of censorship. We were both fully aware of what marriage entailed, but having romanticised the issue in so many of our little fantasies, I feared that the big event could hardly live up to our expectations. I couldn’t honestly say that I wasn’t curious, if just one little kiss could cause me distraction for weeks and get me to the altar! FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE

My wedding day held many surprises.

My father awaiting me at the church door was the first shock of the day. ‘I know you will be happy,’ was all he said before he smiled at me. It wasn’t a forced smile either, although there was a certain sadness underlying it. Could it be that my father actually did care for me and was a little sentimental about my departure from his house and name? Not that I had ever been under the same roof with him for any length of time; he was probably more upset that the Granville estates would henceforth be Devere-Granville estates. In any case, Father performed his duty at my wedding with no fuss or bother, which was a great relief to me.

The huge wedding service exceeded my tolerance for church by well over an hour, but was made bearable by the smiling faces of the five people alongside me. More love than I had ever felt was emanating from the young men and women who stood with me before the altar, and my heart couldn’t help but be swept up in the euphoria. I felt my heart energy swelling in my chest and as I looked to my new husband I felt my heart centre connect with his and that was the moment our souls bonded and I began to fall in love with him.

In the carriage on the way to the wedding breakfast Mr Devere asked about our travel plans beyond France. I was not yet ready to disclose my true destination to anyone, so I said that I was still contemplating destinations, as there were so many I was interested in. ‘India, Persia, South America, Van Diemen’s Land!’ I listed just about every place but the one I truly did want to visit, and laughed when my husband appeared wary of my choices, all the while stating he’d follow me anywhere.

At the breakfast there were many lovely toasts and speeches made by the parents of the newlyweds, but none was so surprising as that of my father, who managed to sound genuinely affectionate and proud of me.

Thus, after the formalities were out of the way and we were at liberty to mingle with our guests, I thought I’d seek Father out and make my peace with him. I was so full of love and excitement that I didn’t wish to be at odds with anyone. Still, before I found him, another dear friend caught my attention.