“Every day.” She said softly and took the book out of Annie’s hands and held it closed between her hands as though she were waiting for it to pulse and come to life. Annie thought she was waiting for her to say something, but instead, gestured towards her steaming cup.
“I think you should try some of the tea. You’re anxious.” Moira turned her head. Annie found herself thinking of the last time she was across the table from an opponent which is what the psychic felt like, not the advisor Mary had promised.
“Why? Is it magical?” Annie’s words rode out of her with a sneer. The silence of the room was uncomfortable and the baby had begun to kick hard enough to make her eyes water.
“It’s soothing, a sort of magic. Drink it, please, and quit the attitude or I can be of no further help to you.”
Satisfied that Annie had actually swallowed some of the tea, tea which tasted as much like any other green tea Annie had ever come across, no secret unguent to unnerve her or give her pause, Moira closed her eyes for a second.
Annie found herself involuntarily leaning in, watching the woman, listening for a hum or a crackle, or a knee knocking against the table meant to be a spirit from the great beyond. There was none of that as she opened her eyes with a concerted breath and read the first thing her eyes seemed to see.
“Then Agammemnon called a council of his wisest and bravest chiefs. Nestor advised that an embassy should be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the field; that Agammemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong that he had done.”
She closed the book, and looked up, her eyes sad and stoic. Annie was uncomfortable with all the emotion that seemed to run through the woman like the Nile. “Do you see what you’re being told? Do you hear the message in the words?”
Annie shook her head, “I’m no maiden. This King of yours…it means nothing.”
Moira did not waver this time, “No. You will have a daughter. ”
Her hand fell to her belly, the little piglet, the little creature was a girl. If she believed, and she found that she did, Annie could start to love her. She chuckled. Alright. Maybe.
“You should give appease him and give her up. That is the wise council of the chiefs.”
“Give her up to him?” Her plan, her secret unspoken plan was being dictated to her by some sort of witch. This wasn’t right. He…what did he want with her?”
“You know what happened the Trojans ignored this wise council? Ten years of war.
“What the hell kind of advice is this?” Annie bolted up out of her chair, a pang of maternal power galvanizing her. She ripped the book out of Moira’s hand who let it loose, but met her eyes and kept Annie standing in front of her.
She drank another slug of tea. “But this is not my council. Mary sent you here to protect herself, her family. To keep your King from taking more from her after he lit Charlie’s corpse alight. I tell you this not for Mary’s sake, or mine, and certainly not for yours, but for the sake of that child, you should leave Falls Valley. Go into hiding, instead of a war, perhaps he’ll forget.”
“There is no such place. And you don’t know shit if you think I can sidestep this man.”
“This man?” At this, she laughed. “Your King is no man. Was once, surely, but that was long ago. It’s a bad miracle that he had the life in him to make a child. And whatever purpose he sees in you, in the child you bear, it will not serve anyone but himself.”