than sometimes nice. PleaseâI was surrounded by opulence and loved by the populace. I had a veritable herd of eager handmaidens whose sole purpose in living was to see that my every need was met, not to mention wardrobes filled with exquisite clothing and drawers brimming with (be still my heart) jewelry. Lots of jewelry.
Letâs face itâI was living well beyond the means of an Oklahoma high school teacherâs salary. Big surprise.
I finished wiping my hand and turned back to the table to find Alanna watching me closely.
âWhat?â My tone said I was exasperated.
âYou have been looking decidedly pale lately.â
âWell, Iâve felt decidedly pale, too.â I realized I sounded grumpy, and attempted a smile and a lighter tone. âDonât worry about it, I just have a touch of theâ¦theâ¦â (think Shakespeare) âthe, um, ague.â I finally finished, pleased with my grasp of the vernacular.
âFor two seven-days?â I swear she sounded more like a mother than a best friend. âIâve watched you, Rhea. Your eating habits have changed. And I believe youâve lost weight.â
âSo, Iâve had a cold. And this weather hasnât helped.â
âRhea, winter is almost upon us.â
âAnd to think when I first arrived here I thought that it must never get cold.â I looked pointedly at the wall closest to us, whereon a lovely painting depicted someone who looked exactly like me riding a silver-white mare, breasts bared to the world (mine, not the mareâs), while a dozen scantily clad maidens (or at least they were supposed to be maidens) cavorted around me, indiscriminately strewing flowers.
Alannaâs good-natured laughter tinkled. âRhiannon always chose the frescoes to be painted from scenes of spring and summer rituals. She reveled in the lack of clothing.â
âShe reveled in more than that,â I muttered.
I hadnât been here long when I realized that even though many of the Partholonian people who mirrored people from my old world were alike in personalities (like Alanna and my best friend, Suzanna), Rhiannon was, quite frankly, not a nice person. Alanna and I surmised that one of the reasons she and I were so different could be because Rhiannon was raised as an indulged, totally spoiled High Priestess, and I was raised to act right by a dad who would have knocked the Oklahoma crap right outta me if Iâd acted like a brat. So Iâd grown up to have some self-discipline and a pretty decent set of morals. Rhiannon, to put it in twenty-first century terms, had grown up to be a raving bitch. Everyone who knew her either loathed her or feared her, or both. She had been self-indulgent and amoral.
And, yes, it had been a mess to step into her friggin ruby slippers (so to speak).
There were only three people in Partholon who knew I was not the original Rhiannon: Alanna, her husband, Carolan, and my husband, ClanFintan. Everyone else just thought Iâd made an amazing personality change several months ago (about the same time Iâd adopted Rhea as the shortened version of my name). I mean, it really wouldnât do to let the masses knowtheir object of worship had been snatched from the twenty-first century. And not only that, to my utter and complete surprise this worldâs Goddess, Epona, had made it clear that I was, indeed, her choice as Beloved of the Goddess. Huh.
The delicate clearing of a throat swung my attention back to the present.
âThe maidens said you spent more than your usual amount of time at MacCallanâs tomb again last night.â Alannaâs voice sounded worried.
âI like it there. You know that.â Thinking of the skittering, inky darkness, I couldnât meet her eyes. âAlanna, do you remember that you told me that Rhiannonâs lackey, uh, I think his name was B-something.â
âBres,â Alanna said