Gently, she smoothed a napkin. "If you, any of you, had turned away, there would have been no others. Had I known… had I known, I'm not sure I could have borne it. So, I was not to know."
>
Because her legs felt suddenly weak, Zoe reached out to the back of a chair. "That's a pretty big chance to take with three women in Pennsylvania."
Rowena's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I would say the gods chose very well."
"The sword… I'd already found the key. I'd completed my quest. I understand that Kane tried to stop us from using it, that what had grown in him, or what he'd decided to use, allowed him to try to stop us from using it. But once I found it, the rest was really between the gods, wasn't it?"
"You'd done what you were chosen to do," Rowena agreed.
"Then why did he give me the sword? Why didn't he give it to you or Pitte? Or just take Kane out himself?"
"He would not battle Kane on this field, in this place. For such matters, a champion must be chosen."
"Pitte, then, or you."
"No."
"Why?"
Tears glimmered in her eyes for an instant, then were gone. When she spoke, her voice was very strong. "Because we are not forgiven."
She set the last of the flatware in place, stepped back to study the table. 'This is not the time for sorrows. We have much to be thankful for. Tell me—I have spent as little time as possible in kitchens—what comes next?"
Something had to be done, Zoe thought. But she smiled because she knew Rowena wanted it. "Ever mash potatoes?"
"No."
"Come on. I'll teach you."
They gathered around the table with the fire roaring and the candles gleaming. Whatever unhappiness Rowena knew was well masked by laughter and conversation. Champagne sparkled in glasses that were never empty. Platters and bowls were passed from hand to hand in an endless carousel of abundance.
"You'll want plenty of these," Zoe told Pitte as she offered him the mashed potatoes. "Rowena made them."
His eyebrows shot up. "How?"
"The same way women have been doing it for a number of years."
From the other end of the table, Rowena angled her head. "Pitte is now debating whether to risk them. My brave warrior wonders if he'll be forced to eat paste and pretend it's ambrosia."
As if to demonstrate his bravery, or his love, Pitte piled a small mountain of potatoes on his plate. "You wear his ring," he said to Zoe, nodded at the diamond on her finger.
"Yes." To please herself Zoe wiggled her fingers and watched the ring shoot fire.
"You are a fortunate man," he told Bradley. "I am. I've got to take that ugly midget along with her." He sent a wink toward Simon. "But I figure she's worth the sacrifice."
"So many weddings," Rowena announced. "So many plans. Have dates been set?"
"We've been a little busy," Flynn began.
Malory fluttered her lashes at him. "We're not busy now."
"Oh." He lost a little color. "Guess not. Well… I don't know. Um…"
All attention turned to him, had him squirming. "How come it's my deal? There are three of us in this boat."
"Looks like you're at the wheel, son," Jordan said and continued to eat turkey.