Prophecy

by Elizabeth Haydon

  He laughed and ran the back of his index finger down her cheek. “No; equal collaboration is more fun,” he said, taking her small hand and pulling it into the curve of his arm, walking her along the garden path. “That applies to all of my favorite things to do with you. A wonderful performance in either area is not much good without a partner to appreciate it.” He watched the porcelain skin grow rosier, amazed still that someone who could be so earthy; unrattled by jokes and behavior of the most repulsive nature would still blush so easily alone with him. He cherished the thought.

  “Come back into my arms and dance with me,” he said lightly. To avoid choking up with the emotion that was swelling in his heart he swept her back into his embrace, cradling her head against his shoulder. “We should practice, since the next time I will see you we’ll be meeting clandestinely at the royal wedding in Bethany. If we’re trying to dance and still remain unnoticed, it wouldn’t do at all for me to step on your toes.”

  Rhapsody drew back with a suddenness that jolted him. Her face drained before his eyes of its rosy glow, leaving her alabaster-pale. Her eyes searched his face, filling with an old sadness that she shook away a moment later.

  “It’s getting late,” she said apprehensively. “We should talk, then get to your renaming ceremony.”

  Ashe nodded, feeling bereft. The dance would have given him a chance to hold her one more moment, to feel the happiness within her sustained for just a little bit longer. “Are you ready?” he asked, pointing to the gazebo. It was where they had agreed he would reveal his secrets, then take the memory of this night from her. Her eyes dropped and he could feel her nervousness rise as she shook her head.

  “Not yet,” she said, and turned toward a small bench in a secluded part of the garden. “Can we sit there for a moment? I have something to say to you, and I want to remember having said it.”

  “Certainly.” Ashe helped her step over the small rock wall, and together they strolled to the bench, hand in hand. She settled her skirts as he sat down beside her and waited to hear what she had to say.

  “Before you take away the memory of the rest of this night, I just want to let you know that you were right,” she said, her dark green eyes twinkling at him in the darkness.

  “Rhapsody, you are unbelievable,” Ashe said, jokingly. “Just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you have come up with yet another way to excite me sexually. Will you say that again, please?”

  “You were right,” she repeated, returning his grin. “Do I have to take my clothes off now?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said, wondering whether this was a ploy to keep from going into the gazebo. He knew that she was not happy with what was about to happen, and though she trusted him, her willingness to follow through was limited at best. “I’m sorry; now, what were you saying?”

  Her face grew serious, and her eyes darkened in the half-light cast by the paper lanterns he had strung throughout the garden. “I want you to know that everything you said to me when you first came to Elysian was right, even though I didn’t know it at the time.” She stared at her hands for a moment, then lifted her head and looked into his eyes; her own were glistening, whether from deeply held feeling or tears.

  “I want you to know that I’ve treasured this time with you, and that it was worth having, as you said, for as long as it lasted. I’m—I’m glad we were lovers. And you were right; it was enough.” Ashe watched as a luminescent tear spilled over her lashes and rolled slowly down her face.

  “I was at ease with you long before any of this, though; I think the reason we made good lovers is that first we made good friends. And since in the end that is what will be left to us, I want to still be at ease with you, if circumstances permit. I have never interfered between a man and his wife, and I’m not about to start now. So if it won’t cause problems for you and—well, and the Lady Cymrian, please know that if you ever need me I’m here for you—to help, I mean.” Her words ground awkwardly to a halt, and she looked over at the gazebo for a moment.

  Ashe’s heart ached for her. He reached out and caught the tear as it reached her chin, then gently rested his hand on her face. She placed her own hand over it, then took his and curled it into a fist inside her own.

  “I love you, Gwydion ap Llauron ap Gwylliam and so on, and I always will,” she said when she looked back at him. “But it is a love that will never threaten your happiness; it is there to support you in any way that it can. Thank you for giving me this time and this opportunity. It has meant more to me than you ever could know.”

  Ashe couldn’t stand it anymore. He took her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her, trying to extend to her whatever wordless comfort he could. Her lips were warm but they did not respond to him; she gently took his hands and removed them from her face, giving them a friendly squeeze.

  “Are you ready now?” he asked, nodding toward the gazebo.

  Rhapsody sighed. “Yes, I guess so,” she said, rising to a stand. “Just let me get my harp; I’ll need it for the naming ceremony.”

  “It can wait,” Ashe said. “First, we’ll talk. Then we’ll do the naming ceremony. I have something I need to tell you, and something I need to ask of you.”

  “Very well,” she answered. “Interestingly enough, so have I.”

  The gazebo had been positioned to provide the most breathtaking view in all of Elysian, and from its cold marble benches Rhapsody could see the whole of her gardens, preparing for the long sleep of the fast-approaching winter, the cottage, with its climbing ivy fading from verdant green to a somber brown; and in the distance the rushing waterfall, growing in strength as the late autumn rains fed the streams above it, churning the water of the lake that circled the island she loved as if in an embrace.

  For the first time this year Rhapsody felt a chill in the air; winter was coming. Soon the gardens would be silent, and the flock of birds that had found their way underground to nest in her trees would be gone. The hidden paradise would lose its color, settling into hibernation. She wondered how much of the loss of warmth in the land and air around them was attributable to annual climate changes, and how much to the diminution of the fires of her own soul as she felt their love dying. Elysian would soon go dormant, settling into subsistence where there had once been glory. Just like her.

  “Rhapsody?” Ashe’s voice brought her back to reality.

  She looked up from her reverie. “Yes? Oh, sorry. What do I have to do?”

  Ashe sat down beside her on the stone bench and held out his hand. In it was an enormous pearl, watery-white as milk with an opalescent black circumscribing it. “This is an ancient artifact from the land of your birth, now beneath the waves,” he said, his voice reverent. “It has held the secrets of the sea, and but one other trusted to it on the land. Name it, Rhapsody, and will it to hold the memory of this night for you until it is safe for you to take it back.”

  Rhapsody took the pearl in her hands. Though it looked porous she could feel its strength, impenetrable, layer upon layer of solid tears from the ocean. She closed her eyes and began the song of naming, matching her tune to the vibrations emanating from the pearl until they were in perfect unison.

  She opened her eyes again. The pearl had begun to glow with a light that filled the gazebo. It was translucent, and the most intense point of illumination was discernible in the core, shining through the layers made visible by its brilliance. Into the song she wove the command he had asked of her: that the memory of the rest of this night be contained within it.

  When the song ended Rhapsody handed the glowing pearl back to Ashe. He rose from the bench and walked to the empty golden cage, placing the pearl inside it. Then he returned and sat down beside her again, taking her hands, but before he could speak she stopped him.

  “Tarry a moment, please, Ashe,” Rhapsody said. “Before you tell me anything, I want to just look at you one last time.” Her eyes studied him intently, taking in the look of his own eyes, and the line of his face, the color of his h
air, and the way he looked in the handsome mariner’s uniform and cape. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to capture his scent and the way he shaped the air around him, painting a picture for herself that would have to last a lifetime. Finally she lowered her gaze.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m ready.”

  “Very well,” Ashe said, smiling nervously. “Rhapsody, what I have to tell you is not pleasant, and it won’t be easy for you to hear it. But before we get into it, I have one last thing to ask of you. Please hear me out.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  He took a deep breath; his voice was tender. “Aria, I know you have never refused me anything I have asked, and you have gifted me with so many favors that I haven’t asked for, that it seems unbelievable I could make yet another request of you, but I have to. It’s the most important thing I will ever ask of you, on behalf both of myself and, with any luck, the united Cymrian peoples. Will you consider it, please?”

  Rhapsody looked into his eyes; they were gleaming intensely, and he seemed on the verge of tears. The star formations that surrounded the strange vertical pupils were glowing as she had never seen them before, and she closed her eyes, burning the image into her memory for the Future. On the loneliest nights of the rest of her life she would picture the way he looked just now. She knew that the thought would bring her comfort.

  “Of course; of course I will,” she answered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I’ve already told you, Ashe, that I will always be your friend and ally. You can ask whatever you need of me and I will do whatever I can to help you, if it’s in my power.”

  He smiled, then turned her hand over in his and kissed it. “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Marry me, then.” His words were out of his mouth before his knee touched the ground in front of her.

  “That’s not funny, Ashe,” Rhapsody said, looking annoyed. “Get up. What do you really want?”

  “Sorry, Rhapsody, that really is what I want. It has been from the very beginning. I haven’t joked about it, or argued with you about it, or even brought it up until I was sure that you would listen without prejudice, because I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” He saw her begin to pale, and he took both of her hands and plunged ahead, afraid to let her answer yet.

  “I know you have long been under the assumption, fed by my father, that there is a hierarchy to which you don’t belong by birth, and that it somehow is a good reason to deny us both happiness and our people the best Lady Cymrian they could possibly have. Aria, it isn’t true. The Cymrians may have a family right of ascendancy, but they are a free people. They can confirm or deny anyone they want at the Council that meets when a Lord is to be crowned.

  “For all I know they will throw me out, and then together we will build the most beautiful goat hut you have ever seen and our days will be blessed with peace and privacy. Or perhaps you will choose to rule in the court of the Lirin, as I know well they will one day want you to. Then I will be your humble servant, massaging your neck and back after long days on that uncomfortable throne, supporting you in any way I can, acting as your consort.

  “All I know is that I cannot live without you in any case. I don’t mean this as a flowery endearment; I mean it literally. You are my treasure. You must know what that means to a dragon. I cannot allow myself to even contemplate the loss of you from my life, for fear my other nature will take over and lay waste to the countryside. Please, Rhapsody, please marry me. I know I don’t deserve you—I am fully aware of that—but you love me, I know you do, and I trust that love. I would give anything—”

  “Stop, please,” Rhapsody whispered. Tears were streaming down her face, and her hands trembled.

  Ashe fell silent. The look of shock on her face was so blatant that he was stunned, and his face mirrored the hurt he felt. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke. “Is the prospect of being my wife so onerous, Rhapsody? Have I frightened you so much that—”

  “Stop,” she said again, and her voice was full of pain. “Of course it isn’t; what an awful thing to say.” She began to sob, and buried her face in her hands.

  Ashe took her, still weeping, into his arms. He held her until the storm of tears had passed, and then pulled from his breast pocket a linen handkerchief and handed it to her.

  “Needless to say,” he said, watching her dry her eyes, “this is not exactly the reaction I had hoped for.” His voice was light, but his eyes watched her anxiously.

  “I know how you feel,” she said, handing him back his handkerchief. “This is not exactly the question I had expected, either.”

  “I know,” he said, taking her chin in his hand and gently lifting it to look into her face. “And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let you go on believing that I would even consider marrying anyone but you. There is a limit, even if it is a distant one, to what I am willing to do as far as my father and the responsibilities of leadership are concerned. There is a limit to my love for you. Of course it would win out. And though you will have no conscious memory of this night for a while, I hope that somewhere, deep inside you, you will remember this and stop feeling the despair we both feel now.

  “Aria, none of these people, these things, matter. Be selfish, for once in your life. Make the decision that makes you happy. I can’t speak for you as to what that is. All I know is that I love you beyond description, and I would make your happiness my life’s purpose. It would give me the greatest joy imaginable if you would consent to be my wife. Please; forget all the rest of this; give me an answer, not as whatever else you perceive me to be, but as the man who loves you.”

  There was a simplicity to his voice, a clarity that cut through the mountain of objections and laid the decision plainly at her feet.

  Rhapsody looked up at him through new eyes, cleared of their blinding tears. It was as if he had shown her the trail through a dark forest, one that she had been lost in since the Three had arrived in this land, a twisted place complicated by the agendas and expectations of others, dictated by their needs and prejudices. And some of her own as well; she had assumed from the beginning there was no future for them because of their different birth classes, but Ashe had avoided the topic altogether, refusing to fight about it. She now saw that he had known all along what he wanted, and had waited until he was sure that she loved him before bringing it up.

  As he caressed the paths of the tears from her face, Rhapsody thought back to a conversation she had once had with her father, not long before she ran away from home. How did the village come to change its mind about our family? she had asked him. If Mama was so despised when you first married, why did you stay?

  She could see his face in her memory, wrinkles pocketing around his eyes as he smiled at her, his hands still polishing the wood carving he was making, unable to ever be idle. When you find the one thing in your life you believe in above anything else, you owe it to yourself to stand by it—it will never come again, child. And if you believe in it unwaveringly, the world has no other choice but to see it as you do, eventually. For who knows it better than you? Don’t be afraid to take a difficult stand, darling. Find the one thing that matters—everything else will resolve itself.

  Once the memory had given her wisdom about her loyalty to the Bolg. Now Rhapsody looked into Ashe’s eyes, and knew again what her father had meant. It was as if heavy cloaks were falling off her shoulders; the yammering voices in her ears faded away, leaving only the song of one man, the man who had taken over her whole heart. He was offering her a handhold out of the forest, guiding her to where she wanted to go as surely as he had shown her the way to Elynsynos’s lair or Tyrian. And she desperately wanted to follow him.

  “Yes,” she said, and her voice was soft, barely audible, from the tears that had clogged her throat. She coughed, unhappy with the way it had sounded. “Yes.” she said again, her tone clearer, surer; Ashe’s face began to transform before her, her words bringing warmth to his cheeks and making
his dragonesque eyes glisten with light. The abject fear that had been hiding beneath the calm exterior began to evaporate, and she saw happiness start to take hold.

  “Yes!” she shouted, using her naming lore to add irrevocability to it. The tone rang through the gazebo and echoed off the rockwalls, swirling around the lake where it danced in the waterfall, laughing as it spilled over the brim. With the dancing echo came heat, and light; like a comet careening within the grotto her word flashed through the air, illuminating the cavern with the radiance of a thousand shooting stars. The tone picked up to other harmonics as the places it touched affirmed the rightness of her answer, and a song rang in the air around them, a song of gladness.

  The fires of Elysian roared their agreement, and the grass, which had begun to dry and stiffen in sleep turned green again, as if touched by the hand of spring. The blossoms of her garden held fast to the last of their brilliance, and bloomed along with the red winter flowers that had graced their table. As the shooting light-tone touched them it absorbed their colors, and spun them skyward, exploding into shimmering fireworks as it impacted with the dome of the firmament.

  Ashe watched the explosion in amazement, then looked down at her face, turned skyward as well, the reflection of the colors above them glittering in her magnificent eyes.

  “My,” he laughed. “Are you sure?”

  Rhapsody laughed with him, her mirth freeing her from the clutching tightness of duty and solitude she had felt for so long. Like wind chimes in a high breeze she let it come forth, and the sound of her laughter joined the tone of her assent, filling the giant cave with music the likes of which it had never held.

  Ashe took her face in his hands, studying it in the throes of joy, and burned the image into his heart. He would need this picture to get through what was to come, he knew. Then he bent and touched her lips with his, drawing her into a kiss so tender that he could feel the tears well up in her again.