by Lisa Rector
“See for yourself, my son.” Lord Ithel placed Aneirin’s hands in Ahnalyn’s.
Aneirin looked into her eyes. What might he see? The depths of a noble spirit—wise and holy beyond her years—but certainly not Ahnalyn in her youthful childishness and inexperience.
“She is you.” Aneirin whispered, dropping her hands and backing up a half step.
Catrin stepped forward as did Urien. “How can this be?” Catrin whispered. She stared at Ahnalyn. “The glow… her light… she gave it all…” Catrin choked.
“No,” Urien whispered, shaking his head. “No.” He touched Catrin’s shoulders.
“It was the only way,” Ithel said. “Do not fear, Catrin. Her spirit is whole. She will be reborn. You’ll have your mother again.”
“Reborn?” Aneirin whispered in a voice only Ahnalyn could hear.
And she knew the repercussions of what that meant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
HOPE RESTORED
The last task was the small but not forgotten matter of freeing Terrin. Since the army was already assembled and many of the dragons and riders were healed, Lord Ithel thought it best not to waste any time. Ahnalyn thought that secretly he was eager to return to Gorlassar, even though they had braved the “tainted” humans.
It was difficult for Ahnalyn to watch as graves were continually dug to bury the dead while riders gathered to liberate Terrin. She didn’t want to leave King Sieffre, nor did she want to leave Aneirin and Cephias, especially now that Cephias was blind. But she thought of her people, Brenin’s subjects, and the hope they carried. If Caedryn had anything right, surely Brenin would be watching from the beyond for this day.
Catrin stepped behind her and squeezed her shoulders as Ahnalyn frowned at the busyness around her. “I’m flying with you. It’s the least I can do for Aneirin. I don’t think he wants you out of his sight, but he needs to help Cephias back to Gorlassar.”
Ahnalyn fell into Catrin’s arms and squeezed her neck. “Thank you. I don’t think I could do this on my own. Thank you.”
King Sieffre came up to her. “You’re not doing this alone. I’m coming too. I know just the man in Brenin’s court who would be the perfect regent, if he’s still alive,” he added under his breath. “Now, who’ll give me my first dragon ride ever? These old bones will have one last adventure.” He winked at Ahnalyn.
Catrin grinned. “I would gladly do the honors, Your Majesty.”
Once Ahnalyn coaxed her father onto Seren, they were on their way home at last.
***
The hour was late into the afternoon when the company of fifty dragons swooped down on Hyledd. Guards were without the city, protecting the gate, and dozens of men were in the barracks and palace yard. From the looks on their faces and the way they froze when they saw the legion of dragons, they were unprepared for this. Of course word had not reached them about Caedryn’s demise.
The city was taken peacefully. Whoever Gethen left in charge of the palace was dragged, cowering, out into the courtyard, as Cerys, Seren, and the other dragons stood over him. Ahnalyn thought he might even cry, he was whimpering so. So much for Caedryn’s power and might.
King Sieffre, looking quite rosy cheeked and windblown, pulled his sword from his sheath and pointed it at the bulging vein in the quivering man’s throat. “Your Lord is dead. His armies defeated. We’ll return you to your homeland along with your men, after you rebuild the villages that were destroyed along the river. You won’t give us any trouble, I presume.”
“N-no. We would be happy to oblige. You are most lenient.” Sieffre’s men lead him and a few other prisoners off.
Ahnalyn glanced around, hoping to see someone from the court she knew. Her maid, Cora, perhaps, or did the woman flee with her daughter to the country?
Brenin’s subjects were cowering in the shadows. They’re afraid of the dragons. The people knew her face and King Sieffre’s, so they shouldn’t be afraid. Ahnalyn stepped forward so they could see her.
King Sieffre searched the crowd and raised his voice for all to hear. “Where’s Arthfael? Where’s Brenin’s chancellor? He was a trusted man, does he yet live?”
A man came forward, squeezing past shoulders. He knelt before Sieffre and swept his cap from his head, revealing a shiny scalp. “Your Majesty.”
Sieffre lifted his hand. “Arise, Arthfael. I’ve known you to be noble and true to my nephew Brenin. Will you serve him once more as regent, until his son is of age to take the throne? Your people need you.”
Arthfael bowed low. “It would be the greatest honor. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent.” Sieffre clapped his hands together and draped his arm over Arthfael’s shoulder. “Come, I’m hungry. Let’s have this long-awaited victory feast.” Sieffre shouted above the crowd. “Your new regent! You are liberated! Welcome Lady Ahnalyn home! Prepare the feast. We’ll dine tonight.”
Everyone moved at once. People skirted the dragons while heading for the palace. A few ladies and gentlemen pressed their way forward to greet Ahnalyn and welcome her back. “Bless you, lady.” “Bless you.” “We had hoped to see you again.” “Lord Brenin, rest his soul, would be proud.”
Ahnalyn watched as they moved on. She lifted her head to the sky and closed her eyes. Brenin would be proud. His people were free. She didn’t feel like much of it was her doing, more like Meinwen’s. Her sacrifice would never be forgotten.
It was worthwhile to see this, Meinwen said.
I can never repay you. Had it not been for your—
Her father slid his hand into hers. “You’re home, Ahnalyn, you’re home.”
She shook her head. Ahnalyn wasn’t sure where her home was. She’d have to return to Gorlassar as High Emrys and wouldn’t be staying here. “Father, will you walk with me?” She had to see her people and walk through the streets of the city.
They walked hand in hand through the cobbled streets, stopping to wave at the people and talk to them the way Brenin once had. Though weary and dirty, the people were bright and hopeful. News had swiftly spread of the new regent and rule. But Ahnalyn kept hearing snatches of the word dragon. “Is it true, my lady, dragons?” “By Deian’s light. Will they eat us?” “Did you fly in on one? I saw the dragons in the sky.”
Ahnalyn laughed as people followed her through the square and as she turned onto a side street. She knew now where she was headed. She and her father stopped, with the growing crowd of people, outside the two-story building with the sign that read, “Orphanage for Lost Ones.”
Her heart knew this was where she needed to go.
She scarcely had time to take a step forward, when the creaking wooden door slid open, and two hazel eyes peered out. The little child gasped, and her eyes grew wide. “She’s here! She’s here. Brenin’s lady. She came back.”
The door flung wide, and the dozens of children within poured out.
A little boy with curling hair, much like Einion’s, spoke. “Mistress made us come inside when she saw the dragons in the sky, but we saw you. We knew you came to save us.”
Ahnalyn rustled his hair and moved through the crowd, hugging the children and looking into each dirt-stained face. They hadn’t had time to wash up for this visit, but Brenin wouldn’t have cared. The children rubbed their fingers over her disheveled tunic. She was still a mess from the battle.
At last Ahnalyn came to one gap-toothed grin among the faces she remembered—Alice, twirling her fingers around a ribbon in the end of her hair. The same pink velvet ribbon Brenin had given her.
Ahnalyn crouched down and looked into her brown eyes. “Just the ragamuffin I longed to see. I have a gift for you.” Ahnalyn tugged the end of the silver ribbon from her hair and tied it around the girl’s wrist, exactly as Brenin had done so many months ago. “You’re still the little lady I remember. I’m counting on you to keep this bunch in line. When you’re grown, you can come to the courts and be a lady when my son is king.”
Alice beamed and with it came
the hope that Ahnalyn prayed had not been lost. The child still carried it. The decimation of war had not touched her.
***
After the feast, a banquet spread so generously it encumbered two full-sized tables swelling with platters of meats and fruits, Ahnalyn flew with Seren and her father to Tarren—to their humble cottage.
Owein was eager to return home. Ahnalyn told him he could stay at the palace, but his argument was the same.
“My place is in my home, where I raised you—my daughter,” Owein muttered.
Ahnalyn beamed, pleased her father thought of her as his own. She gave him a huge hug.
They arrived, with a dragon escort of half a dozen. Lord Ithel’s orders were not to let Ahnalyn out of their sight, so she had her own ever-present guard. Lord Ithel wouldn’t be at peace until his own Meinwen was back in Gorlassar. And even then, probably not until she was reborn.
Ahnalyn’s dusty cottage was as she had left it—with an old dry wooden door, sheep paddock on the hillside, and vegetable patch off the side of the house.
A woman stooped in the garden, hoeing at the weeds. Ahnalyn thought this must be the housekeeper, a maid from town. How thoughtful of her to continue tending the garden in my father’s absence. The girl looked up, arching her back in a stretch, and placing her hands on her hips.
It was Cora, Ahnalyn’s lady’s maid. So she had listened to my advice and left the city. Except… her belly was rounded and jutting out as Ahnalyn’s belly once was.
“Well, I’ll be a turnip,” Cora exclaimed, and squealed and lifted her skirts to run toward the group on their dragons.
Owein couldn’t slide off Seren fast enough. Ahnalyn tried to help him, but he managed with a haste that surpassed her stupor. She watched, wide-eyed as Owein embraced Cora in his arms and swung her around.
Ahnalyn slid off Seren. She understood enough, but she couldn’t help the inquiry. “Tad, is there something you want to tell me about this girl?”
Owein turned around, his teeth gleaming between his lips. “Ahnalyn, you mean that lady. Cora is a lady. My lady. Doesn’t matter her upbringing. She’s a lady in my eyes.”
Ahnalyn laughed, observing the tenderness between them. “Well, had I known you’d have such a connection, I would have sent her sooner. It gladdens my heart to see you so happy.” Ahnalyn stepped forward and embraced her new stepmother.
Cora kissed her on the cheek. “My lady. I’m so glad you’re safe. We were never sure if we’d see you again.”
Owein smiled, a twinkle reaching his eyes. “I knew—I knew my Ahnalyn would come home at last.”
***
But she didn’t. In the end, Ahnalyn said farewell to her home once again. Parting from her father was difficult, but she’d see him again. With Seren, Ahnalyn could visit whenever she pleased, and it was a relief to know her father was in capable hands with Cora. Having a brother or sister soon was a blessing to look forward to.
So Ahnalyn said goodbye and waved. This time, instead of crying sorrowful tears, she cried tears of happiness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE TRUTH, FINALLY
Nothing was the same for the emrys in the days after their return to Gorlassar. The loss of Lady Meinwen astounded the people. As Lord Ithel addressed his subjects and explained that Ahnalyn carried the spirit of his beloved inside, the people gasped and murmured. No one even knew this was possible. Ahnalyn still couldn’t believe it. The emrys acted unsure about this brown-haired half-emryn matron.
Lord Ithel resolved their concerns by saying Meinwen would be reborn, and she would be Ahnalyn’s guiding voice with important affairs of the realm until then. The emrys could see Ahnalyn had been purged of her darkness and had made a full transition to a Daughter of Light. This further supported what Lord Ithel said. No one doubted whether Ahnalyn belonged in the immortal dragon realm.
Ahnalyn met Lord Caledu when she was presented to the council. Caledu balked at first, eyeing Ahnalyn with narrowed eyes.
“I cannot deny that you are my High Emrys. I feel Meinwen in you. There is no reason why you cannot stay in the realm. I’m sorry, Ahnalyn, that I couldn’t accept you before. I’m ashamed to have spoken against you.” Caledu’s voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Nothing will bring my daughter back, but I’m glad to make amends and start anew with you and Einion.”
Ahnalyn accepted his apology. She had no reason not to. Although, she thought Caledu might serve better to give his sorrows and regrets to Aneirin.
***
That night, Aneirin and Catrin were helping Ahnalyn settle into his room, arranging odds and ends and folding baby clothes. Aneirin had given Ahnalyn the room, promising that, in his spare time, he’d add another room on the side of the house. In the meantime, he added a bed in the studio for himself.
“So, is she there all the time?” Aneirin asked suddenly. He had finished shifting a new bureau into the corner to contain Einion’s clothes.
Ahnalyn looked around. Catrin had made herself scarce.
“What?” Ahnalyn asked while sitting on the edge of the bed, a white baby shirt stopped mid-fold.
“My mother. Is she there all the time?” Aneirin had turned and was looking down at Ahnalyn.
“Not quite. She leaves me alone at times. She’s not present now.”
His eyes flared with light. “I don’t understand how you’re all right with this. How’s Catrin even able to accept it… and my father?”
Ahnalyn recoiled as if she had been slapped. “I didn’t ask for this. I had no idea when your mother touched my heart the day I left Gorlassar that she opened a channel for her spirit to enter my body. Catrin accepts it because it’s easier for her. It gives her hope to know she will see her mother again.”
Aneirin leaned over the bed, his face rigid with tension. “It’s too difficult for me to bear.” He turned away and paced several steps around the room.
Ahnalyn set down the shirt and rose from the bed. “Would you rather she had died?”
“No. I would have rather you stayed in Gorlassar. Then she’d still be alive.” Aneirin said, in a quiet measured tone as he stared at the wall.
His words stung. Ahnalyn stepped back. “Aneirin, how could you say that? We all had a choice. I made my choice, and Meinwen made hers. You could have chosen to stay in Gorlassar too. Why did you come in the first place? You should have left me with Caedryn.”
Aneirin stepped closer to Ahnalyn. “You know I couldn’t.”
Because of Niawen, Ahnalyn thought. “Then you know why I had to leave!”
Aneirin strode across the room and grabbed Ahnalyn by the upper arms. He looked down into her face. “How can I…” He stopped. His face contorted. Aneirin relaxed his hold and turned away.
She reached out and touched his arm. “How can you what?”
“I can’t look at you. It kills me, Ahnalyn. I can’t look at you! You might not see it, but when I look into your eyes, I see my mother’s soul. I can’t do it. By the Master of Light, I want to kiss you. But I can’t!”
“Aneirin—”
He jerked his arm away and slipped out the back door and into the night.
It had not occurred to her how awkward this might be for Aneirin. Of course he wouldn’t want to kiss the woman he loved with his mother’s soul in her body! Of course he would be resentful toward her for leaving Gorlassar because of her stupid, headstrong willfulness. Naturally, Aneirin never thought to ask how she might feel about this. Having another spirit in her body was certainly difficult and downright exhausting! Aneirin could have been more understanding. Circumstances had to be accepted as they were. Aneirin would have to come around to it.
Catrin came back into the room with her usual graceful air.
“You left on purpose,” Ahnalyn said.
“I knew he had thoughts brewing. I knew now was the right time.”
“But what did that accomplish? That was terrible.” Ahnalyn exclaimed.
“The truth needed to be told so he coul
d move on with the mourning. Give him time, Ahnalyn. He still loves you. He’ll move past this.” Catrin started putting clothes in the bureau.
Ahnalyn shook her head. “How are you?”
“As well as one could expect. How are you?”
“Life is crazy.” Ahnalyn sighed.
Catrin came over and hugged her, stroking Ahnalyn’s hair. “I know, I know.”
***
Ahnalyn’s days as acting High Emrys were spent in many councils. Having Meinwen in her thoughts was mentally taxing, but her added light gave Ahnalyn strength to overcome it. She shuddered to think what it must be like to not have your own body and feel the world around you. Surely Meinwen must realize it would be years until Ahnalyn could give her a new body. Bearing another child into this world was the farthest thought from her mind.
Einion stayed with Ahnalyn during the day with Laney’s assistance. Ahnalyn found much joy in holding her son. She still pondered the words Taliesin had left with her. However grand Einion’s future might be, he was hers, and he was safe.
Little Einion was filling out and growing longer. The hair on his head stayed as dark and curly as ever. The emrys who were so reluctant to bring Niawen back to Gorlassar welcomed her grandson with open arms, remarking how he carried her strong will and spirit.
The slightest bit of envy grabbed Ahnalyn. Her son would grow up knowing his heritage, whereas Ahnalyn had to suffer through trial to learn the truth.
At night Ahnalyn came home to the cottage at the edge of the wood with the help of Seren. Their bond had become much stronger. Seren became a close confidant, as had Catrin. They were the circle of friendship and love Ahnalyn most desired her whole life since the death of her mother. Catrin grew used to the idea of her mother’s spirit inside Ahnalyn. Often she asked questions and shared thoughts just for Meinwen, and Ahnalyn gave the answers in return. They were a family. Ahnalyn had no hole or ache left in her heart, which was so full it might burst.
