by Lisa Rector
Exactly. Look into your heart-center. What do you feel?
Heaviness. So bracingly cold.
The darkness taking form, Trahaearn said.
You’re absolutely right. Aneirin warned me about the dark energy that can press in at times. He said it’s stronger in the mortal realms, and I’d be more susceptible to it than an emrys—because I’m a half-emrys.
You’ll have to be careful.
You don’t need to tell me twice. Einion pushed away his negative thoughts and imagined his light glowing and shining beneath his skin. He wanted to feel lighter and free, especially with his coronation looming over him. Light and free. Energized and filled—the way he always felt in Gorlassar.
As the pricking emotions eased, Einion knew he’d be able to face the day. He should practice pulling a small amount of control to the front of his mind regularly.
Good idea, Trahaearn said.
I’m full of them. Trahaearn, can you be here by the time we’re finished breakfast?
Yes. See you soon.
Ducking under the low doorway, Einion entered the hut. Emlyn was up and moving around, just as Einion guessed.
“Einion, my dear, will you assist me in the kitchen?” Emlyn stuck a frying pan into his hands.
He smiled. Emlyn loved using his ability to bake food, boil water, iron clothes—whatever was Emlyn’s whim—when he visited. The process was faster than lighting a fire and waiting for the pan to warm. Einion sat on a stool before the stove and grabbed the pan’s handle. Heat multiplied in his palms, transferring to the cold metal.
Emlyn had not stopped gabbing. “You’re up early for such a late night. What did you and Rhianu talk about? She’s very pretty. Where’d you say she gets that red hair from?”
Einion laughed. “I didn’t say. I don’t know. We talked about all sorts of things. Mostly I talked. Rhianu hasn’t much to tell that she can remember.”
Emlyn tapped her wooden spoon on the edge of the pan and threw in a pat of butter, which immediately sizzled. “Oh, the poor dear. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose your memories. The stories I would miss telling. What happened to Catrin, darling? Is she all right?”
“She’s in Terrin with Mother and Father for the coronation.”
Her wrinkled hand smoothed over Einion’s forearm, making the hairs stand. “Do you mind throwing the sausages in?”
Einion reached for the string of sausages on the counter and added four to the skillet. Emlyn pushed them around with her spoon.
“I like Catrin. I hope she comes by again,” Emlyn said. “But Rhianu is exotic, like an apparition from the sea. I like her, strangely enough. You can bring her again too.”
A snicker slipped from Einion. “Very well, Emlyn.”
They laid breakfast on the table before they woke the others. Emlyn prodded Hadyn with the same wooden spoon she used to turn the sausages. When a gentle poke was to no avail, she whipped the covers off and clapped him on the bottom. “Get up, you lazy chipmunk!”
The commotion woke Rhianu, who sat up, startled. Her gaze traveled from Emlyn and Hadyn goofing in the corner to Einion leaning over the table reaching for a cup to fill with cider. Their eyes locked. Einion winked at her and didn’t bother to hide his grin from the amusements going on while Emlyn and Hadyn scuffled.
Rhianu tripped to the table with a flustered look on her face. “I’m sorry I slept so long. You should have woken me, and I could have helped with breakfast.” She reached up to smooth her hair. Her eyes widened when she touched the bumps and misplaced locks.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Einion whispered to her.
Emlyn and Hadyn made it to the table after much carrying on and pulled their chairs out with a loud scraping noise.
Einion pulled a chair out for Rhianu. He slipped his hand past hers, still fussing with stray locks, and tucked a loose wisp behind her ear. “You look wonderful.”
Her cheeks turned a faint rosy color, matching her lips.
***
Trahaearn and Aerona circled in the sky until Einion and Rhianu finished breakfast. Before long the two dragons and their riders flew over the Great Ridge—the mountain range that split the land into the east and west and separated Rolant from Terrin.
Einion knew the country from his prior visits and excursions with Trahaearn. On the other side of the Great Ridge, the massive, enchanted trees reached high in the sky, providing homes to another clan of Eilian. Passing them, the dragons and their riders traveled on to the rolling hills of Einion’s country—Terrin.
They followed the main highway over modest villages, past herds of sheep and goats grazing in rocky pastures, and around little groves. With his dragon eyesight, Einion saw the mountain ranges to the north and south surrounding the large valley. The river curved through the valley until it opened into an enormous blue lake. Hyledd had been built at the crook of the river, where it spewed forth from the lake.
Einion pointed out his city, not that Rhianu would miss it. Hyledd shone in the subdued colors of twilight with the brightly lit palace on the highest hill. The rest of the city fanned outward from the palace, in wide streets paved with white stones. Slate rooftops covered whitewashed houses. A sprawling wall protected the south side of the city, and the north side nestled against the docks where trade ships came up the river to make port.
He would have liked to say he was flying home, but he was not. Hyledd might have been his parent’s home at one time, but Einion had been here only on visits, to learn the ways of his kingdom and to meet his subjects. Gorlassar was his true home, and deep homesickness pitted his stomach. His mother and father would not be living here with him in Hyledd. They had other duties that would keep them away in the dragon realm.
He had hoped Catrin would stay here with him. She followed him to Talfryn, so he assumed she was going to follow him here, but not after their parting. He was no longer sure what Catrin wanted.
Einion sighed. Catrin. Thoughts of her grieved him. She was here for the coronation and would leave afterward. He grew nervous to see her one final time. Would feelings be different between them? Would she change her mind? When she left, something inside broke, leaving him hollow. We are each other’s security. His security. From what? And Einion knew—knew what he most feared. The darkness. She was his security from the darkness. She held him together. Catrin was his light in his dark places. He would fail in his duties as king and come unhinged without her.
Have more faith in yourself. You’re not utterly alone. I’ll always be here for you, Trahaearn said. On a different note, way to make a dragon feel worthless.
Einion frowned. Sorry, I’m rather heavy on the black despondency tonight.
I think the past few days have been distressing for you. Ride out your coronation. The worst will be over soon.
As they flew into the city, Einion distinguished the pinpoints of light that were his family, friends, and other emrys waiting for him and preparing for his coronation.
They landed in the center courtyard dimly lit by fire baskets burning around the edges. Having discerned his approach, many emrys were there to greet him. Several of them held curious looks for the olive dragon and her red-haired rider. Einion braced himself for the questions that would come. Right away jealousy seethed from—who he could expect—Catrin. Instead of a friendly greeting for Einion, she held a glare for Rhianu.
Einion leapt down, playfully rubbing Trahaearn’s snout when he passed. Before Catrin swarmed him, he made sure to give his father and mother an embrace. He touched his forehead to each of them in the formal greeting while their love swept through him. Einion held on to his mother’s fingertips before pulling away. His mother would always be the most beautiful woman in his life. She was a unique emrys. Her hair was not one of the countless shades of blonde every immortal possessed, but rather brown with silver highlights, not because of aging, but because she received those streaks when she transitioned from a half-emrys to an Emrys of Light.
His adoptive
father Aneirin had raised Einion ever since his birth. Aneirin’s long, silver-blond hair and dark blond eyebrows were constantly furrowed in speculation. He furrowed them now. Einion had an inkling why. Catrin was Aneirin’s sister. Though older than her brother by several hundred years, Catrin was close to him. Aneirin could not have missed her reaction to Rhianu.
No one could have.
Catrin came up to him, dressed in a silken, pale green dress, which flowed around her while she walked. Always the vision, she didn’t have to work hard to make men’s jaws drop. Her large almond-shaped eyes gleamed with a different emotion, making her easy for emrys to read. Petite in shape, a whole head shorter than Einion, and fluid in motion, she tilted his forehead to hers, holding him steady with her fingertips.
“I can see my absence has already been too much,” she whispered. Her lips barely touched Einion’s cheek, and with it came a subtle, simmering electricity. He had better file her claws before they came out.
Catrin broke away from him but didn’t leave his side. Why does she have to greet me like this and stir up emotion?
You’re asking the wrong dragon.
So much for the break. Could she turn on the intensity any hotter?
He nodded to several others who were there and grasped forearms with the regent and King Kelyn.
Einion looked over at Rhianu, who had cowered up to Aerona and absentmindedly rubbed her scaly cheek. He grabbed her elbow, pulling her toward everyone to make introductions.
“Mother, Father, Catrin. This is Rhianu. Trahaearn and I saved her from an accident in Rolant. She lost her memory, but her dragon, Aerona, has been able to fill us in on some of her past. She’s my guest in Hyledd until her memory returns.”
His mother stepped forward. “Welcome, dear.” She held Rhianu by the arms and kissed her kindly on the cheek. Rhianu’s face reddened, barely distinguishable beneath her dark skin, but Einion didn’t miss it.
Catrin’s eyes bored into his head.
His fingers carefully brushed against the arm that hung casually by her side. She might have been feigning calm to hide her curiosity, but Catrin wasn’t any better at concealing her feelings than Einion. He sent her a quick feeling of tranquility, encouraging her to keep composure so her emotions weren’t obvious to every emrys here.
Control. Control your emotions. Einion told himself this for his own benefit, even if the mental plea was for Catrin as well. After their parting, seeing Catrin again set his skin on fire.
It’s because she’s forbidden now. You swore a break from each other, Trahaearn said, sitting on his haunches.
Why does forbidden make things much more desirable? Look at her. Catrin can hardly contain herself! I don’t know if she’ll run away screaming because of the tension or start a duel with Rhianu.
Trahaearn chuckled, and several mortal people stared at him even if they were oblivious to the joke. The emrys didn’t flinch. They were accustomed to silent conversations going on between riders and their dragons.
Einion addressed the reception of people. “We’ve been flying all day and are exhausted. I’d like a quick meal and a warm bed. Err”—he corrected himself when Catrin’s brow lifted—“and a chamber for our guest.” Rhianu would want to be under cover of a private room, away from leering eyes.
That was awkward, Einion. Too awkward, Trahaearn said.
“Certainly, dearest,” Ahnalyn said.
The group ushered them inside and into the dining hall. A small but filling meal was served, during which Catrin eyed him the whole time. Polite talk ensued with conversation eventually turning to the coronation plans.
Einion waved them off. “Tomorrow. Let’s talk about that tomorrow.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STEALING TIME
Einion paced alone in his chambers. He had seen that Rhianu was settled in a comfortable room in the palace wing opposite his. Catrin slept where she always had, in the room across the hall, and had always done so on visits. She was never far away while growing up. His parents had their own chambers at the end of the hall.
The palace slipped into stillness. People lay down next to loved ones and drifted off to sleep. Einion moved onto his balcony and looked down on the gardens. The air carried with it the scent of salty seawater, and moonlight glistened on the hedges and bulbous spring-blooming flowers. Many flowers bloomed before their season due to a talent of the emrys to coax flowers out before their time.
Though exhausted, Einion’s mind was not at rest.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the first time he realized Catrin loved him. He was sixteen and entering his second year at the university. Einion had grown several inches over the past summer, and his chest and shoulders had broadened into those of a man. He should have realized. How could he have been so blind? No one gave him any warning, not even his parents, who would have sensed Catrin’s feelings for him. Einion was too preoccupied with life, and when the realization hit—it hit hard.
Part of his schooling as an emrys was to learn how to control his light and discern the light and emotions of others. He practiced with his mother and stepfather, even with his half-sister Meinwen, who was five years younger. Einion was becoming moderately proficient. He sensed how much his father and mother loved him. He felt the fear and exhilaration of young Dragon Riders on their first flight—much the way Einion felt on his first flight. Meinwen, as future High Emrys, carried the most light of any immortal in the realm. Her impatience grew while she waited for her physical body to catch up with her spirit, which was thousands of years old. All this he could sense—Deian created the emrys this way, and feelings could not be hidden from one another.
Catrin came home one evening after being on the training grounds. Einion walked out to meet her as she came from the meadow after checking on her beehives. Time slowed while Catrin turned, and her face lit up when their eyes met.
Einion stopped short. He sensed it, and he saw it. Catrin’s love was not the love of a close friend, stepaunt, or sister but the love of a woman for a man. Sudden heat burned through Einion. When did this happen? How did he never notice this? He saw how glorious Catrin was, for the first time, with the setting sun bouncing its rays off her golden hair and the bees lazily buzzing around her head as they headed into their hives for the night.
Einion turned around and ran.
How silly and bizarre he felt! Catrin was his dearest friend. She practically raised him from infancy. They never expressed romantic feelings for each other. Einion spent several days dodging Catrin, but he couldn’t take being away from her. He decided he would ignore the feelings rolling off Catrin, but their relationship had never been the same. He was a grown man, and she was a woman. He couldn’t help but notice she was a woman. Everything she did and every look taunted him and teased him. What was worse, Einion knew she understood his feelings, and everyone else did too. So the game began—a game that proved lately to annoy both of them.
Space was exactly what they needed though he hated to admit—no—it gut wrenchingly pained him to admit it.
Einion’s eyes flew open. Catrin was close. He could feel her. He scanned the garden, and his eyes rested on a light that would soon emerge around the hedge. It was indeed Catrin. Unlike the night she left Cynwrig, she didn’t glow outwardly, but he could sense her inner radiance. Einion recognized her glow over that of any other emrys because he was so familiar with her energy.
She was waiting for him.
So much for space. He exhaled and closed his eyes. What was she doing? Trying to unnerve him? Who was he kidding? She was like breath to him. He shook his head and rolled his neck around, cracking it. Deian, it seems I am determined to punish myself.
His hands found the edge of the balcony, and he swung his legs over, dropping the two-story height to the ground as if dropping mere feet. Einion landed in a crouch on the gravel. Before he stood, Catrin loomed over him.
“Einion.” She smiled down at him.
“Catrin.” He stood and leaned in to kiss
her on the cheek. “Miss me much?” he whispered before his lips met her smooth skin.
She allowed the kiss, but Einion noticed an icy apprehension.
“Catrin, I know what you’re thinking. Relax.”
“I’m not concerned with some brazen, red-haired savage,” Catrin said.
“Cat, that’s harsh. You might as well be calling me a savage.”
“You grew up in Gorlassar. Deian only knows where she grew up.”
“You don’t know her. I’m doing what’s right. A Dark Emrys held her captive. You can’t have expected me to leave her where I found her, not knowing her own name.”
“She has her dragon, Einion. She would’ve been fine.”
“Why does it bother you anyway?” He flicked her earlobe.
Catrin grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm back, stepping closer. “It doesn’t.”
Her lilac scent filled his nostrils. Einion shook her grip off. “You were never good at lying.”
“Neither were you. I have such a limited time with you until I head back to Gorlassar, but I meant what I said. Cerys has plans to lay an egg. I won’t leave while she’s brooding.”
Einion inhaled a deep breath through his nose. “Fine, I understand. I’ve resigned myself to your stubbornness. When her egg’s hatched, I don’t suppose you plan on coming back here.” Will everything change after this? When Catrin leaves, will life ever be the same?
Catrin turned away and tucked her chin to her shoulder. “Einion, I don’t know. Cerys still won’t be able to leave the realm for a while. You can’t ask me to leave Cerys with a new hatchling, and I won’t leave Gorlassar without her.”
“You knew this when you came to Talfryn. You knew you’d go back to Gorlassar and leave me.”
“What did you expect? Our destinies are in different places. You’re to be King of Terrin. My home is in Gorlassar. It is my home.” Her eyebrows tweaked together with those last words, creasing her otherwise smooth face.
“You could come back after the dragonling is older. Trahaearn could fly you back and forth. Cerys doesn’t have to leave.”
