by Lisa Rector
Catrin sighed. “Einion, I don’t want to go through this. Let’s see how we feel about each other later.”
“Do you resent coming to Talfryn with me? Do you resent the time you’ve spent away from Gorlassar?”
“I could never resent the time I spent with you no matter how much you tormented me.”
Einion rubbed the back of his head and looked down, feeling guilty. “You knew I was doing that on purpose.”
Catrin sighed again and shrugged. “Yes, but I didn’t care. This whole situation is my own fault. I couldn’t tear myself away from you. As it is, I have only tonight alone with you. Remember what I said in Talfryn. We need to do things on our own. You need to discover your own way and learn your own heart.”
“Then why are you dragging it through the mud tonight? Do you have any idea what this—what seeing you is doing to me?”
“The same thing it’s doing to me. Accept tonight for what it is.”
“And what’s that?”
“Time.”
Einion squeezed his fists together and tensed. His vision blurred around the edges, and his mouth became dry. “Everyone knows how ridiculous we are. Bent on torturing ourselves. Why are we doing this?”
Catrin placed her hand on Einion’s shoulder and trailed it down over his heart. “I’m the ridiculous one. The one they all whisper about. I’m sorry we’re not on even ground with our feelings.”
He felt a tug on his light in his heart-center. He laid his hand over her hand, pressed it harder to his chest, and took a deep breath. “Don’t try to fix me. Leave me with my hurt. You don’t need to bear it.”
She pressed her lips together. Catrin was skilled in the art of healing, able to heal any physical malady and many emotional ones. She could take his distress away if he let her, but she had her own to deal with.
“I’m addicted—addicted to Einion.” Catrin smiled up at him, but the curl of her lip revealed ache. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you tonight.”
“No, I wanted you to bother me. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway, and you wanted to ask me about Rhianu. Do you feel better about everything?”
Catrin shook her head. Einion tugged at a lock framing her face, but when she rolled her shoulder away, he grabbed her hand. “I wanted tonight with you.”
Her shoulders sagged in defeat, but a mischievous aura filled her. Prying her fingers out of Einion’s hand, she challenged him with her eyes and took off running.
“You were never any good at tag. I was always the faster one!” Einion dashed after her.
Soon they were racing along the garden path like two children, laughing, forgetting their former quarrel.
Peace sifted up through him from Catrin’s presence. Einion would soak it up until she was gone. Even Catrin relaxed with his touch, and he tried to forget about his coronation.
They ended up in the cooling grass under the droopy, low-hanging branches of a weeping cherry. Almost touching the ground, the branches formed a secret grove similar to the one where, as a boy, Einion would sit with Catrin, and they would talk and tell stories for many hours.
Einion lay on his back with his hands behind his head and looked up at the blossoms in the dark. Catrin leaned against the smooth bark of the trunk. This would be a long night, and given his prior late night, Einion knew he wouldn’t last. He suppressed a yawn, and Catrin poked him in the ribs.
“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” she said.
“Right. You talk. I’m exhausted. I give you permission to poke me in the ribs a few more times.” His eyelids grew heavy. Drat. Any minute now. He focused on Catrin’s voice. “Tell me a story, Cat.” He just wanted to hear her speak.
So Catrin talked. Einion didn’t feel a nudge in his ribs while he drifted off. Catrin’s voice was the heavy morning dew, coating the blades of grass and the closed buds of flowers—small wet drops on his skin that would evaporate with the coming of the shining sun. Just tonight. He felt fingers running through his hair, fingers tracing the curve of his cheek and jawline, fingers lighting over his lips. Einion tried to bring himself out of unconsciousness, but it was for naught.
***
Someone cleared his throat in a constant stream of “Ahem, Your Majesty, ahem.”
Einion rubbed his eyes, clearing his cloudy vision, and forced them open. The morning’s chill flecked his skin with gooseflesh while his eyes gradually focused on the flowers in the tree overhead. A heavy weight on his abdomen moved up and down with his breathing. Catrin had used him as a pillow and lay perpendicular to his body with her hand clasped in his. He reached his free hand down and touched her hair.
“Ahem, Your Majesty.”
With his voice dry from sleep, Einion spoke scarcely louder than a whisper. “Yes.”
“You have a visitor who arrived in the middle of the night. She was anxious to see you but said not to wake you until daybreak. She’s ready for you now.”
Einion lifted his head and looked toward the palace. The tree was in the way, but he didn’t need to see through the tree, he just wanted to find the light. Unmistakable, this light shone far brighter than all the lights combined in the palace. Meinwen.
“Catrin! Wake up!” He nudged her and rolled out from under her. Catrin woke from the sudden movement, and her head hit the ground.
“Ouch, what was that for? Good morning to you too!” she said, while rubbing her head.
One word would have her on her feet. “Meinwen!”
They emerged from the tree. The messenger stood there holding two glasses of water. Einion and Catrin took them without a word and gulped them down greedily. Catrin straightened her hair, and she reached out to arrange Einion’s curls.
“That will have to do,” she said after raking his haphazard strands.
Not wasting any more time, Einion grabbed Catrin’s hand, and they made a mad dash to the palace. The gravel crunched underfoot, and the fresh dew glimmered. The morning was early. Meinwen did not let them sleep late.
They ran in through the rear entrance from the gardens, past guards and attendants all at work. They didn’t need to be told where the young High Emrys was. They followed her light. Einion and Catrin stopped running right before they reached the double doors to the parlor and adjusted their clothes before entering hand in hand. Einion tried to maintain his excitement.
Meinwen stood in the middle of the room. Lord Ithel, her intended, was next to her, and Einion’s parents were there too.
Silver-blonde hair hung to Meinwen’s waist, twisted in loose braids. A silver circlet with delicate green gems graced her brow. Her green eyes flashed at Einion, and her thin lips spread into a broad smile. Her creamy cheeks were still girlishly round and pale pink. A tiny, scooping nose wrinkled when she smiled. Meinwen wore a velvet dress in the exact same new green grass color as her dragon stone. The dress’s rounded neckline showed off her stone, rimmed in silver and attached to a chain.
Einion couldn’t hold his patience in anymore. A long year had passed since he’d seen her. He dropped Catrin’s hand and ran to Meinwen. He was the only one ever to greet her in such a manner, besides Lord Ithel. Meinwen met him at his run and threw herself into his arms.
“Sister! What a surprise! I didn’t know you were coming to my coronation.” He spun her around. This was a marvelous surprise. The High Emrys leaving the dragon realm—how had Lord Ithel been persuaded to allow this?
“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” Meinwen asked, her words mild and sweet.
Einion set her down and touched his forehead to hers. His emotions churned on themselves. Overwhelmed at seeing his sister, Einion fought the tears, blinking his eyes before cradling her cheeks between his palms. “I think you’ve grown taller. You’re filling out.” His voice clearly trembled.
Meinwen laced love and confidence up his veins, and Einion appreciated the support. He tickled her under the ribs in reply, and Meinwen squirmed away, laughing.
Catrin gave her an equally enth
usiastic hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Mother, it’s a pleasure to see you.” She touched Meinwen’s forehead in the same manner as Einion.
Einion grasped Lord Ithel’s arm in greeting. “My lord, how did she ever persuade you to let her come?”
Ithel’s silver dragon stone gleamed with a metallic sheen. He grinned. “Meinwen implied it could be an early wedding present.”
“Though he did not allow me to bring my dragon. We flew together on Glyndwr, and he enlisted an escort of half a dozen riders. Absurd if you ask me.” Meinwen took Ithel by the arm.
Einion greeted his parents, and the group talked while waiting for breakfast to be announced. King Kelyn entered and, after greetings, informed Einion that the lords were arriving from the provinces this afternoon. A council with the nine lords and current regent would precede a formal dinner this evening. Tomorrow’s coronation would be at high noon, followed by a celebration feast. Einion would have this morning to visit with his family. The events were all happening too fast, even though Einion had years to prepare for them. A nervous flutter turned his stomach.
Meinwen walked over and grabbed his hand. She spoke in a low voice so only he could hear, “Brother, dear, you’re ready. You were born for this. Your father was a noble and courageous man, and I feel that in you. Lay your doubts aside.” Her hand came to his heart. “It’s what’s in here. You’re a son of a valiant bloodline. You might not be able to feel it, but I can sense the royal heritage of your people, even those of your ancestry yet across the sea. Your great-great-grandfather was one of the chosen to come to this land, and now you’re partnering with the emrys and protecting the purity of the region. The combining of our two bloodlines was no mistake.”
“How do you know all this?” Einion asked.
“I feel it as a part of my very being. I didn’t feel it in the realm of the immortals, but once I entered here, the power of the histories flowed into my soul as a story unfolding before my mind. It comes with my years. Lord Ithel could tell you much the same. He sensed it as well upon his first time here. The abilities one acquires through centuries of wielding the gift of light become unveiled the more you use them.” Meinwen gave her brother a kiss on the cheek.
Einion returned the kiss. Her many years indeed. Meinwen’s story was unusual. Spiritually, she was the oldest emrys in the realm, created by the Master of Light to be guardian of the last dragon, Blodeuyn. The bloodline of the emrys stemmed from her and Lord Ithel. They had been married, but Meinwen gave her life in the War Between the Realms to save the mortals.
Upon her death, Meinwen’s spirit entered Einion’s mother to wait safely for rebirth. After Aneirin and Ahnalyn’s union, Ahnalyn gave birth to Meinwen. His mother had known the exact moment that Meinwen’s spirit entered the body forming in her womb. This was why Einion called Meinwen sister. He could equally call her stepgrandmother because, spiritually, Meinwen retained all her years of knowledge and wisdom, but Einion preferred sister. They grew up together, Einion as the older, protective brother.
When she turned sixteen earlier this year, she resumed her calling as High Emrys. Lord Ithel had been a patient man as he watched his beloved grow to a woman, and he would soon be rewarded with the renewal of their wedding vows in two years. The whole series of events from Meinwen’s death to rebirth explained why her arrival was so incredible. The emrys revered her life as the High Emrys—their spiritual leader, so they kept her in the dragon realm, safe, and away from evil. And quite frankly, Lord Ithel refused to part with Meinwen in such a way again.
***
The company moved from the parlor to the adjoining breakfast room, where several other guests joined them. The entire company of about twenty people consisted of Einion’s family and the other emrys who had come with Lord Ithel.
Rhianu entered the room as guests scooted their chairs into place around the massive circular table. Einion had not forgotten about her, and he watched as she scanned the room, looking uncomfortable, before slipping into the seat next to the regent’s daughter, Ellena.
Einion smiled at Rhianu and winked. Her face brightened, but she didn’t relax until the regent’s daughter engaged her in conversation.
Sitting on his right, Meinwen turned to Einion. Apparently the wink had not escaped her notice.
“Who’s the stunning half-emrys sitting across the table?” Meinwen asked. “She’s a rarity.”
That statement might have had to do with Rhianu’s hair color. She was clearly half-emryn, a fact Meinwen wouldn’t miss either. The third half-emrys—among a potential sea of others. Einion remembered his resolve to broach this topic of the emrys beyond the wilderness with the high council.
Einion told the tale of their meeting—the thunderstorm and the daring catch Trahaearn and he made—but to only those within earshot. Catrin listened, hearing the full story for the first time. Meinwen listened attentively, nodding her head at all the right pauses, but her face remained impassive. If she had an opinion on the girl, she didn’t share it. The High Emrys was the type to take in the situation and ponder it before passing judgment, but her lack of reaction was more than that. She was magnanimous. Catrin, on the other hand—Einion could feel the judgment rolling off her.
He looked across the table at the woman whose lips he wanted to kiss the other day, and he looked at Catrin and at Meinwen. Women are trouble.
Sighing inwardly, Einion brought his water goblet to his mouth.
Rhianu was a mystery to solve. If only she could recover her memories. Just another item on Einion’s list to address. He would speak to Meinwen later.
Einion tipped his goblet back.
Ah, yes. Women. Remind me to get one of those sometime, Trahaearn bellowed.
Water trickled into Einion’s trachea, and coughs racked his chest. As his eyes filled with tears, he clapped his hands against his sternum, encouraging the water out. He glanced up in time to see Rhianu’s large worried eyes, and white-knuckled fingers clutching her goblet. Despite his coughing, Einion felt pleased with her concern.
Women… Trahaearn laughed.
***
Einion noticed Rhianu slip away in a rapid retreat down the palace halls as the family moved back into the parlor. He promised himself he would seek her out before the afternoon became too busy. She must be terribly alone and confused.
“Mind if I borrow Meinwen?” Seizing the opportunity to talk to her about Rhianu’s memory, Einion smiled down at her sitting on a settee with Lord Ithel.
“Not at all, my son.” Lord Ithel helped Meinwen to her feet, and Einion took her arm.
Einion thought they should walk in private, so they exited the parlor onto a covered walk under a second-story overhang.
“I know what you’re going to ask,” Meinwen said.
“Is there a chance you can help her?”
“Not with her memories. I feel evil at work there. Time will heal her.”
“I sense the darkness that dwells in her mind, but I don’t understand the enormity of this evil. When Aerona tried to return her memories, something blocked the transference.” This more than concerned Einion. What evil had been in Rhianu’s life before she came to him? What horrible deeds had she been forced to do as a captive? What blocked her memories now, and why?
“Einion, there’s much you don’t know about this girl. Much of her history is hidden. I fear that what she has told you has not been all truth.” Meinwen said this as a caution.
“I have only what her dragon told me, though I realized this as well.”
“Brother, tread carefully. I can sense your fondness for the girl. Don’t think that Catrin has missed it either.”
Humph… Catrin, Trahaearn grumbled.
Einion tensed. “Why must everyone always be concerned about Catrin and me? You know our situation. We do not belong to each other!”
“Einion, I meant only that you’re already becoming attached to the girl, and people have noticed. What are your intentions with her?”
He stopped a
nd looked into the gardens before turning back to his sister. Of course everyone would notice. He hadn’t realized that an attachment had formed. He was just being himself, being a friend. “Meinwen, you know what I intend.”
“Ah, my dear brother, you could never let a sparrow fall from a tree without healing its wing. You have much to concern you at this time. Don’t let this sparrow, I dare say, distract you from your life’s purpose.”
“Don’t worry, Meinwen, you know me.”
“That’s what I’m worried about, dear brother.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
FUEL TO THE FIRE
Rhianu picked up an ancient, musty-smelling book from the shelf, casually flipping the pages but not reading any of the words. After placing the book back on the shelf, she moved to the desk. A few candlesticks and an inkwell with quills sat on the surface, nestled among papers laid neatly in several piles. Rhianu ran her fingers over the polished wood. She found this library after escaping breakfast, feeling as though she should lie low until after the coronation. Spending as much time as possible away from Einion’s family seemed like the best idea. She didn’t have anything to say to all the prying eyes and curious faces.
When the distractions are gone and Einion is made king, you can set your plan into motion.
Aerona, what am I doing? I don’t belong here. I don’t remember what I’m supposed to do. Why was I sent on this mission, placing myself in the path of this man, just to lose my memories? What of all this? I’m supposed to have Einion take me to the entrance to Gorlassar. Have you seen the way he looks at Catrin? He obviously has an attachment to her. How can I move past that? How can I get him to place his trust in me?
The Rhianu I know would not question herself. You could do anything you desired. People shook before your presence. You were unstoppable. Think of this as one of the trials the Dark Master has given you.
I can’t remember anything of the Dark Master. If I were his precious vessel, he would find a way to restore my memories. You say he talked to me? I’ve not heard anything from him. He has left me alone. Alone!
