by Lisa Rector
She flushed. “Yes, fine. I didn’t mean to be disgruntled. We should go. The morning is already late.”
Meuric smiled at her. “I know how you abhor wasting time.”
They shouldered their packs after eating a hot breakfast. Meuric held Catrin’s hand, and her world darkened. They appeared in the same part of the pass they’d left. Too bad Meuric didn’t have a connection to Gorlassar so he could ether jump them there and they’d be done with this.
Catrin sniffed the air. Smelled like wet rock—earthy. The rain fell in a sheet around them, and Catrin projected her light’s shield over their heads. “I don’t feel that same foreboding. Is he gone?”
“It seems he is. I won’t use my dark matter and hopefully that will keep his presence away,” Meuric replied.
Catrin scraped her boot over a rock. “Where could he have gone?”
“Well… and that’s just it. In our time, Cysgod dwells in only one place—in the prison under the volcanic mountain. We do not know where his abode is on this plane of existence.”
“Carry no evil thoughts and use no evil magic.”
Meuric shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“Let’s speak no more of this, Meuric. Doing so might invite his presence back.”
They walked in silence through the pouring rain.
***
Catrin didn’t touch Meuric for the rest of the day. He stayed dry under her shield. The trail sloped upward as the mountain grew around them. They were deep into the gap.
Four more days of this monotony.
Catrin craved light, more than the orb hanging over her. The gloom and the rain were oppressive.
She thought about the whispered secret Beli had shared with her. At the time, she thought he was teasing her. Because of their lighthearted natures, tegyds often teased when they weren’t speaking in riddles. But Beli had spoken the secret as a riddle.
The melding of your hearts is the key to bringing you home.
She didn’t know what to make of his soothsaying.
Catrin turned around and regarded Meuric. He stopped so he didn’t run into her. Our hearts are supposed to meld together? She couldn’t imagine.
In Gorlassar when two emrys wed, a special ceremony took place. The lights of the two emrys bound together, sealing their souls for eternity. The union was permanent. Catrin gulped. She hoped that wasn’t what Beli meant. If she bound herself to Meuric, she’d never be rid of him.
“Are you well?” Meuric asked.
“We should stop for the night. I’m not sure what time it is because the clouds mask the stars, but I’m exhausted.”
“Is the effort of holding your shield over both of us too much? I’m worthless.” He grinned, showing his crooked tooth.
“I’m grateful for your companionship. I wouldn’t say you’re completely worthless.” Surprisingly, that was the truth. She smiled at him.
Meuric laughed heartily. “Truly, Catrin? I can hardly believe what my ears are hearing.”
She sighed. “Don’t let it go to your head.” The tragic image of Arya played through her mind. Meuric was a more broken man than his outward appearances showed. Catrin frowned. Sympathy filled her heart.
With nothing more than the stone ground of the mountain pass and the steep sloping sides, this was as good a place as any to camp for the night. They selected a spot wide enough for two people to sleep side-by-side and unrolled their blankets. The rain poured around them, but thanks to Catrin’s shield, they stayed dry.
Meuric slid between his blankets and took out a piece of bread and cheese. Catrin sat on her blanket and pulled her light securely around them, making the bubble as small as possible to conserve her energy. The shield wouldn’t be hard to keep up overnight; she had done this before, but she wouldn’t wake feeling fully refreshed. She might fare better if she didn’t have such nagging dread in her heart. Light was stronger with positive feelings.
Meuric finished eating, and he pulled his hood over his knit cap and wrapped his cloak tightly around his body. He fussed with his woolen blanket and curled into a ball. On this cold spring night, Meuric would freeze without a fire.
Why did he insist on being stubborn?
Meuric mumbled from under his blanket. “I thought you were tired. Are you going to lie down?” His hulking mass tremored.
“In a minute.” Catrin toyed with an idea. She had warmed him countless times in the ocean and when they arrived drenched at Dewydd’s hut. She could do it again, or if he suffered through one night, his discomforts might be enough to convince him to use his long-denied power. Catrin had helped him in the first place because anyone in agony pulled at her heartstrings. A thought nagged at her. I didn’t want to be alone either.
Catrin picked at the wool blanket and fluffed up her lumpy pack to use as a pillow. She took off her cloak and carefully laid it over Meuric before she scrunched down into her blankets.
Meuric murmured something, which might have been thanks.
With the impossibly hard ground, she might as well give Meuric her bedding because it did nothing to make her comfortable.
A certain night she had shared with Einion came into her mind. The night before his coronation. They had spent it outside under the boughs of a weeping cherry tree, on the soft grass. Her head found Einion’s stomach for a pillow, and she fell asleep to the rhythmic up and down of his breathing. That felt ages ago. A pang struck her heart. Einion did not love her. Not if he had given his heart to another.
She’d have to keep telling herself this, or in this world, in this pretend reality in another time, losing herself would be too easy. Already, the days spent traipsing through the forest blended together. Already, Meuric’s biting, blue eyes and olive brown skin made her think she was dreaming—dreaming of a demon cloaked in mystery, hiding a fierce pain. Meuric’s enigmatic charisma, as a constant presence, almost made her forget her fractured heart.
As tired as she was, Catrin couldn’t sleep. Would Meuric have another night terror? At least she’d know what was going on. Though the way Meuric grabbed her had been alarming, she could have handled him, but Beli pulled Meuric away before she reacted. Catrin smiled. Seeing a tegyd angry for the first time had amused her.
Meuric’s breathing became shallow, and his chest moved in a steady rhythm. He fell asleep fast. Catrin turned on her side, facing him. Only Meuric’s nose poked from his woolen cocoon.
Catrin turned onto her back and groaned quietly. She stretched her hands above her head. Raindrops disappeared into the shield overhead, where her light glowed faintly. In her peripheral vision, Meuric’s muscles spasmed. He’d wake up sore from his body’s involuntarily working to keep him warm.
***
Feeling miserable, Catrin woke for the seventh time and shifted positions. Meuric huddled beside her, shivering. The rain slowed considerably and fell in gentle drops around them. Otherwise, the night was eerily silent. Blackness pressed against the canopy of light. She and Meuric were the only ones in the world.
Unable to restrain herself and before she talked herself out of it, Catrin found the edges of Meuric’s blanket and stuck her hand under it. She brushed his arm as she fumbled with his wrapped cloak. Once she found the opening, Catrin followed his arm until she reached his icy hand, which trembled slightly like the rest of his body.
Her fingers pressed open his palm, and she stretched her hand flat against his. Undaunted, Catrin pushed light from her hand into his. His frozen fingertips relaxed as her light moved up his arm and throughout his body.
Meuric sighed as clenched muscles gave way, and he extended his legs. When his hand moved, Catrin slipped their knuckles together to maintain contact.
She could do this. She shouldn’t be selfish and withhold heat from Meuric. Even more remarkable, she didn’t cringe from Meuric’s touch. His darkness no longer made her skin crawl, but rather, her fingers clung to his as a lifeline.
Catrin wanted to change position. With her arm stuck acros
s her body, her shoulder drove into the rocky dirt. She pried her fingers from his, their knuckles briefly catching. Meuric rolled onto his back, and the hood fell from his face.
Leaning up onto her elbow, Catrin peeked closer. Meuric’s lips were slightly parted. She touched his cheek with the slightest pressure. He didn’t respond.
What am I doing? She lifted one of his eyelids and snickered when his eye rolled back. At this rate, Meuric would have to carry her tomorrow. Why can’t I sleep? She dropped Meuric’s eyelid and studied his hat. Dylis did an expert job with the knitting. Each stitch, each line was straight and evenly woven. She had created a masterpiece.
Catrin gently slid her fingertips under the brim. She was going to do what she wanted to that first night on the boat. Meuric’s hair had grown longer, sure, but as her fingers brushed over the ends, she imagined caressing soft velvet. She wiggled his cap back and stroked his hair right above his forehead.
Muttering in his sleep, Meuric twitched his head.
Catrin snatched her hand away and clutched it to her chest. She fought hard to suppress her giggle. After scooting closer to Meuric until their arms touched, she laid her head carefully on his shoulder. When Meuric didn’t show any signs of acknowledgement, Catrin tried her luck further. She turned her body completely against his, positioned her head directly in the middle of his chest, and placed her arm across his stomach. Her head moved with each of his breaths, and his strong heartbeat roared in Catrin’s ear.
She pushed more light into Meuric, thoroughly satisfied with her triumphant sneakiness.
His thick overshirt was softer than her hard pack, and with her body angled against his, Catrin was in a much better sleeping position. She almost could have been curled up, clutching one of her pillows from home—a robust Meuric-sized pillow. So what if Meuric’s muscles were more bulky and firm than Einion’s? So what if she was tangled in blankets with the enemy? Einion and Meuric shared no similarities in attitude, physique, or personality. Catrin wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She was here and Einion was Deian-knows-where. He might not love her, but what would he say to this?
Catrin, this isn’t a game.
I don’t care, Einion. You told me you were done with games.
He’s the enemy. He nearly killed me. Did he tell you that?
I know. I know. But I’m alone. He’s all I have. What would you do?
What else could she do?
Sleep. She could sleep. I’m sorry, Einion. At this point, I don’t care. I just want to go home. I want to know that everyone on the battlefield survived. I want to know you’re safe.
Safe… Her eyelids melted shut. Meuric would protect her. He shocked Catrin when he willingly took her back to the Eilian to lose Cysgod. In that instant, when he touched her hand and whisked her through the ether, she knew—she knew he’d be her guardian.
Secure for the night, Catrin was finally comfortable enough to fall asleep, leaving Einion in her imagination.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
UNTOWARD IMPULSES
Pleasantly toasty, Meuric forced his eyelids open. The rain had stopped, and the bright sky peered through the clouds, faintly gleaming into the gorge. His chest felt heavy, and his left arm tingled. He wiggled his fingers, and pinpricks cramped his palm. His other hand had twined into loops of hair during the night.
Loops of hair?
He knew he wasn’t sleeping with Arya in his arms.
Meuric lifted his head and saw Catrin’s mop of blonde hair. He disentangled his hand faster than a skittish goat.
By the scorching fires of Uffern! What was she doing? What possessed her to lie practically on top of him?
He puffed his chest out, jarring her head. Catrin stirred, and her palm slid up his stomach to his chest. Woman! Panic stirred his blood. The last woman to lie on top of him was Arya. Catrin was not Arya. He wouldn’t have it.
Catrin’s weight increased briefly as she lifted her arms off his body, arching her back in a stretch.
“Catrin!”
Her ample curves pressed into his side. He pushed her shoulder and shoved her off. Catrin rolled onto her back and threw her hands lazily over her face as she yawned.
Meuric scrambled up as fast as his limbs complied. He threw Catrin’s cloak over her face, clumsily balled up his bedroll, and secured it to his pack. He flung the pack over his shoulders and raced in the direction they’d head for the day.
Catrin called after him as he rounded a corner.
While leaning against the rock wall, Meuric pinched the bridge of his nose, steadying his breathing, fearful his anxiety might trigger another lag or a slip into his memories.
Meuric willed his thoughts into the present by focusing on why exactly he felt this way. Catrin was a beautiful woman. He had been with many beautiful women. They couldn’t resist him, and they readily came to his bed. After Mara and Arya died, he swore he’d never attach himself emotionally to another soul. The maidens he brought to his bed were only to temper his lust.
So why the panic?
He slapped his thigh and bent over his knees. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She’s only a woman. A tantalizing, annoying, flesh-and-blood woman.
If she wasn’t the enemy… if she wasn’t an Emrys of Light, he wouldn’t have hesitated.
Inside, an ache surfaced, like magma from the depths of Uffern, and he understood.
I’m becoming attached. I care about her.
Meuric swore and shook his fist at the sky. “Why are you doing this to me?” Every oath he made, every promise to guard his heart from the pain affection caused… frustrated. This was all part of the Dark Master’s game. If Meuric fell in love with someone else, the Dark Master would be sure to rip her from him. What was he to do? How could he protect Catrin… and protect himself?
First, he had to hide this revelation from her. He cast a wall around his heart-center so quick that the action felt like a leaded mace clunking into his heart’s muscle. Meuric doubled over and grunted. Infernal dark energy!
Second, he had to stop caring about her and make sure he didn’t wake up with her lying on top of him again.
Catrin rounded the corner slightly out of breath. “I thought you were long gone. You took off like a frightened horse. Made me nervous. I thought you… maybe… uh, never mind. What were you screaming about?”
Meuric looked up. Catrin was peering into his face.
“You’re sweating. Did I keep you too warm?” She reached out to touch his forehead.
Meuric batted her hand away and gazed downward, muttering, “I had an iron will.”
“What?” Catrin laughed. “What’re you talking about?”
“I’ve been building up walls for a long time, and the Dark Master thinks throwing my efforts in my face is funny.”
“I still don’t understand you. Are you talking about Arya?”
Meuric glared at her. “What do you know about Arya?” How can Catrin possibly know her name?
Catrin covered her mouth as if guarding a great secret. Her brow scrunched, and she mumbled something under her hands.
“Tell me, Catrin.” Meuric squared his shoulders, coming to his full height, and Catrin backed away. At least irritation had quelled his panic.
“The other night you uttered her name. You woke from a night terror. Remember?”
“Not exactly.”
“You were burning with a fever. I healed you.” Catrin’s face turned scarlet.
“What are you not telling me?”
“You suffered from an emotional pain. I absorbed it. I felt it all. I went too far, and I… saw her.”
A muscle in Meuric’s jaw twitched. “I didn’t ask you to heal me. Those memories were not yours to see.” He turned away from her and sulked down the path.
She hurried after him. “Meuric, I’m sorry. Don’t be ashamed by what I saw. If anything, what I saw helps me understand you more.”
He rounded on her, unable to control the ferocity in his voice. “What did you le
arn, Catrin? Do you feel better knowing I’m a wretched mess inside? That I lived for over five hundred years, after the death of the only two women I’ve ever loved, as this pathetic empty man? It’s depressing Catrin. No one should have to feel the way I do.”
“What happened?”
In his anger, Meuric didn’t fail to notice how her lovely green eyes searched his face. Don’t look at me that way. You will not see the real me. It’s hidden from your face. Who was he kidding? She’d already peered into his soul when he promised her he’d never leave. He was doomed, so he plowed on. “I failed them. There! Is that what you want—to know why I don’t use the light, Catrin? There’s your answer. I wasn’t good enough to save them. Their lives slipped through my hands. I was powerless, and they died!”
Catrin grabbed Meuric’s hand, and he pulled away, but she held firm. She tugged on Meuric until he stepped closer. Heavy cares weighed on him, and he stared brokenhearted into the face of his savior ever since this dreaded journey began. Over and over, Catrin saved him from his torment and kept him alive when he was too foolish and headstrong to do this himself. If she were a master, he’d serve her and no other.
Catrin touched both sides of his face and brought their foreheads together. Her hands comforted him, and Meuric closed his eyes.
When she spoke, they snapped open.
Her voice was soft and soothing, much like Mara’s voice when she calmed him during one of his tirades. “I never once thought you were pathetic.”
“Don’t do this.” He placed his hands over hers. Oh, how he wanted to bury her into his chest and tuck his nose into her hair.
It would only lead to ruin.
“Do what?” she whispered.
“Don’t be so kind to me. It hurts.” Meuric pried her hands away and stepped back.
