A lush one caught my eye; the needles were an unearthly, almost-turquoise. Several blue spruces were planted behind Peter’s house and I’d always loved them and the way they stood out from the drabber green of all the other trees. This wreath was large, but plain, and the only adornments were thin branches of holly woven through, stripped of leaves but not the red berries. The bright red against the blue-green gave the wreath a more modern look. I remembered Goodfellow had told me that holly provided protection and enhanced dreams, but I wondered if taking the leaves off had destroyed its power.
“The berries are real,” the woman behind the stall said. “You have to keep them away from any pets though because they’re poisonous, but they’ll keep their color through till January.” On impulse, I decided to buy it, even if it was only decorative and had no magic in it. The woman wrapped the wreath carefully in a white bag tied at the top with some twine. As I carried it back into the mall, I realized that the simple act of buying my very first Christmas decoration made me feel part of the world around me. I didn’t need to hide. I could blend in if I tried.
When Daley finally met me back at the food court an hour later, he was carrying a number of his own bags, including a heavy-looking one with the logo of an electronics store on it. Noticing the plate of fast food Chinese on the tray in front of me, he grimaced. “That stuff’ll kill you. It also looks amazing.”
“Do you want it? I’m full already.” The truth was that food didn’t satisfy me the way it used to; there was no color to it.
“Are you sure?”
I pushed the tray over in response and he began to dig into the noodles and stir-fry. “What did you get?” I asked, but he shrugged and didn’t answer. “I got a wreath for the house.”
Daley stopped chewing and looked at me. “That was nice,” he said finally.
His scrutiny gave me the uncomfortable feeling that I’d done something wrong. “I just thought we should have something. I’ve never bought a wreath before. I hope it’s OK.”
“I’m sure it will be.” He gestured around us with the fork. “You know, we used to come here all the time. I liked Chinese but Ty always went for the pizza.”
I laughed before I realized he was serious. “Sorry. I guess I just thought of you guys with Taliesin all the time, travelling around the world fighting the good fight. I never thought of you as mall rats.”
He reached out and picked up the drink I’d also abandoned. “We were teenagers,” he said between sips, “and I wanted out of that house. I even went to the local high school for a while until all my absences forced Rowan to start home-schooling me. Tynan preferred it that way, but I . . .” He put the drink down. “I used to come here alone sometimes when everyone else thought I was up in my room studying.”
“Why?”
Daley was watching a girl and a boy two tables away. By the way they were giggling and leaning toward each other, they weren’t brother and sister. “I wanted to feel normal. I was the first person in generations to be born with the storm god’s power and the entire community of magic users on earth all had expectations that I would become something important. No one cared what I wanted. I would have given all my power away to just be normal. I would have given my life to bring my mother back, even my step-father.” His eyes were still on the young couple, but he seemed very far away.
I was just about to tell him that I understood, that I was probably the only person who truly understood, when he whispered, “Melusine made me feel normal.”
And there it was again, the wedge that was always between us. “Daley . . .” I started to say, but he stood abruptly and started clearing the remains of the food away. Something in his face told me not to try to continue the discussion as I trailed behind him out of the mall and to the van.
On the short drive back to the compound, Daley was so tense that I couldn’t help wondering which he was regretting more—buying presents for a celebration that was sure to fail without Rowan or slipping up and letting me see behind the hard mask he always wore. As we parked and walked up to the front door, I realized I’d also mistake. I’d intended to hang the wreath on its smooth surface, but had no idea how. I followed Daley inside where we both hesitated awkwardly in the foyer, unsure of how best to end our disastrous outing together. It was how I imagined the end of a date would feel if you weren’t sure whether you were going to be kissed or offered a brotherly hug.
Yeah, just like a date. The worst date ever.
Daley put his bags down and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I guess we both know that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for today.” He seemed embarrassed.
“It’s OK.”
“It’s not.” He looked away. “None of it is. This isn’t what you thought you were signing on for when you agreed to come here.”
“I don’t know what I expected.”
A muscle moved in his jaw as he stared at me, then he shook his head. “Maybe it’s because of the binding spell Viviane put on you, but I never know if you’re telling the truth.”
I was almost too surprised to respond. My thoughts and feelings were so chaotic—so colorful—that I couldn’t understand how everyone wasn’t seeing them. The thought that I was blank and opaque to everyone other than Peter made me feel both mildly depressed and strangely powerful.
“OK,” I admitted, “this isn’t what I expected. I thought Taliesin would help me figure out my abilities, but I guess I’m just going to have to do that on my own.”
Nodding, Daley looked thoughtful. “You did pretty well with that glamour. Except for sidhe—fairies—and a few other beings with inherent glamour, those kinds of spells are tricky. The leanan sidhe were said to have glamour so it makes sense, but you were able to separate it from yourself and cast it on to something else. It was impressive.”
I warmed peach at the compliment. “Thanks, but I’ve got so much I need to learn and I don’t think Taliesin has the answers.”
“Maybe not.” I could tell it cost him to admit even the slightest disloyalty towards his father.
“But I do want you to train me.” I patted the hilt of Excalibur, grateful for the feel of it even though it was invisible. “And I want to learn how to use a sword.”
Now I couldn’t read his expression. Concentrating hard, I had the impression that there’d been a slight change in the colors that identified him to me. Then he smiled—it wasn’t much of a smile, just the barest lift of his lips—and I knew for sure that something had shifted between us. Maybe Daley hadn’t meant to open up to me at the mall, but he had, and something had eased between us because of it.
He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. Until you have control over your abilities, you might need to know how to protect yourself. You might as well make the best use of your time while you’re here.”
The warmth drained out of me. It didn’t sound like he expected or wanted me to stay in Las Vegas indefinitely. The skin around my eyes ached and I knew that tears were perilously close behind. I brandished the bag containing the wreath. “I’m going to take this to Taliesin to see where he wants me to put it.”
Daley re-adjusted his purchases and began to walk towards the bedrooms, calling over his shoulder, “I have to make an official report, but you should tell him about the Mari Lwyd. And we have Christmas dinner at midnight. Try not to eat too much before then. Cook will be insulted if everyone doesn’t stuff themselves into a food coma.”
I laughed. Something had changed between us, even if the change was small. Maybe, eventually, it would grow large enough for him to want me to stay.
As Daley disappeared down the corridor, I briefly considered abandoning the idea of going up to see Taliesin, but I didn’t want any hint of a lie interfering with the slight thaw in our relationship—especially not over something as minor as being afraid to disturb the grieving bard. The grand staircase across from the foyer led to the second floor and Taliesin’s personal rooms. Gathering my courage, I went up the stairs to Taliesin’s office
and knocked on the door.
A slight shuffling noise told me the bard was there, but it was a full count of ten before he answered, “Come.”
As I went in, I was hit by the contrast to the man who’d interviewed me in the office of the rented mansion in my home town. That Taliesin had been handsome, trim, and palpably powerful. This Taliesin sitting behind his desk was red-eyed, unshaven, and unkempt. He was still powerful, but I didn’t need to concentrate too hard to sense the streaks of grey despair running through his aura like a disease.
“I don’t understand you!” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
The side of his mouth quirked into the barest of smiles, a ghost of his former vitality. “And a Happy Christmas Eve to you too, Rhiannon.”
I could feel my cheeks grow hot. “Sorry, I was just thinking out loud.” It was an apology, but what I’d been thinking wasn’t complimentary and we both knew it.
The bard sighed. “If it helps, please know that I don’t understand you either.”
I forced a laugh. “I’m not so complicated.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you not? Perhaps it is an aftereffect of the spell Viviane placed on you, but I cannot guess what you are thinking or feeling, or what your true desires are, and I have always been a good judge of character. I cannot tell where your loyalties or even your friendships lie. I do not feel that you are truly one of us. You are a cipher to me.”
As he echoed Daley’s sentiment, I wondered if Viviane’s binding spell, which had made me almost invisible to the world, had damaged me irreparably.
Perhaps I should have given the bard some comfort by admitting he was uncomfortably near to the truth, but I honestly didn’t feel I owed him that. I’d come to Las Vegas to follow the man everyone said was the one to unite all magic users, even Greylanders, under a common banner of cooperation with the rest of humanity. What I’d found was a man as bound by his love for Morgana as she was to Arthur. Without her, he was crumbling. Daley and the others had known the great warrior-bard Taliesin, famed through history. All I’d known was a cold, imperious, and finally, broken man.
“I miss Rowan,” I admitted instead. Perhaps Rowan’s kindness and quiet confidence had reflected a warmth onto the man which Taliesin had never truly possessed on his own.
The bard’s expression didn’t change. If he’d been touched by the mention of his friend, there was no sign of it and I felt a flash of jealous emerald in honor of the druid’s memory.
Rowan should be haunting him as well as Boudica.
Ruby clawed through the emerald as I thought of how Boudica had murdered her husband. It didn’t help my mood that Taliesin seemed to have forgotten everything except his lost love, Morgan le Fay. As my emotions grew hotter, an answering power full of the passion of life and the rage of battle called to me again from somewhere beyond the house. It wasn’t too far away. All I needed to do was cast away any resistance and it would come and fill me. Its siren call was becoming almost irresistible.
I dragged my awareness away from the power calling to me. I couldn’t lose control in front of the bard again. As an excuse, I pulled the wreath out of the bag I was carrying. “I thought this would brighten the place up a bit for Christmas, but I don’t know where I should put it.”
The bard barely glanced at it. “There’s a small hook on the top of the mantle over the fireplace in the great room. You could hang it there if you wish.”
Nodding, I stood to leave and then hesitated. “While I was out with Daley, we ran into something called a Mari Lwyd.” The flicker of interest in the bard’s eyes prompted me to continue. “We followed it into the Bellagio. Thomas Redcap was following it too. He was the one who told us what it was.”
The bard looked thoughtful. “How strange. Back home in Wales, boys used to dress up as the Mari Lwyd and go from door to door through the Christmas season, singing for food and drink. It was a joyous custom that is still remembered in some villages today, though even when I was a child, it was already very old.”
“Redcap called it a portent.”
“Perhaps. The origin of the custom is so lost in history that I never guessed it might be based on an actual being. Considering Redcap’s special ability, his knowledge of it could indeed be greater than mine.” He looked at me strangely. “Scholars believe that the custom of honoring the Mari Lwyd was once part of a ritual concerning your namesake, the goddess Rhiannon. Some say that she and Epona, the horse goddess, were the same entity.”
I remembered reading about Rhiannon during one of my online sessions seeking to improve my grasp on the whole spectrum of Celtic mythology—particularly since I’d learned that most of it was true. I also remembered that there was some disagreement in the stories as to whether the original Rhiannon was a goddess or just a queen. “Was she a Greylander?”
“Possibly, but I have never met anyone claiming that name, so perhaps not. She was more likely an earth magician with enough power to stamp her image on history, but not to escape mortality.”
“So why did my mother name me after her? Does it have something to do with the earth magic?”
“Earth magic is, quite literally, everything. Every living soul on this planet shares in the magic if only in the slightest, almost imperceptible degree. It is the fire at the heart of the world, but not everything is merely a reflection of its flame. Your name may have no meaning other than the simple achievement of a pleasing combination of vowels and consonants.”
I nodded as if I agreed, but privately wondered if there’d been a purpose to my name that neither of us yet knew. “And what about the horse skeleton thing we saw? What should we do about it?”
“As to the Mari Lwyd, there is also likely no reason for concern. It will disappear at the end of the season as it has in ages past.” Taliesin slumped back into his chair, all interest exhausted. He looked so tired that I regretted bothering him. The man had protected mankind for hundreds of years; he deserved a little respect and understanding.
Unsure of how to express that, the silence stretched between us. I’d never understood the phrase before, but it did feel stretched—as if Time had become thin and insubstantial to the point that we could step outside of it. Grey edged in black clouded my vision as, against my will, I felt myself drawing Taliesin’s desiccated and damaged power into myself.
See what a little bit of empathy for the man does to you?
I blinked my eyes until I could see clearly again, angry at myself and a little afraid. If it was possible to absorb even the corruption of power, I had that much more reason to learn how to stop being some sort of supernatural sponge.
The bard’s eyes were wide with shock. “Please.” His choked whisper was more terrifying than any anger he’d ever shown me, and I didn’t know if he was asking me to stop or begging me not to.
I backed up into the open doorway. “I’m sorry. I don’t know . . . I can’t . . .” Turning and running from the room, I careened down the hall and the stairs until I collided with something hard at the bottom
“Hold on. I’ve got you.” Hands steadied me. Even before the bright pink of surprise faded from my sight, I knew who it was.
I can feel my heart beating in two places at once.
I couldn’t stop myself from pulling away almost in revulsion, but Tynan didn’t appear to notice. It didn’t make me feel any better. No one else had mentioned it, but it couldn’t have escaped everyone that his personality seemed to switch back and forth between sweet but insecure Ty and dark, unbalanced Mordred. As his memories of who he once was had undoubtedly returned, the question remained unanswered of who Tynan truly was now.
“Thanks. I’m OK. I just came down the stairs too fast.”
He nodded. “How’s Dad? You were up seeing him, right? Christmas will be hard without Rowan. I don’t think any of us can understand how lonely it is for Dad to carry the weight of protecting the world on his shoulders. Rowan and my mother made it easier for him.”
I knew he was right. I m
ight feel personally betrayed that the bard hadn’t turned out to be the wise mentor of just about every fantasy book ever written, but I couldn’t dismiss the man who’d carried burdens that most would never understand. He’d been doing his job when he came to find me.
And it only cost him his lover and his best friend.
I handed Tynan the wreath. “He said I could hang this up over the fireplace.”
“Nice. I’ll help.”
In the center of the great room, the fireplace rose to the ceiling, one of its sides supporting the stairs which led to the gallery above. Couches and chairs were grouped together for conversation or viewing the large TV that emerged out of a cabinet when a button was pressed. Along the back of the house, several French doors led to the pool and gardens. There was a proper media room slightly below grade, but the great room was the place for socializing.
Tynan felt with his fingers for the small hook that protruded almost imperceptibly from the fireplace mantle. “Here it is.” Looping the twine on the back of the wreath over the hook, he stepped back to see if it was even. “How does it look?”
“Sad,” I said before I could censor myself.
As Tynan tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, I realized I didn’t miss how he used to hide his face beneath it all the time. He’d even had his dark hair cut more fashionably, though it was still on the long side. If it weren’t for the feeling I always had of being in two places at once whenever we were together, I could almost have seen myself renewing my initial interest in him.
If we weren’t cousins. Ew.
Tynan crossed his arms as he regarded the wreath. “You’re right, it does. Rowan used to organize the staff to decorate the house up until it looked like Santa’s workshop.”
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