by Lisa Rector
“This is the fourth night in a row.”
“And I told you, I have them every night. You didn’t listen.”
“That’s why no one else sleeps in this wing. You’re too loud when you scream in the dead of night.”
“I’m sorry your emryn hearing allows you to hear my howls.”
I fingered the quilting on the silken comforter. “How have you kept yourself from crying out before?”
“Cloaking. I cast a field of energy that blocks others from hearing my cries, because I frightened too many maids and guards away. I’ve learned to deal with the nightmares myself.”
“That’s awful. I wish Catrin were here. She could heal your mind—give you peace.”
“No one can give me peace.”
“Your light can. You just have to let it into your mind. I could guide it. I’m not as skilled at healing the mind, but you must let me try. This can’t go on.”
His brows wrinkled. “Niawen, you must understand. The nightmares are embedded in me. My darkness holds on to them.”
“We must get rid of it then!”
“Niawen.” The rebuke in his voice stabbed at the tense muscles in my back.
It was a dumb exclamation. Darkness wasn’t something that could be stripped away or else I would have done that with my heart’s shroud. “How can we get rid of your darkness?”
“I’m not letting it go. I use my darkness.”
My frustrations erupted in a hiss. “What does the darkness do for you that the light does not?”
“The cloaking. Darkness cloaks light, among other things.” Discomfort lined Caedryn’s face as he spoke, almost as if he regretted his confession. “I didn’t let you perceive my light at first, but I wanted you to come here—to me—in my realm. I studied your glowing flame of light when you were in Talfryn. I told myself you wouldn’t dream of venturing here, not if you knew of my darkness. The night you saw my light blink on, was the night I dropped my veil. I allowed you to see it. You drew closer, and for the first time I had hope.”
I sucked in a breath. “You lured me here.”
“Do you hate me for it?”
I dipped the cloth into a bowl of water and wrung it out, taking my time to answer him. “You seem to think I have a tendency to hate things.”
“It’s easy to hate schemers. I find most of my decisions are based on what’s in it for me.”
I huffed. “At least you’re honest about it.”
We studied each other by the orb of light floating above our heads. His angular features hid his inner shortcomings. His eyes pleaded, though he didn’t know it. He craved relief, but he refused to give up his darkness.
In the nights since I had come to him, to sooth him, to pull him from his delirious howling, my mind opened further to the understanding of the darkness as Caedryn explained that a heart-center was a void waiting to be filled.
I knew this. Mine was full of light, as were all emrys’ heart-centers.
But half-emrys were different. Depending on their deeds, good or bad, their voids filled with either dark energy or light energy. Both swirled within their centers. Both could be harnessed. Caedryn carried these energies and was sensitive to the misery and guilt the darkness caused him, but he wouldn’t share his misdeeds fully with me no matter how much I asked.
At the edge of my thoughts, I judged him. I tried not to because I disliked how I was calculating. Caedryn was part human. And I was behaving like a human, so I really couldn’t judge him. But at times, I wanted to beat my head on the wall in exasperation.
My life as an emrys taught me to peer deep, but Caedryn wouldn’t let me search his soul. I was dying of curiosity, from wanting to know the dark deeds Caedryn had done. I justified my curiosity because I wanted to heal Caedryn, so I pried into him, even though we were supposed to look only on our outward appearances and expressions. Whenever Caedryn caught me trying to peek, he scolded me.
So I resigned myself to studying his face as he turned his head in to his pillow, growing weary with sleep. Caedryn’s straight hair framed his face. Near his forehead, his locks were swamped with sweat. His eyes drooped in the corners, only lifting when he smiled, which he did just as I dabbed his forehead. His lips were thin, but his cheeks were rounded. A small chin didn’t detract from his features. I decided he was handsome in a smug and self-assured, yet, I’m-really-a-sensitive-man sort of way. I could almost forget about his darkness, but he carried the hint of a rogue.
I laughed.
His right eye cracked open. “What’s so funny?”
“You didn’t want me to think you were a rogue.”
“I didn’t, but I knew the truth was unavoidable.”
“A rogue with a conscience.”
“Niawen.” He turned his face away. “Don’t feel sympathy for me.”
“Sympathy? You’re right. Maybe I should hate you for deceiving me.”
That caught his attention, snapping him out of a sleepy stupor. He clutched his stomach as he curled slightly, mocking me. “Ouch. She wounds.”
“You dragged me into this. You contrived this from the beginning. You used your cunning words to seduce me into helping you. I should be furious.”
Caedryn sat up in bed, and his covers slid around his waist, revealing his linen bed shirt. “But you’re not. You’re far from furious.”
I cocked my head. What exactly was I? A sucker. Completely. I shook my head. What it came down to was Caedryn and I were just too lonely people whose mutual misery held an allure for each other. “What are we going to do about your nightmares?”
“Nothing can be done. I embrace them.”
“You’re insufferable,” I said.
“I think you keep calling me these hurtful adjectives because you’re hiding how I really make you feel.”
“And how do you make me feel?”
“I’m waiting for you to realize that yourself. But I will say you’d have a hard time living without my charm.”
I scrunched my nose as I stood, placing my hands on my hips, debating, considering a half-baked idea. “I’m sick of traipsing across the citadel to shake you out of your torment.” I was mostly joking.
He conceded to the playful hint in my voice and returned my banter. “The death of a dragon is excruciating. I wouldn’t wish these dreams on anyone.”
I sighed, wishing he didn’t joke over the death of Neifion. I reached for his comforter. “Scoot over.”
His face paled. “What? No.”
I lifted the comforter’s edge and shoved him over as I slid under. He rolled, ending with his face buried in a mass of useless, excessive pillows on the far side of the bed.
He pushed up on his elbow as panic edged his features. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
I leaned over him, snatched an extra pillow, and cuddled around it as I settled back on my side of the bed. “Just go to sleep. I’ll be here if you scream again.”
I felt him stare at me until I drifted off. He could stew all he wanted—I was too tired to care.
Chapter Twenty-nine
I didn’t shift position all night. I squinted in the dim morning light; Caedryn was breathing softy on his side of the bed, on his stomach, in the position I left him. He must have fallen asleep, watching me. I flexed my fingers on the hand dangling over my pillow, the hand lying palm down in the bed’s center, where Caedryn’s hand lay as well—touching mine, pinkie to pinkie!
I froze, mid finger bend, lest I wake Caedryn. At what point did he reach out and place his hand beside mine?
Heat swelled up my arm. We were sharing light—in our sleep. My breath quickened; I fought for composure. This was considered a form of intimacy, only because of how we were doing it.
In his bed.
Carefully I retracted my hand, scooched from the covers, and retreated to the door. I had never felt more relieved to tiptoe down the hallway in the early morning hours. Maybe I should have asked Caedryn if I could move my room to the same corridor as his. Being in t
he guest wing was much too far away when his terrors happened nightly.
***
The air held the crispness after a snowstorm. I headed into the city early, before Caedryn rose, to begin my rounds. I checked on Siwan and her baby. They were doing well. I stopped in on a few people with the sniffles. As I walked through the city, even though life barely stirred, heads poked out doors and beckoned me inside to examine a child with a grating cough or to comfort someone who was listless or had achy bones or to soothe a scratch that had become red and angry. My duties were endless. I didn’t mind. I set regular hours for patients so I wasn’t taken advantage of, tending to emergencies after hours. I didn’t do any drastic healing; I didn’t want to be laid up in bed for more than a day, as I was with Sorfrona and Kelyn.
A sense of accomplishment filled me. I didn’t expect my calling to be healing, but it was something to do. Mortals were indeed fragile. It still bothered me. I witnessed the passing of an elderly gentleman, who died peacefully in his home surrounded by his family. They called me into their home to help him drift off without discomfort. I sent him a tranquil dream of fishing on the seashore after his family told me that’s all he spoke of in his final days.
By the time I arrived at the citadel for dinner, I had forgotten about Caedryn’s touch. He was at a meeting. I assumed. When I asked Lowri where he was, she said a guard had summoned him. I didn’t seek for Caedryn with my light; I was too tired. So I stared, out a window, contemplating everything. Loneliness pricked at me, as it did now and then, but after the day’s work, I finally felt the beginnings of the life Caedryn mentioned. That didn’t keep me from thinking about home.
Seren, I’m settling in. How’s Mother?
Your mother’s well. I haven’t seen your father, but word is he wants tightened security at the portal.
I won’t try to reenter.
He doesn’t want anyone to leave. Emrys or dragon.
Oh.
Don’t worry, Seren said. Nothing will keep me from returning for visits. Caledu is not above the High Dragoness. She’ll override his demands and allow me through. There’s been no evidence I’ve been corrupted. This debacle is outrageous. Aneirin wants to petition to have you readmitted.
I clamped my hand over my heart. Why?
He’s terribly guilt ridden. He feels it’s his fault.
Please tell him it’s not. I would have left Gorlassar eventually. He was just the catalyst.
“You’re easy to sneak up on when you’re distracted,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I jumped and slammed the body of the voice against the wall.
Caedryn chuckled and half grunted as I pinned him. “I was going to say, you’ve become careless, but you still have great reflexes—for a warrior.”
“I’m so sorry.” I backed away, releasing him. Remembering our pinkies and their nighttime indiscretion, I tucked my hands by my sides.
“Were you talking with Seren?”
“Yes.”
“I miss talking with Neifion. I long for a bond such as that. And the ease of travel.”
I stepped farther back and studied Caedryn. What was he thinking? Did he know how I woke? Did he place his finger beside mine on purpose? Heat burned up my neck, but I resisted rubbing what I was sure was bright red.
“How did Seren choose you as her rider?” He straightened his tunic.
I smiled. “Mother said Seren arrived after my birth. She waited outside the residence like a guard dog. Seren felt my essence when I drew my first breath.”
Caedryn snickered. “I like that. Seren is so meek. I thought, since she chose you at such a young age, she would have tempered some of your fire.”
I scowled at him. “Didn’t Neifion temper your conceit?” Annoyance crept under my skin. I wasn’t sure where it stemmed from. Did I feel violated by his touch? Was I aggravated he wasn’t affected in the way I was? Maybe he did know about our fingers’ nighttime cuddle. Maybe he was embarrassed. The incident was my fault; I crawled into bed with him.
Caedryn stepped to his left, and I mirrored him, keeping a courteous distance since I had just shoved him against the wall.
“Neifion was like me. Sensitive, perceptive.”
Without intending it, Caedryn and I circled each other with carefully placed steps.
“You mean self-assured and smart-mouthed.” I winced when I realized how harsh that sounded. Why did everything Caedryn say push me? I should have left before I said something I’d regret.
“More like self-aware. I’m highly aware of my flaws.”
“But you don’t change them.”
“I’ve lived too long to change now.”
I smirked. “So you’re rigid.”
He sighed. “Niawen, I’ve been straightforward with you. I’ve made painstaking efforts to get you to realize I’m not some prince.”
Where did that come from? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I know King Sieffre has two sons who’ve been very attentive to you.”
His words just fell from the sky. I wasn’t expecting that response. “How would you know that?”
“My particular skill set involves knowing.”
I paused in my circling to narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to drive me away because of last night.” Because of how I crawled into bed with him or because of how we woke?
“I’m helping you understand I’m not someone worth saving.”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Let me have my say. While I offer my home to you, I don’t want anything from you in return.”
This was about our night together. “Just my presence.” Did he think I wanted a relationship? I certainly wasn’t looking for a prince. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Even if he was oblivious about our fingers, he assumed the night meant more to me.
Caedryn smiled. “I’ll concede that. Yes, your presence might be all I require.”
I stepped closer, and Caedryn stepped back, into a chair, and fumbled to the side until he was clear. I didn’t laugh, but his movements were comical—Caedryn cowering from my advance, as if he was afraid I was going to touch him again.
“Anything else you want to goad me with?” I was put off that he didn’t know what happened or admit to what happened. Why was I dwelling on a pinkie touch? I was being illogical. “Or anything you want to say to scare me off? You make absolutely no sense. You lure me here, but you hold me at arm’s length. You hint at secrets, as if you’re dying to reveal them, but you make vague references to how dark and evil you are. I have yet to spot any evidence of that.”
“I’ll tell you my tale. Then you can decide for yourself what kind of man I am.”
“All right.” I perched on the back edge of a sofa with my arms crossed.
“My liege, Lord Siarl, recruited me to be a spy and gain access to Rhianu’s inner circle. I became a chancellor in her court, with the expectation I’d betray information about my province to her, as I was expected to convey information about her region to Lord Siarl. I always stood to Rhianu’s right, behind her, in the shadows. She asked my opinion on everything, in private. I was to be unseen. Wherever she went, I was there, only not there. It was understood that I didn’t exist.”
“You were a double agent.”
“Of the highest caliber.” Caedryn scrutinized my face for a reaction; I gave him none. “Lord Siarl knew I had planted myself into the most essential parts of her life.”
“What changed?” I asked. “Why’d she exile you in the end? Did she find out who you were?”
“She didn’t figure out my role as a double agent. My downfall was on a personal level. I betrayed Rhianu’s heart.”
Her heart? I tried to imagine Caedryn as a betrayer of hearts. I couldn’t. He was cold on the surface when he wanted to be. Although he was weaseling his way into my heart, if only just as a nuisance.
“On the exterior I was an impenetrable crust,” Caedryn said. “Unyielding. Rhianu thought I was ruth
less in the ways I extracted information, not knowing Lord Siarl and I fed her false intelligence. On the inside, I had a soft spot for Rhianu. Because I was near her always, I became aware of her weaknesses. No man thought she carried any. But I learned a horrid truth. She was being controlled. A far greater might made her do the abominable things she’d done to gain rule over her realm.”
“How do you know she didn’t want to do the things she did? I don’t believe a person is without agency. Even when tied in chains, there’s always a choice.”
“I believe you’re right. I didn’t see her true nature at first. I felt compassion for her plight. One day I barged in on Rhianu having a conversation with someone I assumed was her dragon. She was arguing. As I listened, I realized she was begging, pleading for mercy. She was weeping on the floor. I couldn’t bear it. I swept into the room and knelt beside her. Desperate to be consoled, she threw herself into my arms because she trusted me.
“She told me she was the Vessel, that she did things for her master. Sometimes she regretted them. If she failed, he punished her. During her confession, she stiffened and pulled away. She became her hardened self again. But I knew. I was privy to her lapse.”
“Sounds like a hormonal malfunction.”
Caedryn eyebrows quirked. “Are you belittling your sex?”
“I’m a woman. I know how we are. Sometimes we feel as though the world’s ending when our turmoil is inescapable. Come on, Caedryn, you saw me when I arrived. I would have bared my soul to you. I was desperate for relief.”
He laughed. “You don’t remember half the things you said to me, do you?”
I shook my head.
“Emotions are dangerous. You don’t need to be a woman to be overwhelmed by them. As an emrys, as a half-emrys, we’re particularly swayed. They’re stronger to us. We feel more deeply than mortals. We hate with greater intensity. We love more completely. We’re ever confused by each and every inkling that surges inside us.” Caedryn locked eyes with me, as if reminding me of the meltdown that blew apart his study and of his internal scars that caused him to quiver in terror.
