by Lisa Rector
He held out another chewy square.
“That looks identical to the other one,” I exclaimed. “How did you not give me that one before?”
Hadyn held the nougat close to his face and examined it. “Uh, you were lucky?”
What had I gotten myself into?
“Look, miss, I’m ravenous. The missus will have a fine stew. And we can have you toasty in twenty minutes flat. We have a short walk once we reach the canopy.”
“Short walk to where? Are we going to walk through the treetops?” I’m dreaming. This is a delirium.
“You don’t trust people easily.”
“Should I?”
“No, you shouldn’t. Very smart.”
I rested my hands on my hips. “Then what do you propose I do?”
“Trust me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
I laughed, thinking of Kelyn. “I’m not afraid of heights.”
“All right, then. Let’s go.” He lifted a latch and opened a door on the basket.
I tucked into the small space and sat with my knees to my chest to conserve heat. Hadyn secured us. He reached toward the trunk and used a mallet to strike a small bell, which was attached to a wire running up the tree. Within a few seconds, the chains started creaking. As the basket lifted off the ground, we swayed.
Hadyn steadied himself. “The ride will be over before you know it. A fine night for a jaunt, eh? A fine night indeed.”
He took out a pipe and lit it, relaxing as we ascended to… I couldn’t guess.
***
I was welcomed into the world of little people. A strange place to find myself in. Hadyn escorted me along planked bridges connecting decks that were constructed around the trees’ tops. Humble dwellings hugged each tree trunk, making a community of hundreds. A few torches burned, marking bridges, and while most houses were dark, we finally came to one whose windows were lit.
“Come in, come in,” Hadyn said.
I ducked under a five-foot-tall doorway and entered a delightfully cozy living space. A cheery fire brightened the room, fending off the cold that crept in when we opened the door.
A little lady with a mop of curly brown hair was cooking stew over the fireplace. The smell filled me from head to toe. I took for granted how much light sustained a body. I must have been hungry for two days or more, but I wasn’t sure how long I ran through the forest.
“Look at her! You found her!” the lady exclaimed.
“This here’s my wife, Emlyn.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
Emlyn took my hands. “Oh, you’re frigid! Sit here and warm yourself.” She settled me into an armchair in front of the fire and dished out steaming stew.
I ate with much thanks while listening to the little people whisper together.
“Found ten trees away from the lift, poor girl. All affrighted and chilled to the bone,” Hadyn said.
“Poor dear. We’ll keep her safe,” Emlyn said.
“I can’t believe those tegyd were right, looney lot.”
“I’m not staying long.” I bit into a piece of potato, chewed, and swallowed. “I should keep moving. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“Oh no,” Emlyn said. “We were to expect you. A deer man came and told us you were lost. A crew of Eilian set out to locate you.”
“Deer man? Eilian?”
“We’re the Eilian,” Emlyn said. “You’re in East Eilian Village. The tegyd are the deer men. They had a premonition concerning you. Wanted us to help you.”
“That reminds me! I must call off the search.” Hadyn left the hut.
“I’m surprised he remembered,” Emlyn said. “They might have been looking for you for three more days before he put a halt to it.”
“Why’d they have a premonition about me?”
“Oh, who in the world knows why? They’re a bunch of lofty-headed daydreamers. Every so often they ask for our help. You know, to uphold the balance of nature or something. They said you’d be in the forest, and well, here you are.”
Shock was one way to describe it—that I was important enough for someone to seek me out… after the hellish things I’d been through? Why would anyone care? Tears beaded at the corners of my eyes.
“Now, don’t cry. Everything’s all right.” Emlyn patted my hand.
“Nothing will ever be all right,” I sobbed.
“Why don’t you tell me about it, and we can see what needs to be done to make things better.”
I nodded, not sure where to start or what was safe to tell her. “I need a new life. Someone out there wants to hurt me, so I can’t stay long. I don’t want to endanger you.”
Emlyn assured me we were safe in the trees. Enchantments protected the inhabitants. I relaxed enough for her to persuade me to stay for a month while I healed physically.
Healing mentally and emotionally was another story.
As light grew in my womb, I worried for my child. I still felt too close to Caedryn. I woke at night in a cold sweat. I had to travel farther away. Distance was what I wanted.
I cried during the day. I wandered along the bridges, sometimes hiding in a quiet alcove behind a hut to cry. More often than not, an Eilian found me and ushered me inside to eat. They talked with enthusiasm over everything, but I ate whatever they placed in front of me to keep from crying.
I wanted only escape. Silence with my own torturing thoughts.
They wouldn’t let me have it.
“You must eat to keep your strength up,” Emlyn said. “I don’t care who’s broken your heart or who’s dead or who’s missing. If you don’t have your health, then everything is much harder.”
She did have a point.
I needed to stay healthy for my child. Caedryn’s child. He or she would be like Caedryn. Half-darkness and half-light. The thought pinned fear into the pit of my stomach.
My heart had broken for the last time. I thought I could make a life with Caedryn. As twisted as he was, it would have worked if his jealousy didn’t drive him into madness.
I had loved him. I knew I had. But that love was destroyed. I still missed his touch. Our short life together was etched into my nightmares. I understood why Caedryn had been haunted. Something about the makeup of an emrys caused me to replay the worst of my memories. Without the healing abilities of light, my mistakes would always disturb me.
I needed an emryn healer. I needed Catrin. How I missed her!
I wouldn’t even mind seeing Aneirin.
I gave up everything because I was restless. I gave up my friends and my family because I wanted adventure.
I gave up my home.
I was homeless.
And Gorlassar was warm. I wished for spring rains and summer breezes. The bees’ hum and the frolic of dragons. I wished for galas and tournaments and university. I wished for my mother’s hug and even my father’s approval.
I’d never have that again.
I wished for light.
What I needed was my light. A pinprick of light had grown in my heart-center over the three weeks I stayed with the Eilian. The amount was so diminutive the light couldn’t be harnessed, but I thanked my stars I possessed even that small amount.
I rubbed my stomach. The babe was growing, although a bump was not yet showing. I didn’t tell my kind hosts anything about my pregnancy.
The plan was to leave before anyone found out.
I kept touching my neck, feeling for my dragon stone. I prayed with all my might that Kenrik summoned Seren and she’d take him to Gorlassar. Kenrik. Oh, Kenrik. My light was in a mortal. It had given him greater strength. Healed him nearly instantly. What will become of you? How long would Caedryn pursue him? How long would the bond last between them? I wanted to save Kenrik from my life, from loving me. I wanted to keep from being a rift between him and his family.
With my light in him, he couldn’t go home. He’d endanger his family. He couldn’t visit Brenin again. A marriage with
Tiwlip was impossible.
I’m so sorry, Kenrik. Forgive me. Deian, please forgive me. I’ve doomed everyone I’ve come to love.
The worst heartbreak was my broken bond between Seren and myself. Would I ever see her again? I was no longer a dragon guardian. I no longer felt that kinship with her. She no longer possessed my unending life. Maybe Kenrik would return the stone to Seren, and she could start again. I should have told him to do that.
So many regrets. I was doing everything wrong.
I shouldn’t have left Gorlassar.
It was entirely too late to have foolish wishes. The only way to go was forward.
I felt peace in that small decision.
Chapter Forty-two
I stayed with my generous hosts for four weeks before I asked Hadyn to take me west. We traveled for two weeks through the Great Forest’s canopy, by the maze of bridges, until we came to the Great Ridge. A rough-hewn path was carved across the ridge’s top, connecting the two sides of the forest. The Eilian were the only people to tread this way, except for the occasional small, four-legged, furry animal. The trees on either side of the ridgetop trail were deciduous, and though spring wasn’t quite underway, the trail was free of snow.
I endured a rickety decent—one I hoped to never do again—by lift in West Eilian Village. By the second weeks’ end, I said farewell to Hadyn at the edge of the Great Forest.
As the trees became normal sized, I felt a huge release. Caedryn was two dense forests and a mountain ridge behind me. The fresh spring air filled my nostrils. I walked carefully and casually, noticing the green buds on the trees. The forest floor was smooth with sparse growth, so passage was effortless.
Hadyn gave me a crossbow so I could hunt for food. I carried that and my pack slung over my shoulders. I wore an extra-heavy cloak because my light had not recovered enough to keep me warm.
I still felt mortal.
It took time for scratches to heal. I was cautious crossing the bridges and cutting vegetables. I stepped firmly on the ground to avoid spraining my ankles. I drank more and ate a lot, not forgetting that the babe in my womb required me to do so anyway.
Crossing the ridge signaled passing into “wee” Brenin’s realm, Hadyn had said. By my estimation, I was three weeks from the capital. Brenin and Tiwlip would return home as the weather warmed. I debated going there. I debated trekking even farther south until I found Tarren, Owein’s home.
No. I turned north toward the coastal plains.
Up ahead, through the trees, a fur-covered figure crouched in the underbrush. He fiddled with a knife, and as I approached, he was skinning a fox.
“Do you plan on turning that into a hat or a pair of gloves?” I asked. “You know, I never liked wearing fur. It’s—”
“A rotten carcass you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing,” the man said.
“How’d you know?”
The man peered from under his cap and wiped his hands on a rag. “Only one person has ever criticized my furs. And don’t think for one second that I’d forget her voice or her face.”
Those brown eyes. I stared. A close-cropped beard covered the man’s face, and hair poked out around the cap, nearly concealing his face. His coat was thick but worn. His fingertips stuck out from fingerless gloves. I recognized his knife, the one he kept in his boot.
Even under the rugged exterior, his eyes were unmistakable.
“Owein.”
He stood. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but it’s clear you had to see me. Missed me too much, didn’t you?”
My heart lub-dubbed strangely in my chest. “Owein!”
“Yes. It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m trapping. I told you I go all over the place. I’ve been working my way in this direction since I left Tarren. I make the journey every winter. I was going to head back and work my way south again.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I assure you; it’s believable.”
“No. I didn’t expect to run into you. I was turning north.”
“Now why would you do that? There’s nothing of worth up north. Just the plains. They’re dull, flat, and lifeless. Except for the prairie critters crawling all over the place. Can’t really make anything out of their furs.”
I laughed.
“I’m a sorry state. You caught me all wild man. I’m afraid I’m beneath Gorlassar’s standards.”
I scrutinized Owein until his brow crinkled with worry.
I laughed again. “I don’t care!” I threw my arms around his neck.
“You really missed me.” He dropped any hesitation and folded his arms around me. “Why are you here by yourself? Where’s Seren?”
I cracked. I tucked my face against Owein’s smelly fur coat and cried. “You don’t know how dreadful my winter’s been.”
“Oh, now. At least you found me. Come on. Let’s make ourselves a fox stew. I swear, once you taste my cooking, you’ll be sorry you never did before.”
I sniffled. “I should tell you—I’ve come to warn you.”
“Is that right?”
“Apparently an emryn woman can snare the hearts of every man she lays eyes on. I’m dangerous.”
“You know it’s too late for me. Niawen, I’m not letting you go. I’ve regretted walking away from you all winter. You’re like a bad prune.”
“That’s a ghastly image.”
Owein grimaced. “I’ve never been good with metaphors.”
After Owein wrapped his fox meat and bundled his fur, we headed to his camp.
“I should tell you a few things first, Owein. I’m not sure what you’ll think of me then.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to me. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, will chase me off. I’m going to show you the simple things of this world. And that’s all there is to it, Niawen.”
I smiled. I couldn’t have been happier to run into the most mundane mortal of them all. One who was straightforward and kind. One who asked nothing of me and was willing to give me up so I could have the best of this life—even if the best had failed me and I wasn’t meant for it.
But I didn’t want the best. I wanted the mundane.
I wanted Owein and his humor and his twinkling eyes.
“Show me your world, Owein. I’m ready.”
Epilogue
I looked up from ogling the bundle in my arms as Owein entered our cottage.
His grin practically split his face. “Niawen, you have a visitor. You’ll never guess who it is.”
I knew. The heart-center I discerned outside still glowed with a cherry pink light. Even though a year had passed since I left Talfryn, I’d never mistake him nor forget all he meant to me.
“I have a pretty good idea.” My bundle wiggled, and I shushed her gently. She would sleep only when I rocked.
Rapping at the doorframe preceded a tawny head. A throat cleared.
“Niawen?” Kelyn bumbled through the doorway. Our shoddy door, which hung loose on its hinges, bounced back and slammed Kelyn’s foot. He oomphed and grimaced over the jolting noise in the modest space. I didn’t bother scolding him. My bundle only wriggled her nose and pushed her fist under her chin.
Kelyn paused and glanced around. He didn’t have much to take in. Just a plain two-room cottage with meager furnishings. “Owein told me I was welcome. He said to wait so he could announce my presence.”
“Mainly so I could see the look on Niawen’s face as you entered.” Owein laughed. “I didn’t expect you to come roaring into the cottage like a buffoon.”
Another time I would have jumped up and leapt into Kelyn’s embrace, but I didn’t want to jostle my sleeping angel. So I smiled, beaming at Kelyn, hoping my eyes expressed my delight. “I’d expect nothing less from a crown prince.”
Light swelled in my heart-center, but I pushed the energy down, willing it away.
I was still in hiding. I’d be in hiding for an eternity. My light must never blossom beyon
d the brilliance of a mortal’s. I had managed well over the past few months while my stomach grew. Even through the delivery. My humble light buoyed me enough to ease the pain.
Kelyn’s radiance matched mine. He tiptoed into the room, sensing the need to stay quiet. “Owein informed me that she had just fallen asleep. I dare not wake her and face your wrath.”
He knelt beside the rocking chair and peeked into my arms. I took in Kelyn’s scent of cinnamon and cypress, of days on the road, of long-awaited reunions.
Owein snickered. My soul belonged to him, but we had often talked about old friends. He knew the memories I had swirling about my head.
“Does she have your green eyes?” Kelyn whispered.
I nodded. “Yes. Emryn eyes.”
His blue eyes sparked with the curiosity I was so used to from him. “Thick dark hair.”
I inhaled sharply. “Her father’s.”
Kelyn cocked his head, considering. “No, not like her father’s.” Kelyn nodded toward Owein. “She must have received the color from a relative.”
Kelyn knew Caedryn was her father. He also knew why that truth should never be uttered. As far as everyone knew, she was Owein’s daughter. Forever and always. I thanked Deian that Kelyn would keep my secret.
“She’ll have my sense of humor,” Owein said. “I can promise you.”
“That she will.” My eyes traveled from Kelyn’s face to Owein’s and back. I was surrounded by the three most important people in my life.
Except Kenrik. I was missing Kenrik.
“What’s the child’s name?” Kelyn asked.
“Ahnalyn. Her name is Ahnalyn,” I replied.
Tension drifted between us. Kelyn was most likely thinking what life would have been like had she been his daughter. We’d be at home in the highlands. Snuggled in front of a fire, listening to the winds howl through the bleak winter.
“Uh, Niawen,” Kelyn said. “I have a reason for coming.”
“You have word of Kenrik?”
“I do. He is well.” Kelyn searched my face in earnest.
“It’s not all well, is it?”
