Enchanted

by Judith Leger

  A low chuckle came from Rhys. The tension seemed to ease. “No. There is a mystic fountain in the garden. You may witness what occurred on that night. Perhaps, you will notice something we failed to see.”

  “What are you waiting for? Show me. After that I want to hear this riddle,” Caitlyn said, grabbing his wrist and tugging him out the door.

  Once on the stone path, she allowed him to lead. They passed near the blackthorn tree in the center. She was drawn to the twisted form. The muscles in her chest squeezed around her heart. A fallen bloom lay along the path and she bent, picking it up. Following him, she brought the white flower to her lips.

  Her father continued to the opposite side of the garden. Strange how easy that title came to her. He didn’t look old enough to be her father. Shay certainly didn’t look like he was almost four thousand years old. All this new information played with her mind. The whole situation was beyond her comprehension.

  As they approached a small fountain, a chill crawled up her spine. She stopped and glanced around her. Nothing caught her attention, yet unease built within her.

  “What’s wrong?” Rhys twisted about, his eyes narrowed.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Imagination, I guess. For some reason, it’s like my senses are more acute.”

  He smiled at her. “As they should be. Shay believed the curse Gwyneth placed on you wasn’t as strong as we assumed. If you are experiencing extra sensations, perhaps your Tylwyth Teg blood is fighting to come alive. That’s good.”

  “I suppose,” Caitlyn murmured, still uneasy. The very air felt wrong. Like an unseen menace watched her. “Where is Gwyneth?”

  “Somewhere in the human world. Why?”

  “She attacked us tonight. Could she have returned here?” Caitlyn wanted to make sure the presence she sensed wasn’t the woman who had threatened her.

  “I doubt it. She knows what would happen if she did. My punishment to Shay is mild compared to what I would do to her,” Rhys responded without hesitation.

  He sounded so confident. Was he that in control of this world? Obviously not, since Gwyneth had managed to kidnap her all those years ago. One lesson Caitlyn had learned growing up, never underestimate someone with a burning desire to achieve a goal. Right now, Gwyneth’s goal centered on taking her away from Shay.

  Rhys stopped at the fountain and waved a hand over the top of it. “Come, peer into the water. You will see whatever you ask.”

  Shiny black, the fountain appeared more of a birdbath than a water spouting mechanism. No more than two feet in diameter and about three feet high, the rim consisted of carved orbs. The gaps formed where the spheres connected to the basin overflowed with water and cascaded over the sides into a stone trench encircling the slender pedestal.

  “What kind of stone is it carved out of?”

  “Onyx. ’Tis fashioned from the best magical quality. Come, look into the basin.” He motioned for her to come nearer.

  Squeezing the blackthorn bloom in her fist, she questioned if she really wanted to do this. Her dream experiences with Shay came to mind. They weren’t so bad.

  She leaned over and glanced into the dark water. “Is this like watching television?”

  “In a manner.”

  “Well, that relieves me. In what manner isn’t it like TV?” she muttered. Cutting her eyes to her father, she saw him smile.

  “It’s more personal.”

  “Oh. That way, huh?”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath and said, “Show me what happened the night I was stolen.”

  Seconds ticked by, and she concentrated on the mirrored surface of the water. The flower’s waxy petals turned to gooey liquid in her palm. Fitful light moved across the water. All sound faded. Caitlyn felt sucked into the light.

  Images formed, revealing the glittering clothes of her clan. From the corner of her vision she saw her hand resting on the smooth carved surface of a pillar. No, not her hand. Long and lean, the fingers appeared to belong to her, yet that was impossible.

  Her head swerved to the left, and she watched a man approach. He spoke a name and realization shot through her. This wasn’t her body. At that moment, she became aware of another’s thoughts.

  Shay.

  This hand, body, they belonged to Shay. She watched through his eyes.

  Refusing to allow fear to control her, she focused her attention on him. Then, like a door opening, his thoughts rushed through her mind. Boredom. Intense dissatisfaction spiraled in his head. The joy of living no longer existed in him.

  Steeling her emotions, she mentally eased back to experience the night with him.

  Chapter 31

  Shay tilted his head and glanced past the queen to the petite infant in the bassinet. He marveled at how so much magic existed in such a small body. Radiant light enveloped the babe to a degree that her aura extended several feet.

  Beautiful as a pure spring morning, her deep green gaze touched his and held. In that instance, the supreme boredom in his life lifted like a veil, revealing a new and wondrous path for him to follow. Never had he experienced such a surge of excitement as when he stared into the babe’s eyes. She smiled at him. His heartbeat halted, and then pounded.

  He did not stop to consider the onslaught of new emotions flooding his senses. A need to touch this child one time came to him and he stepped forward, not caring about and without fear of the growing frown on her father’s face.

  The queen, a gentle smile gracing her beautiful face, eased to one side and allowed Shay to draw near. The newborn princess gurgled in glee and bounced her dainty arms and legs. Going down on one knee, and unable to stop, he reached out. In the bare second it took for her to grasp his finger in her tight clasp, his heart was lost forever.

  “I swear ’til my dying hour, I will protect you from all harm,” he whispered. The baby’s face puckered at the serious tone for only a moment, then she smiled again, causing the aura to increase.

  Basking in the power evident in the babe, Shay stayed longer than was usually permitted. The princess was new and many had yet to pay homage to her.

  “We have named her Caitlyn, my muse. What think you of it? Is this name fitting for our most precious daughter?” The queen touched the crown of his head, bringing his attention from the babe.

  “Aye, it is more than fitting. Pure beauty is truly befitting for her name.”

  With a deep courtly bow, he stepped off the platform where the bassinet stood. He moved to the shadows surrounding the terrace. Thoughts of Gwyneth and her plans to play a practical joke on the royal couple flooded his mind. Perhaps he should warn the king, yet as he watched, he noted something Gwyneth spoke of. There was a laxness in the king’s attitude toward the princess’s security.

  Anyone with vile intentions could harm the babe if they so chose. Yet, because of the peace within the Tylwyth Teg realm, why should the king worry? Several hundred years had passed since the last war. Their enemies in this dimension and in the human world were no longer a true threat.

  “Are you prepared?”

  The alluring voice carried a hard note. Shifting to one side, Shay gazed at the self-acclaimed beauty of the Tylwyth Teg court. Gwyneth’s cold and calculating eyes studied the princess. Foreboding crept through him.

  “Why do I feel you are plotting more than you claim?” He leaned closer, anger rising in him.

  The scent of sweet lilacs coated the female elf, but another scent lurked underneath. Slight, but still there, she carried the smell of fresh blood on her. Shay remembered the smell. Its prevalence thousands of years ago when their people fought against the humans was as clear to him now as it was then.

  “Nonsense. Do you believe me so stupid as to dare to cross our king? Rhys would have our heads if the babe came to harm,” she whispered as she darted a look from side to side.

  “I smell blood on you. What have you done? What spells do you plan that I do not know of? Speak now, or I will bind you with my magic and give you ove
r to Rhys.” Shay hated liars, and he feared Gwyneth lied to him.

  “I cut my finger earlier. Nothing serious.”

  He frowned. Her explanation was simple and easy to prove, yet his inner senses warned him to beware.

  She leaned closer, brushing against his arm. Her scent sickened him. He swallowed against the surge of bile.

  “Come now, muse. I have no ill feelings for our liege and his queen, and I have no reason to have any for our new princess. I am beginning to wonder if you are acting the coward, seeking ways to break our contract. Do you wish me to release you?”

  Shay stiffened and clasped her wrist. He squeezed, and she released a pain-filled breath. Her eyes widened as he spoke. “I will fulfill my word to you, but I swear, if you harm the babe in any way, I will be the one who removes your beautiful head from your body. So fear not our king, Gwyneth, because I will seek you out and take the life from your body. Heed my words, for I do not foreswear in vain.”

  “Fool, do you take me for one also?” She slid her gaze toward the queen, before raising her other hand and caressing his cheek. “Be still, they will notice us and grow suspicious. The queen is staring.”

  Gwyneth stretched up and kissed him on the mouth. He shut his eyes, but kept his lips sealed.

  When she drew back, he noticed a callous glint in her eyes. Her words verified her anger. “Why do you draw away from me?”

  “We are not lovers, nor shall we ever be. Now leave me. When all are gone from here, we will carry through with your little prank. Just remember, I will be watching.” He stepped back into the shadows.

  Though he cared little for the witch, proving to Rhys he should take better care of his loved ones served to justify agreeing to this jest. At least, that is what he continued to tell himself. He’d tried several times to approach Rhys but his king had laughed off his concerns as if they were nothing.

  The night aged, and many visitors wandered away to seek their own homes and beds. Soon, only the royal family sat on the terrace enjoying the peaceful evening. Shay strode forward and bowed before them.

  “With your permission, sire, might I sing a lullaby for the princess?” he spoke evenly, glad that his voice did not crack under the strain of deception. This lie weighed on his soul.

  “Oh yes, my muse, sing for us.” Myrielle beamed at him, the light in her eyes shining on him.

  He bowed once more, then lifted the small harp he held and began to strum a soft melody. The lyrics of the ancient song rolled from his tongue as his magic twined with them. He sent waves of his spell toward the royal couple.

  Holl amrantau’r sr ddywedant

  Ar hyd y nos.

  Golau arall yw tywyllwch

  I arddangos gwir bryferthwch

  teulu’r nefoedd mew tawelwch

  Ar hyd y nos.

  The words filtered through his mind. Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night, soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber steeping, I, my loving vigil keeping, all through the night.

  Within moments, Myrielle drifted to sleep. Rhys, the stronger of the two, listened to several more lines before his eyelids closed and his head drooped.

  The second both slept, Shay, heart pounding, scanned the garden as he continued to strum the harp. Gwyneth stepped from the shadows near the scrying fountain. A satisfied smirk of pleasure covered her features. She crossed the garden, brushing past him on her way to the bassinet.

  Shay heard a soft cooing before she bent and lifted the babe. Wicked, scalding laughter erupted from her, and she began to speak.

  “This babe will suffer the torments of the human world until her twenty-fifth birthday when the curse is fulfilled and she dies. At that time, my vengeance will know satisfaction. For until she returns to her people, the Tylwyth Teg, and solves the riddle binding the curse, she will have no hope.”

  The words sent ice rushing through his veins. He shook his head. No, he must stop her. He raised one foot to move forward, but halted when the woman, clutching the babe, disappeared into a thick black mist. A sulfuric stench filled the air, burning his eyes and nose.

  A shout from Rhys, King of the Tylwyth Teg, echoed through the walled garden.

  The harp Shay strummed moments earlier fell from his fingers to shatter on the stone. He opened then closed his mouth. Coherent words refused to form.

  Gwyneth had lied to him.

  Used him, and now, deserted him.

  He shifted his gaze toward Rhys, standing on the terrace. An ice blue stare, shimmering with frozen fires locked with his. The king’s face appeared waxy, but then flared with heat.

  “Traitor. You aided her.” He moved toward him, past the bassinet, to the terrace’s edge.

  Sorrow traced the queen’s cry when she reached the bassinet and lifted a bundle. “She has left a babe. A dead human baby–a changeling.”

  Myrielle looked toward Shay. Tears filled her emerald green eyes to fall. Her misery, so great over her loss, was palpable. He opened his mouth once more to deny Rhys’s accusation, but the words refused to pass his lips. He was at fault. There was no one else to blame for this. His heart ached for the wrong he’d done to the very ones he adored above all others.

  Movement from the outer edges of the walled garden forced his gaze away. The royal guard stepped nearer, their weapons ready to prevent his escape. Fools. Dry, gasping laughter erupted from his mouth. Pride prevented him from fleeing his rightful punishment.

  Stupid youths. Did they not know who they dealt with? A true Tylwyth Teg who remained from the ones arriving in ships of clouds on this world over five thousand years ago, his power could match that of his king if he desired it. But he did not. At this, he chose not to prove his abilities to the young warriors.

  Thunder bellowed. Lightning flashed in a brilliant flare. Shay shuddered and looked back at Rhys. The king, muttering ancient words, rose and levitated several feet above the ground. His golden hair drifted and swirled around his head and body. The strands joined with the next bolt until Shay could not separate them.

  The stone beneath his feet cracked and split. He dropped six inches into a rip, and his feet ached from the slight fall. He glanced down. Long coiled roots tore through his boots.

  “No.” He jerked his head up, his gaze riveted on his king’s features. “I did not know what she would do. I beg mercy. Let me find her.”

  Thunder roared. Rhys pointed at him. “Liar. For some time, I have felt a wicked restlessness in your spirit. I hoped it would pass, but no, you desired to see what bedevilment you could stir. Your punishment will last for eternity, even until the stars fade. This is my wish for you, betrayer.” He raised both hands, palms out, and spoke three last words.

  Shay tried to shake his head, but his spine solidified, the bones fusing. He lifted a hand in supplication to his king. Flesh cracked and peeled before turning black. Thorns erupted from his tightened skin. He opened his mouth and felt his face fracture under the dry, hardening effect of Rhys’s spell.

  “Live your life in this hell, for into a blackthorn you will go, never to be released, unless I decree it. Here you will stay to remind me of my error in keeping faith with one such as you.”

  Shay shouted but the sound fell silent, a last gust of breath as muscles and bones knotted and his hair rose outward. His body hardened, narrowed with twigs and leaves sprouting from his skin until he was a mass of solidified wood. Blinded by pain, struggling for breath, he tried to fight the spell engulfing him.

  When the transformation finished, he was aware of Rhys standing in front of him. He saw all around him at once, yet could not move. The pores and cells of his new form gulped much-needed air. He would live.

  The queen approached, her eyes filled with sorrow. For him? No, only for her lost child. He did not expect pity or understanding from the royal couple.

  “She left this on the babe,” the queen spoke, handing a parchment scrap to Rhys.

  Shay listened to the words of the riddle as the king r
ead them aloud.

  “A key you need to unlock the heart, look ye close to the peeling bark. For beneath the roots lies the key to unlock the heart for eternity. Two powers unite and be as one. True and strong, it will be done, if you trod the right road to pay the price for which you owe.”

  When he finished, his ice blue gaze shifted to Shay.

  “Do not fear, my friend. We will find my beloved daughter. She and I will tend you with the utmost care so your years will be long. I would not want you to wither.”

  Rhys had never spoken to him in such a cruel manner in all their years together. Now, he verified how deeply the pain went with the sarcastic words. The queen sobbed, and her husband wrapped his arms around her. He lifted her and turned away.

  A windy gust swirled through the branches on the tree, tearing several leaves free. Spiraling to the stone ground, they scattered across the garden, slowly withering, death bearing down on them. Shay envied them.

  * * * *

  Strong hands gripped Caitlyn’s upper arms, pulling her from the fountain. Her mind tore from Shay’s like Velcro coming apart. She wanted to scream, shout and rail at Rhys.

  The pain Shay suffered shredded her heart. She experienced every fraction of the ripping wounds on his body. Because of what he’d no control over, he bore the wrath of her father. He’d realized too late the choice he’d made was wrong. Now, he was doing what was right and still Rhys refused to forgive him.

  Chapter 32

  “What did you see?” Rhys said, holding her by the arms.

  Steely fingers pried Caitlyn’s from the surface of the spheres surrounding the fountain’s rim. She tried to draw in air but found it almost impossible. Shay’s agony remained in her mind. His dissatisfaction threaded through the pain, followed by the rise of emotion when he’d reacted to the baby exploded through it all to bring swift enlightenment to her.

  She was the one he’d given his heart to all those years before.

  The muscles in her body refused to work. Numbness filled the tendons and cords, making it difficult to speak. A sob left her in a gush of air.