A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1)

by Annie Bellet

  He’d taken her to be bred by the fastest stallion of the chief of Cantref Arfon the spring before, though the journey had been fraught with the danger of discovery for both twins. After seeing the proud stud, Emyr had grudgingly admitted it was worth the ride and risk. The journey had also had a somewhat cathartic effect on both, as they’d had to travel near where they’d met the Fair Lady all those fateful years ago.

  After a time as the hour grew late and slowly the work was stored away, Áine decided to go and check on Emyr and the mare. Though wisewomen primarily healed people, the creed applied to all living things and Áine had many times assisted with the healings or births of four-legged creatures. Even the care of some ducklings, once, she remembered, smiling fondly.

  She took her newly sewn grey cloak from its peg and slipped out the door, leaving Hafwyn and Melita to their quiet conversation with Cy fast asleep at their feet.

  The night was cold and a light snowfall settled in silent flakes over the courtyard and buildings. She made her way quickly across to the stable and ducked in the wide door, securing it behind her.

  The chief sat alone on a stool outside the expectant mare’s stall, keeping vigil.

  “How is she?” Áine asked, coming up alongside him and peering over the wall into the wooden box.

  “In labor, I think. I sent Gethin off to bed. It could be hours, after all.” Idrys glanced at her before returning his gaze to the restless mare.

  Dancer shifted in her stall. Sometimes she snatched up a bite of loose hay and chewed absently only to turn in place and nose her bulging belly. Áine watched the mare for a while and then turned to Idrys.

  “Her sides are sunk, it means the foal has dropped. And I think that fluid down her flanks was like as not her birth water. She should be near now.”

  As if on cue, the mare dropped her head and sucked in a heaving breath as she pushed. Then she returned to her ritual of spinning and chewing. The pushing grew more frequent. Something, though she could not be sure what, worried Áine. She unlatched the gate and stepped into the stall, murmuring nonsensical words to the mare in a calm tone.

  She laid her hands against the sweat-slick neck of the bay mare and let her mind sink down into the body of the horse, focusing on the foal within. The labor pains buckled her knees and she swayed, causing Idrys to rise and say her name. She ignored him, focusing deeper instead.

  There. She felt the foal and realized he was facing the wrong way around. His hindquarters were firmly wedged in the birth canal and time was running low as his heart rate came slower than Áine would have liked in a horse. She pulled away and turned to Idrys.

  “The foal is backwards. And I think he’s stuck,” Áine said.

  Idrys came into the stall as well, though Dancer pinned her ears in irritation at yet another human body making her stall all the more crowded and confusing.

  Though he wondered how she knew, he did not ask and instead trusted it was like as not some wisewoman’s secret skill. Áine had an uncommon intellect and perceptive nature, after all.

  “What can we do?” he asked instead.

  “You? Not much I think. Stay with her and keep her calm. I’ve got to go boil water. I think I might be able to turn the foal.” She smiled at him and left the barn at a half run.

  She returned with clean rags and a heavy bucket of steaming water. Idrys was swearing quietly under his breath and leaning heavily against the wall of the stable with one hand pressed to his ribs and the other gripping the mare’s halter.

  “What happened to you?” Áine asked with a tone that said she meant more to ask what he’d managed to do wrong in the short time she’d been gone.

  “Bloody creature kicked me.” He flushed with embarrassment and flashed her a rueful grin.

  “Good on keeping her calm,” Áine said with a tiny smile. “Let me see your ribs.”

  Idrys waved her back, not wanting her to touch him with his brother’s words and proposal so fresh in his mind. “I’m fine enough. What will you do?” He nodded at the distressed mare.

  Áine took off her cloak and draped it over the stool outside the stall. She entered with the bucket and set it in a corner where it would be out of the way. She laid the rags over the gate and turned to Dancer.

  “I need to reach inside her and push the foal back. I think I can turn him then so he’s born properly.”

  “Done this before, have you?” Idrys said, his raven’s-wing eyebrows meshing with worry. “Are the chances good?”

  Áine answered him truthfully. “I don’t know. Better than if I do nothing. And no, I’ve never put my arm inside a horse, though I watched Tesn do it once with a cow. And I’ve done it with a woman,” she added.

  Idrys raised an eyebrow and nodded. With a suppressed groan he came off the wall and held the mare’s head with both hands.

  “Keep her steady as you can,” Áine said.

  She hesitated but decided there was nothing for it. She untied her belt and tossed it over the wall. With a smooth motion she pulled both dress and shift over her head and shivered as the cold air of the stable raised bumps all along her skin. She didn’t look at Idrys, though she heard his sharp intake of breath, instead setting her clothing over the side of the stall.

  “And the nakedness is a necessary part?” Idrys swallowed.

  He took in her milky skin, noting how her nipples rode high and dark on the swell of her ample breasts. The thick patch of hair at the meeting of her muscled thighs was as blood-red as the hair on her head. Her waist tucked in neatly, giving way to the gentle curve of her young hips. As she turned half away from him with a slight blush, he noted with another swallow that she’d dimples in more than just the cheeks of her face.

  “There’s going to be a lot of blood and ick. I only have two dresses and blood is hard to rinse clean.” She looked at him through her long lashes. “I did not think a woman’s flesh could distract you so,” she said with a teasing tone.

  He raised his eyes and his gaze hardened. “Best do it before you freeze to death.”

  She turned her head to hide her smile and moved slowly to stand close behind the mare.

  The process was slow and strained her arm muscles horribly. She wished that she could tell the mare not to push against her so, but it was a vain desire. The bright side of it all was that by the time she managed to twist the colt around and grasp his forelegs, she was shining with sweat and felt the cold not even a little.

  With a last painful push, Dancer’s tired body released the foal. He slid out nearly into Áine’s lap and she quickly bent and tickled his nose with straw, wiping it free of fluids.

  “Hand me a rag. You can release her head; she should help now anyway,” Áine said.

  She toweled off the colt and withdrew, taking her bucket as the little creature fought clumsily to his feet.

  Idrys held the gate for her and grinned. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he? He’s to be the basis for my new stock someday. I aim to breed the best in Cymru perhaps.”

  He forgot her nakedness for a moment and stepped in close to clap her on the shoulder as he might a friend. His hand touched her bare skin as she stood looking up at him. A thrill of hot desire spiked through both of them and Áine parted her damp lips as Idrys bent his head.

  They kissed, his mouth finding hers, and for a moment nothing but physical hunger reigned in his mind.

  He came back to himself as she shivered, finally registering the frigid air.

  “I’m sorry,” Idrys said, stepping away from her. “You’re going to freeze.”

  “Emyr.” Áine reached for him with her free hand, feeling his sorrow and confusion return.

  Hearing his brother’s name helped ground him. Idrys, grasping at a clean rag, thrust it between them. Áine took it and quickly rubbed herself clean. Idrys turned his back and watched as his beautiful bay colt drank its first meal while Dancer cleaned up the afterbirth.

  “Do women eat their birth sack?” he asked without thinking.

 
Áine laughed in surprise at the strange question and looked behind her as she dressed. Safely garbed and much warmer she came to stand beside him again.

  “Nay. We burn or bury it.” She remembered that, of course, he’d never seen a birth; men weren’t allowed generally until long after the babe was out. She touched his arm and looked up into his face as he turned to her.

  “I feel it too, you know,” Áine said softly. “Guilt at being happy when the one I loved is dead and beyond such things. But I think your twin would want you to find joy and comfort where you might, as I believe my mother would have wished for me.”

  Idrys’s full lips twisted in a half-bitter smile. Emyr had said as much that very morning, though of course Áine could not know that.

  Think on it, Idrys. For us. Please.

  He shook his head. “It’s too deep, this sorrow, Áine. I don’t know what to do.” His eyes, warm and dark, stared into her own, full of want and loss. She reached and cupped his stubbled chin.

  “Shh, I know what might be done.” She slipped her hand around and caught a handful of his dark curls to pull his head down for another kiss.

  He winced as she pressed against his bruised side but soon his aches were forgotten as they sank to the rush-covered stone floor. In the flickering light of the lamps Gethin had hung around for the birth, they coupled. Due to the cold they removed little clothing, clutching each other close for both warmth and comfort. Idrys clung to Áine, whispering her name over and over like a litany against his fears.

  They lay tangled for long moments after their passion was spent, breathing and each enjoying the warmth of the other. Idrys finally shivered as the cold air raised bumps along his exposed flesh. He rolled to his knees next to Áine.

  “Thank you,” he said as he touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

  “And you.” A satisfied and gentle glow suffused her face and she sighed.

  They cleaned up and extinguished all but one lamp. Áine left the bucket and dirty rags with the intent to return in the morning and tidy up.

  The combination of hard labor and pleasure worked their magic in her body and she was bone-weary. She glanced at her lover as they moved across the square and entered the hall. It was empty, though a lamp had been left burning on the table for them. She blew it out and walked with Idrys to her door.

  He bent his head and kissed her again. “Good night, Áine.”

  She didn’t press him to stay with her, knowing there would be time and time for that. Small steps, she thought.

  “Good night, Emyr.” In the dark she missed his wince.

  Idrys crept into his room to find his brother sprawled across the bed. He pulled his boots off and sat heavily, knowing he should undress but too tired to care. He shoved Emyr aside and crawled under the covers.

  Emyr pressed a cold nose against his brother’s neck and let out a small huffing breath.

  “Emyr?” Idrys said into the dark.

  The hound raised his head and licked his twin’s cheek in response.

  “I’ve thought on it. You’re right. We can court Áine, if you like. And we should tell her, if she chooses to stay, about us. It’s only fair. Though if we intend to wed someday, we should be careful of letting her too close.”

  If it’s not too late for that already, he thought with a sigh. He tried to imagine wanting a warm, female smile that wasn’t Áine’s and couldn’t conjure it.

  Emyr gave out a great bark of joy that hurt Idrys’s ears and excitedly covered his brother’s face with wet puppy kisses.

  Idrys shoved him again laughing. “Sleep you. Good gods, man.” He fell asleep quickly and, for once, the woman he dreamed of was not Seren.

  Fifteen

  Emyr slipped out into the hall with a tired and sore Idrys creeping behind him. Melita was up and building the cooking fire. There was no sign of Caron or any of the others yet, and given Idrys’s late night in the barn with Áine, his twin knew she would likely sleep later.

  He tapped on his mother’s door and heard her bid him enter. She was awake, as he’d guessed she might be, and combing out her hair before the little hearth.

  “Good morning, mother,” Emyr said.

  She smiled at her sons as Idrys flopped down onto the rug at her feet. “Good morning. You’ve somewhat on your mind?”

  Emyr sat on the edge of her bed and nodded. “Aye. We mean to court Áine. Idrys and I thought it best to speak with you first, however, since we know you’d like us to wed.”

  Hafwyn set her comb in her lap and carefully folded her hands. “Well. Anyone can see plain as sunlight that she’s fallen for you.” She looked down at Idrys. “You say we?”

  The hound raised his head and clearly nodded. He realized he should have told Emyr what had transpired the night before, and perhaps also mentioned his bruised ribs since Áine would likely ask. It was an oversight he didn’t usually make, but the night had left him drained and strangely happy. He’d speak to Emyr about it first thing that evening.

  Hafwyn nodded slowly. “She’s not the most politic of choices for a lover, mind. But her skills and knowledge are powerful things and it would strengthen our standing to have her dwelling here year round. Love is rare enough in life. She is a wisewoman, however, and will likely move on someday. And you must wed, eventually, which Áine may not take well to, though I think she’ll understand.” Despite these warnings, Hafwyn had to smile at the joy that lit Emyr’s dark eyes. “Have you decided if you’ll trust her with your, well, with this.” She gestured between the twins.

  Emyr thought of Áine’s tears and nodded. “If she agrees to stay on here, we both agree she must be told. For ill or other.”

  Hafwyn sighed and wished there were a clear and easier path for her sons. Let them keep this small happiness, she prayed.

  * * *

  Áine rose later than she’d intended and dressed quickly. She emerged into the hall and found it bustling with the usual winter talk and industry as the night of the feast drew nearer. She nodded to Hafwyn and smiled at Caron.

  “Is Emyr about?” she asked as she snagged an apple from a bowl on the long table.

  “He’s out in the stable I think.” Melita had come in from the rear door with an armload of wood.

  “Showing off his new colt, I imagine.” Áine grinned. “I’ll be back to help in a moment.” She pulled her cloak off its pin and ducked out the door and into the bright cold day.

  “Did I miss something?” Caron looked from Hafwyn to Melita.

  “If you did, so did we all, dear.” Hafwyn smiled and shook her head.

  Áine found Emyr and his hound leaning over the stall watching the little bay colt and Dancer. Urien was there as well.

  “Morning, Áine,” Urien said. He glanced at Emyr and read his strange expression. “I’ve got work to do, no more time to gawk over even this handsome little fellow. Good day.”

  Áine watched him leave with a tiny smile playing over her lips. She stepped in close to Emyr and grinned up at him. “I guess we’re not so subtle, are we?” Her long white fingers twined with his.

  Emyr started in surprise at her bold touch and saw her eyes darken with confusion as she pulled back a little.

  “Áine,” he said, reaching for her hand again. He glanced at his brother who had dropped down beside him and now sat with tongue lolling out leaving a trail of steam in the cold air. What didn’t you tell me, Idrys? Emyr sighed.

  “I’m sorry.” Áine said, looking down at their hands. “I thought, well, I’d thought we’d made our feelings clear enough last night.” She flushed as she looked back up into his face.

  Emyr stared down at her as revelation dawned on him. He shifted his gaze and glared at his brother as a small pain of jealousy pricked his heart. You impish little wretch! You slept with her and didn’t think to mention it? He sighed.

  “No, don’t be sorry. This is new to me. I’m a bit rough around the details, I’m afraid.” Emyr stepped in close and cupped her strong chin with his free han
d. He kissed her then and it was sweet and soft.

  Áine smiled up at him. “How are your ribs?”

  Confusion flickered through his eyes. “Well enough.” He squeezed her hand and inwardly wondered what else his brother hadn’t said. Emyr and Idrys were used to smoothing over each other’s omissions as small things sometimes slipped through the cracks in their imperfect and delayed communication.

  Áine did not miss the flicker in his eyes. Suspicion prompted her to take a deep breath and let her consciousness sink into his body through their joined hands. She steadied herself mentally for the expected pain of his bruises and found nothing of the sort. Emyr had only the usual aches and pains found in an active human body and no trace that he’d been kicked by a distraught mare the night before. She pulled away from him, ducking her head to hide her own thoughts.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I woke late; I should probably go make some use of myself before Hafwyn thinks I’ve turned lazy, shouldn’t I.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek before spinning and leaving the stable.

  “You,” Emyr said to his twin, “you and I are going to have a long talk later.”

  * * *

  It was past the midday meal and the dark was coming on quickly before Áine had a chance to speak quietly with Hafwyn in the hall. Caron had left to help inventory the foodstuffs brought by a late-arriving family and Melita was dozing at her loom with her back propped against the wall. Everyone was out or busy with preparations for the longest night.

  “Hafwyn,” Áine said as she settled beside where the older woman sat mending stockings. “Tell me about your sons.”

  Hafwyn shot her a sharp look. “My son? Emyr?”

  Áine shook her head. “I know it might hurt to speak of the dead, but I want to know what his brother was like, what Emyr was like, well, before.”

  Hafwyn studied her in a way that only fed the growing seed of doubt and impossible consideration in Áine.

  After what seemed to be a very long time she spoke, “Idrys was like his father and his brother. Impulsive, passionate, given to moods that would pass as quickly as a summer storm. He had a good heart like his brother though. Emyr tempered him, I think. They were nigh inseparable.” She smiled at the bittersweet memories. “Emyr, well, you know Emyr. You’ve spent as much time with my son these last few months as anyone.” She looked keenly at Áine and the younger woman flushed.