"Come closer, child." He whispered.
Because his expression was not unkind and because Lord Brighton would surely push her again if she did not, Megan moved reluctantly forward.
"She has news of the one you seek." Lord Brighton muttered.
Megan wondered why this one would seek Kenric. Her knees trembled, though not from fear. Not exactly. Somehow the world that she had always taken for granted had changed. Not only had she traveled to the past, but the past didn't even match the history her own world recited as truth.
Magic existed here. Magic and faeries and no doubt other things that were assumed to be only myths in her time. It challenged her concept of reality and absolutely terrified her.
Yet at the same time she felt more alive than she'd ever felt in her life.
As if sensing her unease, the old man smiled. He lifted his hand from the cat's head and beckoned her closer. "I will not hurt you, child."
She believed him. And when a wooden footstool suddenly appeared next to his couch, she sat down upon it gratefully.
"I am Ed."
Gaping, surprised that one such as he should have such an ordinary name, Megan nodded.
"For Edmyg." He continued, grinning. "It means honor."
"I am," her attempt at keeping her voice low failed. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time in her normal voice, "Megan of Dallas."
Behind her Lord Brighton stiffened. "A female." he growled. "That explains many things."
Megan cursed herself. She had been so awestruck by the power she sensed in this ancient one that she'd completely forgotten her disguise.
Edmyg waved Lord Brighton to silence. "Megan. Your name means strong and capable. Are you?"
Though her Irish mother had always assured her that the name meant Pearl, Megan supposed it meant different things in different languages. In these times, perhaps it did mean what this man said.
"I suppose I must be." She answered reluctantly.
Edmyg smiled at that, his sharp eyes at odds with his jovial expression. "Where is he?"
Megan stared blankly at the man. "Who?"
"Your mate."
Immediately she thought of Roger, waiting beneath the old oak tree. He had wanted to be her mate, though she'd been zapped by lightening before she'd been able to tell him no. Then she remembered Rhiannon's words, telling her Kenric was her soul mate.
She sighed. "I have no mate."
Lord Brighton growled again, low in his throat. "She lies. When I asked her the name of her Lord, she told me--"
"Enough." Sounding surprisingly authoritative for one so ancient, Ed pointed to the door. "You may leave now. I would speak with this one alone."
Despite herself, Megan shivered. Though she had no sense of immediate danger, she hadn't yet been able to ascertain if this man were friend or foe.
Lord Brighton bowed stiffly and left.
Was it her imagination, or did the shadows seem to grow deeper? The candles flickered and the cloying scent of the incense seemed suddenly overpowering. Megan had an urge to run, to flee, to try and escape this weird place, this strange man, and most of all this time in which nothing was as it should be.
Like he knew her thoughts, the old man smiled. "Do not be afraid. I dreamt of Rhiannon late last night. In the dream she told me to expect you."
Rhiannon? This man knew Kenric's sister? And, knew her well, if the naked longing that resonated through his powerful voice was any indication. Yet he was ancient, surely too old to care for her in the way his voice indicated.
"Yes." He chuckled, the shadows making his face look decades younger. "I know Rhiannon, Queen of Rune. Someday I hope to look upon her lovely face again."
Wanting to squirm on her stool, Megan forced herself to hold still. She hadn't spoken, yet he'd answered the question she'd only thought. "Can you read my mind?"
"No child. But there are things I know."
"How?" Interested despite herself, Megan leaned forward.
He tilted his head, appearing to consider her question. "Thoughts are patterns." He said finally. "As are deeds, and wishes."
"And dreams?"
"Those too I can sometimes see."
Since she had nothing to lose, she decided to be blunt. "Can you help me get back home?"
He laughed, a dry chuckle. "You are home."
His cryptic answer made no sense. Rhiannon had said the same thing.
"Am I even on earth?" With all the magic and other weird things that had been happening, she wouldn't have been surprised to find out she'd space traveled as well as time traveled.
"Place is relative."
"Please." If this man knew the truth, she had to get it from him.
He sighed, giving her look full of enigmatic sorrow. "Though it may seem at the whim of fate, everything happens for a reason. Your coming has been foretold for ages. You and Kenric of Blackstone are the stuff of legends."
That made no sense. But since she'd been able to make very little sense out of anything that had happened to her since she'd gone to meet Roger, Megan shrugged it off. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Please. I need to know if you can help me return."
His silence seemed almost a refusal. Behind him the candles flickered, the light wavering, the shadows dancing.
Why would no one help her? Not counting the evil Myrddin, she'd met two supposedly magical beings since she'd been here - Kenric's sister and this man - and neither one of them seemed the least inclined to assist her. What she couldn't figure out was why not. It must have to do with this legend nonsense that both Rhiannon and Ed seemed to believe so implicitly. Odd how Kenric didn't seem to know he was a legendary figure.
Gorgeous, magical Kenric. She started. For the first time it occurred to her to wonder if Kenric could use this magic she'd seen in him to catapult her back into the future where she belonged. When she was ready to go, that is. She'd have to ask him when he got here to rescue her.
Somehow, she knew he would. Whatever else he might be, Kenric of Blackstone was a man who was true to his word. He would be here. Now all she had to do was find out if this ancient man, this Edmyg whose name meant honor, meant them any harm.
Raising her head, she found him watching her.
"What do you want with Kenric?" she asked.
"That is between him and me." The old man said, his sharp eyes glinting with something close to amusement. "Fine." Disgusted, Megan turned away and pretended to study the intricate tapestry on the wall. "I don't know why I even bother to ask, since no one around here will give me a straight answer."
Ed chuckled. "All will be revealed in time, child."
Time. The very word was enough to send shivers down her spine. Since she had nothing to lose at this point, she decided to try again.
"Do you know about me, where I'm from?"
He gave an immediate nod, his gaze sharp.
"Then you know how I got here?"
"Lightening." He told her promptly, smiling a pleased smile. "And the sacred tree. Two lightening strikes in the exact same place, though many years separated them."
Two? Had this happened to someone else? If so, it dawned on her how awfully old that oak tree must be. But no, it made no sense. If she was in Wales, she was a continent away.
Deciding to argue, she tilted her head. "It couldn't have been in the same place. I was in Texas, now it seems we're in Wales. How can this be?"
His eloquent shrug told her that he had said all he was going to say on the matter.
"Is it even possible to go back?" She held her breath waiting for the answer on this one, though the odds were against him even bothering to answer at all.
"Anything is possible. Though your destiny is here."
Another riddle. Megan decided she was beginning to hate them. "Am I a prisoner here?"
Ed laughed at this, a dry and raspy sound that turned into a cough. "A prisoner? More likely an honored guest."
She wondered. "Lord Brighton doe
sn't think so."
He nodded wisely. "Ah, but he will. Once we have you outfitted as befits a woman of your stature, he will be
surprised and pleased. Though a good man, he never was one for looking beyond the surface to the beauty below."
Inordinately pleased that this wise old man thought her beautiful, it wasn't until much later that Megan thought to wonder what he had meant by the phrase "a woman of your stature".
#
As soon as first golden fingers of sunlight began to lighten the sky, Kenric climbed on his war horse and resumed his headlong rush of a ride. The night before he'd ridden until he could no longer ride upright. Finally, he'd had to rest, knowing he would be of no use to anyone were he all but reeling with fatigue. Though rest had been a forlorn hope; his sleep had been fitful at best. All during the night he had been unable to shake a sense of pending disaster. Megan was in trouble, trouble that somehow he had created. Though he had no doubt he would find her, he could only hope he would be quick enough to save her.
The few hours rest seemed to have refreshed the war horse. He charged forward with renewed purpose. The closer they rode towards the keep, the more desolate the landscape seemed. Parched and barren ground gradually replaced the lush greenness of the empty countryside. What trees there were - and there were few - had knarled and knotted bark and sparse, dry husks for leaves. He saw no beasts here. No cattle or goats or even the occasional wild dog. Even the birds seemed to absent themselves from this place.
Kenric thought it odd that he came across no village nor any people of any kind. Twas his experience that the wealthier the Lord, the more serfs he had dependent on him. Unless this Lord was only recently installed, one of those like his family, valued Englishmen who had been granted Welsh land by the King in exchange for some sort of service or favor.
The possibility that the very kind of man he most despised might have Megan for a prisoner chilled Kenric to his bones. That, coupled with the fact that some kind of misguided magic of his own making had sent her here, worried him doubly.
The closer he got to his goal, the more intense the feeling of foreboding became.
When at last he sighted the keep, perched like some overweight stone gargoyle on the top of the desolate hill, he reined in the war horse and stared long and hard at it.
The horse, until now stolid and steadfast, seemed to sense his growing unease and tried to turn back in the direction from which they'd come. With a heavy heart, Kenric restrained him.
"We go forward." he muttered, wondering at himself. Never before had he felt this uneasy, this knawing sense of wrongness. The stark grimness of the landscape, combined with the slumbering evil he sensed in the air, made this a place to avoid.
No tenants, no farms. Not even a herd or two of sheep or cattle. Something was wrong here, something that most likely lay within the realm of magic rather than the real world he preferred to inhabit.
Magic. He grew weary of the very word. Ever since he had found Megan in his cave, he had been around more magic that ever before in his life. He would be glad when this quest was over and he could settle on his land, an ordinary man once more.
Then he thought of Megan's eyes, her beautiful amber eyes, and wondered if he would ever be ordinary again.
The slate stone of the castle seemed to glow in the setting sun. It was a somber, yet strangely beautiful place, though its very comeliness seemed to mock him. What kind of trickery lay within? And, more importantly, what did Lady Megan of Dallas have to do with it?
#
After her meeting with Edmyg, Megan was led to the upper floor of the castle and taken to her room. The young servant girl who showed her the way told her she should be honored, as this was the former sleeping chamber of Lord Brighton's daughter, married but two fortnights past.
Though it was nothing like her beautiful room in Rune, Megan sank down gratefully on the lumpy bed, letting her eyes drift closed and trying to dispel the worried feelings that still churned inside of her.
Where was Kenric? She knew as surely as the sun would set that he would look for her. And, once he found her and came to this place, would he be safe?
Could Myrddin be watching them even now?
She let her eyes drift closed again and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
As she woke, muddled and full of a nameless longing, two more serving women arrived, claiming they were here to help her get ready for the evening meal. Crossing the room, they opened an ornate chest and began pulling out dress after dress after dress.
"One of these will surely be to your liking, milady." The older of the two said, flashing a shy smile and bobbing her head.
Despite herself, Megan moved closer. The materials were finely made, rich and heavy, and embroidered with a finer stitch than any machine could ever make.
Everyone of them looked exactly her size.
And the colors - there was every shade of blue imaginable, a deep, forest green, and some lovely mahogany browns. But the gown that drew her, almost like a magical spell had been cast on it, was a dress of shimmering amber, that looked almost golden in the fading light.
It was a dress for a fairytale princess, a magical garment that seemed to promise to make the woman lucky enough to wear it more beautiful than any dream.
Though she somehow knew it would fit perfectly, it
suddenly seemed important that she try this dress on. Just to see how it looked. Of course, any of the others would surely do just as well, it was only that this one seemed, well... made for her.
Megan shook her head. She certainly wasn't foolish enough to think an article of clothing would possess magical powers, not at all. Though in light of all that had happened to her so far, she wouldn't say anything was impossible. Not here.
Before she could change her mind, she reached for it. One of the maids gasped.
"What?" Clutching the dress to her, Megan's heart sank. Both women wore identical looks of horrified fascination.
"Nothing, my lady." The older one stammered, her voice shaking as she looked down. "Tis just that..."
Megan waited. When it became apparent that the woman wasn't going to finish her statement, she sighed. "Please tell me."
"That kirtle, milady." The younger girl came closer,
pointing to the gorgeous gown Megan still held in her arms.
"It was to be for her wedding. She changed her mind at the last moment and wore another."
"A wedding dress?" Regarding the golden dress dubiously, Megan couldn't see it. "Did she not wear white?"
The two women goggled at her like they thought she'd lost her mind.
"White, milady?" The older woman said hesitantly. "That would not have been a good portent."
Maybe things were different in this time. "So she didn’t wear this dress? Why not?"
"Her husband bought her another one. A suitable gown, of deep midnight blue."
Since they appeared to think she should understand this, Megan nodded. "Why did she not take this with her to wear another time, if it was her choice for a wedding gown?"
An expression of sadness came over the elder's worn face. "Take it with her?" She shook her head. "Like all of us, she could not leave. They have moved to new chambers. Aye, she is still here, and her husband grows more unhappy each day."
Could not leave? Megan didn't comment, not understanding enough of the customs to say anything. And, if Lord Brighton's daughter and her new husband were here, she did not want to gossip about them before even meeting them.
She fingered the beautiful material of the golden dress, not sure what to do. More than anything, she wanted to wear it.
Decision made, she lifted her chin. "Then, if it wasn't worn in the wedding, and she did not take it, I will wear it."
The two women exchanged a quick glance but didn't comment. Instead, they came forward to help her, showing her the undergarment she must wear and offering to do her hair for her. Since she had no earthly idea what hairstyle might be fashionable, Meg
an agreed. When Kenric finally saw her he wouldn't know what to do with her. She remembered the warmth in his gaze when he'd seen her in the sapphire gown at his sister's castle, er, keep. Though he hadn't said so in words, he hadn't been able to keep the admiration from his expression. That night, she'd known he found her beautiful. Not some boyish looking girl wearing his too-large clothes, but a desirable woman.
For some reason, she wanted him to see her so again.
When she'd dressed and they'd put her hair up in some elaborate coil, the two serving women led her down the hall. Stopping in front of an ornately carved oak door, they informed her in breathless whispers that this was Lord Brighton's room.
From the blushes and giggles, Megan gathered that both women found their Lord to be uncommonly attractive. And, she mused, he might be, if one liked freckled, red haired, blue eyed giants.
Just as she thought that, the massive door swung open. Clad in a sky blue tunic that matched his eyes, Lord Brighton gazed at her, his mouth pursed in a soundless oh.
"My lady." Taking her hand, he pressed a light kiss to the back of it. Then, instead of releasing her as she
expected, he kept her hand trapped within his huge paw and
stared at her, a smile playing on his lip. "You are lovely."
Megan wanted to fidget. Instead, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to unobtrusively tug her hand away. She met with no success.
"Absolutely stunning." He breathed. "I had no idea."
Darting a quick glance at his face, Megan's heart sank. In her desire to make herself beautiful for Kenric, she'd forgotten his instructions that she blend into the background. She'd wanted to see admiration on Kenric's face. Instead, she saw reverence on the florid face of the Lord of this keep. Admiration and more. Megan saw, quite clearly as she stared back at the man who gripped her hand so tightly, an arrogant sort of lust. In that instant she realized Lord Brighton had decided to possess her, no matter what obstacles lay in his path.
Telling herself it was her overactive imagination, Megan finally succeeded in tugging her hand free. Immediately as she did so, Lord Brighton took her arm.
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