by E E Everly
“I assure you there is,” Dad said.
“Why is this so important to you if no one else is worried about it?”
“The first vessel was your grandaunt. Rhianu. She was released from being the Vessel, and the prison was sealed. Now my sister wants to open it.”
“Your sister?” I stepped back. “That’s huge! Why didn’t you tell me that it was your sister who wanted to open it?” Can I please sit down with a family tree and learn who I really am and who these people are?
“She’s actually my half-sister. Yasbail has done things her own way for the longest time. Her scheme to become the Vessel is above anything she has ever tried.”
“You mentioned her before. You said her name when you were listing people who could fulfill the prophecy.”
“She’s a half-emrys who could potentially open the prison herself if she bonded with a pure emrys,” Dad said. “But it’s complicated. She wouldn’t bond with another emrys when she has to transition to a Dark Emrys to become the Vessel.”
“She has to fall. That’s what Cystenian was telling me.”
“She hasn’t done it yet. She hasn’t taken the life that will make her transition.”
“What’s she waiting for?” I asked. It seemed that she could fulfill the darn prophecy on her own, become the Vessel, and leave me out of it.
“I think she’s not quite ready for that step, until she knows for certain the prison can be opened. Being a Dark Emrys changes who you are.”
I gathered that much from my conversation with Cystenian. “But she’s willing to do it.”
“Yes.”
I pinched my lips together, feeling sympathy toward my father. He clearly cared for his sister. He wouldn’t want to see her succeed and become a Dark Emrys and then the Vessel. “Now I know why you’re so invested in all this.”
“I love my sister, as misguided as she is in her attempts to unite the regions of Morvith. Yasbail wants to sweep in, take control, and stop the civil war.”
“She would go against the current ruler?”
Dad nodded. “My father. Undoubtedly. Let’s just say Meuric and Yas don’t always see eye to eye.”
His father? Dad was next in line? If he was the oldest? Was he? How many aunts and uncles did I have? Did that mean I was some sort of royalty like Cystenian? “We have one messed up family.”
“That’s putting it nicely.”
“Are you going to tell me who my mother is in this mess?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Dad spun on his heel and walked away.
Whoever my mother was, Dad would take that secret to the grave.
TWENTY-SIX
Bronwen and I trained for two weeks. She showed me how to read the emotions of other emrys. She showed me how to conceal my emotions and block my thoughts from my father. I could let him in if I wanted, but that would be up to me. The mental bond would hold, but at least I had privacy. Bronwen even showed me how to light the orbs in my rooms with a flick of the wrist and how to hold a ball of light in my hands. I was most excited about that one. It was just so cool.
All of this was done by harnessing my light, telling the source of it, my heart-center, what to do. It worked by mental power. Which I understood from using my hawk wings. It took great exertion, but harnessing my light became easier the more I practiced. Holding barriers up in my mind to block others was a long-term thing and something I struggled with, but that was improving.
Part of our training was flying. Bronwen was fairly good at it too. Aelwen joined us on several occasions, and before I knew it, I saw emrys in the sky everywhere. Our secret had leaked. Emrys were training emrys. I had made Brynmor famous as the first vale with flying immortals.
I supposed I could thank the fae for one more thing, then, because I wasn’t sure that without the stress and coaxing from the spell if Cystenian and I would have ever sprouted wings.
The most amazing part of my training was when Bronwen showed me how to find the lights of other emrys. This was how she and Cystenian were able to track me down without fail. All I had to do was close my eyes and expand my inner sight. Light discerns light she had said, so I could discern the lights of other emrys, even those of lesser creatures that carried light. Which was the best way to prevent animals from sneaking up on me in the woods. She’d told me that little bit once I related how Cystenian and Iestyn had nearly scared me to death.
So whenever I wanted to know where Cystenian was, I closed my eyes and expanded my vision. Dots of light popped up behind my closed eyelids, like the stars in the sky, endless. Emrys were everywhere on Emira. I could even sense lights beyond Brynmor’s vale, if I focused hard, but that often ended with a headache. Bronwen showed me Cystenian’s particular essence, and once I had the hang of it, I saw his light, with Iestyn’s fainter light, bouncing around. They were hard into their training—all day long.
At least I knew where he was.
I was sad that my time with Cystenian was happening fewer and farther between, that we were missing an opportunity to develop our feelings for each other, and that the days of Aria’s arrival drew closer. Cystenian was determined to put on a good show for his betrothed and her family. That’s all the festival was, a stupid medieval-like tournament set up to make Cystenian look good. He had races and mock fights and contests.
Stupid valor. If he were marrying me, he wouldn’t have to prove himself.
It was tradition, Bronwen said.
As time passed, Trysten seemed so much bigger too, even though she’d gained only a few ounces.
She was just over four weeks old. I savored my time with her every day. She was always within my eyesight, with Aelwen. I never missed feeding Trysten every few hours, no matter what training Bronwen was pushing me through.
Mom was missing everything.
Dad had come to me a few days earlier and told me he saw Jessica and told her I was safe. He went right through the portal, using the moon jewel, without telling me. Unbeknownst to me, he had snapped a few pictures of me and Trysten with his phone and showed them to Jessica, as proof. He’d told her that I’d gone away to a resort, a place where mothers had their babies and nursed them before giving them up for adoption.
What? Yeah. Thanks a lot, Dad.
But she bought it. I couldn’t picture Mom allowing him in the house, so I wondered if Dad had given her a heavy dose of charisma.
I wouldn’t doubt it.
Then I begged him to grab a few modern conveniences the next time he went through, like my phone so I could take pictures of Trysten, and a solar charger, since Brynmor had no electricity. Everything ran on light power.
It boggled my mind.
As Bronwen taught me things, I taught her. I told her about my world so if she were to ever visit, she wouldn’t become lost or look confused wandering the streets when she saw our cars and buildings. And electricity. I showed her the basics of how to use a cell phone. She couldn’t make calls or do anything that used the internet, but I thought she should know, just in case. We took quite a few selfies. She was fascinated by the movies I had downloaded on my phone.
“They’re like seeing into someone’s memories,” she exclaimed.
I only shrugged. “I guess.” Apparently, emrys could see into each other’s memories. I hadn’t had that part in my training yet. That was advanced stuff.
Being a part of this world was wonderful, and I was enjoying every second. When my role as Trysten’s nurse ran out and she went to live with Cystenian, what would I be then? Would I merge into the household here? Start serving drinks and dusting because that was one way I could contribute? What kinds of pursuits could I find if I made my life here? Bronwen was an ambassador between realms. She hadn’t left on business since I’d arrived, but eventually she would have to.
I needed to figure out my place and figure it out fast. It didn’t help that I didn’t know what I’d wanted to be before I went off to college on Earth. I was uncertain how to pursue
“nothing” here. Bronwen told me that there were universities that trained emrys in different skill sets. I would have to investigate those further.
I tried to ease my mind by realizing that just learning how to be an emrys might take plenty of time.
I hadn’t come up with a viable idea for my identity in the lies that Cystenian’s family had proposed, and I was frustrated, to say the least.
For such a noble people who proclaimed valiance and supposed transparency, they sure did keep secrets.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Three nights before Aria arrived, I burst into Cystenian’s room. I had been working up the courage while pacing his hallway and decided to go for it.
I froze, almost tripping over the soft area rug that met me a few feet from his doorway. Apparently, I should have knocked because Cystenian was standing near his bed, with his arm pulled through one hole of his shirt while the rest was around his neck and other arm.
That left his chest exposed.
I’ve died and gone to heaven.
My mouth dropped open as I took in his creamy skin. He was so fair. And contoured. Not overly muscled.
I liked it all just fine.
After catching my eye and my astonishment, Cystenian quickly pulled his arm through his sleeve and adjusted his shirt.
I groaned inside as he shook his curls out.
Why couldn’t he spend some time shirtless in my presence? I mean, come on. With all the times I’d been exposed in front of him, he could at least make things fair.
I wagged my head, coming back to my senses and my purpose. Things were awkward enough between us. So with nothing to lose, I blurted, “I want to come with you.”
Cystenian’s brow furrowed, making me want to smooth out the bumps. He took me in, his eyes never leaving my face, for a nerve-racking count of twenty, in which I attempted to understand the emotion I saw in his expression.
Look with your light, I told myself.
Soon his feelings hit me, mixing with my desperate yet hopeful ones.
He was grieved and sorrowful.
He stepped toward me as I stepped toward him. “We’ve been through this. As Trysten’s mother, naturally, you’re too close to her. Aria will find out, and then she will realize I’m Trysten’s father.”
“I refuse to believe that. If she loves you, won’t she trust what you tell her? We’ve concocted enough lies. Why can’t I just be Trysten’s nurse?”
Cystenian closed his eyes. His frustration swam around me. “You don’t understand. You can’t come with me to Rhamantis.”
I stepped closer to him while his eyes were closed. I lifted my chin toward his face and spoke with soft, breathy words. “Why not?”
He shocked me by looking right at me. The pain behind his eyes was scorching, breaking me as did his words when they left his mouth. “Because I’d see you all the time.”
“That’s a bad thing?” My fingertips grazed his bare bicep and fell away.
I didn’t have the strength to try. My touch wouldn’t be enough to persuade him.
I swallowed. Might as well give up.
In a swift move, Cystenian slid his hand along my jaw and swept it to the nape of my neck. I didn’t register what he’d done until I felt the heat from his fingers.
I nearly gasped.
“Anerah, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t get you out of my mind.” His other hand met the first one, and he cradled me, captured me, so that I had to look at him, had to absorb his every expression as his words fell from his lips. “If you were around me, Aria would hear my thoughts. She would know everything.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t marry her,” I felt my mouth say. What does he think when he sees me?
His thumb moved in a circle on my neck. His words were gentle. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”
“It is hard. Nothing about this is easy.”
“I’m so sorry that you’re stuck in the middle, but we will find a way to make this work.”
I shut my eyes and shook my head until Cystenian let go. I couldn’t bear being trapped with his touch while my heart was breaking. “I want us to be together.” I blinked as tears welled in my eyes.
Cystenian swiped his thumb across my cheek and caught a tear when it brimmed over. “Oh, Anerah.”
“Please don’t pity me.”
His hands moved down my shoulders to my arms, and he drew me closer. The heat between us grew. “You are amazingly strong,” he said in a whisper.
“You are stubbornly loyal.” I wished he could drop his duty to his parents and his beliefs in maintaining the purity of the emrys.
That’s why I loved him. He’d always fight for what he thought was right, even if he couldn’t understand the full picture. “Preserve the bloodlines” was all he grew up understanding, and his values would never crumble for us—for me.
His breath tickled my ear as he pushed my hair back. “I wish we had met under different circumstances.”
Our conversation had grown so soft, so sweetly simmering, and drizzled with warmth.
“I like how we met.” I leaned toward his jaw, my lips begging for a touch. “I would never change it for the world. You were my angel.”
He closed the distance and pressed our foreheads together. Our noses kissed. His fingertips found my earlobes and teased them with light tugs. “You are an angel.”
I was torn. Rationally, I knew we shouldn’t have been doing any of this, this closeness. His teasing breath against my cheek, his delicious eyes boring into my soul. We shouldn’t even be alone together. He was betrothed. He loved another, had loved her from childhood. But this might have been my only chance. The closest I would ever get to him.
It felt so good, so good that guilt twisted under my sternum. I ignored it and dared my fingers to lace into his hair. His scalp, his locks, everywhere I touched him burned me up with so many feelings and desires. His hands snaked around my waist, and he held me against himself.
I groaned. My brow wrinkled. We shouldn’t be doing this. But I couldn’t get past how electrifying he felt. I inhaled a deep breath and pushed on his chest.
There are no fae here. I can fight this pull.
I forced a separation by stepping back, but hurt lanced me on so many levels. His disappointment smudged through me. He didn’t like it any more than I did, but I had to let him go.
Cystenian didn’t move away.
He tensed. His shoulders drew up as he pulled me in. For a fleeting breath, I thought he had lost possession of his senses, that the fae had found us.
The emotion between us was heavy like the spell, like a torrent of rain soaking us.
This was not a spell though.
This was real.
His mouth dropped onto mine, and I no longer cared about analyzing the moment. I didn’t care what was right or what was wrong or who should have been staying away from whom.
This was our kiss.
Nothing compelled by a spell.
Nothing decreed by duty or honor.
I pressed Cystenian to myself with a fervor, gripping his head, his back, anywhere I could find. My hands moved over his torso, not content with how I couldn’t engulf him—couldn’t make him a part of me.
Suddenly, I wanted to know what a bond felt like. A spiritual union that would unite our lights and let us bond physically, with no limitations, no fears for hurting the other or making the other fall.
How would it feel to be two souls as one?
Our kisses were driven with hunger. Cystenian backed me against the wall near the door. His hands held my face, as though he was afraid that if he released my cheeks, his hands would find other places, like during that night, our night.
And that wouldn’t do.
He tasted me, and tasted me again, while brushing the wisps from my eyes as my hair tangled with his.
Our breaths came in hurried snatches. Noses smashed together. Cystenian was mine. Relief blotched my spirit, and I was careless with my truth.
All the barriers fell away. I couldn’t hold them.
I was too distracted.
All I knew was that I loved him.
With every ounce of my being.
With all the light in my soul.
And I wanted him to know, even if it would complicate things.
Feel my love.
He kissed my cheek.
Let me feel yours.
He kissed my jaw before kissing my lips once more.
You must love me. You must.
Then Cystenian stopped, with his forehead to mine and his mouth parted. His body was rigid with emotion. His breaths heavy.
Oh no oh no oh no. I’d pushed too hard.
Cystenian sucked in a weary breath. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He’d understood my emotions. He’d felt the heat. And the lust.
And my love.
I’ve scared him.
My hands dropped to my sides, and my body deflated against the wall. My face was still his prisoner. Why was this so hard for him?
Either kiss me or release me.
Either love me or don’t.
He didn’t move, torn with indecision or guilt or fear or love or all of it.
“I’m betrothed.” His whisper was harsh. His hands, tight, as if he were fighting the urge to crush me or do away with me so he wouldn’t have to be so torn.
My tears cut rivers down my cheeks.
With shaking hands gripping my face, he said. “I have to forget this. This didn’t happen. It can’t happen again.”
Fight for him, Anerah. You stupid girl. Say something. He loves you; you know he does.
He’s lying to himself.
I couldn’t make my mouth form words even though my brain was screaming.
His breath warmed my face, but he didn’t utter whatever final words were on his tongue.
Cystenian broke his hold and disappeared, leaving me alone in his dark room. The sun had set. No one had lit any orbs. I blindly felt my way to the door. Lit orbs wouldn’t have helped anyway.
I couldn’t see because of the tears drowning my eyes, drowning me, as Cystenian’s last words had.
