by E E Everly
TWENTY-EIGHT
I need to find Trysten. I need to go to my room.
I wandered the halls. The quiet, empty halls with dimly glowing orbs that didn’t help me see through my tears. I wondered where Cystenian had gone. Where would he hide with his deluge of emotions? How would he outrun his feelings?
Trysten. Focus on the only thing that matters.
I ran into a side table because of my stupid, blurring tears. Wishing I could crush the marble top, I leaned over it and gripped it hard.
My room wasn’t far.
You can make it.
I shook more than what my wobbly legs could handle, so I felt my way along the walls, pressing my hands into them for support.
Cystenian’s confused. This is not a major setback.
You more or less told him you loved him.
And in answer, he said he wanted to forget our kiss ever happened.
I became aware of my body and the absence of Cystenian’s touch. My knuckles felt swollen. My joints felt stiff. My shoulders pinched painfully. What had he done to me?
I hurt. I hurt all over.
My body was lamenting my loss.
My spirit cried.
My breasts were heavy. Trysten needed to be fed.
One foot in front of the other toward her.
I rounded the corridor to my chambers, where the orbs were bright enough to illuminate to the hall’s end. I stopped. Twenty feet away, Dad and Cystenian were outside my door, growling at each other in quiet tones.
Probably so they wouldn’t wake Trysten.
What was Cystenian doing here?
Checking on his daughter for the night before he “forgot about what we did?” Alleviating his guilt from our make-out session by convincing himself that he was a good father?
Massive frustration swallowed my despair.
I thought he would have raced off through the woods on Iestyn or something.
I thought I would at least have time to process my heartbreak and come up with another game plan before seeing him again—
Not run into him ten minutes later.
Dad’s voice lifted me from the drowning of my tears and from the annoyance at seeing Cystenian so soon after he’d torn my heart into pieces.
“You’re sending my daughter conflicting messages,” Dad hissed. “Your betrothed will arrive in three days. You should save your flirting for her.”
I grimaced. I hadn’t blocked Dad from my make-out session. All barriers were down, and I had been screaming my feelings loud and clear. I slapped my palm to my forehead. This is going from bad to worse.
Undaunted, Cystenian squared his shoulders. My father didn’t scare him. They were practically contemporaries, give or take a couple of hundred years. “It’s none of your business what I do with your daughter.”
What? It’s not as if Cystenian plans on kissing me again. No, this was a territorial thing. A challenge between them bolstered by pride. Two males staking their claim, whether it was for the right reasons or not.
Neither of them had a claim on me.
Dad stepped closer, but Cystenian held his ground.
“It’s always my business,” Dad said. “You’ll understand this as Trysten gets older.”
“Haven’t you caused enough upset since you’ve arrived?” Cystenian’s body tensed, and his hands flexed. Light raced down his arms and into his palms. “Between Bronwen and Anerah, I have half a mind to—”
Dad flicked his wrists, and flames erupted in his hands.
Holy crap! I raced toward them. “Dad! Cystenian!” I didn’t want a duel in the hall outside my room. “What’s going on?”
Their lights extinguished. Just like that. They didn’t take their eyes off each other or relax their stances though.
I skidded to a halt beside them. My eyes darted from one to the other, but I couldn’t bear to look at Cystenian, so I turned toward Dad. He calmly smiled at me. “I was explaining to lover boy here that he needs to keep his hands to himself.”
“I really don’t think you need to worry about that, Dad,” I said through gritted teeth. I was half pleased that he was defending my honor and half irritated that he was making this his business.
“I don’t want him using you like that.”
Using me? I shook my head. That’s the last thing he was doing. “I don’t need you fighting for me!”
Cystenian relaxed just slightly enough that I felt his eyes on me briefly, but he spoke to Dad. “You don’t have to worry. It won’t happen again.”
Then he whipped away so quickly I almost missed his retreat.
I rounded on Dad. “Why’d you have to do that? Don’t you think this is hard enough without you going and playing dad?”
“He shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Anerah.” Dad reached for my hand.
I lifted my palm. “Don’t.” I entered my room and shut the door in his face.
TWENTY-NINE
For the next few days I stewed. Then Bronwen reminded me of one bright lining to Aria’s arrival.
I was going to see a dragon.
Several in fact, because Aria’s entourage was arriving on a bunch of them!
The morning couldn’t have been more beautiful. I focused on the soothing sun, hoping it would drive away the perpetual mist around my heart.
The entire household—everyone who worked on the estate and Cystenian’s family—dressed in their finest, like regal elves from the greatest fantasy adventure ever. Long gowns and long overcoats. Both men and ladies wore delicate silver circlets, no matter what their station. Apparently, they were in style for formal occasions—
Or for greeting your betrothed when she flew in on her dragon.
Cystenian happened to be stunning in his embossed dark green coat over his fitted trousers and leather boots laced up to his shins. His silver circlet was lost in his curls but peeked out just barely on his forehead. I couldn’t take my eyes away until I spotted the first dragon in the sky.
They flew in from the west, toward the morning sun. With the sun in their faces, every dragons’ color blended with the pale blue sky.
Until they drew closer, and their shining dragon scales blazed as bright as the sun.
They were magnificent!
At least a dozen flew toward us. As they circled over the estate, I craned my neck and my eyes dashed from dragon to dragon. My heart beat fiercely. My breath was heavy, as if this was the most amazing moment of my life. Bronwen squeezed my hand. Her chest was heaving as if this was her first time seeing a dragon. That was how amazing their effect was.
Their necks were long and thin. These were graceful dragons. Slender and sleek. I would venture to say aerodynamic. They had four legs with long claws. Wings were webbed into sections, and smooth and leathery. Scales covered their bodies, making beautiful scallops that shimmered as though filled with light.
They all had horns, but never in the same places or the same amounts. Tiny horns adorned brows. Some sprouted along the sides of their faces where I imagined ears would have been. Many had ridges along their spines, some double and some single, and sometimes, but not always, all the way to their tails. A dusky gray dragon had stubby, thick spikes all over his body. A honey-colored dragon had a bunch of spikes on his chin that looked like a goatee!
My mouth dropped open from the sheer excitement. Dad was standing behind Bronwen and leaned toward me. “I’m glad you were here for this, Anerah.”
And I knew he meant it.
Bronwen tapped my chin and giggled.
I closed my gaping mouth and whispered because I was too struck with awe. “Me too.”
Bronwen smiled at Dad, and he winked.
Her face pinked. It was like adding blush to a porcelain doll. A touch of perfection.
Seated on the back of each dragon was a rider, in a saddle that had one strap that ran under the dragon’s belly and another that crossed over the chest above the shoulders. The riders
didn’t hold reins. They weren’t holding on to anything. As the dragons came in for their landings, the riders sat tall.
“Wow,” I whispered. “How are they so graceful? How do they not fall off?”
With gently flapping wings, the dragons slowed to a controlled glide. An azure dragon, with a male rider, landed first, coming to a halt on his rear legs. He set his front legs down and folded his wings, tucking them around his body. He was followed closely by a lilac dragon and a female rider.
The riders each threw a leg over their saddles and dropped with ease the ten or so feet to the ground. They were dressed in fine flying gear—warm, fitted overcoats and pants, with long cloaks. The stitching on the garments was decorative, with contrasting but complementary thread.
A lavender dragon, with an especially long and thin neck, and delicate claws, settled on the front lawn beside the other two. The rest of the dragons landed in formation behind the three front dragons. A few of them set down heavy trunks that had been clutched between their front claws. The weight of the trunks had been supported by harnesses. Their riders immediately jumped to the ground and began unhooking the dragons from their burdens.
Our company’s attention turned to the first two riders. “The parents,” Bronwen whispered. How were they so lucky as to have dragons and Bronwen and her family were not?
Eiluned and Tomos greeted Aria’s parents with gracious embraces and touched foreheads. Then the four turned toward the lavender dragon and the rider.
She slid from her saddle, swathed in a pale yellow flying outfit, with an oval, lavender stone hanging from a golden chain at her throat. Bronwen had told me earlier about dragon stones. Every dragon who had chosen a rider gave him or her a dragon stone, which linked the rider to the dragon telepathically. As long as the stone touched skin, they heard each other’s thoughts. This was why reins weren’t needed. The riders communicated this way with their dragons while flying.
Every dragon stone that I saw around the riders’ necks matched the dragons’ colors. Not all stones were equal in design. Some were smooth and round. Some were oval. Some had flecks and pits while others were cut like gemstones. All of them were secured by different chains or leather thongs.
Cystenian stepped forward. I didn’t miss how his face lit up when he saw Aria. I focused on her sweet smile and her light green eyes, so light they were startling. They didn’t look human. Her face had a perfect symmetry to it that made her seem unreal. As Cystenian touched his forehead to hers, she angled away from me, revealing ringlets reaching to her waist.
How had she kept them so perfect during flight?
I chewed my lip. “She’s beautiful.” I have no hope.
“Aye, she is.” Bronwen’s eyes twinkled with envy. “Wena is the most striking dragon. I wish I had one.”
“Not the dragon, but Aria.”
“Oh, Anerah.” Bronwen smiled as she laid a tender hand on my forearm. “You’re beautiful too.”
“But Cystenian loves her.”
He whispered something into Aria’s jeweled ear, which was bedazzled along her cartilage like an 80s backpack. She giggled and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Oh, he was smooth. How could he so calmly go, without flinching, from igniting a fire in me a few days ago to blushing his betrothed?
“Don’t lose hope.” Bronwen squeezed before releasing me. “I must greet her. Let me introduce you. You can do this, right?”
I nodded. “I have to.”
Good luck, my father whispered.
He was talking about my control. Emotions for Cystenian must be kept within bounds from now on.
“Bronwen!” Aria tore her attentions away from Cystenian and rushed forward. I kept a wide berth of her incoming arms as she threw them around Bronwen. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”
“Only since the betrothal.” Bronwen touched her forehead to Aria’s. They held each other, tittering slightly and blushing like two high school girls.
My heart ached. Aria was—had always been—close to this family. The betrothal made sense. I was an interloper. An emrys newbie. How could I compete with confidants who had known each other for a couple of centuries? I might not win the affections of Cystenian, but I wanted to keep Bronwen as my honorary sister.
Bronwen turned. She tipped her head at me, encouragingly. She had coached me through this. Guard my light and my emotions. Aria couldn’t know the truth.
Bron and I, along with the help of her family, had constructed a clever ruse just yesterday. I was visiting from Bryn with my newborn niece, whose parents were killed in the latest massacre in Morvith, and hoped to place her in adoption. My being a relation would explain my similar hair coloring with Trysten, why I became her wet nurse, and my love for her, and being a friend of Bronwen would hopefully deter Aria from making a connection between Cystenian and me.
I felt confident in the lie. I could do this.
Bronwen gestured to me. “Aria, I’d like you to meet Anerah. I met her on Bryn. She’s come for a visit during these happy times. I hope you will love her as much as I do.”
“Oh, Anerah. It’s a pleasure.” Aria extended a hand and folded it around the edge of mine, gingerly, as if she were breakable and couldn’t afford to squeeze too hard. “Bronwen has always brought interesting treasures back from Bryn, and I dare say, you are exquisite.”
Strangely, I didn’t think she meant her comment as an insult. I felt nothing but genuine interest from her. It must have been my auburn hair. “It’s a pleasure as well. Congratulations on your betrothal and the impending nuptials.”
Her fair cheeks pinked. She was more of a porcelain doll than Bronwen. If Aria tripped, she might crack her face on the pea gravel. At least snap her ankle in the process. We couldn’t have that.
“I can’t wait to hear about Bryn,” Aria went on. “Bronwen tells me stories of her travels as an ambassador, but I’d love to hear them from someone who’s lived there.”
I wrinkled my nose. Bronwen had told me some things about Bryn, but I didn’t know how I would fake a description of my supposed life there.
Be vague with details from your real life, Dad said. I’ll help.
“I can’t wait,” I answered Aria. Thanks, Dad.
I couldn’t believe I was being civil with Dad and more than willing to accept his help with this, especially since I hadn’t forgiven him for his eruption with Cystenian.
He appeared at Aria’s side. I would find him always at her side from now on. The thought didn’t fill me with glee.
I reinforced the barrier in my brain. Guard my emotions. Guard my emotions.
I can do this.
“Brunch?” Cystenian took Aria’s arm and steered her away from me. His parents and her family followed the happy couple into the house.
Bronwen hung back with me. “One moment at a time. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” I dug my fingernails into my palms. “I’ll take brunch outside with Trysten. I must get back to her. I don’t like leaving her alone with Aelwen for too long, even if her hands are more than capable.” I dreaded later, when Cystenian would tell Aria about Trysten. How would she take the news that Trysten would become their ward? Was this something that happened often?
Not usually, Dad said. More so on Bryn than Emira since the war, but it’s not unheard of.
That’s why you think it will work.
Yes, and Aria wouldn’t do anything to mess up her betrothal with Cystenian.
Gee, thanks, I said. Rub it in my face.
I’m sorry. I’ve never been one for tact.
Bronwen smirked at Dad. She must have known our silence and looks meant a mental conversation. Then she kissed my cheek. “I’ll catch up with you both later. Duty calls.”
She scurried into the entry hall, and my shoulders practically sagged to the ground.
Dad stopped beside me. We were two outsiders.
Just think of Trysten, I told myself. She needs her father.
“You’re doing well, An
erah.” Dad rested his hand on my shoulder. I was so weary with everything I didn’t even care to shake his touch off.
He was my dad, and I was getting used to him, my heart even softening toward him.
I shook my head, inwardly chiding myself, as I walked into the house and headed toward my room and Trysten.
THIRTY
While the rest of the world, I meant, the important people in my world, ate brunch on the veranda, Aelwen, Trysten, and I hid out in the gardens with a picnic. We were in a particularly favorite spot of mine, in the center of a circle of lavenders rimmed with roses. The strange bees of this world hummed quietly. Aelwen and I joked about the festival. She couldn’t wait to see the men who’d fly in to participate. Apparently, the festival was a good time for young emrys to meet potential spouses. With emrys living forever, they didn’t have children very often. Sometimes emrys had only one, so weddings were few and far between. No wonder the festival was a big deal.
I’d heard that the town was flooded with tourists—if I could call them that—emrys from other vales. Where lodgings weren’t available, emrys constructed extravagant tents on the outskirts of town. In my head, I pictured clusters of yurts. The emrys didn’t need electricity, so it wasn’t as if they were roughing it.
The event arena was on the other side of town from the estate and spanned a great area. The course that Cystenian had been training Iestyn on had been constructed for the festival, and it encompassed an area that, from Aelwen’s descriptions, was the equivalent of a tough mudder race. Lots of obstacles.
Feeling full from our brunch, which included samplings from the meal served to the others, Aelwen and I lounged back on the blanket, with Trysten sleeping between us. The sun warmed my eyelids, and peace soothed me. I didn’t think about losing Cystenian, at least I actively told myself not to think about it.
Aelwen was in on the family secret, so she knew my anguish. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Once some time has passed, you won’t have to guard your feelings anymore. Cystenian’s feelings for you will have faded, and you can be in the same place, with Cystenian and Trysten.”
