by E E Everly
I held up a hand. “I got it. Good luck with the rest of the matches. Come on, Trysten. I know when we aren’t wanted.”
“Anerah, really. Come on. I’m doing the best I can here.”
“Your best would have been to call off the betrothal or at least tell Aria the truth.”
Cystenian muttered something that could have been a curse word. Possibly. It wasn’t English. Then he snarled under his breath. “I won’t change my mind about this.” He turned his back on me as he hobbled to the bench. “Send Ofydd in when you leave.”
I scoffed and turned on my heel. Outside the tent, Ofydd was waiting as patiently as could be. I scowled at him. “His highness is ready for you.” Poor guy. He didn’t deserve my wrath.
He only bowed his head.
These emrys! They were going to make me insane.
Dad rose to his feet from where he’d been lounging a few paces away and gave me a look. “I take it things didn’t go well.”
“You’re a man. You tell me. Are they all so pigheaded?”
I marched off into the crowd, headed toward the estate. I wouldn’t be watching any more matches today. The trek back was a good hike, through the town and up to the house, but it would give me time to cool down.
Time that would help me recover the mental barriers I so desperately needed to keep up.
From Aria and from Cystenian.
I would be a cold steel wall to him from now on.
THIRTY-FOUR
I stayed away from the matches all week. No one cared. Although Bronwen checked on me several times throughout each day and made sure I was steady and keeping my mental barriers up. She praised my excellent concealing effort, for my beginner skill level.
I had quite the motivation.
That left Trysten and me to do our own thing, some of which involved flying above the vale, well away from the matches. I hesitated at first, wondering if it was safe to fly with Trysten, but Bronwen assured me she would stay warm due to her inner light, and she was secure, nuzzled against me in her sling. So I went with that line of thought and let Aelwen go to the matches.
With my bird’s-eye view of Brynmor, I could see a river cutting through the vale and many small villages growing larger as they reached the main town. The majority of the countryside was either fields or woodlands. I was too nervous to land and check things out up close, because Cystenian and Iestyn had spooked me that first time I ventured off alone, and I did not want to endanger Trysten by coming across some species I knew nothing about—my history with the fae had taught me to be careful.
The time to myself was good for two things. Building my skill as a flyer and solidifying those walls that I promised would be as cold as steel.
There was one big problem.
The evenings.
I was most susceptible to my feelings when Cystenian was home. He was too close. His golden light too easy to sense.
Seeing him tugged at my heart strings.
I wished I could singe them until they blackened and died, until the hurt went away.
Seeing him was torture.
It was customary for the household to gather in the evenings and dote on Cystenian, and Aria. They were a pair, and this was to honor the upcoming occasion.
I didn’t want to be rude, because after all, I was a loving guest who was so happy for the couple.
Every time I laid eyes on them, I felt sick.
Every time I saw Cystenian, I could tell he was sore, despite his healings.
Maybe he liked pain.
Maybe he liked it because Aria was all over him, fawning on him, sitting at his side, listening to his behind-the-scenes tales, getting him beverages, and serving him treats—right into his mouth, I might add.
Bronwen didn’t notice my disgust either. She was lost in the gaiety of everything, and to her parents’ principles.
She was also lost to my dad. She tried, oh how she tried, not to look at him across the room. She tried to maintain their distance when everyone was together, but I knew. I could tell how much they loved each other.
That’s when I realized I forgot to eavesdrop on their clandestine meeting. Bronwen had convinced Dad to meet her that first night of the festival, and I completely forgot!
Whatever they had done during that meeting had only multiplied what they felt for each other.
How could no one else notice?
As I studied the emrys, and the emotions they allowed themselves to display, I understood something. They excelled at reading each other’s inward emotions, the feelings that the light revealed, but they didn’t often look at a person’s outward actions and expressions. That was the giveaway to me for Dad and Bronwen, but other people seemed not to notice.
Dad and Bronwen did have a tight barrier on their inner emotions. When I looked into Bronwen, she mostly expressed elation and peace, but that could have been for Cystenian and Aria. It was so hard to tell whom someone’s current emotions were for, so perhaps that’s why Dad and Bronwen felt safe.
I shook my head. They were deceiving themselves. Their feelings were so blatant. But they were right, everyone else was so caught up in the festival and the wedding details that no one had time for whether Bronwen was falling—again—for a half-emrys who was forbidden to her.
But I knew.
I was glad to have Aelwen in on their/our secret. She gave me someone to lament to. She gave me someone to look at with amazement or revulsion every time someone did something that inwardly made me astounded, whether for good or bad reasons.
We chatted about everything that transpired during the days while I put Trysten down for the night. She talked of the festival while I talked of my explorations. Eventually, Aelwen would excuse herself, and my blissful days and hellish nights would start over.
Then midweek I had a fright.
I thought I was alone, with Trysten. I was wading in a creek beyond a field of the mutant cows, listening to the caw of some crazy bird going on and on. Trysten was swaddled in a nest of blankets, sleeping on the bank in the shade.
We’d just eaten lunch. I was deep in daydreams of living a rural life, with Cystenian as my devoted husband and the three of us living in a quaint cottage.
I couldn’t help myself.
I pictured Cystenian holding our little naked daughter to his chest as he stepped into a shower to wash her. I joined them, helping Cystenian hold her slippery little body. I hugged them to myself and kissed them as water rushed over us. We smiled and laughed.
We were so happy.
With a sigh, I sank into the creek, clothes and all, and let the dream become more real with the feel of the water.
Someone cleared her throat.
I bolted upright, wet up to my waist.
“It’s quite all right, Anerah,” a woman said with a happy voice.
My eyes darted to the bank, and to Trysten. She was safe. Aria stood next to her, in all her radiant glory. Where had she come from? We were a good several miles from the arena, and she wore a gauzy green number that suggested that she hadn’t flown here on her dragon.
“Excuse me?” I stumbled through the knee-high water, toward the bank.
“Everyone has an infatuation with Cystenian when they meet him.” She smiled sweetly.
“What?” I braced myself on the bank, trying to get my footing to climb up the slippery grass. She was right. I could deny all I wanted, but infatuation was most definitely one way to say it.
Aria looked at Trysten as she spoke. “They sometimes fancy they are even in love with him—”
“I’m not in love with—”
“And sometimes their feelings manifest as such. Believe me. There was this emrys back home whom I was besotted with. I had to move on from him because I was betrothed to Cystenian.”
I finally righted myself on level ground, half embarrassed that she looked so magnificent while I looked half drowned and now covered in grass stains. I gave her a weak smile.
“So you see”—Aria looked me right i
n the eyes—“I’m not worried. I’m not even jealous. I know Cystenian loves me. Your feelings for him will fade with time. I don’t hold them against you.”
She was so magnanimous.
“I understand how you feel malice toward me, but don’t worry about it. All is forgiven.” Aria smiled.
My barriers sucked. Bronwen and Dad were liars in their praise.
I’m surprised that I wasn’t reprimanded by Tomos and Eiluned for letting my feelings slip past.
Despite Aria, the Greek goddess standing before me, her lowly peasant, I decided to be brave. I looked her square in the eyes and searched for my honest feelings for her. As Aria beamed at me, I saw her innocence. She really had no clue.
I couldn’t hate her, then.
I let her see that emotion in me. My shoulders softened. “I don’t hate you, Aria.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Reach beyond what you are able. “I’m glad you came to me so we could talk about this.” Even if you, once again, showed up unannounced.
Aria tilted her head, and her ringlets brushed her shoulder. “Me too.” She crouched beside Trysten and stroked her cheek. “As Trysten’s aunt, you are welcome always at our home.”
I nodded, even though she was too busy doting on Trysten to notice. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Aria stood and took my hand. She held it between hers. “I wanted to make sure nothing was amiss between us. For Cystenian’s sake. And for the child’s.”
“Of course.” My hand twitched, wanting to be released.
“Wonderful. I shall see you this evening.” She released my hand, and I hid it at my side, refraining from wiping it childishly against my pants. She took a few steps beyond the tree, and with a flash of luminous silver, dragon wings unfurled from her scapula, and she rose into the sky.
Ugh! Even her wings were more magnificent than anyone else’s!
No way. Emrys wings were my thing. I had discovered them. Couldn’t I have one thing that wasn’t crushed by Aria?
I sank to the ground beside Trysten. She was awake and looking at me expectantly.
“Apparently, your daddy is the only one who has a lock on his emotions.” Catastrophe averted with Aria at least.
Trysten smiled.
Thank goodness for that, or my conversation with Aria would have gone a lot differently, especially if she had known Cystenian had kissed me.
“Let’s keep the kiss between your daddy and me a secret, okay, chubby cheeks?”
Trysten stuck her tongue out, and I tickled her lips, making her turn toward my fingers.
I picked Trysten up and nuzzled her close. I should have felt more anxiety, but I felt relief. So Aria knew of my feelings. I could relax a bit.
Just maybe.
Something knotted in my chest.
Aria had all the points in favor of Cystenian’s affections, and I had none. Well, one. I was Trysten’s mother.
And nothing more.
THIRTY-FIVE
The last day of the festival was the race that Iestyn and Cystenian had trained so hard for. Since I had stayed away from the festival all week, Bronwen convinced me that I should see this last feat.
I’d gone back and forth on whether I would go or not all morning. It was especially hard to convince me since my conversation with Aria.
I didn’t want to look too eager about seeing Cystenian, my infatuation.
Then I shrugged it off. Who cares? Aria had already won. I would do what I wanted.
The race wasn’t held in the arena. It couldn’t have been. The course was too huge. Several miles long, in fact. At least forty contestants and their animals were ready to compete.
Bronwen, Aelwen, and I, along with Trysten, walked to the best location, a place where the course crossed over itself, so we would see Cystenian twice. It was a bit of a distance from the finish line, but close enough that we could tell when the race began and ended. Aria had stayed at the finish, thank heavens. I was glad to have that separation.
Our spot on a hillside above the course showcased the famous double jump that Cystenian would face on the second crossover. The first part of the jump was about twenty-five feet, followed by a narrow ledge just large enough for Iestyn to touch down before he had to leap over a much larger gap.
It made me think of a certain eighties video game that had a similar double jump in an advanced level.
“He’ll have to get a huge running start to make that,” Bronwen said. “Iestyn can make it. Cats like him can jump many times their length.”
“So he is a cat of sorts,” I said.
Bronwen nodded. “A blewog. Rather common in this vale. They are fairly docile though and hunt only moderate-sized rodents.”
“Moderate-sized rodents?” The blood drained from my face as I thought of a rat the size of a domestic Earth cat. “What are we talking about here?”
“Nothing bigger than Iestyn’s head.”
That was still massive. Iestyn’s head was bigger than a lion’s! I decided to change the topic, although I wasn’t sure my topic of choice was a safe one. “What kind of obstacles will he and Cystenian have to face?”
“Lots of climbing apparatuses. Blewogs are good climbers. They’ll have to swim a pit. Traverse a narrow log. Jump stepping stones over a mud pit. Dive through a ring of fire…”
“You must be messing with me.”
“It’s right before a water obstacle,” Aelwen said. “If anyone catches fire, they dive right in.”
My heart thrummed, and I fanned my face, feeling suddenly overheated for the mild day. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea for me to come.” I shifted Trysten. It felt as if a sheet of sweat had settled between us.
Apparently, I was not the adventurer I thought I was. Risks didn’t sit well with me. How had I jumped off that cliff at home and convinced myself to do it a second time?
It’s because you have someone else you care deeply about now, Dad said.
I stiffened. Where are you?
I’m almost there. Had to come separate.
So Bronwen’s parents wouldn’t suspect anything?
I don’t know what you are talking about, Dad said.
You are such a liar. You haven’t fooled me.
“Perhaps I should take Trysten today,” Aelwen suggested.
I looked at her as I swiped the sweat forming on my chest near Trysten’s face. “Good idea.” I didn’t want to get worked up and upset Trysten. We switched the sling to Aelwen and secured my daughter. I took a freeing breath and pulled my sticky shirt away from my chest. “That is actually a nice relief. Thanks.”
“Of course. I love this little girl.” Aelwen patted Trysten’s bum.
“The race is about to start.” Bronwen stepped onto a broad flat rock that gave her a head up over some of the other observers on the hill. We were a group of about thirty or so people. I stepped onto the rock beside her. Aelwen found a place on the edge of the crowd and sat in the grass.
A loud trumpet or something blasted in the distance, where we could barely see the starting line, and a mass of blewogs and riders took off.
Dad jumped onto the rock next to Bronwen. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing, yet.” Her fingers threaded between his, and I almost rolled my eyes. If I didn’t think of Dad as Dad, I’d think it was cute. Like teenage-love cute, but it was Dad. And Bronwen was my friend, who was beginning to feel like my future stepmom. Which was hard to think of when she looked only a few years older than I was.
This emrys age stuff was messing with my head.
I had to make conversation, anything to get thoughts of Dad and Bronwen together out of my brain. “How long will it take them to reach us?” On the first pass, Cystenian and Iestyn would go through the first opening of the double jump, which was set up as a gauntlet of swinging boulders.
“Thirty minutes,” Bronwen said. “The course should be about ninety minutes long. Then the double jump is right before the end.”
The b
oulders below us started swinging at a deadly pace back and forth. “How are they doing that?”
“Someone is propelling them, with light,” Dad said. Before we knew it, the first contestants entered the gauntlet.
“Whoa.” I stood on my tiptoes.
The blewogs were amazingly agile as they leapt around as if they were pouncing on mice. I shouldn’t have been surprised; they were cats.
Cystenian was right on the third contestant’s tail. Iestyn jumped around the first couple of boulders as they swung toward him, with Cystenian hunched tightly on his back, as if they were one. Iestyn pulled back as a boulder nearly missed him, and Cystenian looked as if he might slide off. Everyone around us gasped, but then Iestyn leapt forward and cleared the obstacle just in time to dive under a huge log that seesawed toward them. Cystenian nearly missed being brained.
I grabbed my chest. “You can’t tell me that wouldn’t have crushed his skull. Why are they doing this?” I hate this. All of it. “Why did I come?”
Bronwen held my bicep in a grip that she must have thought would be reassuring. “It’s all right. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Who? Iestyn or Cystenian?”
Dad chuckled but shut up when I glared at him.
Iestyn and Cystenian cleared the gauntlet and bolted to the next obstacle. I could just make out a slick of mud that Iestyn had to claw his way up. “This is more of a course for Iestyn than it is for Cystenian.”
“It’s a challenge with the rider, and for Cystenian to hold on,” Dad said. “They have to complete each obstacle together for them to pass.”
“Have you done one of these before?” I asked, curious.
“Not on a blewog. When a friend of mine in the third vale had his wedding festival, about fifty years ago, the animal selected was a glepluon.”
“Which is?”
“Kind of like a wyvern, which is a two-legged dragon by Earth’s definition,” Dad said. “But glepluon are mammals, not reptiles. They have the wings of angels, and feathers all over their bodies.”
“You flew on one of them?”
“Wasn’t easy.”
