Shattered: An Urban Romantic Fantasy

by E E Everly

  I vaguely heard the sheep call as the wind whipped stray strands of hair across my face and batted my skirt against my ankles. “Ahnalyn,” my flock teased. “Ahnalyn. What have you gotten yourself into now?”

  I was hallucinating.

  Unable to grasp the full repercussions of what I’d uttered, I absentmindedly brushed the hair out of my face and clarified. “You’ll have your answer in three days.”

  “All right, Ahnalyn.” Brenin’s voice held a slight amusement, and his smile didn’t falter.

  Rigid with unease, I stared blankly. My attention didn’t return to Brenin until he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

  I hesitantly emerged from my torpor and looked at him apologetically. “Sorry.” The warmth and strength of his hand was a comfort.

  “An escort will arrive for you the third morning.” He leaned in and kissed me—a faint, delightful flutter—on my cheek.

  My lungs stopped moving.

  Brenin turned away, gently dropping my hand. He slipped down the hill and faded into the sun’s glare.

  Somehow, I remembered to breathe again.

  I’m nuts. Completely nuts.

  What have I agreed to?

  As I’d done countless times in the past, I rubbed my fingers across the iridescent stone hanging from the leather cord around my neck. The smoothness reassured me and kept me sane, especially when I said hasty words to charming men.

  Just one charming man.

  Why’d I tell him three days? I thumped my palm on my forehead. He’s sending an escort! He seemed so sure of my response. But was I? I should have refused him, but only an absolute fool would dismiss such a life-changing offer.

  I slumped to my knees and cradled my heavy head in my hands. The rustling of the leaves drowned out all but the relentless bleating of my flock, who were still mocking me. With my eyes closed, I tilted my face to the sky, soaking in the day’s radiance and feeling the tranquil breeze.

  I don’t know if I should do this. Mother, tell me what to do.

  A glimmer of flame blazed into my vision, and heat more powerful than the sun’s warmth rushed over me.

  Don’t be afraid of the unknown, whispered a soothing voice in my head. This is a path you can trust.

  No. I flushed, not the least bit alarmed by the familiar voice and vision in my mind. This is a path that will change my life forever.

  AHNALYN

  The evening task of ushering the sheep into the paddock stretched on forever. I secured the bleating throng in the pen, relieved their mocking had withered to timid jabs, and rushed across the shadowy yard to a modest cottage. I pushed the old wooden door open to welcome the pungent scent of stew.

  “Onion… my favorite.” I wiped my hands on my skirt while I crossed the room to give my father, Owein, a kiss on his stubbly jaw. “Smells delicious.”

  Father huffed. “Same meal we had the night before.” He picked up a bowl to ladle stew into it.

  I smiled. Father was still a handsome man for his age, with a strong build matching his equally energetic spirit.

  “Tad,” I said, calling him the endearment children used for their fathers. “I’ll do that. Sit. I have something to tell you.”

  How to start? What would be his reaction?

  “Do ya now?” Father surrendered the bowl into my hands, and I dished the contents of the pot into it.

  With shaking hands, I passed the bowl to Tad and began filling one for myself.

  “Might it have to do with that boy?” Tad asked.

  “That boy? You mean that man. Brenin is a man.” My cheeks became hot as I recalled the whisper of Brenin’s lips against my face.

  That was the closest I had come to a real kiss.

  And it had nearly made me pass out.

  “Still a boy in the eyes of a father. Don’t tell me it makes any difference with his upbringing.” Father blew on a spoonful of stew, so steady, so calm.

  Meanwhile, my chest was quickly tightening.

  I ruffled Tad’s short hair before sitting at the table just big enough for two, knocking my knee on the leg. I winced but held in a curse. That was the second time in four days I’d done that. Instead of picking up my spoon, I scrutinized Father’s face. His tan, leathery skin contrasted with mine, which never reddened in the sun and stayed as pale as the moon.

  We didn’t look alike at all. Except our brown hair.

  I blurted my words. “He asked me to marry him.” I expected Tad to sputter and cough his food across the table.

  I was wrong.

  Father didn’t show any response. He lifted another spoonful to his mouth and took a careful sip.

  I slapped the table, hoping to rile him. “Tad! Did you hear me? Aren’t you going to say anything?” I couldn’t believe he sat there emotionless. The man who had raised me, his only daughter, on his own, didn’t care that I had been asked to marry someone!

  Slowly but surely, a smile curved on his mouth, showing unmistakable mischief. “I know.”

  Ready to throttle him, I shook my head. “What… you know? How’s that possible?”

  “Brenin came to the house this afternoon before he met you in the meadow.”

  My mouth hung agape. “He asked your permission?”

  Father stopped eating. “He most certainly did. It’s customary for the groom to ask for a girl’s hand, and don’t you think for one moment I’d let my daughter go off and marry some high and mighty lord without being a judge of his character. Why’s it such a surprise?”

  I snapped out of my stupor. “And what does your judge of character say?”

  His eyes twinkled, and the creases under them deepened. “Ahnalyn, my darling, don’t you think I’ve noticed the change in you over the past couple of weeks? When Brenin visits you in the meadow, you come home beaming with joy. How could I deny how you’ve been feeling, especially after the long years of sadness you’ve been through?”

  Shame swept over me. Long years of sadness indeed. Tad was referring to my angry outbursts, my guilt. Mother had died, and it was my fault.

  I still hadn’t forgiven myself.

  A sigh escaped my lips. “How will you manage? What will happen to you?”

  Ever since we’d been alone, Tad and I had been a team. While he took the sheep out to pasture, I cooked the meager porridge in the mornings and tackled the chores around the house. Midday, I brought Tad a scrap of bread and cheese and resumed care of the sheep while he returned home to finish his chores and cook supper.

  “I have it figured out,” he said. “A maid from the village will come to cook and clean for me.”

  “With what money? How’s that going to work?”

  “Now, Ahnalyn, don’t you think I’ve been pondering this for a while? Surely you didn’t think you’d live here forever? Someday you’d marry.”

  “I don’t understand how it’ll work.” I caught the confident expression on Father’s face. I narrowed my eyes as my suspicions brewed. “How are you going to pay for help?”

  “He asked me, Ahnalyn. Brenin asked how I would manage without you, and I told him: if I had someone to do the housework, I’d be able to get along.”

  I pushed my chair back. My hands shook as I stood. “Are you saying that Brenin is paying for it? Is that the price of him marrying me?” Impassioned tears stole down my face.

  Father came around the table and wrapped his arms around me.

  Anxiety rapped like a hammer on my heart. Tad’s crushing embrace calmed me as if absorbing my excess emotions.

  “Brenin wanted me to live with you at the palace,” Tad said.

  I hiccoughed against his shoulder and spoke, my voice muffled by his shirt. “He did?”

  “I told him: What would I do? My life is here, not at the palace. I’m not made for finery and fancy trimmings. So we made an arrangement that would leave you free to decide what you want to do. Don’t you see? We’re trying to make this easy for you. But it’s your decision.” Tad pulled back from me and dabbed at a tear on my ch
eek.

  “I don’t understand why Brenin would do this.” I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Could he truly care for me?

  “I do. I see more than you realize. Because of my understanding, I’m more than willing to give you away to be married. Brenin is a good man and worthy of you. Tell me the truth, Ahnalyn. You cannot deny the weight that is lifted when he’s near.”

  My shoulders relaxed, but my brow tightened. What does Father see? “You’re right, Tad. You’re always right.”

  AHNALYN

  With silent tears running down my cheeks, I lay in bed, facing the wall. The sheep had quieted, their incessant noises replaced by the hum of insects.

  I don’t know if I can do this. Leave everything I’ve ever known—leave Tad?

  My body tensed, and blood pounded in my ears, ringing through my head. This familiar feeling had more often than not overwhelmed me in the years since Mother’s tragic death.

  Every day had stayed much the same as the days before she died, and in this way, I remained close—felt her in the breeze and in the sun’s heat. In every heartbeat within the walls of our home.

  In my thoughts.

  I swore I could talk to her. Sense her.

  Swore I was not crazy.

  If I left here, where the memories of her greeted me with every turn, would the bond we share fade? How could I leave what had kept her so close?

  My pulse slowed, and my body relaxed as if guided by a gentle hand. Was this Mother’s way of saying everything would be all right and I should trust this new path?

  I feel you.

  I touched the round stone on the necklace that had been Mother’s. I liked how it shone with a rainbow of light, every move offering a different brilliance. She had given me the stone with her dying breath. The instant I’d tied it on, I was consoled, as if Mother’s presence still lingered. This occurred the same time the visions and voices started, so I’d taken it as a sign she was watching over me.

  And not as a sign that I was crazy.

  Dare I leave my familiar pasture and start a new life?

  Until Brenin had charmed his way into my life, I didn’t have any expectations or hopes beyond what already existed.

  I was simpleminded in this, but simpleminded meant uncomplicated and sure.

  The day Brenin laid eyes on me from across the rocky creek became a catalyst stirring my empty heart. He showed up from nowhere and became a welcome distraction to my somber spirit. He made me laugh as I never had before.

  And made my stomach do mind-bending somersaults.

  Each day that Brenin spent with me, I grew fonder of him. Father was right. Brenin did lift my spirits. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry him.

  I was afraid.

  So afraid my heart was in my lungs, taking up valuable space, making breathing impossible.

  Perhaps it was my fear of the unknown. I rarely traveled from my home and village. The prospect of a new life overwhelmed me, but knowing Father supported whatever decision I chose gave me comfort.

  But not enough to dry my tears or even out my breaths.

  What if I stayed and didn’t accept Brenin? But I didn’t want to think about returning to my solemn days, mourning over Mother and wondering what life would be like if she were still alive.

  Brenin made me forget the pain.

  He made me forget a lot of things, like how to focus. How to speak rationally.

  I was still kicking myself for being so bold with him.

  In spite of the happy prospects, I couldn’t deny my darkest fear, which cast a shadow over the hopes this proposal promised.

  The circumstances pertaining to Mother’s death were cloudy. I still didn’t know the truth, yet I felt it was somehow my fault.

  It was, and you know it.

  Father assured me it was a terrible accident. It had to have been an accident. Tad loved me, but his love couldn’t erase the helplessness I felt.

  Anguish swallowed me, and my body betrayed my emotions as I thought of that night, trembling as if the danger were upon me again. But the memory was scrambled, shrouding those final precious moments with Mother.

  She had been taken away from me when I needed her the most. I feared I could have saved her.

  If only I could remember. Why can’t I remember? The sorrow grew too much. My tears flowed freely in a cathartic release, easing my inner confusion.

  This proposal changed everything. It promised hope and a beginning, one I would never forget because of tragedy.

  My mind was almost made up as my body relaxed.

  The last image I saw as I drifted to sleep was a bright flame reflected in scarlet, catlike eyes. The fire sparked, and above the crackle, the voice spoke.

  Courage, Ahnalyn, have courage.

  AHNALYN

  I leaned against the doorframe of my tired, dusty cottage, watching horses approach from the distance. Lord Brenin had been so sure I’d accept his proposal that, true to his word, an escort arrived three days after our meeting. He must have sent the men the day he’d arrived home. They would have had to ride the entire day and camp nearby, only to rise early to be here at first light.

  Fate had a funny way of shaping one’s life. Why had Brenin chosen my pasture and my creek that day?

  He had appeared harmless enough when we’d met, except he startled me with his sudden appearance at the creekside. We developed a friendship over the following weeks. Brenin shared what running a kingdom was like since his father’s death. I took solace in the knowledge that we had that in common at such a young age—the death of a parent.

  I didn’t have much to share with Brenin, and he didn’t seem to mind, so we sat in the meadow, with my sheep, and laughed together as two old friends would.

  When had he thought of this idea to marry me? I should have foreseen a proposal. What man would devote so much time to a young lady without some other intention?

  I blushed. I was beyond naïve.

  From our afternoons together, I knew Brenin was a confident man, though not overly sure. He loved to laugh and enjoyed a simple life. His eyes expressed passion, and his untamable curls fell at his cheekbones, hinting at a wildly free spirit. When Brenin grinned, the creases around his mouth tried hard to be dimples but failed.

  I groaned. He was so handsome. So desirable.

  So goofy, but I liked that about him.

  I could be happy with him. In the light of this new day, I could fall in love with Brenin. The thought made my stomach flutter.

  Love would come.

  Spewing a cloud of dust in its wake, the escort arrived at my door.

  I clutched Father, heedless of the men’s looks. “I love you, Tad.” I savored the feel of his arms around me and hoped we’d meet again soon.

  “My dearest Ahnalyn, you are my treasure. I love you.” Father squeezed me tighter and leaned in to me. “If that boy doesn’t make you happy, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  I laughed, but I had to swipe a tear away. What would I do without him?

  After many quiet tears, I bid Father goodbye. With my weepy disposition, I hoped the men wouldn’t judge me too soon. I mounted a very regal and hugely intimidating horse, praying I’d have the grace to stay on.

  I had nothing but the clothes on my back, including the cloak around my shoulders, Father’s knife, and Mother’s necklace. I had no other worldly possessions worth bringing. Not even a dowry. So pathetic.

  As I gazed back at my cottage for the last time, I waved at Father. By evening, I’d look upon the Great River and Hyledd.

  My heart thudded.

  My adventure was beginning.

  AHNALYN

  I rode with the six men to the capital city of Terrin. The day’s ride was unremarkable, with fair weather and a shining sun. Brenin’s men extended kindness. They gave me food for dinner, engaged me in small talk, and made sure my gallant horse didn’t run away with me. They laughed with each other over matters I didn’t understand, sometimes a quip about someone’s
wife or child. One of the younger men, with a clean-shaven, boyish face, was apparently quite fond of a young lady at court and was the brunt of the older men’s jokes. Because of their jovial natures, my spirits lifted as the day wore on.

  From the hills in the south, the city of Hyledd could be seen miles before I arrived. I had vague memories of passing this way before, once, when I was little, but the sight still made me gape with awe.

  Hyledd sat on the western shores of massive Lake Mererid, where the Great River poured from the lake and ran north of the city, forming an estuary before dumping into the sea. An impressive white wall of stone ran around the southern border of the city, stopping on either side at the river’s edge, where the docks allowed ships to come in for trade from other coastal towns.

  A man keeping pace beside me must have noticed my amazement. “It’s a magnificent city, my lady. You should be happy here.”

  My face grew warm from the title. “Yeah, definitely, it’s beautiful.” I nodded in agreement, and mentally smacked my head. He must have thought my speech was so rustic. Nothing like a lady’s.

  “Wait until you see the view of the river from the palace. Fresh breezes, the gulls calling, the ocean in the west when the sun sets below it. Lord Pwyll, rest his soul, truly chose a glorious place to establish his realm.”

  “Lord Pwyll is Brenin’s grandfather?”

  “Aye. Truly the best of them. It’s a shame Lord Pwyll’s eldest son died so young just after Lord Brenin was born.”

  “Has it been difficult for Brenin”—I cringed—“I mean, my lord? Has he suffered much because of it?”

  “Lord Brenin doesn’t remember his father, and he has his uncle, the ruler of Talfryn, King Sieffre, to mentor him and be a father figure. Brenin’s mother raised him until she died last year. Her death was hard on my lord.”

  I remembered the day of mourning decreed over the kingdom. This was before I’d met Brenin. He appeared in my life a few short months later and must have been grieving still. His lingering for long days in my pasture made sudden sense. Both recovering from the sadness of our pasts, we needed each other.