by Ann Hunter
Xander made up his mind. He must find Aodhagáin.
Xander made his way to the king’s chambers in hopes of finding him within. The king sat at the edge of his bed while Maeb wrung out a damp rag in a basin. Xander knocked softly on the door and asked if he could come in. Aodhagáin consented.
Xander entered and knelt before the king.
“What is it, my boy?” Aodhagáin asked.
Xander had appreciated how the king had treated him over the winter, accepting him as one of his own and often seeking his company. He even helped Xander refine his fluency in the language of the Isle. Xander closed his hands as they became clammy. He told himself to just get on with it. He inhaled sharply and blurted it out all at once. “I wish to ask for Aowyn’s hand.”
Maeb stopped mid-wring.
Aodhagáin blinked. “Say it again.”
Xander glanced up at him aquiver. “I seek your daughter’s hand, Your Majesty.”
Maeb lit up and scrambled toward Xander. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him awkwardly between her overabundant bosom. “This is wonderful!”
Maeb tended to Aodhagáin. “Do you not think so, Your Grace?”
Xander pried Maeb’s doughy arms from about him and smoothed his hair. He shot her an uncomfortable look.
Aodhagáin remained silent.
Maeb heeded Xander unapologetically, bathed in a permanent smile. She urged the king for a response. “Your Grace?”
Aodhagáin found his feet with Maeb’s help and paced slowly. He pinched a silver ring upon his finger with a large moonstone, twisting it with an expression of anguish.
Maeb watched him with concern.
Xander wondered if he had upset the king.
Aodhagáin paused before Xander and placed the ring in his hand.
Maeb gasped. “The Ring of Royals.”
***
Aowyn watched the sun set over An Cuan Áille. Lorgaire wandered the shore, seeking his supper. Caoin Croí sang beneath a blossoming tree. Choróin kept watch on a far bank, and Rógaire swam and dove beneath the waters. A light breeze whispered and tossed fragrant pink and white buds across the pond. Crickets chirped like bards on lutes to Caoin Croí’s song. Aowyn sighed. The fires of Bealtaine would be lit soon. The sound of drums boomed in the distance. The swans looked to one another. Lorgaire approached Aowyn. You should go.
Bealtaine is the best day of the year, Choróin gurgled.
Rógaire opened his beak and almost chortled. He would know!
Aowyn’s cheeks pinked.
Lorgaire nudged Aowyn toward the water. We’ve decided you are going. Let us help ready you.
If we brothers cannot go, at least one of us should, Choróin honked softly.
Aowyn grimaced but walked into the waters, lest she be goosed by her brother. Her gown flowed around her. The waters were cooling against the warming night air.
The swans glided toward Aowyn as she bathed herself. Caoin Croí helped her weave blossoms into her hair as he sang quietly. Rógaire and Lorgaire plucked snowy feathers from themselves and adorned Aowyn’s dress carefully. Choróin swam around them, inspecting their work.
Aowyn emerged from the waters purified and just as much the beautiful swan her brothers saw her as.
Her brothers lined up in the waters before her. The last of the pink and orange light fading behind them. The moon began to peek over the trees, and two stars danced in the sky.
Choróin swam forward with his neck arched. We are all here together. He raised his head in the direction of the Bealtaine field. And they are expecting their queen.
UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE
Aowyn gazed across the Bealtaine field. People flocked to the festival. Children wearing self-woven blossom and wicker Cétamain coronets ran and laughed. Women in woad danced gaily as they waved the antlers of the great hart. A giant wicker man at the center of the field waited to be lit. Aowyn glimpsed young lovers darting into the forest of greenwoods to, no doubt, perform their own sacred marriage where they would be bound to one another for a year and a day.
Two wooden towers ignited at dusk symbolized the purification of the land and the oncoming heat of summer. The village’s livestock paraded through them. They would be taken to the high pastures for the summer to bear their young and fatten up.
Men, women, and children hushed when they realized Aowyn was among them. They reached out to touch her with admiration and respect. Aowyn was still not used to all of the attention, but smiled and tried to enjoy herself. She threw herself into the dancing, trying to forget the way all eyes dwelled on her. She let her spirit join in the joy of it. Her family’s trials had passed with winter. She should be rejoicing.
Aowyn stepped back when they lit the wicker man. Flames licked the giant body. The field grew bright with its light. He would burn through the night and bring forth a long, hot, and prosperous summer. More and more lovers snuck away to the greenwood. Aowyn tried not to notice. She feasted and laughed with some of the girls who were by themselves. They drank sweet mead and munched almonds, oysters from the sea, and fresh cheeses from the first cream of spring. They even managed to find enticing, musky truffles growing close to the trees. Aowyn was caught off guard in the shadows of those trees when a form slipped his arms around her waist. Her heart stopped for a moment until she heard a familiar voice.
“I am the rutting stag. I am the mighty oak. I am the King of the Forest, and I hunt the Cétamain Queen.”
Aowyn shivered and turned in Xander’s arms. I am the Cétamain Queen, both purity and strength, and I submit to you.
Drums began to beat again in a deep, driving cadence. Aowyn felt something stir in her and, not giving a second thought, grinned at Xander and grabbed his hand. The Bealtaine bonfires danced in her eyes. She tugged at him, and they dashed off across the fields to the edge of the woods. A rush of electricity zipped down Aowyn’s spine. She tingled with excitement. She led Xander into the woods where the firelight died behind them, and only moonlight illuminated the way.
Xander laughed breathlessly. He stopped her against a tree and turned her to him.
Aowyn’s eyes glittered. She bit her lower lip.
Xander smiled back and slipped his hand under her abundant curls.
Aowyn placed her hand on his shoulder and wondered if Xander could feel her pulse race beneath his palm. He lowered his head to hers. Noses touched. He stepped closer, wordlessly asking for consent to kiss her.
Aowyn’s eyes fluttered shut as Xander’s mouth pressed to hers. Her hand slid to the back of his neck; her fingers brushed against his wavy locks. Aowyn breathed in sharply and softened her mouth to the curve of his.
Xander was emboldened. One arm moved to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. His other hand slowly slipped down her neck and arm until it found her waist.
Aowyn’s breath raced as she became aware of him as a man.
Xander widened his mouth and teased at her lips with his tongue.
Aowyn felt heat rising in her, radiating from her core. Her hands went to his chest and pushed him away.
Xander studied her with confusion.
Aowyn leaned against the tree. Moonlight washed over her face. Aowyn dug her nails into the bark and gasped.
Xander approached her again and embraced her gently. He caressed her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. “I mean to make you my wife, Wynnie.” He took her hand and slid the Ring of Royals onto her finger. “Will you not have me?”
Aowyn searched his eyes. She grasped his wrists to put them away from her and bolted.
Aowyn skidded to a stop on the shore of An Cuan Áille. The air in her lungs stung. Her chest heaved. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought she might die. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply.
Aowyn clenched her fists and opened them again, aware of the ring. She held her hand up to the moonlight and recognized the Ring of Royals. If Xander had given it to her, it meant Aodhagáin consented to their union, blessed it even. It had
not been a coincidence that it came on Bealtaine. The only other person to have worn this ring was Sulwen. Aowyn beheld the moon with heartache. Mother….
Lorgaire swam over to Aowyn and honked.
The other swans, who had been nesting on the far bank, orange noses tucked under wings, raised their heads. Rógaire crossed to them.
How did it go? Did you enjoy yourself? they asked.
Aowyn focused on the bank closest to her when the grass and bushes rustled. Rógaire and Lorgaire scattered when they saw Xander standing there, breathless. He dashed down the bank after a moment.
“Are you alright?”
Aowyn’s eyes lowered in shame.
Xander cut across the shore to her and grasped her hand. “Wyn…”
Aowyn tried to pull away, but Xander swept her into his arms. He kissed her temple and hugged her tightly. “What happened back there?”
Aowyn wished she could tell him. Words would be so much simpler right now.
“Were you frightened?” Xander asked.
Aowyn didn’t know what she was thinking, running off with him like that.
Xander clutched her shoulders and held her back. “I would never hurt you or force your hand, Aowyn. You’re the one thing I’ve gotten right in my life. I… I love you. I want you for my wedded wife… not greenwood… not any other.” He pulled her in again and slipped a finger under her chin to draw her mouth to his. “Forever.”
His kiss was like Manna to Aowyn, and she took him in hungrily. Xander’s hands caressed her face and bound her there like a spell. Aowyn reached for his collar and jerked him closer to her. He kissed her more deeply. Aowyn’s toes curled as the feelings from the forest grew within her. She broke off the kiss.
Xander’s eyes opened haltingly. “Is that a no?”
Aowyn turned from him and chewed her lower lip. How could she explain how she felt? How could she tell him that she wanted him, but was overwhelmed by what he made her feel? It was daunting. She couldn’t imagine how her brothers followed through on their romantic escapades without a second thought. How do you just give in? She had given her heart so fully to her brothers and father that she wasn’t sure how to give it to any other man in the way she wanted to. Aowyn thought back on the way her brothers had so lovingly prepared her and how the Ring of Royals had found its way to her. It seemed that they expected her to carry out The Sacred Marriage of Bealtaine with an actual marriage. How convenient that she was in love with the one Aodhagáin had chosen as the King Stag, Lord of the Festival. The King Stag could have chosen anyone to mate with, but he chose her.
Aowyn folded her arms and rubbed them as the late night grew chilly. She wanted to tell Xander that she accepted, but when she turned back to him, he was gone.
THE TWELFTH KINGDOM
Aowyn expected to find Xander home at the castle. She could not find him in the throne room, or the training yard with the soldiers, or even with her father. He had vanished. Aowyn felt as though her right arm had been cut from her. Where had he gone?
Aodhagáin carried a letter into the throne room a few days later. “He has returned to the Twelve Kingdoms.”
Aowyn raised her head as she sat upon the throne.
Aodhagáin hobbled toward her. “What happened, Wyn? Did you not care for him? I thought it would make you happy.”
Aowyn gripped the arms of the throne and sat back. He would have made me happier than anything.
Aodhagáin leaned on his walking staff. “Did you quarrel?”
Aowyn shook her head.
Aodhagáin’s fingers opened and closed around the staff. He raised his head after a period of thinking. “Aowyn. I would have given the whole of the Summer Isle to be with your mother. I hope you do not make the mistake of living your life without love.”
Suddenly Aowyn could bear it no longer and buried her face in her hands.
Aodhagáin ascended the stairs to the throne and took his place in the king’s seat. He put his hand upon Aowyn’s back as she wept. “Love comes softly, my pet.”
Aowyn leaned into her father and sobbed. He did not even say goodbye!
Aodhagáin leaned his chin against Aowyn’s head. His faded beard appeared brighter against Aowyn’s red curls. He wrapped his arm around her.
Why did he not say goodbye?
“You are Queen, Aowyn, but now you must make a choice. True love comes once.”
Aowyn lifted her head and dashed away her tears.
“Go to him. Claim his love before another steals it away. Take Maeb with you.”
Aowyn regarded her Father. Leave the throne?
“I was king once. I can be so again. Nevertheless, it is your decision. You can linger here and rule with fervered hope that love will find you again one day, or you can fight for true love.”
Aowyn winced. Leave her Father alone? He would die. She couldn’t allow that… but she couldn’t lose Xander either.
Aodhagáin stroked Aowyn’s hair. “Once in a lifetime loves are worth dying for.”
Aowyn leaned forward and pressed her lips to her father’s wrinkled brow.
An Cuan Áille lingered in serenity. Aowyn wondered how many times she had stood on this bank and surveyed the sky. Shadows lengthened beneath the fading sun. A light breeze rustled the summer leaves.
Caoin Croí circled the water and swam to his sister. You should go.
Aowyn surveyed the brothers as they lined up before her. She had always been here for them.
We will be alright, Lorgaire assured.
You made sure of that, Rógaire said proudly.
Choróin touched his head to his chest then raised it to the sky in the same way Aowyn had the first time the four brothers left for winter. Go.
Aowyn walked into the water to caress and embrace each brother.
You have sacrificed everything for us for so long, Wynnie, Choróin said, now let us repay it.
For the love you bear us.
The salted sea air whipped through Aowyn’s hair. The white sails bearing King Aodhagáin’s sun emblem bulged and rippled in the wind as the waves tugged the ship along. Maeb spent much of the time angled over the rail of the ship in an intriguing shade of green. Aowyn wondered why her nursemaid refused to administer medicine to herself to help ward off the sickness. When Maeb was not turning out the contents of her stomach, she hid below deck in their shared quarters. Aowyn reveled being on deck. She loved seeing the activity of the sailors as they worked and played. The sweltering heat of summer’s peak beat down on their glistening, tan skin.
The ship pulsing up and down on the waves felt like a giant cradle rocking. It soothed Aowyn. Lulled by the warmth of the sun and the crashing of waves, she leaned back against the finely-gilded wood banister and dreamed of her future. I will find you, Xander.
***
“Treason.”
Xander stood before his tyrant father unflinchingly.
“You are lucky you are my son, or I would have you hung for treason.”
Xander let the words hit him like arrows. He did not care, for the world was lost to him ever since Aowyn had turned him away. Being hung for treason would be less painful than Aowyn’s rejection. He could not decide what hurt more: Aowyn turning him down or his father’s keen foresight.
“I warned you that you were foolish to think she loved you. What did you think would happen, boy? That she would swoon and make you king? Is that how you were going to prove yourself? First you kill your mother, then you fail your brother, and you could not even secure the Summer Isle for me.”
Xander’s adam’s apple bobbed.
Rab rammed his finger into Xander’s chest. “You are a disgrace.”
Xander swayed as Rab jabbed at him again.
“I am mortified that the gods would curse me with such a useless spawn who fails at everything I task him with.”
Xander’s hands closed into fists.
“I cannot fathom how you kept control of those soldiers with such behavior.”
Xander locke
d eyes with the man. “If you wanted the Summer Isle so badly, why did you not go and take it for yourself?”
Xander’s father swung to backhand him. Xander caught Rab’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He drew his dagger and held it to Rab’s throat. “It puzzles me. Being the waste of breath you find me to be, was it your intent that I fail? Did you hope I would not return? Did you honestly think it would be that easy?”
Rab’s breath raced.
Xander pressed the dagger to his father’s skin. “Answer me!”
Rab said nothing.
Xander swept his father’s legs out from under him and sheathed his dagger. Rab lay in a heap on the black stone floor staring, terrified, at Xander.
Xander crouched by Rab. His words sharpened each moment. “The gods cursed you with a son that will not give you what you please because you haven’t the grace to care for that son’s life. There will come a day when you will perish, and on that day I will throw myself before the Dagda in gratitude for it. Part of me did die on the Summer Isle. It was the part that was worthless.” Xander spit in his face. “You disgust me.”
Xander marched from the room.
***
Maeb crumpled on the dock and kissed the dirty boards. Aowyn grimaced and pulled the woman up. She gave the nursemaid a wry smile.
Aowyn had been in awe of the land here as they sailed into port. The sea arched back against the ship before racing forward and splintering recklessly against vast black cliffs. Gulls soared and dove around them, sweeping by lush green grasses near port. It was a wild, rugged land, so different from the Summer Isle. Aowyn loved it right away.
Maeb and Aowyn collected their belongings and went in search of an inn. Maeb wanted a drink after the long journey and to recompose herself. They found one not far from port and attained their bearings. Maeb did all of the talking. Aowyn half-heartedly listened. She wanted to get out and explore. She perked up when she heard about a celebration happening at the nearby Blackthorn Keep.
Aowyn pushed through the throng near a keep made of black ashlar. Trumpets blared. The crowd applauded as a young man with black hair emerged from one of the towers. Aowyn’s heart pounded. Xander!
