by E E Everly
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.
The man stopped his horse, so I reined mine to a clumsy halt. The others were moving with steady hoofbeats in front of us. With a gloved hand, he touched my arm. “You’ve been his salvation. Brenin found you right when I thought his despair would overcome him. I thank you for that.”
Surprise filled me. I had no idea Brenin was hiding such deep pain behind his laughs and smiles. I looked into the eyes of this older man, who bore the crest of the kingdom on his chest. His esteem showed, with clarity, a fatherly love for Brenin. I squeezed my eyes shut to prevent any tears from slipping loose. Was I saving Brenin, or was he saving me?
We continued on, the city looming closer as we descended the rolling hills of the countryside.
The palace, on the highest point overlooking the river, was a grand structure of white turrets and shining rooftops. My new home with Lord Brenin—with Brenin. From a two-roomed cottage to a castle.
As the day drew to a close, our group entered the south city gate. Houses were made of stone and avenues were spacious for carts and horses. The city had been expertly crafted—the workmanship showed the best quality. White stone had been hauled vast distances from the mou
ntains in the north to make this city monumental.
The road passed through the center market and the main square before climbing the hill to the palace. From across the countryside, the people of Terrin came to the Hyledd markets to do business, but the daily commotion in the market and square was wrapping up for the night. Stalls and carts filled with merchandise and foods were closing down. People were shutting up shops—drawing shutters tight, collapsing awnings, and calling for wandering children.
I was grateful I’d missed the loud voices floating on the air as people exchanged goods and haggled over prices, but even so, without the tumult, my nervousness peaked, and my hands became clammy.
The memory of my single trip to the city stirred in my mind. I had visited the city with my parents eleven years prior. I recalled the way Mother smiled, with her long blonde hair swinging, and the way Mother held Father’s hand as if he were the only man in the world.
I choked with an inhale, and a cough escaped. Oh, Mother, I miss you! I grabbed the one possession that held me together as I entered this new life—the stone around my neck.
At last, we arrived at the palace. We entered a paved courtyard flanked by verdant lawns. Hedges with archways hinted at gardens beyond. A sweeping staircase graced the front of the palace, leading up to a set of gleaming bronze doors. A peachy sun hung beyond the palace walls before finally dipping out of sight, leaving the fire baskets the task of piercing the dismal gloom.
My pulse raced, and my body itched with anticipation.
Brenin stood in the center of the courtyard as our company drew up. My breath hitched. He looked all the king he should have been. So confident in posture. So strong in stature.
He was going to be mine.
Whoa. Deep breaths.
A servant held his torch high, lighting Brenin’s face in the dim light. Brenin took the reins of my horse and steadied the beast.
Don’t faint.
I looked into his familiar eyes as he gazed up at me. His face showed sincere affection, setting my rapidly beating heart at ease.
After taking my hand, Brenin helped me down, and with a playful tug, pulled me close. In my weariness from the long day, I was caught off guard by his forwardness. I dipped my head and giggled like a silly lovestruck girl.
I am so ridiculous.
Brenin lifted my chin and kissed me tenderly on the cheek. His lips were warm, and he smelled like dewy grass.
Slide those lips a little closer to mine.
I could dream.
I exhaled forcefully, squashing disappointment when his lips moved away.
Brenin’s mouth quirked, and he pushed my hair back as he whispered, “You are a bright moon shining down on the oppressive gloom. Thank you for taking a chance with me.” His breath licked my ear. “I promise you won’t regret your decision.”
A delightful chill raced down my spine.
***
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my beta readers. They had some great ideas for improving Corrupted, and they are great writers in their own right. John Kammeyer, Julie L. Spencer, Amy Linnabary Meyer, and Robin Cranney. Be sure to look on your favorite retailer for their books.
Much love and many thanks to my husband, whom I drive nuts with laments about plot foibles and editing snafus.
Beth Bentley, my editor, I will always be grateful for you.
And my dear fans, I’m ever so thankful for you!
E.E. EVERLY
once trampled through the Appalachian woods and built forts in bramble bushes. She loves the sun in winter and the rain in summer. She believes in miracles, the power of love, and magic. Other worlds do exist, and her writing opens portals to them. Cake is always to be savored, and her soul animal is a cat. Meow.
