Legend of the Lakes

by Clara O'Connor

  I sighed.

  It felt like everything I did tonight stirred a memory loose, tumbling through the spaces in my mind which had felt empty and void for so long.

  “Were there many blue ones?” I asked him.

  “Like this?” Oban knew precisely the one I meant, plucking it from the pile. “Not too many, lots of greens and a good many reds.”

  Her favourite colour had been green? I dropped the turquoise and pulled a deep forest-green satin from the bunch. It was off the shoulder and flowed like it was made of water, and it fit almost perfectly. Or at least it would after I put back on a few pounds – my bones were practically visible at the moment – but Oban fitted it with a few cleverly placed stitches.

  “This would set it off perfectly.” Oban, fully recovered now, seemed to have also raided my mother’s jewellery, holding up a twisted golden torc.

  Finally, I was ready. It was late though, too late for little girls.

  “I’d like to see Féile first,” I said, turning right to go to the nursery as we left my room.

  “Uh,” Oban hesitated, “she’s not there.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s moved over to another part of the castle.”

  Oban said no more, and I was too ashamed at my ignorance of such a basic fact to ask why she had been moved. He led me up stairs and down corridors, the faint strains of music drifting along them until finally he came to a stop. I opened the door softly.

  A woman sat reading a book under a low light at the foot of a bed. My daughter wasn’t in a crib anymore.

  As I stepped into the room, the woman stood up to send me briskly on my way but fell back as she recognised me. She dipped her head slightly as she backed up to her chair, her eyes going over my shoulder to Oban in the hallway. Whatever signal they exchanged seemed to reassure her, and she sat once more.

  I made my way over to the side of the little bed, my legs giving from under me, and I found myself on my knees. Her little face was so close. So precious. My heart swelled.

  Where had the time gone? She was a little girl almost. There were still traces of the baby I had held in my arms. I had missed so much. I felt like I could split into tiny sharp shards. Her eyelashes were dark half-circles resting on her dusky cheeks which were flush with sleep. A dark curl had fallen across her face and, unable to help myself, I reached down and brushed it back off her dew-soft skin.

  I sucked in a breath. Tomorrow. I would see her tomorrow. My entire being felt tremulous and fluttery at the thought.

  The room fell silent as I stepped into the great hall. Dancers stopped as everyone turned to watch me enter the room. So much for slipping in unnoticed. I felt constrained by my dress, my heart fluttering against it.

  Where was he? I saw Rion first. He was on the dancefloor, his partner stumbling over his feet as she caught sight of me. He turned and stilled as he took me in, his face whitening as he watched a woman in his mother’s exquisite green gown enter the hall.

  He looked like he had seen a ghost. Mine? My mother’s? It wasn’t clear.

  A giggle formed and tumbled out – I couldn’t help it – and when I looked back, the colour was returning to his face as he hurried over to me.

  His usually composed face was decidedly discomposed, his expressions by turns disconcerted, hopeful, wary, and joyful.

  “You really are well?” He engulfed me in a hug. “Gideon said… I couldn’t believe… How is this possible? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” His words tumbled over each other as he held me tight to him before pulling back to look at my face again to check I was entirely real.

  Unsure what to say, I smiled crookedly back at him. We didn’t really have a relationship, but I would be glad to find him alive too, I supposed.

  I stepped out of his embrace, my eyes continuing to wander over the party. Where was he? He was usually easy to find in a crowd.

  Movement in the far corner of the hushed ballroom alerted me to his location. He was still far away, watching me warily. My stomach sank. I had rushed down here like a fool; I didn’t know what I was thinking, Gideon and I weren’t… He and I didn’t have any kind of… I just felt so amazing, and I had wanted to find him.

  He drew in a deep breath and extended his hand to me. My breath caught, that gossamer thread spooled out across the dancefloor. Should I take it? Did I want to be pulled back in to shore? My daughter was there. I swallowed against the pain in my chest.

  His hand hung in the air. The light in his eye dimmed. He was going to let it fall.

  I took a step forward.

  And another.

  “How about that dance?” I stopped in front of him. “I promised you a dance once, did I not? In Conwy, before…”

  I let the grief wash through me and float away as I stepped into the circle of his arms.

  “So you did.” He led me out onto the floor, and a tune began to trickle out from the musicians.

  Guests smiled and laughed, and chatter rippled across the room as music played and we danced.

  “How is this possible?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. I had no idea. I had been drifting away, but now I felt like I was firmly here for the first time in a long time.

  “Last night,” he began. I looked down, hiding my heated cheeks. “I need you to know… I didn’t, I’m not the one…”

  “Who started it?” I finished for him, my mouth open. Was he really making sure we were all crystal clear that I had initiated what had happened between us?

  “Arse,” I muttered, pulling away.

  “Woah.” He held on to my arm and swung me back to him. “Wait.”

  He pulled me closer and took a breath, twirling us back into the dancers. He was very good at this for such a large man, light-footed, with sure hands. My cheeks heated again at the memory of those talented hands. I tried to pull away again. This had been a mistake.

  “Hold on. Let me try that again,” he said in my ear. “Give me a minute.”

  We danced for a few more moments, and as we neared the open doors, he directed us through, and we were outside.

  He pulled us swiftly across the snow and into the shadow of a tree, so that we were unobserved by the partygoers.

  He looked down at me and shrugged off the jacket he wore over his dark tunic, leaving his tattooed arms bare as he covered my shoulders.

  “I don’t want to…” He paused before starting again. “I would like…”

  “What?” I prompted.

  He grimaced. “You’ve barely spoken to me in two years, you nearly die, we sleep together, and then you arrive at the ball and offer me a dance you promised two Yules ago. Give me a gods damned minute to figure out what to say without—”

  “Without what.”

  “Without shouting.”

  “Shouting?” I echoed. “At me? You want to shout at me?”

  He accused me of jumping him, and now he was angry at me.

  I pushed him away.

  “No shouting.” I jabbed him in the chest. Ow. “No talking.”

  His lips were a thin line. He was furious, and Gideon wasn’t really one to hold back his ire. But I felt alive, and pain-free, and I just wanted to hold onto it a little while longer. I took a breath.

  “No. That wasn’t fair.” I bowed my head. He had been waiting a long time for me to hear what he had to say. I had abandoned my child into his care; he was livid on her behalf and he was entitled to express that.

  He stepped closer and a finger tilted my chin up to look at him. Amber eyes searched mine, his breath a fog in the air before he groaned.

  “No talking then,” he agreed, and his lips came down, grinding into mine in a kiss that melted the last traces of cold that lingered deep within me. His kiss demanded… more of me. More life. More.

  He tore himself away and stepped back. His chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath, and another. Then he was gone, striding back into the festivities.

  I followed, wrong-footed. I
didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. So many emotions swirled inside me. Pulling off his jacket as I stepped through the doors, I placed it on one of the tables and lifted a glass of wine to my lips with slightly shaky hands.

  “Cass.” I turned and was caught up in a fierce hug with someone closer to my own size though no less strong than the two previous embraces to which I had been subjected.

  “You’re not dying.” Bronwyn’s smile stretched all the way across her face, her dark eyes glittering. “Rion sent for me. He thought… they all thought… you were all but dead two nights ago and now look at you.”

  I shrugged helplessly; I had no explanation.

  “Magic?” I offered weakly.

  Bronwyn shook her head. “Not magic. They’ve had every druid, healer, and wisewoman from here to the tip of Africa in to see you. Nothing. No response. Then yesterday, Gideon comes out of there and says you woke up and you seem fine. Then you slept all day and all night, but you looked better, so much better.”

  Her eyes swept me from head to toe again. And she hugged me again.

  “We thought we’d lost you.”

  “Me too.”

  “You knew how ill you were?” she asked.

  “Yes. That is, no. Maybe.” I shook my head. “It just feels like I slept for a long time.”

  Bronwyn eyed me strangely. “I was here at midsummer for Féile’s birthday. You…”

  “I what?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulder, her posture awkward. “You barely spoke to me or Rhodri. I thought that maybe you were angry with us.”

  “Angry at you? Why would I be angry at either of you?”

  “I don’t know, Cass.” She shrugged. “You just seemed a bit distant.”

  “I’m sorry,” I offered, though in truth I had little recollection of their visit. I put my arm through hers as we swung out to face the party. “Let me make it up to you.”

  We danced and laughed. I went from group to group, everyone delighted at my recovery. Many of them I had no great memory of, though they seemed to know me. I was a very different version of me, each individual wary in their own way, stunned at the change in me. Gideon’s gaze followed me all night, but he didn’t come near me again.

  Finally, I pulled off my shoes and made my way up the stairs, the cold flagstones a blessing to my tired feet. I paused when I got to the top of the first flight of stairs. The old nursery was to the left, my daughter’s rooms to the right. Maybe I could sneak another peek of her.

  I trod softly up the hall and across to her new room in the west wing. I pushed gently at the door, taking care to turn the handle all the way so it would create no noise to disturb her.

  Before I could step inside, a manacle clasped my upper arm and pulled me back into a familiar granite body. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, his breath brushing the sensitive skin on my neck.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I just wanted…” A hand snaked across the front of my dress and pressed me back against him. Oh.

  “I wanted…” My voice was a little more breathless as I began again.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he walked us back to the other side of the hall and into the room opposite. His room.

  His hand traced lightly up my arm and across the exposed skin before turning me around to face him.

  “No talking,” he whispered against my lips.

  And there wasn’t. Nothing decipherable, at least.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke the next morning to that same sense of wellbeing. The sheets felt incredible on my skin, the room was cold but it wasn’t my room, nor my bed. I was in Gideon’s bed, but yet again, he wasn’t.

  I lifted my head off the pillow and scanned the dark-wooded room. Gideon sat in the deep window, his heavy-lidded gaze entirely focussed on me. I reached out to try and get a feel of his emotions. If he was the Griffin, why couldn’t I sense him? His face was set impassively as he failed to acknowledge that I was awake. Not a terribly good sign. For the second day in a row, I pulled the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around me before stepping out of bed.

  I padded softly over to him.

  “Hi.” I felt absurdly shy and deeply unsure of myself. We had shared another night together, but last night had been different from the first night. Where our lovemaking had been tender when I woke from my illness, last night had been intense and mind-blowing. My cheeks heated when he didn’t speak.

  I reached out a hand and traced it across his collarbone, to his shoulder, my eyes caught and held by his swirling tattoos. My fingers traced down his wide upper arm. He adjusted, shrugging my touch away.

  His eyes were closed off, devoid of all feeling. I stepped back from him.

  “What do you want?” he asked flatly.

  Our timeout was over, it seemed.

  I shook my head, shrugging. I didn’t know what I wanted… I wanted my life back. I felt as if I had been sleepwalking for the last two years. Now I felt compelled to live, to be alive, and I wanted to feel that way with him.

  “I just want—”

  “What?” he cut me off, his posture stiff as if he was holding himself back.

  “I’d like to see Féile.”

  “If that’s what you wanted, why didn’t you say so? You didn’t have to jump into my bed to see your child,” he sneered. “No upfront payment required.”

  “I-I…” I flinched at his attack. “That’s not what I was…”

  “If that’s not what it was, what were you doing? You’ve made it more than clear how you feel about me – as I recall, you said my touch makes your skin crawl. So I don’t know what this has all been about. What game are you playing?” His jaw was locked as he waited for my response.

  My chest tightened. I knew I had said terrible things to him, but I had been grieving. I didn’t feel that way about him. In my giddy joy at being alive, he had been the one I’d wanted to share it with. He was magnetic and intense, and I had wanted to be in his arms.

  He crossed them now, his eyes going flat as I failed to come up with a response. I took a breath.

  “I want to see my daughter,” I whispered to the floorboards at my feet.

  “Féile,” he said. “Her name is Féile.”

  “I know that,” I snapped back. Of course I knew my daughter’s name.

  He clapped slowly.

  “Well done, Cat,” he said caustically. “What else do you know about her?”

  I swallowed despite the dryness of my mouth. I searched my memories and came up with dismally few. Images of her in the distance, playing while Gideon watched, him carrying her about the place, his great strides taking her from place to place when her little legs tired. The two of them in the garden. An occasional closer encounter at a meal, though I usually ate in my room when I was in residence, where I saw them sometimes in the garden below.

  “She has a puppy,” I recalled desperately. There had been a little brown and gold pup in the garden with her over the summer.

  Both brows shot up at this. It was weak, I knew that. I didn’t know who had given her the puppy or when, or what its name was. What was the point in pretending? He knew exactly how little time I had spent with her since she was a baby. I couldn’t understand… How had I done that? How had I just abandoned her? I felt nauseated, heat prickling my skin, my hands sticky.

  “Please,” I began through the lump in my throat. “I know I’ve been… I just want to… to… I want to make it up to her.”

  I heard him exhale. “What’s changed? Why now?”

  I couldn’t explain why now. All I knew was that I had woken up yesterday and I had felt like me again. Restored. Back to who I was before my world had been ripped apart. But that wasn’t going to be good enough for Gideon.

  “I don’t know.” I lifted a hand to him but it fluttered uselessly between us. I wanted to touch him, to connect, I wanted him to know how terrible I felt, how much I wanted to be better. But we didn’t share that kind of con
nection and I let it fall to my side.

  He snorted and pushed away from the window, stepping forward to loom over me, his lip curling in disgust. I disgusted him. I disgusted myself.

  I took a couple of steps back and hit the poster of the bed. I braced myself.

  “I… what can I do? Please, I’ll do anything,” I said. There had to be some way to prove to him that I could do better, be better.

  His eyes flicked to the bed. My jaw dropped. Did he mean…?

  He read my thoughts correctly, and his laughter was cold with an edge to it that would have sliced me open if it were a physical thing.

  “Apparently you already have, sweetheart. You think that’s how you get access to the child you’ve wanted nothing to do with?”

  “No,” I shook my head violently. What a mess I was making of this. How had I not stopped to think this through yesterday? I hadn’t thought about anything. It had felt like I had lost so much time and I hadn’t wanted to waste a second more. I had done it wrong. I shouldn’t have gone near him last night. I hadn’t meant to – I had been coming to sneak in one last look at Féile.

  I put my hands over my face. I was trembling. Think, think.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” I offered. “We can take it slow. I’ll only speak to her when you’re there… I know I haven’t…”

  I trailed off as he turned his back on me and slouched casually against the window, watching whatever activity was going on in the courtyard below. I could be bleeding to death on his floor, and he wouldn’t be less sympathetic. And if he could see into me, then he would know that I was truly bleeding to death.

  The door pushed open, and there she was. Dark tumbling hair over her white nightgown, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stopped as she saw me in the room. Her big brown eyes were shy as she took me in before they flicked past me and she ran barefoot over the cold floor and jumped up into the safety of his arms.