The Well of Tears

by Trahan, Roberta

  “Find your head,” she commanded herself.

  Alwen concentrated on slowing her impetuous urges, focusing on the image in the mirror until the stately Mistress returned. Once confident of her composure, Alwen called for Glain.

  “Mistress?” The girl had become a welcome companion and confidante, but she still insisted on formality.

  “We have visitors.”

  “Yes, indeed. Madoc has already sent an escort to guide them through the veil.”

  “I should have known.” She was reminded that he was as fond of his scrying stone as she was of her morning sojourns. Alwen smoothed her hair and straightened her skirts. “Am I presentable?”

  Glain regarded her briefly with a critical eye. “You are, as always.”

  “Bring me my cloak, would you?”

  Glain helped her on with her the robe and fastened the chain. “Shall I announce you?”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Sensing that the riders were near, she brushed past a most astonished Glain and threw open the door. Lively steps delivered her to the temple vestibule just as a Cad Nawdd escort ushered the dozen or so Obotrite warriors into the castle commons. A crowd of acolytes had already gathered to see these swarthy men from a far-off land. They were unkempt and unrefined, not at all like the uniformed soldiers of the castle guard. But at this moment Alwen could not imagine any men more appealing than these, especially their chieftain.

  Bledig Rhi stood out among his tribesmen, not because he rode at the head of their ranks, but because he truly led them. He was tall and broad, but it wasn’t his size or his handsome looks that drew the respect and admiration of his men. Bledig carried his character as though it were a standard emblazoned with the colors of courage and honor and command.

  Fergus stepped forward to greet Bledig as he and his men were presented. “What brings you all this way, you old mongrel?” “I’ve come for my boy, and my women!” Bledig vaulted from his horse and landed solid on the ground. “I’d say I was glad to see you, MacDonagh, but you’d call me a liar.”

  Something between a sneer and a smile crossed Fergus’s face as he offered Bledig his hand. “You’re as insufferable as ever, but nonetheless welcome. Your men as well.”

  Bledig chuckled at Fergus as he held the handclasp, offering at least the appearance of admiration. An odd sort of rivalry stood between them, each man possessive of his own role in Alwen’s life, all the while knowing there was no choice but to accept the other. They had come to terms after so many years, and there couldn’t help but be a hint of affection between the insults. At the very least, Bledig and Fergus had come to respect one another.

  Alwen swiped her dewy palms on her skirts as she waited to be acknowledged. Her heart raced, doubling and then redoubling its wild pounding. Finally, Bledig let loose of Fergus’s grip and turned his irresistible charm and disarming smile in search of her.

  “Alwen!”

  Steady. She centered herself, mindful that the eyes of the crowd were on her, as well. “You are overdue, Wolf King.”

  Bledig swung toward the sound of her voice. His eyes riveted upon her with such unbridled ardor that Alwen’s heart nearly folded in on itself. Longing and relief flooded her eyes with tears that threatened to undo her fragile calm, but she required herself to retain the decorum the novitiate would expect.

  “I am.” He offered her an abject nod, but his gaze never left her. “Better late than lost, though, don’t you agree?”

  “I do.” Alwen fought the wild impulse to run to him. Such a noble beast was her barbarian king. Even haggard and weather beaten, Bledig was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. “Though I caution you against such an inconsiderate delay in the future.”

  “You do, do you?” Bledig couldn’t contain the grin tugging at his lips any more than she could maintain her air of authority. “Don’t I always come?”

  “Yes.” She allowed the smile to surface. “Eventually.”

  Bledig started toward her then, with swift and determined strides. His closeness set her skin afire. He was a comfort far too long denied her.

  Just as he arrived at the first step, and just short of her reach, a wild-haired faerie child flew through the crowd and straight into her father’s arms. “Poppa!”

  Bledig howled with delight, swallowing Eirlys in his big, brawny hug. His eyes glistened with joy and fatherly pride so heartfelt that Alwen could barely stand to open her senses to his emotions. Her own feelings were already more than she could bear. As glad as she was for her daughter’s happiness, Alwen was anxious to have him to herself.

  At long last, Bledig kissed Eirlys on the top of her head and set her aside. He bounded up the steps, and before Alwen could react, she found herself in his arms. His touch sent waves of sensation shivering through her. What was left of her composure melted in a blaze of desire, and Alwen succumbed to his embrace, digging her fingers deep into the taut muscle beneath the shirt cloth and fur cape on his back.

  Bledig pulled Alwen closer, cinching one arm tightly about her waist while the fingers of his other hand gripped the hair at the nape of her neck. The heat of his breath against her ear made her knees weak. “I expected you to wait.”

  “I know,” Alwen sighed with regret. “It could not be helped.”

  A low, frustrated growl rumbled in his throat as he relaxed his hold on her and pulled away to look into her eyes. “I have been too long without the sweet scent of you on my bedclothes, Alwen.”

  She felt herself smiling at the intimation in his words and the thought of his skin against hers. “It is always too long, Bledig, whether it be a day or a year.”

  He nodded, tracing his fingertips along her jaw and across her lips before taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb.

  Alwen gazed at his well-seasoned face, revisiting the fine lines around his dark green eyes and noticing there was now more salt than pepper in his beard. His tousled ebon mane was a bit grayer at the temples, but he was none the worse for wear. Whatever it was that had held him up, he was safe, and that was all that mattered. Alwen slid her hands around his neck, reassured enough to confess her fears. “You worried me.”

  Bledig sighed in reply to her quiet admission and bent to kiss her. “It could not be helped.”

  Her lips parted, inviting Bledig to reclaim her mouth just as he would reclaim the rest of her once they were alone. The sinew beneath his skin quivered as their tongues entwined, his body anticipating the more intimate coupling to follow. Alwen found his arousal so intoxicating that she no longer cared who witnessed their passion. She sacrificed restraint to the power of the kiss, a willing captive to Bledig’s unrelenting hold. His mere presence instantly quelled the strain of time and distance and uncertainty, once again grounding her with the security of knowing she was loved.

  “Unhand my mother, you scoundrel.”

  Bledig broke the kiss to glance over her head at his son and flashed a grin. Alwen caught the pride that shone in his eyes and turned in his arms to watch the playful banter. “And who are you to call me out, boy?”

  “I am the son of Bledig Rhi,” Rhys boasted. “Surely you’ve heard of him.”

  Bledig chuckled. “That old goat?”

  “He’s more than a match for the likes of you,” Rhys answered. “And that’s his woman you’ve got hold of.”

  “Your mother answers to no man, lad.” Bledig squeezed her arms. “And your father will be the first to admit it, though he’ll defend to the death his claim to be the first.” He released her and stepped forward to seize Rhys. “Come here.”

  Such a great affection and respect held father and son together that it filled her heart near to bursting just to witness her men embrace. Rhys needed his father as much as Eirlys, and from the looks of things, Bledig was in need of being needed. He was devoted to his family, and he was the only person outside the Stewardry that Alwen had ever relied upon. It did her good to see that, though duty and distance could separate them, neither had t
he power to alter the bonds between them.

  Bledig clapped his son hard on the back and finally let him go. Rhys had sense enough to know he had worn out his welcome for the time being and wisely stepped aside.

  “Your well-mannered estate looks to have been overrun by thugs,” said Bledig, referring to his men. He surveyed the courtyard and outbuildings, taking note of the unfamiliar surroundings as he took Alwen’s hand. “They are a raw bunch for such a refined people.”

  “You and your riders are a welcome sight.” Alwen threaded her fingers through his and led him toward the temple vestibule. “I am so grateful you’ve come.”

  Bledig chuckled. “Would you like to show me just how grateful?”

  Alwen felt herself blush. After all these years, he could still catch her off-kilter. “You are a rogue, Bledig.”

  He stopped short and turned to face her, his expression sobering as he assessed her more closely. Alwen tried to guess Bledig’s thoughts, sensing unease in him. Rhys had called her changed, and so she was. In these many weeks since leaving Norvik, Alwen had fashioned herself into a sturdier version, stronger and more self-sustaining. Alwen wondered what he would see in her now.

  “The robe is regal,” Bledig said, fingering the cowl. “It suits you.”

  “Do you think me regal, then?” she teased. She had not considered how Bledig might receive her newness. “Or is it just that the color complements my eyes?”

  “Both.” He took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes, as if he expected to glean some deeper sense of who she had become. “You must have a tale or two to tell.”

  “I do,” she admitted, “though that can wait.”

  “Ah, but the question is” — he smiled down at her — “can you?”

  Alwen was relieved to see his casual cheer had returned. “I’ve already waited far too long. Come.”

  Thirteen

  “So,” Bledig marveled, glancing about at the architecture and ancient appointments along the castle halls. “This grand monstrosity is your home?”

  “It is.” Alwen led him through the halls and up the stairs, pausing at the entrance to her rooms.

  “I see.” Bledig scanned the colorful arched ceilings artfully adorned with centuries-old frescoes depicting the history of the Stewardry. Finally, he brought his curious gaze to rest on the massive carved oak door that guarded her chambers. “And this is where you sleep?”

  “It is.” Alwen smiled at his less than subtle query.

  “Well then.” He reached around her to yank the latch and shove open the door. “I believe you offered me your gratitude.”

  “Stay yourself, barbarian.” Alwen held her ground at the threshold, returning his frustrated scowl with a coy smile. “These are the private chambers of a high sorceress and Mistress of the Realms, no less. I’ve not yet granted you entry.”

  As he recognized the game, Bledig’s annoyance quickly melted into amusement. He cupped her chin in his palm and peered at her with playful suspicion. “Of course, tribute is expected.”

  “Yes,” she taunted. “And the tithe is high. Have you the means?”

  Bledig grinned. “Name your price, Mistress.”

  “I’ll settle for another kiss.”

  “Is that all?”

  Alwen stretched onto her toes to tease his lips with hers. For several heartbeats, she savored his taste, suspending the moment so anticipation could work its own magic. The familiar scent of his maleness mingled with the heat of his breath was dizzying.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Bledig responded like a hungry beast unleashed. Seizing her with an embrace that lifted her feet from the floor, he gave her the kiss she asked for — fierce and devouring.

  “Bledig,” she murmured against his teeth. If the sound of her voice pierced the haze of his passion, it only served to inspire him. His arms cinched tighter.

  “Bledig,” Alwen urged. “Let me breathe.”

  His grasp relaxed just enough for her to regain her feet and let her lungs expand. “How long do you intend to keep me waiting in this hall?”

  Alwen slid her hand under his shirt and coiled her fingers into the fur on his chest. The thick sinew of Bledig’s arousal quivered against her belly, insisting. She hadn’t the strength to hold him off any longer, no matter how delicious the seduction. It had been far too long.

  “The kiss will do.” Alwen stepped back and gestured into her rooms with exaggerated ceremony. “You may enter.”

  Bledig’s grin made her blush. “Indeed.”

  “Again, you presume.” Alwen closed the door before crossing to the curtained alcove where she slept. She released the chain clasp of her cloak and let it slide from her shoulders. “I have only yet permitted you past the door.”

  Bledig cast an appraising glance around her quarters, familiarizing himself with the surroundings, particularly the bed, before turning his complete attention to her. “Well, woman, what are you waiting for?”

  Alwen couldn’t help but be unnerved by his brashness, but it was this self-assuredness that so aroused her. That, among other things. Under the burn of his gaze, she unhooked the gilt belt that cinched the waist of the simple beige silk gown she wore beneath her robe and then unlaced the ribbon that anchored the sheer fabric in loose gathers about her shoulders and bosom.

  Bledig pulled off his boots and loosed the fur cape he wore, taking in every movement as she undressed and all the while stripping the layers of shirt cloth and leggings from his own body.

  She had almost forgotten how good it was to be Bledig’s woman. In Bledig’s bed, he was master. This appealed to her more than ever, especially in this place where the fate of the entire world turned on the decisions she made. Alwen had not realized how much she had been suffering under the weight of responsibility until now. But here, in the privacy of her chambers, she could cast off duty and majesty and allow Bledig to tend to her just as he always had — by taking command of her body and her needs. In fact, he would demand it.

  As if he had heard her, Bledig took control of the moment. He strode across the sitting room to her bedside, pausing briefly to admire Alwen’s entire form before reaching for her. In a single well-practiced swoop, Bledig snared her at the waist with warm, firm hands and drew her against him. Alwen gave herself over to the dizzying effects of his touch, allowing each wonderful sensation to swallow her whole.

  Bledig brought her with him as he backed onto the bed, pulling her on top of him to better reach the rest of her and still have her mouth. His hands began to rove in an unhurried retracing of fondly remembered travels. Captive to his tongue and completely enthralled by his touch, Alwen lay prone and pliant against his torso as his palms pressed firmly into her flesh and stroked the length of her back from shoulders to hips. She groaned aloud.

  “I lie awake nights aching to hear you sigh in want of me,” Bledig muttered between gentle nibbles at her lips. His hands slid over the curve of her hind to clasp her buttocks and urge her lower on his frame. “You do want me. Don’t you.”

  He shifted his weight slightly, which brought the tip of his rigid shaft to throb and probe against her. Every muscle in her body quivered, waiting.

  “Say it,” Bledig rasped. “I want to hear you say you want me.”

  His knees bent and he pressed himself into her just enough to make her squirm toward him, and then caught her hips to keep her from satisfying herself. The sensation forced Alwen to gasp.

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  Alwen wilted onto him and buried her face in his neck. “I want you, Bledig,” she sighed in desperation.

  With agonizing and deliberate ease, Bledig entered her firmly but slowly, pushing deeply until he could go no farther. Alwen cried out as sparks of sensation flared and rippled through her like a comet’s tail flaming the sky. He withdrew and then plunged inside of her again, harder this time. She clung to him and bucked wildly against his thrusts. Incited by her writhing, Bledig’s rhythm surged and quickened in res
ponse to hers while he held her securely against him.

  Alwen felt vaulted outside of herself. An intense heat began to smolder in her loins, burgeoning and receding until it finally erupted in an enormous fiery flash. Overwhelmed, Alwen collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

  Bledig seized hold of her hips and dug fiercely into the flesh, heaving into her with his own urgency, stronger and faster until he tensed in anticipation. She felt his body shudder as he erupted with a deep groan of release. His satisfaction gratified her, though her tears still drenched the wiry curls on his chest.

  His want appeased, Bledig was suddenly aware of her trembling. “Well now,” he murmured, “what’s this?”

  Every ounce of self-control had abandoned her, leaving Alwen powerless to force the tears to subside. Bledig wrapped his arms around her in answer to her cascade of emotion, his fingers combing gently through her hair as he tried to soothe her.

  “It’s all right, Alwen. It’s been too long, that’s all,” he said. “Cry or laugh or fight your way to me, if you have to, but come to me. I will always be waiting.”

  Bledig reached across her to tug the bedclothes over them both and then returned to coddling her. He nuzzled her neck and sighed quietly against her ear. “I love you, woman. I hope you know that by now.”

  She knew. She always had, but the words, spoken so earnestly and with such conviction, gave her heart reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d lacked. Alwen could not yet find the voice to say she loved him, too. Instead, she nestled even more deeply into his embrace and gave him the one thing he coveted even more — her absolute reliance upon his comfort.

  “So,” Bledig said softly as she nestled contentedly in his brawny arms. “If there’s tales to tell, I’m more inclined to listen now.”

  Alwen smiled to herself and rested her cheek against his shoulder. What a powerful force love was. It amazed her still, even after twenty years. In a matter of moments, it was as if the months they’d spent apart had never been. But in truth, there was much to share. Where to begin?