Prophecy

by Elizabeth Haydon

  “How, then, can a soul as pure and innocent as yours be able to comprehend this?” A choked laugh escaped Rhapsody but her ironic smile faded when she met his eyes; their gaze was steady and sure, and he spoke as though he was certain of what he was saying.

  “Don’t laugh, Rhapsody; you are an innocent, even if you have been through the mill yourself. You believe in people who have no right to that belief; you love people who really don’t deserve it. More than anything you want to find something or someone to trust in, because it is your nature to do so. It doesn’t matter what your experiences have been, or what you’ve done—it hasn’t touched you. It’s like you are a virgin, a real one, in body and soul.”

  Rhapsody laughed again. “You have no idea how funny that statement is,” she said. “If that’s what you’re looking for, you are definitely in the wrong place.”

  “I’m not looking for anything—that’s the point,” Ashe replied seriously. “I have been hiding, Rhapsody, for two decades, trying to avoid all contact with the world, and doing a credible job of it. And then out of nowhere, one day there you were, like an unavoidable beacon, and everywhere I went, no matter how much I struggled to put you out of my mind, no matter how far I went to stay away, you were there, in the stars, in the water, in my dreams, in the air around me. I have tried to exorcise you from my blood, Rhapsody, but it’s no use. I can’t make you go away.

  “And probably the paranoia, the pushing away, the attempts to offend you into hating me and leaving me alone, were not only my way of trying to break free of the hold you have on me, but they were experiments of a sort; testing to see if you were really what you seemed.

  “You have to remember, the way this demon enacts its evil is to bind itself to innocents, and then to work through them. For all I knew, you could be the F’dor yourself. I had no idea if you were seeking me for the same purposes that its countless other minions have been since that night twenty years ago, looking to destroy what is left of my soul, or worse, to use it in a more despicable manner than it is being used now.

  “And what a wonderful way to finally catch me off guard—throw an innocent heart my way, wrapped in an exquisitely beautiful package, flavored with powers of an old world that disappeared beneath the waves before my father was even conceived—what better bait for a dragon? I was especially suspicious when I realized you are a virgin—what is the probability of that?”

  “Not great,” Rhapsody said humorously. “It’s really only a technicality.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ashe went on. “Can’t you see what I am saying? You are the ultimate in everything I, man or dragon, could ever desire—you are far too good to be true. So of course I was suspicious of you. I have to be paranoid—it’s what has kept me alive these twenty years.

  “And there you were, offering me comfort, seeking to help me, taking me into your heart; it wasn’t possible that it was real. So I waited for you to reveal your other nature, to turn on me. I waited and waited. But it never came about, of course. If anything, you left yourself far more vulnerable to me than I could ever have been to you.

  “And then, slowly, my heart began to wish that it was real. It has been hoping that from the moment I first saw you, but the more sensible parts of me have beaten it back. And finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. So, like you said that you have just decided to trust me and live, or die, with the consequences, I had decided the same thing—that I just had to tell you and pray that I wasn’t delivering the rest of my soul into the F’dor’s hands.

  “And truthfully, Rhapsody, if I am, I don’t even care. I would have come to you even if you hadn’t called. I was still trying to figure out how to tell you, and I suppose I have botched it now, but I couldn’t lie about it anymore. Not to a woman who won’t even lie to save her own life. How could I ever hope to be worthy of you if I did?”

  The irony of his words overcame her, and, against her better intentions, she broke into laughter. “I’m sorry, Ashe, please forgive me,” she said, struggling to contain her mirth. “That’s just too funny.”

  Ashe was thunderstruck. “Why?”

  Rhapsody took his hands. “You are the future Lord Cymrian, the convergence of the royal lines of all three Cymrian waves. I am a peasant, and more common than most. And you hope to be worthy of me? Don’t you see the humor here?”

  “No,” said Ashe shortly. “I don’t. I’m actually surprised at you, Rhapsody. Of all people I would think you would understand that a person’s family lineage doesn’t dictate her worth.”

  “Not her worth as a person; of course not,” Rhapsody said, growing serious under his terse tone. “But when one is talking about lovers, well, people like you don’t generally take people like me into that role except by fiat or for recreation, and I don’t expect that you would ever try either of those things with me. I believe we settled that some time ago on the banks of the Tar’afel.”

  Ashe turned toward the mantel; she could see he was gathering his thoughts. Absently he picked up the painting of the Firbolg children and looked at it carefully.

  “Now I see the basis of our confusion,” he said at last, more to the painting than to her. “You don’t understand what I meant when I said I wanted to be your lover.”

  Against her will, Rhapsody laughed again. “I think I actually have a far better understanding than your dragon sense has led you to believe. There are many things you don’t know about me, Ashe.”

  “And one very significant thing you don’t know about me, Rhapsody.”

  “Only one?”

  “Only one that matters.”

  “And that would be—?”

  Ashe looked up from the painting, fixing her with a direct stare from the crystalline blue eyes. “I love you.”

  Rhapsody sighed silently.

  “Don’t,” Ashe said, a warning note in his voice. “Don’t dismiss this, Rhapsody; I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I believe so; you be the judge. You are thinking I’m throwing around sacred words like countless other fools have at you, either because your beauty has deluded me into believing it, or because I am trying to get you into bed.”

  “Actually—”

  “Don’t you dare lump me in with those imbeciles who took one look at your face and professed their love for you while drooling on their shoes. I am not one of them, Rhapsody. I fell in love with you even before I beheld you; I could feel your magic leagues away. What do you think I was doing in Bethe Corbair in the first place?”

  “Shopping?”

  “No, dear.”

  “I really have no idea; I’m sorry if I’m being thick.”

  “I was looking for you, Rhapsody; looking to find whatever it was that was calling to my heart on the Krevensfield Plain two leagues away. I came to find you and when I did, I knew I was lost to you. Did you think I came to Ylorc just for the pleasure of having Achmed insult me repeatedly?”

  “Well, that certainly is a rare treat. And besides, the view from the Teeth is lovely in the spring.” The humor was beginning to return to Rhapsody’s eyes, and it washed over Ashe like warm water.

  “Yes, it certainly is,” he said, remembering the sight of her running through the mountain fields, dancing with the wind across the heath. “Well, am I right?” He smiled at her to test her new mood, and was delighted to see her smile back at him.

  “About what?”

  “About what you were thinking?”

  Rhapsody chuckled. “Well, not really,” she said, taking the picture of her grandchildren from his hand and looking at it herself. “But thanks for making the attempt.”

  “What, then?”

  “Well,” she said, turning her back to the fire and letting it warm her shoulders, “I was thinking about one of our conversations on the road.”

  Ashe leaned an elbow against the mantel. It was spotlessly polished and completely free from dust. “Really? Which one?”

  “Do you recall when I said to you t
hat in my experience foresters and other wanderers sought different things from women?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his face warming with the memory. “You said most men were looking for release, while wanderers sought contact.”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “Why are you recalling it?”

  Rhapsody sighed. “I can’t help but wonder what the point is for you in starting something with someone who clearly is only a temporary diversion in your life, especially when there is so much risk involved.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  She turned and stared at him. “No? Perhaps I can remind you of a few situations you seem to have forgotten. First, as I mentioned before, we are of totally different social classes; about as far apart as one can get, actually. So obviously your interest in me can only last so long before you choose someone else who is suitable as a life partner, someone royal, or at least noble, as she will have to take on the role of Lady Cymrian.”

  “You really don’t understand the way the succession works, Rhapsody.”

  “Are you telling me that you are not in line for the Lordship?”

  Ashe’s face grew solemn. “No, but—”

  “And is there not an expectation that the Lord will take a suitable wife, who then becomes the Lady?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, there you have it, Ashe,” she said simply. “Our timetable to find and kill the F’dor, and reunite the Cymrians, is within the year. I am not sure how long after that is considered suitable for you to remain unmarried, but I can assure you, as I believe I have mentioned before, that I make it a point not to consort with married men, ever, no exceptions. So anything we might undertake together would have a very brief life; I’m not sure I understand why it would be worth your time and effort, given what you’ve said to me about longevity.”

  Ashe removed his elbow from the mantel and crossed his arms. Her logic, from her perspective, was perfect; there was no point in arguing with it, at least not now. “So you don’t think love is worth anything if it lasts only a short time?”

  Rhapsody looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with memory. She thought back to her talk with Oelendra about her husband: in our short time together we loved a lifetime’s worth. “No,” she said softly, out of respect for the thought, “I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

  “What, then?” Ashe could feel his desperation rising again. “What do I have to do to convince you to give me a chance?”

  “A chance at what?”

  Ashe felt like shaking her. “A chance to act on my feelings for you, Rhapsody. A chance to cherish you, and spend time with you; a chance to be as honest with you as you have been with me, to trust you with my heart, even if—” He stopped, unable to finish.

  “Even if what?” Her voice was gentle, and when Ashe looked up he saw the same mildness in her eyes.

  “Even if you don’t want to keep it.” The pain in his face and his voice went straight to her heart, and she felt it tug in a way that was not altogether unknown to her. She stared at the floor, afraid that if she continued to look in his eyes she would begin to weep. For a few moments they stayed there, Ashe watching Rhapsody, Rhapsody watching the fireshadows flicker on the rug. Finally she looked up.

  “So you would be willing to become lovers, knowing that it was only for a short while?”

  “Yes. I would be grateful for any moment with you, any time at all, no matter how brief. I know it would be worth whatever it cost me.”

  “And that would be enough?”

  “If it had to be. When you want something this badly, anything you can get is enough.”

  She nodded after a moment, as if finding her way out of a lost thought. “And what of yourself would you hold in reserve during this temporary arrangement?”

  “Nothing. I don’t believe I would be able to hold back anything from you, Rhapsody—I don’t really want to, either. We tend not to discuss the Past because it is painful, but I will, if you want to.” She shook her head. “There are things that we both know we can’t share with each other, because they are other people’s secrets. But I would have none of my own from you.” His heart rose a little when he saw the expression in her eyes change, and he hurried ahead.

  “I know the prospect of being loved by a dragon is a scary one, especially if you know anything about the nature of the beast—we do tend to be possessive on a rather grand scale. But it is the human part of me that loves you most, and it would never stand in the way of your happiness if the time comes when you want to leave.”

  Rhapsody shook her head in amazement. “I think you have it a little off,” she said, laughing. “I’m not the one with all the royal commitments.”

  Ashe just smiled. “You’ll think about it, then?”

  Rhapsody handed him back the painting and turned again to face the fireplace. She was silent for a long time, lost in thought; Ashe was used to her quiet moments, and he waited patiently. He knew her mind was racing a million leagues with each passing second, and when she came out the other side of the thought she would be that distance away, so he resolved to remember to put the question to her again. At last she spoke, though her question seemed directed to the fire.

  “Do you believe in the concept of soulmates? You know, two people sharing halves of the same soul?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you ever meet yours?”

  Ashe was silent himself for a moment.

  “Yes,” he said finally.

  Rhapsody glanced up, and for the first time in a while her eyes seemed clear and focused on him. “Really? If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to her?”

  “She died,” he answered, his face twisting in pain.

  Rhapsody flushed with mortification and sadness at the sorrow her question had caused. “Ashe, I’m so very sorry.”

  “Not only that,” he said, unable to keep the words inside, “she died believing I betrayed her, because I didn’t say goodbye.”

  Rhapsody looked away. For at least the second time that afternoon she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. But then she thought back to the first time she had, on the forest road to Tyrian, and remembered the pain her embrace had caused him. She didn’t want to repeat the mistake, she told herself, then silently owned up to the truth: she was afraid of what might happen within her own heart if she did.

  Ashe looked up to find her averting her eyes. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

  “No,” she said softly. “I mean, yes, I guess there are for some people, but I don’t believe I have one.”

  “No? Why not?”

  Rhapsody sighed, wishing she could change the subject gracefully and knowing she couldn’t. “Well, I thought so once, and I was consummately wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back. Standard fare.”

  Ashe laughed aloud and shook his head.

  Rhapsody was annoyed. “What? Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Actually—yes.”

  She was flabbergasted. “Why?”

  Ashe put the painting of the Firbolg children back in its place on the mantel and walked to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, studying her, watching the firelight play off her features, responding to her mood. The flames were burning quietly, with the occasional crackle and hiss.

  “Rhapsody, in case you hadn’t noticed, men profess their undying love for you from little more than a glance. Even when you walk about cloaked and hooded, ox carts run into each other, men stumble into walls, and women stand with their mouths agape. The mere sound of your voice causes those who have been happily wed for thirty years to cry for the sorrow of never having known you. And your smile—your smile warms the coldest of hearts, even those that have wandered alone and wounded for decades.

  “Yet I suppose I coul
d understand a man not loving you for these things, for they are only physical. But as beautiful as your bodily form is, it’s only a shadow of the soul that wears it. How someone could come to know the person that you are and fail to lose his heart to you is, frankly, beyond me. Gods know I lost mine immediately. Whether you understand it or not, Rhapsody, I do love you, and not just for your appearance, but for the myriad and contradictory things that you are.”

  “What does that mean? How am I contradictory?”

  “Almost everything about you is a contradiction, and I love each one. I love that you are a Singer, but that most of the songs you know are in a tongue no one understands. I love that you are the Iliachenva’ar, but hate to have to use your sword, whether it’s for the pain or the mess that it causes. I love that you are a virgin, and yet you seem to know the charms and enchantments of a prostitute.” Rhapsody blushed, and Ashe had to avert his eyes quickly to stifle his laugh when he saw the look of shock cross her face.

  “You want the rest of the litany? All right, here it is, good and bad. I love that you make what is perhaps the worst pot of tea I have ever been asked to endure. I love that you still tear up at sad songs you have sung a thousand times. I love that your best friends are a giant half-Bolg and the most obnoxious creature I have ever laid eyes on, they are rude to you beyond measure, and yet you love them like brothers. I love that you think of food as a musical instrument—”

  “You said that was manipulative,” Rhapsody interjected.

  “Don’t interrupt. I love that you have a better right cross than I have, and, even though you’re half my size, you’re not afraid to use it on me. I love that you sing the Ballad of Jakar’sid and always get the words of the refrain wrong. I love the way you look after Jo as if she were a little girl when she clearly lost her innocence years ago. And I especially love that you speak your mind to me, even when I don’t want to hear it.