by Lisa Rector
Catrin turned from the window, slid her bare feet to the stone floor, and looked up at him. A trail of tears stained each cheek. Einion almost caved, wanting to rush up to her and kiss her tears and wanting to tell her he was sorry—sorry for being obnoxious and toying with her. Determined, Einion waited patiently for her to start again.
She rose and stepped up to Einion, pressing her forehead to his in the customary emryn greeting. More intense than discerning, a single touch transferred emotion deep into the mind. Living around emrys left most feelings transparent for all, and Einion was used to this whether he liked it or not. This was who they were.
Einion braced himself for Catrin’s emotional onslaught.
Her fingers reached up into his curls and held the nape of his neck. His hands automatically followed her arms from her bare elbows up to her wrists. Einion stood with his eyes closed, the tension like a hammer pounding away his resolve.
He screamed inside. Hold firm. Hold firm! He could smell her floral-scented hair mixed with the sweetness of her breath. Her lips were right there—right there. Einion could practically taste them. He wanted to, for selfish reasons, to have one sampling, but Catrin would completely unravel him. His lips quivered, threatening betrayal.
“I cannot… I’m unable to, Catrin… not at this time,” Einion whispered, surprised at the words leaving his mouth, surprised he could utter a sound under her powerful bewitching.
Though she touched him, Catrin held her turmoil in, concealing the full extent of her feelings.
“Shh.” Her finger touched his lips.
Sorrow, deep and poignant, sank in from her, twisting in his stomach, making tears well up under his eyelids.
When Einion exhaled, his lungs might as well have been grating against his rib cage. His remorse pinched further, and he allowed Catrin to feel it, sending it in a wave through his fingertips.
She spoke again, in a whisper, as forgiving stillness seeped into his heart. “Let me say this. If I could conceal my feelings from you, I would have—would have waited until you were older. But I can’t. That’s my own torment. I made the choice to leave Gorlassar and follow you to Talfryn.”
Einion opened his eyes. Catrin’s green eyes, damp from her tears, shone as lighted pools. His thumb gently ran over the lower eyelid, catching a warm droplet. Catrin’s hand moved over his, and she pressed her cheek into it. Einion understood her longing. Security—he was her cozy, safe place. She came here to the mortal realms because he was her security.
We are each other’s security. The truth bit through him. He knew this, but feeling it from Catrin and acknowledging this together had the impact he should have realized long ago.
“I’ve decided to give you space. I know you have many responsibilities, and our timing is off…” She choked on her last words, and with them, hopelessness slipped into Einion.
“Catrin, don’t do this to yourself. You know how I love you,” Einion heard himself saying, though he had an impulse to do otherwise. He could simply react the way any man would with such a desirable woman. And Catrin was desirable. She was divinely sumptuous, oh so hard to resist, and it made his body ache.
“That’s just it. How we love each other is immeasurably different. I’m ready to give my whole self to you. You feel my emotions. You know I speak the truth,” Catrin said.
Einion erupted, pulling away from her. “Catrin, you make our relationship infuriating!” He didn’t want her to sense his full-on anger, but it threatened inside. By breaking contact, he prevented Catrin from experiencing it firsthand. His darker side—the flaw that came from having a mortal parent—embarrassed him. Einion spent his whole life suppressing the darkness but still feeling its constant swirling in his center.
“You’re a tease. I’m trying to resist something we know I’m not ready for. I am not ready.” Deep inside, Einion reasoned that if he gave in and followed his lust, it would scramble his inhibitions, and along with compounded lust would come intensified hate, envy, despair, greed, and fear—every emotion that would spur the darkness inside him.
“You feel my desire and you toy with that, but I cannot give you what you need. Not yet.” Not until I am certain—certain I love her the same way. Certain I can become a pure Emrys of Light like my mother. From a young age, Einion’s mother, who also was half-immortal, taught him that he could rid himself of the darkness—she had done it. But this was more complex for Einion. He had Catrin to contend with.
Catrin flinched. Speaking the truth distressed Einion. Or rather, it distressed him to let her know it. He had the sudden urge to back away from her before his actions betrayed his words.
“I know I shouldn’t. That’s why, after the coronation, I’m going home,” Catrin said.
The words hung in the air on a knife’s edge. A chill slid over Einion’s heart. Catrin might as well have shoved the steel blade into his stomach.
What is she saying? They had never been apart. This is lunacy. Oh, Catrin, what have I done? She was his other half. Catrin had been there through every single part of his life—literally. Now she would leave him when he needed her most, when the impending changes in his life terrified him.
Panic rose inside him. “No, Catrin, don’t go. I’m sorry. The game… it was foolishness. I never meant—”
She touched his arm carefully. “I didn’t come to this decision lightly. It’s for the best. We rely too much on each other. We’ve grown comfortable. I want you to have time to be your own person, to find out who you really are and”—she gulped—“if you really love me. Perhaps when we see each other after a time parted, things will be different.”
She can’t be serious. “For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
She is serious. Einion hesitated and stepped forward. He was being a coward, and Catrin was being brave. He would say goodbye, and he would allow one tender moment to pass between them.
Einion wrapped his arms around Catrin. He pressed his face into her hair and held her, imprinting the feel and the smell into his mind. His light washed against hers, and he felt a profound ache inside her that matched his own. Finally, she pushed all her pained emotions into his body.
She would make this vexing for him. Desperately and painfully, his grip tightened on her. He pushed back, letting Catrin know how scared he was. A fleeting thought grabbed him, I could give in to the temptation, and Catrin would stay here.
“We know I have to go,” Catrin said, understanding his emotional reaction.
Prying his hands off, she gently pulled away from Einion and walked out of the room, leaving him in darkness.
Einion couldn’t have been more petrified.
CHAPTER FOUR
DRAGON BROTHERS
Einion sat under the courtyard’s lone tree, scoring his thumbnail with a blade while waiting for Trahaearn. Catrin’s absence already left a huge void. Her bright light, more luminescent than other emrys’ in the area, was no longer a constant presence within the palace walls. A dark haze of foreboding descended in his heart.
Cerys flew Catrin away during the night. She didn’t even see him off on this delightful spring day. What was worse, the weather changed overnight, mocking his sullen feelings and promising fine weather for his trip. Sunny skies didn’t do much to lighten Einion’s mood.
Trahaearn and Einion planned to explore Rolant. In their spare time over the past year, they had explored the larger realms of Talfryn and Terrin, but they had not explored much of the lower lands in the third realm, which consisted of marshes and craggy little towns. The mountains along the range dividing Talfryn and Rolant were full of caves—one which had been a prison for his mother and stepfather when he was an infant.
The third realm was not altogether friendly to Terrin and Talfryn because, two decades prior, they had been at war. With his new rule established in Rolant, Lord Cadoc was initiating trade. He needed the resources in the lands to the west, with their sprawling farmlands and herds of deer and sheep, to sustain their small,
wet kingdom.
The Dragon Riders patrolled Rolant to prevent another uprising, and Lord Cadoc tolerated them. The riders were used as messengers and intervened in local skirmishes, but Einion wondered how much Cadoc minded the interloping from the emrys. He resented the fact that the emrys were immortal and that they exercised control in his modest homeland.
Thinking about Trahaearn, Einion smiled. His dragon brother flew in from the north, so Einion opened his sight to a spectacular view of miniature trees, snaking streams, a long winding trail for carts, and a patchwork of farmland, all rushing past as Trahaearn drew closer.
He had spent the night in a field on a cushioning haystack, much to the farmer’s dismay. His bulky dragon body had squashed the pile flat. Trahaearn yawned and stretched, taking his sweet time to wake after Einion jarred him with some mental prodding. Making Einion laugh, Trahaearn pushed the pile together with his spiked tail but ended up with more hay, wet from the night’s dew, sticking to him. In the end, Trahaearn shook the hay off when the farmer urged him away and told him never mind.
His dragon hadn’t heard the exchange with Catrin the night before. They could close their minds to each other, and Einion didn’t want Trahaearn’s interference during such a tense moment. Agony from the memory surfaced as Einion waited for his dragon brother. He yearned to share his conflicted feelings with Trahaearn and hoped for a measure of comfort in return.
Brandishing his broad wings to exaggerate his size, Trahaearn landed. “Ready for an adventure?” His excited voice showed he was completely oblivious to Einion’s inner sadness.
“Yes, let’s fly!” Feigning enthusiasm, Einion sheathed his knife and jumped in the saddle. A pack slung on his back carried provisions, and a heavy cloak draped his shoulders—not that he needed it—emrys stayed warm from their inner light.
Trahaearn rose into the vivid blue sky laced with puffy clouds and flew over the capital city of Cynwrig in a matter of minutes. They would follow the Great River, which flowed north, and instead of turning west with the river’s bend, continue flying over the highland mountain range where they would enter Rolant. The whole journey would take a matter of hours.
Dragon Riders enjoyed the thrill of flying from their first flight at fourteen years of age, and Einion was no exception. Presenting a dragon stone was never a ceremonious occasion, and Trahaearn chose Einion as his rider without warning. Einion had been in the hills scrambling over the rocks when he was seven. A growl from behind a rock outcrop alerted Einion to the presence of a dragon. He wasn’t afraid because the dragons in Gorlassar didn’t eat people, but rather, enjoyed a good joke and spent many hours frightening potential Dragon Riders.
Crouching into a crevice, Einion was about to jump out when the dragon beat him to it. Trahaearn bounded onto the rock and blew frightening fire into the air, but he snorted, cutting the flame short when he saw the startled look on Einion’s face. They laughed, and after they settled, Trahaearn opened his claw, revealing a smooth dragon stone that matched his scales exactly.
Einion could scarcely believe his eyes. Not all emrys were presented with dragon stones because there simply weren’t enough dragons. Most dragons waited for the right emrys. The feeling was an urging that no one could explain. Sometimes they didn’t choose a rider for many centuries. Trahaearn was young—one hundred and thirty-three when he chose Einion. As soon as the stone was placed in Einion’s hand, it linked him and Trahaearn in an instant bond. He saw the same images, heard the same thoughts, and felt the same emotions all through Trahaearn’s mind. Seeing his own face as his dragon peered down at him was strange and bewildering—not the same as looking in a mirror. Dragons had powerful eyesight. Einion looked magnified.
He swayed as Trahaearn spoke in his head.
You become used to it, I’m told. I feel the same way. Your vision is quite unremarkable, Trahaearn said.
Amazing. You hear all about it, but until you hold a dragon stone in your hand, you could never imagine what hearing a voice in your head is like. Einion turned the stone over in his hand and marveled at it.
They stood disoriented as a rush of thoughts and emotions flowed between them. Einion set the stone down, and the connection broke.
“Once we grow accustomed to the connection, we can choose when to open our minds,” Trahaearn said. “Control will take practice. We don’t always have to be in each other’s heads. In time, you can even eavesdrop when the other isn’t paying attention. My mam does that sometimes with her rider.”
The day was a momentous occasion when Einion first flew at the training grounds in Gorlassar. His parents, his little sister, and Catrin watched as he climbed shakily onto his dragon. Learning to fly was a natural part of life, as natural as breathing, and Einion enjoyed every second.
His education increased as he wielded his light with increasing skill and prepared for his rule. His life was demanding. Trahaearn and Einion slipped away as much as they could. That was when they started exploring the mortal realms. That was when they came to Talfryn and when Catrin followed him there.
Catrin. Einion decided the time was right to share with Trahaearn. Opening his mind, he told the story from the other night. Trahaearn would experience Einion’s emotions and actions as though they were his own. His dragon would know exactly how he felt. He waited as Trahaearn sorted through his anguish.
I’m sorry. I know how much she means to you, Trahaearn said.
His sympathy came somewhat as a shock. Einion assumed Trahaearn would be overjoyed with a break from Catrin. Do you? I thought you hated her.
Einion, give me credit. I’ve never given off feelings of hate for Catrin, only feelings of annoyance.
I guess you’re right with that one, but an empty void swells inside me since she left, Einion said.
She’s been gone for only a night. You’ll see her before the coronation. Let’s enjoy this trip while we can, and maybe she’ll feel differently when she sees you.
I don’t think so. You weren’t there. You didn’t feel her resolve, Einion said.
I do through you. Don’t worry. Everything will be as it should.
Do I excessively depend on Catrin?
Um, that might be an understatement. They were flying over a small town.
Then this will be good for me. A chance to be my own person.
As much of your own person as you can be with a dragon in your head. Trahaearn chuckled.
Some things can’t be helped. Einion grinned.
Hey!
They passed farmers in the field plowing for the early spring crop.
Einion pointed one out in particular. Trahaearn—
I see him.
Leathery wings flapped faster, picking up speed, and Trahaearn dove. Einion leaned over the saddle and hugged his body to his dragon’s long neck. They crossed the sun’s path, casting a shadow on the furrows. The farmer’s mule screamed. Einion tried not to laugh as the poor farmer twisted and jerked left and right, searching for the cause of his animal’s panic. He finally glanced up. As Trahaearn closed in, the farmer dropped the reins and belly flopped into the freshly plowed earth.
Trahaearn pulled up before his claws could rake the neat furrows. “Ha, ha,” he roared.
No longer able to restrain himself, Einion burst out laughing. This was one of Trahaearn’s favorite pastimes—frightening farmers. Einion looked back and saw the farmer with his clothes caked in mud and shaking a fist in the air.
I have to keep them on their toes. They become lazy with the protection in the kingdom, Trahaearn said.
I love how you rationalize.
Trahaearn was a tease, but not much could be done to control naughty dragons. Einion didn’t chastise him—the big lug never did any real harm.
***
Einion held his breath when they passed a pair of dragons on patrol. With two short bursts of flame, Trahaearn signaled that all was well. The dragons, dusky rose and sage green, acknowledged with one each in return, and they flew on.
Ei
nion exhaled. He didn’t want them to realize he was the Prince of Terrin. He had cleared the excursion with his uncle and Catrin, but even still, the patrols took their orders from Aneirin in Gorlassar. If they saw Einion, they would insist on escorting him.
Looking for caves, Einion and Trahaearn descended over the melting peaks of the northern range. The mountain air was bitter cold in the springtime, but the peaks weren’t high enough that they stayed snow covered all year. The spring melts formed streams of running water down the rocks, where the snow became sloshy and dripped like heavy curtains barely clinging to the ledges.
Einion pointed out a cave, but Trahaearn was already flying toward it. He landed with a gentle squish.
Sliding down into the wet ice crystals, Einion stooped, gathered up a snowball, and chucked it at Trahaearn. The aim was true—bits of white stuck to the spikes over Trahaearn’s brow.
“Hey!” Trahaearn swiped his pointed tail through the snow and heaved a cartload’s worth at Einion, who dove out of the way, into the cave’s entrance.
The snow fight that followed was no trifling one.
Finally, Einion collapsed into a snow pile, feeling ragged. Not the least bit tired, Trahaearn flopped down beside him. Einion could describe him as an eager puppy waiting for the next stick to be thrown. Sighing with contentment, Einion reached his arms over his head and squinted into the sun. The rays were soothing enough that he could drift off. Einion lay there until the mound melted from his body heat.
“That was entertaining.” Einion chuckled. “What shall we do now?”
When the daystar dipped low in the sky, Einion and Trahaearn decided they must explore a stretch of lower land. At the base of the mountain, a plain stretched out in the east, and to the west loomed the hulking trees of the Great Forest.
Dragon sight showed Einion the road leading out of the Great Forest and into the city, the large capital called Islwyn.