by Lisa Rector
“Try doing one of your ether jumps as you normally do, but fall back into the energy, as if the wave of pressure hit us,” Catrin said.
“You amuse me. I’ve done almost half a dozen ether jumps since Gorlassar. You don’t seem to mind me using my darkness for this.”
“I know. I know!” Catrin threw her hands up. “It’s cheating. I’m betraying the Master of Light.”
“No, not you. Me. I am. Using the power makes no difference. What’s once more? Does it condemn me to harness it for this purpose? As long as I’m not harming another soul.”
“I suppose you’re right. The emrys don’t know the laws pertaining to the darkness. When we return home, time studying with the High Emrys will guide us in this field.”
“You didn’t shun Einion for his darkness.”
“He wasn’t able to use it in Gorlassar. I never saw him wield it.”
“But I used it in Gorlassar.”
“This is a different time. After the battle, after we left, Deian placed magic at the portal. You won’t be able to use the dark power there now.”
Meuric arched his eyebrows. “So Gorlassar would keep me from my wicked ways.”
“I’m not saying I want to hold you prisoner in Gorlassar to keep you pure.”
“Ha ha, say what you want. I’d be your prisoner, Catrin, for as long as it takes.”
“As long as what takes—”
Meuric hugged Catrin to his chest, cutting off her question. He thought of home and the desert and his sister—of his last moments in battle. The pressure grew, and his vision dimmed. He fell backward with Catrin in his arms.
Meuric landed with a hard thud.
Catrin grunted on top of him. “So sudden, Meuric.”
“Uhh, that didn’t work.” Just catching her cheeky last words he said, “You like sudden.”
She rubbed the back of his head. “You’re getting a headache.”
“I’ve got this, my delicate flower.” He pushed the pain away. He was still protecting her, still keeping himself healthy so she wouldn’t have to.
Catrin scooted off him and sat cross-legged with her eyes closed.
“Meditating?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Meuric tried to remember Catrin’s face before she became fragile. Her normally pale face had almost returned to its regular luminescence. She carried only a hint of shadow under her eyes now.
Finally, she spoke. “Meuric, we should try what Beli said—melding our hearts together.”
“Very well, but how do we do that?”
“Ever since Beli told me, I’ve been pondering his riddle. I was so keen to help the Eilian and travel to Gorlassar that I haven’t expanded on the thread of reason. Obviously, he’s referring to our heart-centers, which hold our energies, not our physical hearts. You can do miraculous things with the heart-center—things I still don’t understand. My dear friend Ahnalyn pulled her light from her core and put it into my brother to save his life. Through her heart-center, my mother opened a conduit for her literal essence to enter Ahnalyn’s body and dwell there.”
Meuric leaned toward Catrin. “Are you saying our sources of energies can blend together? Then what? How does that help us return home?”
“I don’t know.” Catrin leaned back and lay on the cliff, stretching her legs out straight, with her arms by her sides. “But there’s one caveat.”
“What?”
She didn’t answer. Meuric hoped she wasn’t too taxed from the efforts she had expended. Her hair fanned around her in a halo of light. She hadn’t plaited it lately. She was wearing new leggings and a new tunic the color of pale green fitted to her smaller frame. Everything about Catrin was smaller. Meuric recalled what Glynis had said, and he pictured Catrin with her stomach rounded and her bosom swollen. He pictured her holding their newborn son in her arms.
“I’ll tell you, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it. Sharing light directly from your heart-center is different from using light to heal or revitalize someone’s strength. Melding the heart-center’s light involves an exchange of light on a psychological level. The two parties have to agree to the bond physically, emotionally, and spiritually.”
Meuric closed his eyes. She’s going to tell me she doesn’t want to bond in such a way. His eyes flew open. “I don’t see a problem with this. After all we’ve been through, what other way have we yet to bond?”
Catrin’s face reddened.
Oh, right.
“I have to tell you one other thing,” she said. “Once such a bond is created, we’ll always have a connection.”
“We already have a connection.”
“No, not in the way you can ether jump to me. With this bond, even if we were half a world apart, we’d feel the pull to each other.”
Meuric smiled. “I told you. Even if we were millennia apart, I’d be searching for you. Did I not? The whole time I was with Mara and Arya, a huge chunk of my heart was missing. We’ve already done it.”
“Time makes no sense. I don’t know how we could already be connected.”
“That doesn’t matter. What I would ask is—do you want to bind yourself to me in such a way? You know my answer.”
Meuric stretched out beside Catrin and propped his head with his hand. He studied her face, her tiny nose, and her pink lips. Every feeling he sensed in her indicated she felt the same way—that she loved him, but she still didn’t return the expression. She wouldn’t be able to acknowledge the feelings until she voiced them.
Catrin turned her head toward him, and a smile crept across her face. “You’re getting impatient. I think I should tell you something.”
He didn’t dare hope. Catrin might be teasing him.
She closed her eyes and turned her head back to the sky. “After being alone on the mountain, I had to face several truths. I was utterly alone. I cried for you and the Master of Light. I wished for all the comforts I didn’t have. My soft bed and delicious food, my mother, and the rest of my family. My dearly beloved dragon. My heart was pained. I was furious with you. I thought you’d come. I didn’t know why you wouldn’t come.”
“Cat—”
“Shh, Meuric.” Catrin rolled on her side and propped her head up, looking him.
“I came face-to-face with my fear of being alone. I confronted my devastation and found forgiveness.”
Meuric lifted his eyebrows.
“I’m not angry at them anymore. Rhianu and Einion that is. I bear them no malice, and I love Einion as part of my family. I’m willing to love whoever he loves, even if it’s Rhianu.”
Meuric smiled. He hoped the woman he loved could love his sister.
“Do you know why I can say this, Meuric?” She rose to a sitting position and peered down at him.
Meuric pushed himself up to her eye level. After following the curve of her lips, he visually traced the contours of her nose and the almond shape of her eyes. His heart raced in his chest as he realized he had memorized every detail.
Catrin laughed. “Even when I was painfully angry at you…” She broke her gaze with Meuric and fiddled with a thread on her tunic before she lifted her face and recaptured his stare. With softness and surety she said, “I still loved you.” The rest spilled from her mouth. “When you love someone, you don’t stay angry at them for long. You could be the most devious rogue in all the realms. Even if you lost all your darkness, trapping us here forever, or even if you became a Dark Emrys, I’d love you regardless—for exactly who you are. Always. I will always love you.”
She had said the words he was dying to hear. Meuric grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I love you too, Catrin. Uh… and by the way,” he whispered, “I’d never become a Dark Emrys; your touch would burn too much.”
“You liked my scalding touches.”
He chuckled. “Oh, did I?”
Though he wasn’t sure how to bind his light to hers, he closed his eyes and envisioned the light in his heart-center. Meuric placed his hand over hi
s chest, and with gentle coaxing, a palm-sized ball of intense light emerged and settled into his hand. The spherical light was unblemished in brilliance as the surface burned orange like the sun. “Every bit of light I hold here is because of you.”
Catrin flattened her hand over her heart. She pulled her light from her chest. The oval was dented in the center like a walnut and about the same size too. Pitting marred the surface, and the oval pinched to a point on the end and glowed in a pale shade of yellow-orange.
Meuric furrowed his brow. Sorrow knifed his heart as he observed the damage to her core. Meuric moved his miniature sun closer to hers. The lights flickered, and as if they were drawn together, they stretched toward each other before connecting and sucking into one mass. Meuric cradled Catrin’s palms, supporting their combined light, which had grown to twice the size of Meuric’s light, despite the small size of Catrin’s. The two energies had multiplied in strength.
“What do we do next?” Catrin whispered.
Strangely cold without his light, Meuric felt his dark power bleed into the vacant space. “It took intense emotion and power to push us through the rift. So…” His idea would work. He knew it.
Meuric grabbed Catrin’s hand and led her into the rift while holding their light with one hand. “It will take intense emotion and power to push us through again.”
After gripping Catrin’s shoulders, Meuric pulled her against his chest with such force she gasped. The ball of light slipped halfway into each of their chests. For one fraction of a second they shared the same light. As glorious as this connection was, Meuric felt the pulling sensation as the orb split—evenly into two unblemished heart-centers, pure and strong.
Catrin tensed as her light settled into her, and with relief, Meuric felt the light push back his darkness until it cringed on the outskirts of his heart-center. Strength bolstered Meuric. He felt whole and honest and noble—as he’d never felt in his entire life.
Eager with anticipation, compounded by months of waiting, Meuric brought his mouth down on Catrin’s. He pulled on her hair and kissed her with a hunger he was afraid might consume him. Nothing in his life could have tasted any better. She was his Catrin. He was hers. Sealed together. Healed together. One.
Negative pressure, as well as the ache of desire, built inside Meuric. His ears popped as his darkness parted the ether, searching and pulling for the way home. Meuric knew exactly when they had transcended between the two worlds—between the two times.
They were, at last, home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JUST IN TIME
Of all the delightful emotions and sensations, Catrin couldn’t grab ahold of one. Intense. Meuric was so intense, and delicious, and he smelled rich and manly and—
She loved him. Oh, how she loved him! Catrin no longer cared where or when or how. As long as they shared this love, nothing else mattered. She’d sink into oblivion with Meuric and live out her immortality consumed by him—his touch, his scent, and his desire. Because he wanted her. He craved her. His raw, unhindered emotions swelled her heart-center, and Catrin relished the feeling.
Oh, yuck, remove his tongue from your mouth! Do you have to be so open with your feelings?
Gasping, Catrin pulled away from Meuric. She knew that dragon voice. Trahaearn! Einion’s dragon could hear her thoughts and could feel her emotions. She didn’t care how much of a dunderhead Trahaearn was. Oh, to hear his voice! It meant they were, indeed, home.
It’s about time you kissed someone, another voice said, unmistakable after all this time. Cerys—her dragon.
Cerys, how I’ve missed you. Catrin’s stomach quivered. She was home. A strange wooziness swirled her head. I’m home.
Meuric’s arms tightened around her body. “I have you, my love.” His husky voice wrapped her in warmth.
Oooo, we have a three-way going on, Trahaearn said. Never had that before. Is that what happens when you’re wearing two dragon stones? I hear what you’re thinking, Cerys hears our exchange, and I hear her through you. Incredible!
“We’re home,” Catrin cried. “Can you hear him—your dragon?”
“Yes, by the Master. Yes!” Meuric squeezed her and kissed her.
They parted slightly. The overcast sky dimmed the midday sun, but the chilly air didn’t hint at the season, which could have been a spring or fall, even a mild winter day.
“When are we? The battle was late summer. Surely this must be our time if we can hear the dragons,” Catrin said.
It’s early March, and you arrived just in time, Catrin. Where are you? I’ll come to you. There’s a matter of great urgency, Trahaearn said.
“Something’s wrong,” Catrin said to Meuric. “Trahaearn says it’s urgent.” His worried voice left no room for delay.
It’s Rhianu. The baby. Something’s wrong.
“Meuric, jump to Rhianu now! Something about her baby.” Trahaearn you need not come to us. Meuric can bring me there instantly. Who’s with them?
Einion and a few maids, Trahaearn said. They’re in Morvith.
No midwife? What’s the problem? Catrin did a quick calculation. Early March. The babe should not yet be due. Rhianu would be big. The baby could still survive a few weeks early—
No. I don’t know, Trahaearn said. They sent for Siana, but she’s hours away. Before she left, she said Rhianu would be fine until next week when Siana was due to return.
Meuric’s eyes widened. “No!” He grabbed Catrin’s hand, and the pressure enveloped her, cutting off her thoughts to the dragons.
***
They reappeared in a spacious room. In the middle of a plush carpet, a substantial four-poster bed with drapes. Heavy curtains and thick tapestries hung on the walls, lending a warmth to the drab stone. A fire illuminated the room.
Two young maids huddled, frightened, near the door. Catrin peered around the bed curtains. A woman, with hair as red as blood and skin as olive brown as Meuric’s, leaned over the edge of the bed, clutching her stomach. Right away, Catrin recognized Rhianu, the same woman Catrin held at knife point only months earlier. Except for the rounded stomach of her late-term pregnancy, Rhianu had changed little. Irritated, pained, and terrified emotions contorted her features.
A man beside Rhianu rubbed her back. Einion. His brown curls couldn’t be forgotten. He seemed older, but that might have been due to the stubble on his face or the creased lines on his forehead. Half-emrys didn’t age, although with his distraught countenance, he could have aged ten mortal years. Einion was as regal and careworn as a king should be. How Catrin had missed him! She prayed the cares of this world had not destroyed his lighthearted charm.
Rhianu’s scream urged Catrin into action.
Einion looked up, and relief filled his eyes. Something else filled Catrin entirely. Months of heartache broke away, and peace swallowed her.
“Catrin! Thank the Master,” Einion said. “By the Light, your timing is impeccable. Here, help me.”
Catrin rushed to their side. Einion didn’t miss a beat, never mind that Catrin had been gone for ages. Pleasantries could be exchanged later.
She touched Rhianu’s stomach. The swell was rigid. “How long has she been this way?”
Einion swallowed. “At least three minutes. The labor pain hasn’t stopped. It started all of a sudden. Rhianu had three weeks left. Siana said the baby was healthy. She looked inside. All was well.”
“This is no labor pain. It couldn’t have been predicted either.” Catrin had a minute at best to act. One more and the baby would be dead. She screamed orders to the servants in the room. “Push everything off the table.”
The maids reacted, and books and ink tumbled to the floor.
“Linens. Bring me linens and water,” Catrin said. “Einion, Meuric, help me lift her onto the table.”
“The bed—” Einion began.
“It’s not firm enough. The baby has to come out now.”
Einion locked eyes with her. Having assisted her with births in Gorlassar, he k
new exactly what Catrin meant.
“Meuric!” Catrin yelled.
She glanced at him, standing where they had appeared. He was paralyzed. Catrin didn’t have time to coax him through his anxiety, but she spared him a few encouraging words. “She’s not Arya or Mara. I will save them. I swear.”
She grabbed Rhianu’s ankles, and Einion lifted her under the arms as they laid her on the table.
Catrin darted across the room and pulled the knife from Meuric’s belt. Young Braith’s knife had seen much history. Before she returned to Rhianu’s side the knife glowed hot. Catrin pulled up Rhianu’s nightdress, revealing everything below her navel to the room.
Rhianu moaned.
“Einion, take away her pain. You remember how to do that?” Catrin asked.
“Yes.”
Rhianu grabbed his hand. “Keep me awake. I want to see her.”
“There’s no time!” Catrin yelled.
They moved in unison. Catrin drew the knife across Rhianu’s abdomen, and Einion placed one hand on Rhianu’s forehead and the other to her heart. Rhianu gasped, but lay motionless, awake, and free from pain.
Catrin took no pleasure in her blade finally sinking into Rhianu’s flesh as it would have during battle, which seemed like a dream long ago. If Einion lost his child, his hurt would echo throughout Catrin. Their joys and sorrows ran too close together. Loving someone else didn’t destroy the bond of friendship they shared. She would save this child. She had to. For Einion. For everything she hoped they were supposed to be, but weren’t.
Catrin drew the knife from navel to pubic bone. She wanted the room and the speed, so she didn’t limit the exposure with a smaller incision. As it cut, the heated knife burned Rhianu’s skin, preventing added blood loss.
She reached the womb. The strong muscle was taut. Her knife sank carefully into the fibers, avoiding the baby, who wasn’t moving. Time was running out.