A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1)

by Annie Bellet

  Idrys was different. Once over his initial shyness, he’d explored her like a man hunting a rare creature. His touch was full of raw desire and an almost selfish need. He’d taken as much as he’d given, his long-lashed eyes wide with the wonderment of the act.

  When the final moment of consummation had come, Emyr’s eyes had been closed.

  Seren had taken mortal lovers before, but never twins of such exquisite youth and strength. She had little doubt she’d tire of them soon enough, though perhaps not soon as these humans measured time. For the moment, however, she intended to keep her new pets and teach them well how to please her.

  The twins ate their fill and then looked at their captor.

  “We need to go home, Seren. May we leave?” Emyr spoke, asking the question that hovered on the mind of both, hoping the answer would dissipate the fears that loomed once again.

  She laughed, the sound like the burbling of the waterfall outside her house. “You’ll go home, of course! But it is nearly night now, too late to make a start of it this eve. Stay another night with me.” Her silver eyes grew hard and her gaze sharpened. “Unless, perhaps, you grow weary of my company so readily?”

  “It is not that, Lady,” Idrys spoke up. “It is only we’ve been gone so long, we don’t wish to kill our father with worry.”

  “Such lovely and dutiful sons he has.” Though she smiled so beautifully it made their hearts and loins ache, they were not oblivious to the mocking sting of her words.

  She rose then with a gesture that forestalled any further queries and closed Emyr’s mouth before he could say aught. She removed her gown, letting it slide seductively down her hips as she undid the clasps and lacing. Her skin, luminescent and pale as moonlight, rekindled the twin’s desires.

  At Clun Cadair, they’d both begun to play the adolescent games of discovery and courtship. The speculative whispers in their shared bed at night and the stolen and deliciously furtive kisses of Caron and Efa, the two girls closest to their age at home, were only explorations of a desire they hadn’t yet entirely manifested. Until Seren. She’d imparted a knowledge and a need that, once roused, was a fire nothing might quench.

  Idrys rose first, naked and hungry for her flesh. He was accustomed to shrugging off doubts and consequences and used his experience to banish the nagging voice in his mind. One more night, what could that harm? His father’s fretting would be a tiny price to pay for such mysteries as the Lady might show them in the softly lit interior of her magic home.

  Emyr watched his brother rise without hesitation and envy stole over him. Idrys was always so sure of himself, so able to act without the weight of doubt. Or, he thought bitterly, without consideration.

  He watched his brother’s tanned body entwine with the tall pale beauty of their host. The sight of them kissing in focused hunger shoved away the doubts in Emyr’s mind. He’s right, maybe. Enjoying himself like this. We can’t change the situation immediately anyway. Perhaps she’ll let us free on the morrow. He stood and pulled his tunic back off as desire burned away his fears.

  Still, there in the back of his mind, hovering like an insect he couldn’t quite catch, lurked the tiny voice whispering that she’d never let them go.

  Four

  Idrys woke first, lethargy and deep exhaustion pervading his limbs. He could scarce keep his eyes open long enough to register that the little cabin was sunlit. He felt his brother breathing next to him on the wide bed. Furs, damp with sweat from sleeping, matted against his skin, itching slightly.

  The bed was soft and warm beneath him, his head pillowed on more furs, his brother’s soft dark hair brushing along his cheek with every breath. It was warm and comfortable and he could not resist the pull of sleep as it reclaimed him, though the nagging sense of apprehension followed him into his dreams.

  Idrys dreamed of fire and the smell of burning leather and fur. Then smoke, thick enough to burn his eyes and sting his lungs. An owl, silent and pale, landed on the shifting stones beneath his bare feet. It turned its head halfway around and spoke to him in a chorus of voices.

  Run.

  Idrys awoke again, this time with adrenaline coursing through his blood. He sat straight up, the lethargy and comfort of earlier purged and only urgent fear remaining. Emyr was awake beside him, also sitting up and breathing hard. They looked each at the other.

  “A dream,” Idrys whispered.

  “I dreamt, too,” Emyr said. “I saw fire and much smoke.”

  “And an owl.” Idrys nodded. They’d shared dreams before, though none quite so clear as this.

  “She’s not like to let us go anytime soon, is she?” Emyr shuddered.

  “Not likely. Though really, is it so bad? We’re living a dream of many young men, eh? All the food and, well, and other things that anyone could want. No chores, no one making us learn sums or sit through boring hearings on the grievances of this sheep farmer or that one.” Idrys gave his brother a weak smile.

  “Perhaps, Idrys.” Emyr sat then for some minutes in silence, pulling the furs further up over himself although the little room was warm enough with the clear sunlight pouring in the window and the little smokeless coals glowing in the brazier.

  After a time he turned his head to his brother and rested his cheek on his drawn-up knees. “But how much time passes out there? I remember in the stories the places under the domain of the Fair Folk mark the passage of time differently from our own. What if we stay here only a few weeks before she bores of us or consents to release us and time has passed so quickly in the world that it is more like years? I remember tales where the youth lived with his lover and when he emerged from their realm, centuries had passed and all he knew before was gone.”

  Idrys turned to sit facing his brother with legs crossed. He thought a moment on what his brother said. If it were true, then he might never see his mother again or his father. He thought on his mother’s dark eyes and the soft swish of her skirts as she walked. She never raised her voice to her sons or to anyone else for that matter, always gentle though often stubborn, a green stalk that will bend but never break.

  He thought too of his father, Brychan, a chief in more than just name. His father often raised his voice, quick to passionate anger, but also quick to kindness and understanding after, his moods flashes of flame in the dark, there and gone again. He might never see gentle Efa or sweet and sarcastic Caron, never win his bet that he could outrace Llew to the weeping tree and back.

  Even as he recalled each face languor slipped back over him. Warmth, sudden and unnatural pervaded his body and seeped into his thoughts. Desire rose unbidden, clouding the memories, pulling away the faces he conjured in his mind.

  “Idrys!” Emyr knelt over him, shaking him roughly by the shoulders.

  Idrys shook his head to clear the cobwebs of need and want from his mind. He took a few deep breaths.

  “We need to escape,” he said, shoving away the strange sadness that gripped him. He was unused to such gripping, deep emotions, being much like his father. Feelings came quickly as whims struck him and rarely stayed long.

  “Where did you go just now? I swear I spoke your name three times before you heard me,” Emyr said, releasing his shoulders.

  “I don’t know. I feel very strange, Em. I think that’s why we have to go.”

  Idrys rose, climbing over his brother. He walked to the door and found it locked as tightly as before. This did not surprise him and sighing he moved to relieve himself and find his clothing.

  “How? She’ll not let us out.” Emyr found his own tunic folded neatly on a shelf near the door.

  “Mayhap if we lull her into thinking we no longer wish to leave she’ll let us bathe outside. I could use a bath, as could you.” Idrys gave an exaggerated sniff.

  “It’s worth a try, eh?” Emyr grinned, feeling better now that they had a plan. “I wish I knew what she’d done with our knives and my bow.” He looked around, but no weapons presented themselves. “We might be able to cut that window pane,
whatever it is, if we had something heavy or sharp.”

  “We could try to smash it with the kettle, but she’s likely to be back soon if yesterday is any indication. I don’t think she likes to leave us alone for long. And if that’s some sort of stone, it will make a fearsome racket even if it cracks.” Idrys shrugged, feeling adverse to action for once, yet unsure of what it might mean exactly.

  “It’s too hard to think when she’s around.” Emyr shifted uncomfortably as thinking about Seren brought on a wave of mingled desire and confusion.

  Idrys moved to his brother and wrapped his arms around Emyr’s slim form. “Indeed. But think what a tale this will be once we’re home.”

  “If any believe us.”

  “I’ll make them believe. Besides, mother always knows when we lie. She’ll at least believe and if she believes, father will cleave to her. He always does.”

  Emyr chuckled at this truth spoken and the twins laid a head each on the shoulder of the other as they waited for the Fairy to return.

  * * *

  “Of course you may bathe.” Seren smiled so warm and so sweet, her teeth flashing like white stones in the dimming interior of the little house. She motioned to the door. “Idrys, why don’t you stay and help me prepare our meal while your brother washes? Then he can come and tell me more stories of your exciting hunts while you take a turn?”

  The twins exchanged a look. They’d expected she might not let them go together but disappointment still wormed its way into their young hearts at hearing their expectations fulfilled.

  Emyr went to bathe. He emerged from the hut and saw the same burbling waterfall, the same pond. The trees looked much unchanged as well. The sun had dipped quite low, though the air remained warm enough.

  He gratefully stripped off his tunic again, having not bothered to pull on boots or trousers, and plunged into the cold water. He used sand from the bottom to scrub himself clean and then finally rested on the same wide, flat rock Seren had laid her own clothing upon the fateful day they’d met.

  There was birdsong as the winged creatures settled for the evening. A light breeze ruffled the leaves, twisting them from green to silver and back again in the fading light. The hut perched next to the pond, looking for all the world like any normal cabin save for its lack of a chimney.

  It never even occurred to him to run. Even if he’d had boots and supplies, Emyr could never leave his twin. He glanced to the sky again, watching the sun sink lower. Was its angle different? How much time was passing? Was the air cooler than it should be at high summer?

  He sighed and pulled on his tunic. Idrys still needed to bathe and it would be selfish to take all the daylight moments for himself. With a deep breath, Emyr walked back to the cabin, pushed open the door, and stepped across the threshold.

  They gave themselves wholly over to Seren that night, all doubts pushed aside as the twins did their best to make their host believe their whole hearts lay with her and only her. Neither asked when or if they might go home but instead told boisterous stories, well embellished, of their various hunting and fishing conquests as well as tales of the pranks that, while mostly Idrys’s conception, they’d both pulled around the llys.

  When Seren finally let them sleep, they fell into exhausted and satiated slumber. If they dreamed, neither could recall in the morning.

  Idrys awoke first again. He forced himself to wake fully this time, slapping at his arms and finally biting his lip so hard it bled. The stinging pain pushed away the final clinging vestiges of sleepy comfort.

  Emyr beside him slept on through it all. Idrys shoved at his brother to no effect. He finally pulled Emyr off the bed and left his twin lying there, tanned and muscled limbs in disarray, as Idrys grabbed the pitcher of fresh water that was set out for them. With a smile and a prayer, he dumped the contents over his brother’s head.

  It worked. Sputtering, Emyr awoke. He sat up naked on the floor and stared about himself with a confused look that slowly cleared.

  “Was that necessary?” he asked, annoyed.

  “Probably. You weren’t waking. Be glad I didn’t bite you.” Idrys pulled down his lower lip to reveal the red, swelling sore.

  “Indeed. I should be glad my twin is so determinedly strange.” Emyr offered a small smile as he used a skin from the bed to dry his face and chest.

  “We’re still stuck in here, though I think we’ve more time ‘til she realizes we’re awake if that languor was any indication,” Idrys said and his own smile faded. He collected their clothing and the twins dressed, donning their boots as well.

  “Let’s break the window. It’s worth a try, mayhap.” Emyr nodded toward the cooking kettle.

  Idrys gripped the kettle and heard the sudden rush of wings in his mind. He ignored the strange touch and swung the kettle at the pane as hard as he could.

  The window rang with a strong clear tone and the kettle split cleanly in half.

  The boys stood, ears aching from the reverberating sound. It faded and they stayed still as rabbits spotting the shadow of a hawk, waiting for their captor to storm through the door. Moments passed and she did not appear.

  Slowly they both exhaled and stared at the kettle, half of which Idrys still gripped mutely in one hand. He released it.

  “What now?” Idrys said softly. At Emyr’s shrug and lost look, Idrys’ strength crumbled and he sat heavily onto the skins before the brazier. “Come on, Em, you always have some brilliant plan or another.”

  “Usually because you’ve gotten us into some bind or another,” Emyr said bitterly. “Oh look, back here again are we?”

  Idrys’s eyes flashed with anger and he half rose before falling back with a shake. “Fair enough, but fighting gains us nothing. What would father do?”

  “Throttle her, probably.” Emyr sighed and sank down across from his twin. “Better to ask what mother would advise. She’s far more practical.”

  “She’d outwit the Lady. Or turn things about so that Seren might think letting us go was her very own clever plan.” Idrys shrugged.

  Idrys stilled suddenly and then jumped up. “That’s it! Emyr, we know what to do.”

  “What are you talking about? If you’re about to suggest we kill the Lady, I think you know how badly that would go. I’m not even sure how to kill a Fair One, not to mention I’m not sure I could face her with malice in my heart.” Emyr folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows.

  “No, no, of course not. I’m not bloodthirsty, you loon. But we dreamed it, don’t you see?” Idrys motioned at the brazier excitedly.

  “Set the hut on fire?” Emyr rose as well so that he could stand eye level with his raving twin. “What will that do other than kill us? The walls look to be stone and earth; they’ll hardly burn.”

  “The door is wood, those shelves are wood. We can pile them against the door and set the whole thing alight. Once the wood weakens, we can break through.” Idrys turned and started to empty the shelf of its earthen cookware and various little shells, bone carvings, and other pretty sundries.

  “What about the smoke? There’s no chimney, stupid. What about us? We’re going to what, just leap through fire? You dumped the water on me, remember?” Emyr didn’t move.

  “We’ll wet the skins from the bed with our piss and use them to damp the fire so we can get out. Once the door burns through, we can use the brazier itself to bash a good opening. It’s large and heavy enough I think.” Idrys had that specific determined look on his face that only came with the more daring or harebrained of his plans, the ones he wouldn’t be rationally talked away from no matter the arguments against.

  “Urine and fire? Gethin said that sex made men mad, though I’d thought he meant it less literally.” Emyr shook his head again and closed his eyes.

  He could see the flames from his dream and feel the choking smoke in his lungs. Wings beat in his mind, soft and nearly silent but for the telling rush of wind. Idrys might be right, but from a practical perspective, setting the only door in
a small space on fire seemed too risky.

  “Think, Emyr. How long will we stay here? Already I struggle to hold familiar faces in my mind. How long ‘til I forget? What if we forget each other?” Idrys stopped moving items and held his hands out in supplication.

  Emyr sighed, his resistance crumbling under the weight of that plea. He too, during the telling of tales the evening before, had found the familiar stories and comforting faces of home slipping like fish from the grasp of his memories.

  “If you get us killed when we could have settled for a century of having our every desire filled, I’ll never forgive you,” he said even as he moved to help.

  Idrys laughed, relief flooding through him. “I’ll never forgive myself either, never fear.”

  Their minds set, the youths worked swiftly. Soon they had the shelf pried apart and the planks set against the door. They used sheep’s wool scraped from the skins as tinder. Emyr used a broken pottery shard to gouge the door, roughing the thick wood that the fire might take purchase more quickly.

  Wrapping their faces with strips of cloth torn from the pillows and their hands with leather ripped from the bedding, they lifted the brazier and dumped the coals onto their makeshift pyre. It took both to lift the heavy bronze and tip it. Emyr grunted and nearly dropped it as his leather hand coverings slipped. He fixed in his mind their goal and hung on despite his awkward grip.

  They’d both emptied their bladders into the chamber pot and then used the contents, smelly though they were, to wet down a couple skins. The skin that had been underneath Emyr when Idrys dumped the water pitcher on him was still quite wet and they took it also.

  Hunkering down on the bed, wet skins ready, they waited as the flames leapt and ate at the shelving and finally the base of the door. The splinters they’d managed to raise in the wood of the door caught flame and curled in the heat. Smoke, thick and acidic from the wool and wood, spread out over the roof of the hut, finding no outlet. Soon they were coughing behind their crude masks.