02 Summer Moon

by Jan Delima

  As Avon’s guards fought off more Guardians, she leapt onto the bridge alongside her husband.

  Merin spared them a piercing glare. “Get back! You will not die this day. Not after all I have done to keep you alive.” Her focus remained on Pendaran as she revealed that secret. “What? Does that surprise you?” She countered again, spun, ducked his swing and charged. “You should have known that anything I want dead”—she aimed for his sword arm instead of his neck—“will die.”

  Arm severed, Pendaran’s sword fell to the floorboards still entangled with his dismembered fist. Head lowered, his gaze turned dragon green, as merciless as the forgotten winged beasts. “Just as you should have known that Cadarn is not my only weapon.”

  He began to chant and the river churned.

  Twenty-three

  Blind of his second Sight, Taliesin sat crumpled outside Aeron’s tomb with his face against his knees and gravel riding his bare ass. As soon as Luc had made the call, he had come on the wind. He had begged to speak to his mother—begged! Only to be denied access and exiled from the Vale with screaming threats and dire warnings not to interfere.

  To do nothing. That was the extent of his purpose—absolutely nothing. While those who had shown him kindness fought and bled because of his existence.

  And now he sat like a cobbled coward, while the stench of blood coated his throat.

  But if he interfered, if he helped—would he trigger an even worse fate?

  A soft whine alerted him of a visitor, and a wet nose poked his arm. He looked up and met Tucker’s sorrowful gaze.

  “How many rivers must run red for my worthless soul?” he asked the hound, who bared his teeth at the question. “How can I listen to them suffer and do nothing? It should be me instead of them.”

  A kind of peace washed over him the moment the words fell from his mouth. Tucker growled, sensing his intentions as he stood. The hound grabbed his wrist with his jaw but released when Taliesin accepted the assault without contest. He did not need an arm for what he planned to do.

  Sitting back on his haunches, the hound issued a canine wail that echoed through the island and maybe even into the Glowing Vale. As the haunting sound continued, storm clouds rolled in to cover the moon.

  Taliesin didn’t shift. He could have marched to meet the battle as a golden stag, or flown in the form of a raven or eagle. But he chose to walk as a man, naked and unarmed, bared to his soul. He no longer wished to continue in this existence if it meant the death of everything and everyone he loved.

  The roar of battle filled the night, and then softened as warriors started shouting his name. He walked by Elen, who forced three Guardians to shift with just a touch, and change again to human form when they attacked with claws and teeth, too stunned to move after the second shift. Stepping onto the bridge, he passed Luc and Rosa holding off three guards. Spray from the river coated his bare skin, tainted by Pendaran’s incantation.

  Swords lowered and Guardians watched as he crossed to the center of the bridge.

  And Merin started shaking her head.

  Taliesin smiled at her, a final token of friendship, and for all she sacrificed to keep her children from the men and women unable to handle the blood of the Fae in their veins. “Whatever happens, Merin, it’s been my pleasure to know you.”

  Blue eyes so like Elen’s implored him to leave. She knew him, more than the others. She knew. “Sin—”

  “I’m done,” Taliesin said.

  Pendaran turned, disorientated and riding the influence of his malevolent curse. “Taliesin . . . ?”

  “No more, Pendaran.” Taliesin bent down and retrieved Cadarn, kicking the dismembered hand to the river. Pendaran accepted his weapon with his left hand, not his sword hand, but Taliesin trusted he would make do.

  His former tutor sent a questioning frown as Taliesin opened his arms and lifted his face to the sky. “If you need to take life . . . then take mine.”

  Nature arose in his vicious defense, trying to wash him away from danger. Lightning burst from the sky in angry shards. Waves churned off the river and pounded the bridge in swells.

  Legs wide, neck exposed, Taliesin waited. And when no deathblow came, he opened his eyes.

  Pendaran stared, dumbfounded with indecision, and horrified as any parent, teacher or guardian when faced with a child’s willingness to end their life.

  There was a time when their kind had fought in battles, fearless of death and confident they would be reborn again to live another life. That confidence had receded when their power had grown. Now not one of their kind welcomed death, since this life offered them partial immortality.

  Taking advantage of his distraction, Merin raised her sword.

  “No!” Taliesin shouted at her. “No more death. Not even his.”

  She beseeched him with pleading eyes. “How can you ask this of me now?”

  “I’m asking.” Taliesin watched her struggle to ease her stance, her chest rising and falling in frustration, but she lowered her weapon.

  “Leave!” Taliesin shouted to Pendaran. “If there was ever a part of you who cared for me as a child, just leave.”

  Baffled, Pendaran remained frozen. “But your prophecy . . .”

  “Words.” Taliesin laughed with bitterness when he thought about that stupid poem. “Just the words of a drunken asshole. I can’t even remember reciting the bloody thing.”

  A commotion of more warriors rounded the entrance. Dylan and Llara stood at the forefront with fifty-plus more men and women called to fight against the Guardians.

  Sullen, Pendaran gave a dignified nod. “I will leave today as you request, Taliesin, but I expect contact from you by next week.” One-handed, he sheathed Cadarn into the vines of his staff. “If you choose not to apprise me of your wishes, how am I to know what they are?” He waved his weapon toward the river and looked to the sky. “And now I have this media cleanup to deal with,” he chastised as if the battle had been their fault and not his. With his scolding delivered, Pendaran walked past Merin with a sneer and made a motion for all to follow.

  * * *

  As the Guardians retreated, Luc scanned the river’s edge and along the trees. In a glance, he counted eight deaths and several maimed, three of whom where Avon’s guards. Too many, but it could have easily been more if not for Elen and Taliesin’s interference.

  The injured began to shift, able to now that his sister had healed Avon. Dylan and Llara cut down Gareth, Teyrnon and the other guards. A passing Guardian did the same for William.

  Sitting on the ground, and unable to speak, the Norseman offered the retreating Guardians his middle finger. He shifted as soon as Llara peeled away the wire noose.

  Eyes dark and sunken, Elen made her way onto the bridge and settled next to Luc, refusing to look at their mother.

  “You okay?” He gathered her close for a quick embrace.

  “Aren’t I always,” she whispered with irony.

  His free hand found Rosa and clutched her to him with a desperation he hadn’t felt since Koko’s passing.

  He’d almost lost her. Had he not turned in time, Briog would have had her head.

  Fisting her hair, he captured her mouth. “Next time,” he growled against her lips, “I want you to stay in the bloody castle.”

  “Let us pray there isn’t a next time,” she said without agreeing to his order, but returned his embrace with equal passion.

  A flash of red alerted Luc to Merin’s approach. Lifting his head, he gathered Rosa close to his side and nodded to his mother. His throat thickened as she reached out her hand as if to touch him and then pulled it back.

  Fighting for composure, Merin cleared her throat. “I loved your father more than my own life,” she professed. “And every child that came from our union I considered a blessing. Every child. It hurts me to look at you, Luc, because you remind me
of him. Aemilius would have been proud of you this day.” Her chest rose and fell on a broken breath as she looked to his sister. “And he would have been proud of his Elen. As am I.”

  And with that, she turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Luc whispered over the gravel in his throat.

  “Home,” Merin said. “I, too, have people to protect and accounts to settle. Pendaran will want my head now that he knows. This is not over,” she warned. “He is too blinded by his power. He will retaliate. And next time he will come in shadows and on the wings of dragons.”

  Before Merin left, she paused in front of Taliesin. With a disparaging growl, she slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t ever scare me like you just did!”

  His cheek bore the mark of her hand as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “My home in Newport is yours.”

  “You should have let me kill Pendaran,” she clipped.

  “And then you would be no better than him.” His tone lowered, but not enough that Luc didn’t hear. “Stay for a while with your children.”

  “I cannot.” Merin’s voice trembled. “Look at their faces. They need time, and even then it may never be enough to right what I have done.”

  He reached out and caught a tear. “Think about my offer.”

  “Mail me the keys,” she said. “I expect Pendaran’s interest will turn to Elen now that he has witnessed her gift. Protect her,” she ordered in a mother’s desperate tone. “Because if she is harmed by Pendaran—it will be your fault for not letting me kill him.” She nodded to each of her children and walked away.

  Dylan, having made his way onto the bridge, blocked her path. “Mother,” he greeted softly. “I still remember the day Father gave you that cloak.”

  Her stance weaved slightly, as if she’d expected cruelty instead of kindness and was suddenly off balance, but spite was not Dylan’s way. Merin lifted her arm to reveal a threadbare patch sewn into the inner lining. “This is all that remains of the original, but it brings me comfort.”

  Struggling for an adequate response, Dylan simply said, “All this time, and you never let us know.”

  “I wanted you to live.” Her voice carried only conviction and sadness. She garnered the courage to place her hand tentatively on her firstborn’s arm. “When you are ready, contact me. Taliesin knows the way. There is much I need to share.” After Dylan gave a sharp nod, she jumped to the ground in a fluid leap and disappeared around the carriage house.

  Luc understood why his brother allowed their mother to leave—because Merin was right. The things she had done needed time, for Elen especially. Giving his wife a kiss as he unwound his arm from her waist, Luc shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Taliesin as he strode by. “To cover your ass, unless you like dangling in the wind.”

  He accepted the offering with a smirk. “Be careful, warrior; I might think you care.”

  Luc gave Taliesin a nod of respect. “I’ll remember what you did for us this day.” Then he closed the space between him and Dylan, welcoming his brother with a rough embrace that needed no words.

  * * *

  As the area cleared of Guardians, Rosa left her husband alone with his siblings. She made her way toward the edge of the trees where Gareth and the others remained. Relief at seeing them alive tightened her chest. Most had shifted, but her porter remained on the ground as a man, his eyes dark with self-censure. A bloodied metallic noose glinted in the dirt by his side. As she approached, he lowered his head.

  She knelt down next to him, taking his hands into her lap. “You need to shift.”

  “The Guardians jumped me before I had a chance to sound a warning.” He coughed and fluid rattled in his lungs. “I failed you.”

  “No,” she said softly. “Why would you think such a thing? You were outnumbered and yet you still fought, for me, for us and for Avon.” Shaking her head, she repeated, “No, Gareth, you have never failed me. It is your loyalty that gave me the opportunity to begin this journey, and now we are free.”

  “Free?” he questioned, cynical as always. “For now, perhaps.”

  “Yes.” She sighed, knowing he spoke the truth. “For now. But until the next battle begins we will live as we choose.” She stood then, assuming the role that came naturally to her. “Go for a run,” she demanded, sensing he required acceptance more than sympathy. “I need my porter strong.”

  The slightest of smiles tugged at his lips before he winced. “You’ve learned to issue orders well.” And he didn’t sound displeased.

  Twenty-four

  For barren not, under summer’s first moon, comes the prophecy they most seek.

  Before dawn greeted the day, after wolves ran and the fallen were honored, after warriors rested and a Wulfling was calmed and put to bed, Rosa and Luc walked their rebirthed island alone.

  Wildflowers lined the trails: daisies, yellow irises and blue forget-me-nots. New leaves rustled in a forest kissed by hope and promise. Rosa entwined her fingers through her husband’s and led him to a private glen where meandering streams formed a pool.

  On the edge of the forest, skirted by moss, grew a newborn tree with lush green leaves, glimmering in the shadows of night. A tiny bird clutched a tender branch and sang a lovely song before flitting away.

  “Luc, did you see that?” she asked, breathless. Life has returned to Avon. She brought his hand to her lips and placed a kiss inside his palm. A prelude to a gift she planned to offer him before the sun chased away the moon. “You have given me more than I dared hope for.”

  “And you’ve given me something I never thought possible.” He folded his fingers as if to capture her gesture. “You’ve taught me that I can love again.”

  Her heart raced and her chest filled with wonder. Smiling, because her happiness demanded a response, she kicked off her sneakers and peeled away her jeans, slowly stripping while he watched. She gave her husband the vows she should have given him when this marriage began. “On this night I offer you my heart, my home, and all that I hold dear, because I cannot imagine having them without you.”

  Like the stars in the sky, his gaze shimmered iridescent silver with promises for eternity. “And all I want is you, my wolven queen.”

  Wading into the cool waters, she washed off the filth of the day and waited for him to join her. Her side was still tender from Briog’s one good strike but not enough to hinder her plans. He caught her under the water’s surface, dragging her to him for an unbridled embrace of love almost lost. His mouth captured hers, trailing kisses down her neck until his forehead rested against her shoulder. They held on to each other for a long while, with feet curled in the graveled bottom waters, absorbing the magnitude of the moment.

  After a time, a heavy sigh fell from his lungs and a shudder racked his body.

  He wept, she realized then. As the scent of elements rose, of healed earth bursting with life’s most precious gift, her husband wept. For an instant she thought moonlight and shadows teased her eyes, because his tears were black as ink trailing down his chest.

  And then she realized it was her husband’s greatest proclamation this night.

  As he bled Koko’s tattoo from his skin, she whispered, “Fulfill a prophecy with me, Luc. Love me under summer’s first moon.”

  * * *

  Raw from two brutal shifts, and then a third, Cormack went to Elen’s room as a wolf. He refused to deny her a friend this night. Because of Merin’s appearance, he knew she hurt. The doors were locked but he’d convinced Mae to let him in. As a wolf, he was adequate—and not the bumbling oaf of a man who could barely walk a straight line, or talk around his own thick tongue.

  When the door quietly closed, he padded over to the bed.

  Elen slept on her side, cocooned in blankets. A row of pillows lined her back. It was how she’d slept when he’d first met her, as if squares of encased feathers could protect her
from the nightmares of her youth.

  With his teeth he dragged the pillows from the bed. She slept in a loose shirt and undergarments, but the shirt had ridden up to reveal her spine with two jagged scars, the only physical evidence of her mother’s torture. Merin had pinned her down and shoved rods under her skin in an effort to force a wolf that never came.

  The mattress sagged under his weight as he jumped on the bed and settled along her back.

  She stirred, and then inhaled. “Cormack . . . ?”

  He nuzzled into her tumbled hair. Her scent had lessened in this place, but he caught a whiff of the moonflowers that bloomed at night in her garden, pure and white, and sweeter than honeysuckle.

  Elen turned, stroked her hand over his side. “I’m so sorry, Cormack . . . for hurting you again.” Her voice clogged with her tears. “I couldn’t resist Pendaran’s summons.”

  He growled softly from the memory of that putrid ass who had dared to call her, and his own inability to protect her.

  “Do you hate me?” she asked again, as she had in the library.

  He was not ready to show her his true feelings, so he vowed them silently . . .

  No, Elen . . . I don’t hate you. I love you more than the air that I breathe. And if I had to choose between the two—I would choose you.

  Unaware, she fell asleep with her face buried in his neck as his fur absorbed her tears. Come morning, Mae cracked open the door and Cormack slipped from Elen’s room without waking her. She was returning to Rhuddin Village with Dylan today and Cormack wasn’t going with her.

  She wanted a friend. He wanted more. Next time they met, he would be the adequate man she needed—the warrior she could love.

  Padding to his chambers, he grabbed a belted bundle of jeans and carried them in his muzzle to the Avon forest. The scents greeted him like an orchestra of nature, rich and pure.