by E E Everly
Kelyn once spoke of the northern realm. He considered Rolant to be behind the ruffians’ wreaking havoc in his homeland. More than once, the dark-skinned men from the north traversed the mountain range and entered the highlands. A few lived peacefully and were welcomed, but they were the few.
Seren and I passed those mountains. Though they were challenging for a mortal to cross, I supposed the journey was possible on foot. Snow had yet to blanket the rounded peaks covered in bare deciduous trees.
We flew into the night. Roughly an eight-hour stretch. Near midnight, a city rose in my dragon sight. The light of the emrys abiding there was strong, but not as strong as Catrin’s light or Aneirin’s. Still, the light was a good sign. Someone from home—Siana, I hoped—would greet me.
Over three thousand years was a long time for an emrys to be in this realm alone. Yet Sieffre spoke of her on the scrolls they had found. Ancient scrolls. Siana should have posterity—unless she couldn’t bond with mortals. Since I saw no other emrys lights, I feared this was the truth. Being unable to have children was a tragedy, all because she exiled herself to live with mortals. And to live alone while she watched everyone around her die? I didn’t want to think about how horrible it must be. She must have immersed herself into mortal life, as I was trying to do.
But why hadn’t she at least tried to return to Gorlassar?
I resigned myself to Siana’s fate. Whatever awaited her awaited me. Would I ever have children and feel the swell as my womb grew? Would I watch my children dance in the rain or cuddle with them around a fire? Would I teach them how to heal or how to harness light? Or how to be a warrior?
Not if they didn’t exist.
Kenrik’s dreams to have a little family could have been my own. I pictured him and the dots of light that were his future family bunched up on the hearthrug. I had every hope he’d have exactly this someday. I wished I realized what coming into the mortal realms meant. I didn’t think far enough ahead to consider family.
Had I not been restless, I would have married in Gorlassar. I would have bonded with an emrys, whom I’d live with forever, with no fear of his death.
But I didn’t know what I could have had until it was taken away from me.
I was still a child. Foolish. Impulsive. Spoiled.
I tried not to cry. The wind dried any tears that were brave enough to fall.
You’re not a child, Seren said.
You’ve been in my head too long. I am. I’m an immature brat.
Breathe into the possibilities of a future.
Oh, Seren. I’m too broken to even think of possibilities. I can only focus on that light. It’s all that’s left of my hope. I’ll figure out where to go from there if I can make it that far.
I hope these people are as welcoming as Sieffre’s people, Seren said. You had a wonderful life. You can always return.
My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to think about Kelyn and Kenrik fighting over me. It might have been a small reason, but I added it to my list. One. They die. Two. I might not be able to have children with mortals. Three. A rift would grow between them if I chose one over the other.
I couldn’t do that to them.
I noticed Seren’s anxiety. I’m hoping they have met a dragon. Nimue was Siana’s dragon. They must be here. I don’t think you’ll have to fear for yourself. Either way, we’ll be bold. I’ll make fast introductions. I’m sick of hiding. I’ll either come in as the emrys I am and impress, or conquer those who oppose us. Our might is greater than the humans’. We could rule them and not cower.
If Siana is indeed here, Seren said, hopefully we won’t have to impress or conquer, and we can just be accepted as Sieffre’s people accepted us.
I agree. I didn’t really want to conquer. My ego was talking, covering my nervousness. I wasn’t as nervous meeting Sieffre’s people, and I had Owein to thank for that.
The city’s glow was dim as we arrived in the cover of darkness. A few lights burned boldly in a foreboding citadel, not white and shining like Sieffre’s palace. Most rooftops in the city and in the citadel’s yard were thatch, except the slate one on the main citadel itself.
I feel like a thief, Seren said.
No one’s awake. Except a few guards. I doubt they can see us on this gloomy night.
We are nothing but a shadow to them. Seren landed with a crunch on the courtyard’s crushed shells.
I inhaled the scent of freshwater. The city must have been on the edge of a massive river. I was so focused on the light as we drew closer that I didn’t look beyond to the river. Did the city have a mass of docks like Cynwrig? The Dillion Sea beside Sieffre’s palace waved with a lapping tide. Fishermen caught loads of fish. I imagined the same situation here.
No one came as I slid off Seren’s back. No guards, although I sensed them around the perimeter.
They must believe we mean them no harm, Seren said. Surely Siana must expect us.
My heart thundered in my chest. She might have discerned my light and told the guards to stay back, but why would she not be here to greet us?
I stepped timidly toward the entrance, noting the fire baskets that burned on either side of the heavy wood doors. The smoke mixed with the freshwater air.
A creak broke the silence, and the doors parted. A glow blinded me for several seconds before a silhouette filled the doorway.
I froze. This was the light. The person standing before me carried the light I had followed across the country. I blinked and focused on the brilliance, comparing it to the darkness, like the morning sun climbing over a black mountain. As the person stepped through the doorway, the shadows fell, revealing a face illuminated by the fire baskets’ light.
My heart’s racing halted. Its heavy thud almost knocked me to my knees.
A man—who was physically at the age of maturity. Mid-thirties by mortal years. Slightly older than Owein. Ten years older than Kelyn.
This was not Siana.
Not Siana.
The man’s light wasn’t as bright as that of an emrys, but he had to be one nonetheless. No mortal shone with such intensity, yet the man’s shoulder-length hair was as black as coal, and his skin was tan. His eyes most definitely were not green. He was no emrys I’d ever seen.
A rippling insanity brewed under my skin.
Who did I just fly across this infernal country to find?
I didn’t know what to do, or say, so I waited. Seren nudged me in the back, showing me she was there for support, urging me to say something, but she too was speechless.
“You made it,” the man said. “Don’t stand there astonished. I’ve been expecting you for weeks. Your entrance into the mortal realms didn’t escape my notice. I knew you’d find your way here sooner or later.”
“You’re not Siana,” I said.
He chuckled. “I’m her descendent.”
“Descendent?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m Caedryn.” He took a step toward me and swept his arms wide in welcome. “And who might you be?”
“Niawen… and Seren.”
“Well, Niawen and Seren, welcome to Islwyn, capital of Rolant. It’s not as elegant as King Sieffre’s city, I’m told, but my home is quite a comfortable place to stay the winter.”
“Where’s Siana?” My eyes roved over Caedryn. He wore a finely embroidered tunic and woolen britches in olive green. His boots were laced up his shins. His build was tall and slender like the emrys, not all bulk like Kenrik.
I must quit comparing everyone I meet. But Caedryn’s physique was an unpleasant reminder of those like him, and even more of a reminder of those who weren’t.
“Siana lives beyond the wilderness.” Caedryn skipped down the five front steps. “It would take some time to travel there. Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll tell you about her. You must rest. Please.” He gestured to the entrance.
“You’re an emrys,” I said.
Caedryn stopped three feet in front of me. He smiled. “I’m a half-emrys.”
�
��Half?”
“Half.” He seemed pleased with my puzzlement. “My mother was mortal.”
“You can bond with mortals?” A carefully placed buttress broke inside me. A breath I’d been holding from the moment Seren lifted off from the ledge outside Gorlassar released. Tears bubbled up and fell with my anguished sob. Here was hope. Mortals and immortals could be together. A life with Kelyn was possible.
But he will die, my conscious mind nagged.
Our life together would have been but an eye blink out of my entire lifespan.
I still couldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have faced that loss when the time arose. I knew this certainty.
The tears fell with force.
My sinuses clogged, and I sucked in grating breaths as my shoulders shook. I suddenly didn’t care about the past few weeks with Kelyn and the mortals. I cared that I was forbidden from returning home. I cared that my father no longer recognized me as his own. I cared that someone was standing right before me, and I could unload every burden, because he was an emrys.
Or half-emrys.
He would understand.
Once I opened my mouth, the words poured out. “I was exiled. My father doesn’t love me. I killed… I killed people.” I sucked in a breath. The stranger would think I was insane. “Everything’s dark. My heart-center… everything hurts. It’s crushing me.”
My hands twisted together, and then I flapped them wildly. I pushed hair out of my face while tears blinded me. “I thought I was alone. Your light. Led me here. I thought… I thought you were Siana. I was afraid.” I hiccoughed. “Afraid to be alone. Afraid of death.”
Caedryn opened his arms, and I fell into them. He wrapped me tight against his shoulder. His hands stroked my hair. “Shh, Niawen. You’re not alone. Shh. And you’ll never be alone again.”
THIRTY-FIVE
I flexed my feet and stretched my body as I yawned. Someone had stoked the fire, and my room was fairly comfortable. I wanted to burrow into the blankets and never emerge.
I was in such hysterics that Caedryn had escorted me inside immediately and to a chamber that had been prepared for my arrival. I didn’t want to leave Seren, but she assured me she was fine and agreed I should recuperate.
Although a lady’s maid gave me a calming draught, and I drifted off to sleep without another snotty whimper, I couldn’t say I was well rested.
Nor could I remember what I’d lamented to Caedryn on the short trip to my room. He seemed kind enough because he didn’t scold me for my loss of control.
I’m so embarrassed. Kelyn had entered my life with as much blubbering, and I had done the same to Caedryn. Oh, the mortification! I cried in a stranger’s arms!
Seren stretched. I was still sleeping. A flight across the country is not as effortless as you might think.
I’m sorry, Seren.
I’m teasing. I’m well enough. A building was outfitted just for me. The floor was strewn with enough straw for a comfortable mattress. It smells a bit like horses. They’re in the adjacent stable.
We’ve jumped into this too soon. I’m not sure I can face Caedryn this morning. What did I say to him?
A rapping at the door paused my conversation.
“My lady?”
I sat up. “You may enter.”
A maid came in with fresh water and towels. “I’m Lowri, my lady. Would you like me to help you dress? The master has a selection of gowns for you. Breakfast awaits. You’ll be joining Lord Caedryn.”
“Lord?”
“Aye. The Lord of Rolant. He’s our gracious ruler.”
“You think he could have mentioned that he was a lord last night,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry, my lady. What?”
“Never mind.” I slipped from the bed. I had to face my humiliation. “Let’s get this over with.”
THIRTY-SIX
I was pleasantly surprised that the gown I wore was a thin, tapered style with a high waist, like gowns in Gorlassar. None of the thick, fluffy gowns the ladies in Sieffre’s realm paraded in. I smoothed the satiny lavender fabric at my waist as I entered the breakfast room—a quaint chamber on the citadel’s east side, where the morning sun shone through wavy-glass windows.
Lord Caedryn stood. “There you are. Looking recovered.” He bent at the waist in a slight bow, not taking his eyes from my face.
I extended my hand, thinking about how Arnall had kissed it and how shocked I’d been. How would Caedryn’s lips feel brushing my skin? Being around the mortals had me thinking such irrational thoughts. Until I’d peeked into Aneirin’s soul, leaning close enough to him to allow my childish hopes to run away with me, I hadn’t even thought about kissing.
Caedryn reached for my hand—his skin was the color inside a dead twig—light tan. Several shades darker than my creamy whiteness, but not brown like tree bark. I still couldn’t believe he was emrys. The sun colored his skin like the mortals’!
Caedryn paused, with his hand extended, never making contact. His face twitched alongside his mouth, as if he thought better than to touch me. After righting himself, he gestured to my chair. “Please, sit.”
I was certain the nobility in these realms kissed ladies’ hands. Every man who danced with me at the festival had done so, but I was too embarrassed from Caedryn’s lack of touch to react further than with a dismayed frown.
A servant helped me sit and pushed in my chair.
“I feel a thousand times better. Thank you.” The horror over the prior night broke my voice, so I fiddled with the napkin in my lap.
Caedryn busied himself, arranging the food on his plate while glancing over at me. “I imagine you have questions. I shall answer them in due course, but please, enjoy your breakfast.”
I nodded and picked up a knife to butter my bread. “You didn’t tell me you were Lord of Rolant.” I peeked at him from my downward focus.
“Didn’t I? I hate to throw titles around. Please, I’m just Caedryn to you.”
My cheeks colored. Caedryn politely continued with his meal, yet he smiled as if some secret amused him. I forced back the grin playing at my lips as I watched him. His smile was the one attribute that lent his features softness. Caedryn’s hair hung loose in layers past his shoulders. His tame locks hinted at the inflexibility of the man, but I imagined them blowing roughly in the wind, making him formidable but with an inner determination. His broad forehead, straight brows, and narrow nose inspired a severeness to his expression. Everything was sharp about his face, and his high cheekbones emphasized the fact.
Which made me think of my father, and I dropped the bread I was buttering.
“I hope you haven’t lost your appetite already.” Caedryn’s eyes found me, but he didn’t lift his head in my direction.
He was so subtle, so cheeky, that I pressed my lips into a tight line. Though he was being funny on purpose, his extreme reserved behavior, limited conversation, and careful calculations of my every move made me uncomfortable. I decided to get to the point of this peculiar stranger, so I dove with my light.
Coyness mixed with daring. Curiosity. A bit of pride. Self-assurance.
“You’ll have to tell me if you like what you see,” he said.
I gasped and fumbled with my fork as it clattered against my plate.
“Don’t you think it’s more challenging to figure each other out with time instead of using our gifts?” Caedryn asked.
“Like a mortal would?”
“If that’s how you’d prefer to think of it, yes.”
I smirked. “Humans are quite perceptive.” Kelyn always understood my physical nuances while Kenrik guessed my moods.
“You’ve learned this in the few weeks you’ve associated with them?”
“They aren’t as inept as I was led to believe.” I took a drink from my goblet, staring over the edge at Caedryn.
“You thought humans were inept? Please, enlighten me.”
Did he think I was insulting him since he was half-human? I certainly wasn’t goin
g to bring up the humans-are-corrupted concept. Caedryn might throw me out of his citadel. “No one from Gorlassar has ever been around humans. We’ve made so many assumptions.”
“Just as you are making assumptions about me, I imagine.”
“What do you know of the emrys?”
“I’m sure just as much as you know about humans,” Caedryn said.
“You are coy.”
“Is that what you sensed in me?” He laughed. “I’m so much more.”
A breadcrumb caught in my throat, and I choked. “I wouldn’t doubt.”
“You find my meekness alluring?”
Oh, Deian. “No, not coy in that sense. You’re vague. Reluctant to reveal much.”
“Would you rather I bared my soul… as you did last night?”
Seren! What did I say?
You rambled mostly about your father and how you were a black sheep. A rebel. A delinquent. I willed you to stop, but I think you gave him a good impression that you don’t follow the rules.
Why don’t I remember?
You were inconsolable. The sleeping draught was much needed.
I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Lord Caedryn—”
“Caedryn—”
“Okay. Caedryn, forgive me. I don’t know how to describe—”
“Niawen, you don’t have to.” His pupils moved as he took me in. Strangely, the brown in his eyes drew me. A vague, yellow light shone from the depths of his soul, and for one second—gone in a flash—the light revealed sorrow.
That’s it. That’s all I saw. I believed the glimpse was unintentional because he blinked and relaxed into his chair.
“I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to have another emrys with the same skills,” he said. “I’ve been around mortals for far too long. It has its disadvantages. Without sensing my emotions, no one sees behind the face. No one has reason to console. Or reason to rejoice.” His voice lowered. “Or reason to fear.”
“You’re saying you’re fearsome?”
His expression darkened. One vein throbbed at his temple as animosity edged his voice. “Those who have faced my wrath would dare say so.”