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“A disaster’s coming from the sky.” Rhian looked up into the blackened ceiling of the longhouse. Like Owain’s hall, the blackened rib bones of the ancient skywhale kept the roof’s structure.
Rhosyn shook her head, gripping her spoon like a weapon, while Sian only sucked in her lower lip. A pulsing vein in her neck.
No longer hunting their sister over the moors or wandering Chalon Forest, they wore borrowed yellow dresses that didn’t fit them properly. Their shoulders too broad, their arms and thighs too thick. Made them appear encased in fabric, with every movement difficult, straining the seams.
But it was Cerys who Emrys kept glancing at, trying not to be obvious. The dress she wore fit her even worse than the ones stretched over her cousins. The deep green revealed a depth to her dark skin that he found intoxicating. He’d never seen anyone like her. Her shoulders and arms near bursting the seams and her breasts held so tightly in place that they ballooned up towards her neckline and he tried not to stare but every time he cast his eyes round the room they fell always back to Cerys in that dress only just holding itself together.
Alwyn leaned to Rhian and said, “When?”
Goronwyn cleared his throat and said, “Emrys, where’s your father been hiding you?”
Rhian said, “Soon.” Her face beatific and her skin strangely pale. The indigo dress she wore matched Alwyn’s wide-open eyes. “The sky will catch fire and it will burn the harvest.”
Blodwen smiled at Emrys as if the girl hadn’t predicted devastation for the clan. “Alwyn said you were attacked by some monster.”
The incongruence of her question and expression caught Emrys off guard. Fortunately, his mouth was full of bread. A hard crust but soft and airy within. He chewed slowly. The various tensions in the great hall unknotting before him. Rhosyn and Sian’s anger with their sister, with Alwyn, while they attempted to remain polite, but also the strange way his aunt and uncle seemed to ignore what Rhian said showed him how things had developed in the week since Chalon. While he’d been holed up in his room with Fionnuala learning magic and avoiding death, they had been here with Blodwen and Goronwyn at the center of Matauc.
The way none of them looked at one another. The way none of them ate. Forced by politeness and tradition and guest rite to continue this game of pleasantry while anger and resentment festered a layer deeper.
Aeronwen chewed her bread as well, shrugged with her eyebrows.
Emrys said, “Was, auntie. I’ve been recovering.”
Goronwyn, as if not hearing, said, “And how is your father?” He spoke on the heels of Emrys’ response, trying to fill the space before Rhian made any further mad predictions.
“He remains himself.”
Goronwyn nodded, sighed. Perhaps remembering who he spoke to, his expression changed, filled with sympathy. The long stretch of wooden table separated them but he stretched his arm towards Emrys, palm still on the table. “You’ll always be welcome here.”
It touched Emrys. They owed him nothing. Housing him may have even threatened their position in the clan, but they remained steadfast in their support of him. While there was a comfort he found in Ariana and the home she gave him, he felt most comfortable with Goronwyn and Blodwen. He knew they did not report back to his father.
With them, he could be himself. Unguarded and unselfconscious.
“Such a full house these days,” Blodwen smiled at the daughters of Lyr, at Cerys.
“Too full,” Aeronwen snorted.
Alwyn’s big hand covered Rhian’s. Protective.
Blodwen winced slightly, though the smile remained on her face. Painted there, almost. Like her life and happiness depended on this courtesy but it made her appear fearsome, even more angry than if she spat.
Goronwyn sighed and said, “It’s a pleasure to see so many young people together under my roof.” He turned to Alwyn and Rhian.
Aeronwen snorted. “Too bad they’ll have to return to Lyr land.”
Sian latched onto this. Sitting up straighter and speaking with more civility than Emrys had ever heard from her, she said, “We should leave in the morning, before father sends a raiding party to bring us home.”
“I am not going,” Rhian said.
Alwyn laced his fingers through hers. “Stay with me.”
“Bewitched,” Aeronwen said.
Rhosyn stood, pushing herself back from the table so quickly that the heavy wooden chair fell over, clattering against the wooden floor of the longhouse. “Enough accusations, girl.” She sneered at Aeronwen. “I’ll shave your pretty head and cut out—”
“Cousin,” Cerys hissed. Her expression horrified, embarrassed.
Emrys studied her lips. The curve of her jaw.
Rhosyn closed her mouth but continued staring at Aeronwen, her chest heaving, the seams of her dress visibly parting at her shoulders.
Aeronwen turned to her father. “This the family you want your heir bound to?”
He took a spoonful of stew, allowing the tension in the room, now broken open, to sit with what spilled forth. Rhosyn accusing her host. Aeronwen accusing her guest.
A disaster. Emrys had not witnessed the uneasy peace and the harmonious mask plastered over the burbling discord but he felt the crashing torrent from a week of bottled resentments.
Setting down his spoon, he said, “It would be an honor to bind houses with Laird Lyr. I suspect,” he smiled at Sian and Rhosyn, “he will not be excited by the news.” He turned to Alwyn, to Rhian. “Love strikes like lightning. It runs wild like a fire through dry grass. But love is not enough when politics are involved. Do you think your father wants an alliance with Matauc? Peace, of course. Who would not want peace? But to tie our bloodlines together?” Goronwyn shook his head. “Your clan has allies and your father, no doubt, has plans of his own for the marriages of his daughter. I love my son,” he turned to Sian, the eldest sister, “but your father would do better to marry Rhian off to the clan’s heir.”
“Imagine she gets what she wants, even with Laird Lyr,” Aeronwen snorted. “Such a pretty face. Such mad predictions.”
Rhosyn gripped her spoon in her fist as she stared at Aeronwen. Emrys thought she was imagining how easy it would be to pop out her eyes.
Emrys had never seen so much stress and anger in his aunt’s home. It unsettled him. This had always been a refuge. A place of peace. Of harmony. A place where he caught glimpses of what it meant to be a family, of what it meant to have a family. Love. Acceptance. He spoke to smooth the turbulence all round him. “It’s been a week since we were all trapped in the forest. Our lives imperiled and our hope smothered beneath blankets of darkness. The trees themselves penning us in, holding us down. It’s no wonder that love should grip hold of my cousin so forcefully. Auntie, uncle, I don’t know what you’ve heard of that night, but I’ll tell you what happened, as I understood it.” He smiled. “It nearly killed me.”
Cerys swallowed. He felt her eyes on him and he let his eyes wander to her. She had the largest eyes. Big and black and round, shining in the candlelight. Such strength and power in her. She could carry him whenever he fell. Care for him when exhaustion from learning this new magic seemed to drain the life away from his hands, his blood and bones. He swallowed, cleared his throat. “I was going to run away that night.”
Alwyn, for the first time, looked away from Rhian and frowned.
Before he or anyone could interject, Emrys continued. “Morrigan University, across the narrow sea. That’s where I was heading. I’ve since learned my mother’s from the same land. Had I known that then, nothing could have held me back.” He snorted, laughed, shook his head. “My plan was to enroll as a student. Your son, though, saw the distress in me. Wouldn’t leave me alone to wander the moors, so he insisted he accompany me. I’ve been thinking about that ever since. Had your son loved me less, I’d be gone and none of us would have nearly died in Chalon. And it’s your son’s heart, now, that keeps Rhian here.
“But first we found her near naked on the moors being mauled by some monstrous beast.” His mother’s face reappeared before him, grafted into that freakish beast his father skinned. “It ran off when Alwyn raced to save her. That’s the kind of man your son is. Without a weapon or protection, he threw himself into battle to protect someone. A stranger.”
“A fool,” Rhosyn breathed the accusation.
“Cousin,” Cerys hissed. She smiled at Goronwyn and Blodwen. “I’m sorry.”
But Goronwyn and Blodwen didn’t seem to notice or were so accustomed to Sian’s outbursts that they chose to forgive the words as soon as they were spoken.
“A fool,” Emrys nodded. “If only all men were such fools, we’d never fear the night or our enemies. Shortly after, the daughters of Lyr found us. Rhian, as if possessed, ran from them and from us and plunged straight into Chalon. Alwyn, once more, didn’t hesitate but followed her through the trees.”
He took a moment, unsure how to explain what followed. To speak of the lord of bone seemed perilous, as if it would draw his attention back to Emrys. His hand drifted to cover the wound above his hip. Though Fionnuala cleaned it, drew the poison and magic from his body, the sharp pain of memory remained.
She told him it would never fade. If he lived a thousand years, it would still burn with the memory of the lord of bone’s blade, Home.
It was futile to hide it and so he told them. Told them of the black procession and the arrow he loosed into the lord of bone’s wrist, making him drop Home. “There was a raven. I’d forgotten.” He turned to Cerys.
She blinked and her mouth opened and remained open as the memory bloomed. She turned to Rhian. “It caught you when you were falling. Blacker than night and covered with feathers. Shaped like a man.”
“Black Bran.” The words fell from Goronwyn. He stroked his thick beard, his gaze tracing the ceiling as if the answer could be writ there. “The crow of Chalon. You saw him?”
“You know him?”
He shook his head. “Only stories. The kind men share when stupid with terror. All men dread seeing the crow. Yet you met him and he helped you?”
“No,” Emrys said. “As soon as he came, he disappeared.”
Rhian said, “I don’t remember.”
Aeronwen said, “Of course the most interesting magic is the one she can’t recall.”
Emrys spoke quickly to move past the barb. “The spell broke and we wandered Chalon, trying to escape. The forest became a maze. Lost and without hope of escape, a greenman found us. Goda. Have you heard of him, uncle?”
He turned to Blodwen with a frown before returning his gaze to Emrys. “A greenman?”
“His skin, beard, eyes, and everything was green.” He told them all that the greenman said. The love Goda had for Caoimhe and how his skin blackened as he brought forth the spirit of Caoimhe in Rhian.
“Not an act, then,” Aeronwen said. “She is possessed then.”
“Quiet,” Blodwen snapped. “If you cannot speak without spears then leave this table.”
Aeronwen snorted, pushed away, and left. “Al falls in love with some bogwitch spewing nonsense and we’re meant to congratulate him?” She cast the words over her shoulder.
Rhosyn, still standing, ran after her.
“Sister, no!” Rhian’s words held no sway though.
Aeronwen heard the pounding of feet behind her and turned as Rhosyn swung a fist at her head. Aeronwen rolled away from the punch but kicked a leg out. Rhosyn’s momentum carried her past Aeronwen, her front foot striking the leg Aeronwen kicked out. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground. Before she could gain her feet once more, Aeronwen leapt onto her back and pushed her face into the wood. “You see what manner of guest the daughter of Lyr are father? You’d bind our house’s blood to such ill-mannered—”
Rhosyn thrashed beneath her but it was Alwyn who yanked her from their guest. Though large, he moved quietly behind her as they fought. Lifting Aeronwen into the air, he pulled her away. When Rhosyn leapt back to her feet ready to continue the fight, something in Alwyn’s expression cowed her.
She brushed off the front of her dress, now ripped at the shoulder. “Lady Blodwen, I apologize for ruining your dress. My sisters and I will be gone in the morning.”
“I will not,” Rhian said. Her voice quiet but resolute.
“Not up to you,” Sian said. “We’ve brought enough shame upon our name just in the last few minutes. We cannot demand lord Goronwyn to keep housing us when we can’t even eat a meal without insulting him.”
Goronwyn still watched Emrys, as if his daughter’s fight meant nothing to him. “This greenman believed…” he turned to Rhian. “Are you his beloved?”
Emrys held his breath for a moment and Alwyn let go of his sister, dropping her to her feet.
Rhian’s long neck and pale skin and narrow shoulders. Delicate and small. Though borrowed, the dress looked made for her. She didn’t retreat from Goronwyn’s gaze or question. “I am Caoimhe. But I am also Rhian and have been a hundred others. My heart belongs to Goda. Our past lives bound together, even through death. But we have many pastlives, not only one. In the centuries between that meeting with Goda and my death as Caoimhe, I met your son. And we, too, became bound as one over many lifetimes. Our ghosts entwined through lives and deaths.”
Blodwen covered her mouth with a hand and Goronwyn’s shelf of a brow came low.
Alwyn returned to the table and stood behind Rhian and placed both hands on her shoulders. So small did she seem and so huge was he. “Father, it was like an eye opened within me the moment I saw her. A new eye that I had never known existed. When I saw her, it was not like seeing a stranger for the first time. It was like sight itself for the first time. As if I’d been a blind man all my days. When I saw her, my very heart and soul opened. The ghost within me danced and sang and I knew, even beyond words, beyond language, that I was hers. That she was mine. I will not leave her and I will not make her leave. If she must leave this house, I will go with her. Whether to the house of Lyr or the ends of the earth. I will die rather than be parted with her and when I am once more born to life, I will know her and I will find her.”
“Do you hear him?” Aeronwen shook her head. “She admits to being possessed by these demons of Chalon and she’s—”
“Enough.” Goronwyn’s voice boomed. Rich and deep. “Didn’t think I needed my men here to discipline my own daughter.” He sighed and turned to Aeronwen. “Go. Now.”
Aeronwen snorted and stormed out of the great hall, slamming the doors behind her.
“Child,” Sian said.
Blodwen’s smile faded then as she addressed Sian and Rhosyn. “We will see you off in the morning. Our men will escort you back to Lyr land.”
Sian swallowed, understanding dawning upon her. She turned to Rhian, then back to Blodwen. Nodding, she rose and thanked her for her hospitality. As she left, she collected Rhosyn and the two whispered as they left the hall, their food untouched.
Cerys, too, rose, apologized, followed after her cousins.
Blodwen took a breath and turned to Goronwyn sitting across the long table.
He sighed again and turned to Emrys. “I’m happy to see you doing well. I’m sorry for,” he raised his hand but let it drop back to the table. “Well, I wish we had more of a chance to speak.”
Emrys understood. He looked down at his uneaten stew and wished he had filled himself first before the meal fell apart. “Thank you, uncle, auntie.” He rose and kissed them both on the cheek in farewell. He turned back to Alwyn and Rhian, now sitting together, awaiting judgment.
And he left, back into the night air. Weariness settled upon him like a heavy blanket and he made his way back to his father’s house. To his room.
To Fionnuala.