A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1) (16 page)

Áine was happy as she’d never been and part of her twisted with guilt over it. She told herself that Tesn would have wept to see her surrounded by such good people and making friends with men and women near her own age. There was no reason to feel shame in her happiness because her mentor and mother was dead. But knowing a thing with the mind and knowing it in the heart were different matters and Áine struggled with the latter.

Emyr helped. Áine had taken a couple lovers in her travels, though never for more than a night or three. Tesn had finally explained near Áine’s fifteenth birthday about how Áine might choose her own lovers for a time, though never to marry or settle with. She’d shown Áine the herbs to take before and after to help prevent unwanted children and told her gently that learning the full range of pleasures of the body would only help her understanding of her fellow humans and enable her to serve their needs with greater knowledge. There were, after all, many kinds of healing.

More and more, Áine eyed the handsome young chief and wondered how forward with her wishes she’d have to get before he noticed her. She’d done a little subtle asking around and knew that as far as anyone could tell, Emyr had never taken a lover or had a sweetheart. Certainly the chief had turned down a few offers of marriage, despite being the age when men usually looked for wives.

She’d wondered if he preferred the company of men, but the look that came into his eyes on occasion when he’d help her haul wood or water or caught him looking sidelong at her over the tallfwrdd board in the long evenings told her he felt desire.

She’d started making a point to brush her hand or hip against him by apparent accident whenever she had the chance. He often blushed, though Áine noted he rarely moved away. But still, frustratingly enough, he made no comment or overt show of interest and instead he’d glance aside with that distant sorrow filling his firelit eyes. She often found herself shaking her head, wondering what secret pain it was that kept them apart.

* * *

Emyr offered to teach Áine to ride, appalled that she’d never learned.

“A wisewoman
walks
,” Áine said dryly. “Occasionally we ride in carts.”

“Well then, you’ll have to expand your knowledge, won’t you? Be a shame to leave yourself so uneducated,” Emyr teased her.

“You just want to see me fall on my arse.” She narrowed her green eyes.

“I don’t know about him, but I’d like to see that.” Llew broke in.

“All right, scoundrels. But I’ll be borrowing a pair of your trousers, if you please, Emyr. I’ve no mind to have my skirts over my head with that shameless boy hanging around.” She made a sour face at Llew and set her hands on her hips.

Emyr laughed. And so it was that on a cold but clear day, Áine had her first riding lesson on a chestnut mare called Cloud. She did not, to Llew’s great disappointment, fall off. The horse liked her, staying calm and easy under Áine’s gentle leg. She felt an easy rapport with the creature, letting her breathing settle in to match the mare’s without thinking.

“They are marvelous creatures,” Áine sighed as she dismounted back in the courtyard.

“Very.” Emyr smiled at her. Her face was flushed with cold and the exertion and her eyes alight with simple joy. He remembered his first look at her lying half dead and filthy on the ground and wondered that he’d ever thought her anything but beautiful.

Áine caught the look in his eye and stepped in close, laying her own slender pale hand over his dark, calloused fingers that held Cloud’s reins. Her large leaf-and-sunlight eyes spoke a silent but clear invitation.

Emyr shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold and looked down at her. She was inches away from him and he felt the heat of her body seeping through the cold air to warm his own. Her full breasts brushed his chest and the layers of linen and wool seemed both too much and not thick enough all at once.

He froze, torn between wanting to claim her lips with his own and wanting to pull away for fear of where that might lead and what memories it might arouse.

Idrys butted his twin in the thigh with a bony head and saved him the decision. Emyr laughed, releasing the tension, and shoved at the hound.

“It’s well past midday. I think the black oaf is hungry, eh?” He turned a little too quickly and pulled Cloud behind him into the stable. “Go on, I’ll take care of her.”

Áine looked down at the huge black hound and gave him an exasperated look. “I certainly hope you’re happy,” she muttered. “Come on, mutt. Let’s see what sort of acceptable food we can poach for you before you waste away of neglect.”

* * *

Three days before the longest night, the holding bustled with earnest preparation for the midwinter feasting. Gethin had brought in one of the overlarge hogs he kept for routing acorns and truffles in the forest and they were all fattening the beast with table scraps for its imminent slaughter. Caron had taken over the cooking hearth and delicious smells of the food she was overseeing the preparation of filled the hall day and night.

Even the weather cooperated with the merry air of celebration. The days were generally sunny, though very cold. Small drifts of dry snow added their own sparkling decoration to the little houses.

Gwir and Geneth, now recovered from their sickness, joined the other children of the village in making winter garlands of holly and pine that the men then strung over every threshold and window.

Sunset neared and Emyr retired for his vigil with his hound. He stripped carefully in the chilly room and looked at Idrys who sat expectantly on the sheepskin rug.

“I mean to court Áine. I may not have the experience to tell, but her interest seems plain enough to read and I find myself well disposed to her.” He shivered in the chill as he stood naked before his twin. “I cannot, for obvious reasons, do it without your help and consent, Idrys. I know you fear what we feel, because, well, because of Seren.” He shivered again for reasons unrelated to the temperature and forged ahead. The tingling in his blood grew and he had little time to say his piece. “But Áine is as far from that cold, selfish Lady as we’ll find I think. I don’t want to watch her leave or choose another; I’ve got loneliness and sorrow in my heart enough, and so do you. Think on it, Idrys. For us. Please.”

The change took him as the sun dropped below the rim of the world.

Idrys dressed quickly and then sat on the bed and took his brother’s narrow furry head between his hands.

“I don’t know, Emyr. My desires are what damned us. What further harm might I cause by unleashing them again?”

The hound whined and licked his brother’s arm.

“All right. I’ll think on it, though she’s a wisewoman, and we can hardly marry her. She’s going to leave someday, Emyr. Besides, what if we let down our guard and she finds out the truth? That might only invite further pain if she wisely chooses not to tie herself to ones so cursed.” He rose and paced to the door.

Emyr realized with a start that he’d never told his brother about Áine’s pearly tear.
She might understand better than you know, Idrys.
He resolved to speak of it the next morning.

* * *

That evening after a hurried supper, Idrys turned to carving and the women to cooking and preparations. Gethin burst into the hall and came to Idrys’s side.

“Emyr! It’s Dancer. She’s foaling I think,” Gethin said.

Idrys rose and nodded to the women as he made his way outside. Emyr raised his head and then stayed where he was next to the warm hearth. His twin hardly needed his company for the birth of a horse. Besides, the mare was all Idrys’s project.

He’d taken her to be bred by the fastest stallion of the chief of Cantref Arfon the spring before, though the journey had been fraught with the danger of discovery for both twins. After seeing the proud stud, Emyr had grudgingly admitted it was worth the ride and risk. The journey had also had a somewhat cathartic effect on both, as they’d had to travel near where they’d met the Fair Lady all those fateful years ago.

After a time as the hour grew late and slowly the work was stored away, Áine decided to go and check on Emyr and the mare. Though wisewomen primarily healed people, the creed applied to all living things and Áine had many times assisted with the healings or births of four-legged creatures.
Even the care of some ducklings, once,
she remembered, smiling fondly.

She took her newly sewn grey cloak from its peg and slipped out the door, leaving Hafwyn and Melita to their quiet conversation with Cy fast asleep at their feet.

The night was cold and a light snowfall settled in silent flakes over the courtyard and buildings. She made her way quickly across to the stable and ducked in the wide door, securing it behind her.

The chief sat alone on a stool outside the expectant mare’s stall, keeping vigil.

“How is she?” Áine asked, coming up alongside him and peering over the wall into the wooden box.

“In labor, I think. I sent Gethin off to bed. It could be hours, after all.” Idrys glanced at her before returning his gaze to the restless mare.

Dancer shifted in her stall. Sometimes she snatched up a bite of loose hay and chewed absently only to turn in place and nose her bulging belly. Áine watched the mare for a while and then turned to Idrys.

“Her sides are sunk, it means the foal has dropped. And I think that fluid down her flanks was like as not her birth water. She should be near now.”

As if on cue, the mare dropped her head and sucked in a heaving breath as she pushed. Then she returned to her ritual of spinning and chewing. The pushing grew more frequent. Something, though she could not be sure what, worried Áine. She unlatched the gate and stepped into the stall, murmuring nonsensical words to the mare in a calm tone.

She laid her hands against the sweat-slick neck of the bay mare and let her mind sink down into the body of the horse, focusing on the foal within. The labor pains buckled her knees and she swayed, causing Idrys to rise and say her name. She ignored him, focusing deeper instead.

There. She felt the foal and realized he was facing the wrong way around. His hindquarters were firmly wedged in the birth canal and time was running low as his heart rate came slower than Áine would have liked in a horse. She pulled away and turned to Idrys.

“The foal is backwards. And I think he’s stuck,” Áine said.

Idrys came into the stall as well, though Dancer pinned her ears in irritation at yet another human body making her stall all the more crowded and confusing.

Though he wondered how she knew, he did not ask and instead trusted it was like as not some wisewoman’s secret skill. Áine had an uncommon intellect and perceptive nature, after all.

“What can we do?” he asked instead.

“You? Not much I think. Stay with her and keep her calm. I’ve got to go boil water. I think I might be able to turn the foal.” She smiled at him and left the barn at a half run.

She returned with clean rags and a heavy bucket of steaming water. Idrys was swearing quietly under his breath and leaning heavily against the wall of the stable with one hand pressed to his ribs and the other gripping the mare’s halter.

“What happened to you?” Áine asked with a tone that said she meant more to ask what he’d managed to do wrong in the short time she’d been gone.

“Bloody creature kicked me.” He flushed with embarrassment and flashed her a rueful grin.

“Good on keeping her calm,” Áine said with a tiny smile. “Let me see your ribs.”

Idrys waved her back, not wanting her to touch him with his brother’s words and proposal so fresh in his mind. “I’m fine enough. What will you do?” He nodded at the distressed mare.

Áine took off her cloak and draped it over the stool outside the stall. She entered with the bucket and set it in a corner where it would be out of the way. She laid the rags over the gate and turned to Dancer.

“I need to reach inside her and push the foal back. I think I can turn him then so he’s born properly.”

“Done this before, have you?” Idrys said, his raven’s-wing eyebrows meshing with worry. “Are the chances good?”

Áine answered him truthfully. “I don’t know. Better than if I do nothing. And no, I’ve never put my arm inside a horse, though I watched Tesn do it once with a cow. And I’ve done it with a woman,” she added.

Idrys raised an eyebrow and nodded. With a suppressed groan he came off the wall and held the mare’s head with both hands.

“Keep her steady as you can,” Áine said.

She hesitated but decided there was nothing for it. She untied her belt and tossed it over the wall. With a smooth motion she pulled both dress and shift over her head and shivered as the cold air of the stable raised bumps all along her skin. She didn’t look at Idrys, though she heard his sharp intake of breath, instead setting her clothing over the side of the stall.

“And the nakedness is a necessary part?” Idrys swallowed.

He took in her milky skin, noting how her nipples rode high and dark on the swell of her ample breasts. The thick patch of hair at the meeting of her muscled thighs was as blood-red as the hair on her head. Her waist tucked in neatly, giving way to the gentle curve of her young hips. As she turned half away from him with a slight blush, he noted with another swallow that she’d dimples in more than just the cheeks of her face.

“There’s going to be a lot of blood and ick. I only have two dresses and blood is hard to rinse clean.” She looked at him through her long lashes. “I did not think a woman’s flesh could distract you so,” she said with a teasing tone.

He raised his eyes and his gaze hardened. “Best do it before you freeze to death.”

She turned her head to hide her smile and moved slowly to stand close behind the mare.

The process was slow and strained her arm muscles horribly. She wished that she could tell the mare not to push against her so, but it was a vain desire. The bright side of it all was that by the time she managed to twist the colt around and grasp his forelegs, she was shining with sweat and felt the cold not even a little.