Moonlight (11 page)

Aowyn got Xander’s attention after a long bout of venting and ranting when he mentioned Aodhagáin. He was angry that Aodhagáin had never shown his face on the battlefield. Had never even bothered to send him letters of diplomacy. The war had gone on too long without so much as acknowledgement from the king, and didn’t anyone find that strange?

Aowyn placed her hands upon her head as if bearing a crown.

Xander watched her curiously, still too vexed to unravel the sign.

Aowyn sighed and did the only thing she could think of to get his attention. She pulled him near to her and kissed his throat. It caught Xander off guard. He stared at her and sank down beside her.

Aowyn wrinkled her nose.
Now that I have your attention
…. She made the sign again.

Xander sighed, perplexed.

Aowyn continued making the sign until Xander figured it out.

“King?”

Aowyn nodded.

“King Aodhagáin….”

Aowyn braced her hands around her neck, crossed her eyes, and stuck her tongue out. Her head flopped to one side.

“King Aodhagáin is dead... sick?”

Aowyn made the sign more exaggerated.

“King Aodhagáin is… dying?”

Aowyn frowned sadly. She made the sign for crown, shook her head, and then touched her forehead.

“He doesn’t know about the war.”

Aowyn confirmed.

“Then who has been fighting us all of this time? The other army bore his colors and the emblem of the sun.”

Aowyn held up a finger.
Hold your thought.
She laid her hand on her heart, made the sign for king, and then pretended to cradle a baby.

Xander’s eyes widened. “You are his child?”

Aowyn confirmed and sighed.

Slowly it dawned on Xander. “You’re… a… princess?” He leapt to his feet. “You’re
the
princess!” He sank down again and ran his hand through his hair.

Aowyn gently turned his head to her. She used her hands to try to explain how she suspected Ciatlllait of killing Sulwen. How Ciatlllait had taken the throne. Aowyn suggested that Ciatlllait had terrible magical powers and waged the war.

And now
, Aowyn thought, desperately wishing he could hear her.
Now I need your help ending it
.

Xander motioned to himself. “You need my men?”

Aowyn chewed her lip.

Xander wove his fingers with hers. “They’re yours.”

Aowyn leaned her forehead against his. She inhaled deeply.
Thank you
.

On the day the leaves began to fall on the Summer Isle, Aowyn bid her brothers goodbye. Initially they had protested, eager to be part of the fight. After some time, they all agreed that it was safer this way. Aowyn did not want them around for the oncoming battle.

That night, Aowyn led Xander and his men to the castle. Xander had spent the time since their discussion preparing his men. Aowyn would go in alone at first while Xander’s men gradually took up positions behind and around her.

Aowyn’s hand slipped from Xander’s. She retraced her steps the night her brothers had been cursed. Aowyn mentally recounted how many marks she had carved into the tree at An Cuan Áille. Six-hundred seemed right. She walked past the stone bench where her bard brother, Caoin Croí, had been innocently playing his lute to his misplaced love. She moved through the kitchen and remembered the pots clanging and the terrified honks of her newly-changed brothers. Then up the stairs and down the hall where they had bashed clumsily about with disorientation.

Aowyn clenched her fists.

The castle was unusually quiet.

Aowyn marched to the throne room and waited at the center of it. She clutched the dagger at her waist. How could she get Ciatlllait’s attention if she could not speak? Aowyn shut her eyes to think. Instead, a flood of memories entered her mind of all the times Ciatlllait had wronged her. Not just her, but her father and brothers as well. Then her mind stilled as two voices came to her.

Your love
… Eagnaí suggested

Your love is enough!
Stór peeped.

Aowyn’s eyes opened, bright with the fire within her. She squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw.

The torches in the room silenced one by one from an unseen force.

Aowyn held true in the center of the room.

The sound of someone clapping slowly, bitingly, filled the room. “Very good, Aowyn.”

Ciatlllait, clothed in a black dress, moved through the shadows like a knife.

Aowyn clutched the hilt of her dagger more tightly.

Ciatlllait circled her. “You know, I was beginning to wonder when you would show up. I was
so
worried about my little princess.”

Aowyn ground her teeth.

“What with your father so ill, I had grown lonely and have been
yearning
for some time alone with you. And now here you are...”

Aowyn backed slowly toward the windows where only a night of stars could be seen.

Ciatlllait advanced cattily. “…
Alone
.”

Xander and his men began to emerge from the shadows. A pure light filled the room as a full moon climbed behind Aowyn.

Ciatlllait reeled back as Sulwen’s voice filled the room.
“My love is like the moon—shining and eternal. And as long as it rises in the sky, you shall never be alone.”

Aowyn raised her chin defiantly, bathed in the fullness of moonlight.
I am never alone!

She drew her dagger and rushed at Ciatlllait.

Xander and his men swarmed them.

Ciatlllait’s eyes widened with horror. She could barely muster her magic fast enough. One soldier swung at her fiercely. Ciatlllait deflected the blow with a shock of green light. Another soldier charged toward her but got knocked back by a blue bolt. Ciatlllait looked around her wildly.

Aowyn circled her, biding her time to strike.

Xander and his soldiers would not give up the advance and kept coming at Ciatlllait with all the ferocity of a winter gale.

Ciatlllait panted. She stumbled backwards, miscasting her spell. It bounced off of the rafters and rendered several men unconscious. Ciatlllait glanced up and snickered. She began throwing her bolts of blue and green toward the rafters. The soldiers yelped as they fell to their knees. Ciatlllait’s breath raced. She cackled with glee and raised both of her arms to cast two bolts simultaneously. But they fizzled.

Ciatlllait stared at her hands and shook her head. She toiled to recast. The bolts eeked forth, no greater than blue and green static. Her chest heaved. “No.” She labored once more and now nothing came. “Oh, no.”

Aowyn was riveted before her, dagger drawn.
Oh, yes.

Ciatlllait backed slowly toward the door. Her mouth opened and shut. “Aowyn. Dear, sweet Aowyn. You wouldn’t hurt a woman with child, would you?”

Aowyn pressed the advance.

Ciatlllait shook her head, her voice high and sweet. “Goodness flows through you, Aowyn. You shouldn’t do anything to diminish that.”

Aowyn grabbed Ciatlllait by the collar and raised her dagger.

Ciatlllait sank to her knees and clutched her belly. The dagger plunged toward her heart.

Aowyn stumbled through a plume of billowing black smoke as Ciatlllait vanished from her grip.

BEALTAINE

Aowyn coughed and sputtered in the black fumes. She waved her hand in front of her face to clear the air. A pile of ash lay at her feet.

Xander rushed to Aowyn’s side. “Are you alright?”

Aowyn stared at the ashes. Was Ciatlllait dead? Aowyn did not quite know what had happened, whether the dagger had found its mark and ended the witch, or if some darker tide had swept Ciatlllait away.

Xander put his arm around Aowyn’s shoulders. “It is done.”

Aowyn chewed her lip and examined her dagger. No blood. Well, would that heartless witch really have had any blood coursing through her, or was she so cold-blooded it had simply evaporated when she burst into ash?

Xander turned Aowyn slowly to face his men.

Those who were conscious took a knee and bowed their heads before her. “My queen.”

One by one they followed suit.

“My queen….”

“….My queen….”

“….My queen.”

Aowyn’s mouth formed a soft O.

Xander moved in front of her and dropped to one knee. He pressed a fist against his heart. He glistened with admiration. “We would follow you anywhere.”

Aowyn’s hands trembled. She punched the dagger toward the ceiling.

The men hurrahed.

Aowyn thrust it upward once more.

The men found their feet and echoed her motion. “Aowyn!”

Aowyn repeated it over and over until they chanted her name. “A-o-wyn! A-o-wyn! A-o-wyn!”

Xander beamed at her. “Long live the queen!”

His men tilted their heads fervently. “May she ever reign in goodness and grace.”

Aowyn sheathed the dagger. She offered her hand to Xander so that he might stand beside her.

Xander kissed her hand and did so.

Aowyn clutched his fingers and raised their hands above them for all of Xander’s men to see. They cheered again.

Aowyn turned to Xander, knowing what she must do now. She pulled him to the royal quarters as the soldiers began caring for their fallen and wounded.

Aowyn came to the chambers of the king and made her way inside. Soft light in the room glowed. Aowyn wondered where all of the servants got off to. She held tight to Xander’s hand until she found Maeb sitting in a chair in a dark corner near the king’s bed. Aowyn nearly jumped when it registered she had been hiding there.

Maeb rushed to Aowyn and swept her into a hug, showering her with kisses. “Praise the Dagda you are safe!”

Aowyn held her back a moment and glanced toward her father’s bed.

Maeb led her over to Aodhagáin who stared at the moon outside.

Maeb lifted his hand from his stomach and placed it in Aowyn’s. “My Liege, look who is here.”

Aodhagáin slowly turned his head. His eyes still glazed over and milky. “Sulwen?”

Aowyn sank beside him.
No, Father. It’s me.

Maeb brushed back a stray hair from Aodhagáin’s forehead. “It’s Aowyn.”

Aodhagáin’s mouth opened and closed slowly as if trying to remember such a name. Tears welled as recognition dawned on him. “Wynnie? My little princess.”

Aowyn kissed his withering hand and pressed it to her cheek. Aodhagáin had wasted away under Ciatlllait’s spell. His long, flowing hair grew nearly white now. His skin shriveled. Liverspots dotted his hands, and the veins and bones beneath them were knobby and visible. Aowyn fought back the urge to weep.

Xander stepped closer, in awe of the king he was supposed to be fighting a war against.

Aodhagáin’s gaze wandered to Xander’s face. “Aonwys a Stór? My, how you’ve grown.”

Xander frowned. “I am sorry, Your Majesty, but no. I am Xander, Barwn of Blackthorn of the Twelve Kingdoms across the sea. I speak for your daughter.” Xander took a knee. “Aowyn wishes to take up the throne as Queen Regent under the direction of her glorious father. Would you allow it?”

Aodhagáin appraised Aowyn. “Queen? But where are your brothers? Where is Áodhán an Choróin?”

Maeb sniffled. “They are lost to us, Sire.”

“Aodh Caoin Croí?” Aodhagáin asked. “Lorgaire Aodan?”

“Gone,” said Maeb sadly. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Rógaire Aohearn and Aogán Eagnaí?”

Maeb’s voice quaked. “All gone.”

Aodhagáin glanced at Xander. “Are you sure you are not my Stór?”

Xander shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Aodhagáin returned his fading sight to Aowyn. His lip trembled. “You are all that is left?”

Aowyn pressed her forehead to her father’s hand and choked back a sob.
I swear to you I will restore our family and the crown.

A tear slipped down Maeb’s cheek.

Xander placed his hand on Aowyn’s shoulder and squeezed it.

Aodhagáin’s voice was weak. “Why do you not ask for it yourself, Wyn? Why do you not speak?”

The muscles in Xander’s jaw flexed. “Grant her regency, and your voice shall be hers.”

Aodhagáin pulled on Aowyn’s hand to sit himself up. Maeb and Aowyn rushed in as he wobbled with dizzy disorientation. He touched his forehead and blinked. “The throne is no longer mine to give. It has been taken from me by another.”

“Ciatlllait no longer has power here, Your Grace,” Xander assured. “Aowyn saw to that.”