Moonlight (12 page)

Maeb gasped.

Xander continued. “Aowyn is worthy. Your faith will not be misplaced.”

Aodhagáin looked between the three of them slowly. Finally his eyes rested on Aowyn whose head was bowed. He reached and lifted her face.

Aowyn inhaled as her father’s trembling lips pressed against her forehead.

“Rule well, my queen.”

With her father’s approval and Xander at her side, Aowyn felt invincible. She knew with their guidance she could restore the Summer Isle. Peace would reign once more.

On Aowyn’s sixteenth nameday, her brothers returned home. Aowyn made it known that these four swans were to be present for her coronation. When the day arrived, shortly before Bealtaine, the princes were well-guarded by Xander’s soldiers whom Aowyn had made members of her personal royal guard. Many guests attending the ceremony and feast gave the creatures strange glances, but the two black swans and two white ones focused only on Aowyn and kept quiet. If anyone posed a question, Xander intervened. Aowyn had made it known to him that she did not want questions asked. All would be revealed in due time.

A strengthening Aodhagáin passed his crown on to Aowyn’s head. She had spent the winter months nursing back his strength and mind. Maeb had been instrumental in his healing. While he no longer behaved as a puppet on a string as he had when Ciatlllait was around, Aowyn continued to be concerned about the glaze upon his eyes. He did not seem old enough to share the same sight problems as the elderly subjects in the village. And why had her brothers not changed back? Aowyn thought if she eliminated Ciatlllait it might break the spell, and save Sylas the effort.

When Xander caught Aowyn brooding at her own celebratory feast, she forced herself to put it from her mind. She must have faith that Sylas Mortas would fulfill his end of the bargain in another two-hundred or so moons.

Aowyn sat upon the bank of An Cuan Áille while her brothers enjoyed the sunlight. Aowyn had encouraged them to live at the castle, but they suggested they were safer here and felt more at home.

Aowyn leaned her elbows upon her knees and rubbed the back of her neck. Right now the Bealtaine field was being prepared. Xander had long since abandoned his camp, and the field had been reseeded with new grass.

Aowyn contemplated how the past few months had been rich with birth and renewal within her family. A year ago she would not have thought herself a regent, ready or worthy to sit upon the throne. Yet she had been born into the position upon Ciatlllait’s fall. And Aodhagáin had renewed his years with that birth. Aowyn did not think it would have been possible otherwise. Bealtaine was a happy time for new beginnings.

She hoped the preparations went smoothly. Tonight the castle’s fire would be lit with the fires forged at Bealtaine. The animals the isle depended upon for their wellbeing would be driven between the fires and blessed in hopes of their continued fruitfulness. There would be feasting and games around the Maypole. And greenwood marriages that would bring forth lucky Bealtaine babes nine months after.

Aowyn leaned her head away and blushed. She scolded herself for being silly and reminded herself that she was a woman grown now and should behave as such. As presiding ruler, until Choróin could take his rightful place, she did not think she would be allowed to choose her own king.

Aowyn chewed her lip as she thought of Xander.

***

Xander crumpled the parchment and threw it into the fire.
Come home
it had said. Xander leaned back in his chair. This was his home now. His father, Rab, could not make him do anything anymore. The only way Xander would return to the Twelve Kingdoms is in chains. Everything he loved and wanted was right here on the Summer Isle. He had argued with Rab over it.

You are a fool to think you will marry that princess
.

Xander slugged down a flagon of ale. Aowyn loved him… didn’t she?

She is using you. I cannot believe you forfeited any hope of gain for a girl. She will keep you like a dog on a chain, bidding you to do her will and never giving any slack. Bannock might have been chosen as a husband for her, but not you, Xander Blacksteed. Come home. You have a wife.

Xander chucked the flagon into the fire and watched it melt. He didn’t feel the way about Lady Glenna as he did for Aowyn. In fact, he’d never felt this way about anyone before. Aowyn was all that mattered.

The muscles in Xander’s whiskered jaw flexed. He leaned forward in the chair, gazing into the fire. He thought of how much it reminded him of Aowyn. He didn’t want to go home. He needed to stay. He needed Aowyn. She brought his world into focus.

Xander made up his mind. He must find Aodhagáin.

Xander made his way to the king’s chambers in hopes of finding him within. The king sat at the edge of his bed while Maeb wrung out a damp rag in a basin. Xander knocked softly on the door and asked if he could come in. Aodhagáin consented.

Xander entered and knelt before the king.

“What is it, my boy?” Aodhagáin asked.

Xander had appreciated how the king had treated him over the winter, accepting him as one of his own and often seeking his company. He even helped Xander refine his fluency in the language of the Isle. Xander closed his hands as they became clammy. He told himself to just get on with it. He inhaled sharply and blurted it out all at once. “I wish to ask for Aowyn’s hand.”

Maeb stopped mid-wring.

Aodhagáin blinked. “Say it again.”

Xander glanced up at him aquiver. “I seek your daughter’s hand, Your Majesty.”

Maeb lit up and scrambled toward Xander. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him awkwardly between her overabundant bosom. “This is wonderful!”

Maeb tended to Aodhagáin. “Do you not think so, Your Grace?”

Xander pried Maeb’s doughy arms from about him and smoothed his hair. He shot her an uncomfortable look.

Aodhagáin remained silent.

Maeb heeded Xander unapologetically, bathed in a permanent smile. She urged the king for a response. “Your Grace?”

Aodhagáin found his feet with Maeb’s help and paced slowly. He pinched a silver ring upon his finger with a large moonstone, twisting it with an expression of anguish.

Maeb watched him with concern.

Xander wondered if he had upset the king.

Aodhagáin paused before Xander and placed the ring in his hand.

Maeb gasped. “The Ring of Royals.”

***

Aowyn watched the sun set over An Cuan Áille. Lorgaire wandered the shore, seeking his supper. Caoin Croí sang beneath a blossoming tree. Choróin kept watch on a far bank, and Rógaire swam and dove beneath the waters. A light breeze whispered and tossed fragrant pink and white buds across the pond. Crickets chirped like bards on lutes to Caoin Croí’s song. Aowyn sighed. The fires of Bealtaine would be lit soon. The sound of drums boomed in the distance. The swans looked to one another. Lorgaire approached Aowyn.
You should go.

Bealtaine is the best day of the year,
Choróin gurgled.

Rógaire opened his beak and almost chortled.
He would know!

Aowyn’s cheeks pinked.

Lorgaire nudged Aowyn toward the water.
We’ve decided you are going. Let us help ready you.

If we brothers cannot go, at least one of us should,
Choróin honked softly.

Aowyn grimaced but walked into the waters, lest she be goosed by her brother. Her gown flowed around her. The waters were cooling against the warming night air.

The swans glided toward Aowyn as she bathed herself. Caoin Croí helped her weave blossoms into her hair as he sang quietly. Rógaire and Lorgaire plucked snowy feathers from themselves and adorned Aowyn’s dress carefully. Choróin swam around them, inspecting their work.

Aowyn emerged from the waters purified and just as much the beautiful swan her brothers saw her as.

Her brothers lined up in the waters before her. The last of the pink and orange light fading behind them. The moon began to peek over the trees, and two stars danced in the sky.

Choróin swam forward with his neck arched.
We are all here together.
He raised his head in the direction of the Bealtaine field.
And they are expecting their queen.

UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

Aowyn gazed across the Bealtaine field. People flocked to the festival. Children wearing self-woven blossom and wicker Cétamain coronets ran and laughed. Women in woad danced gaily as they waved the antlers of the great hart. A giant wicker man at the center of the field waited to be lit. Aowyn glimpsed young lovers darting into the forest of greenwoods to, no doubt, perform their own sacred marriage where they would be bound to one another for a year and a day.

Two wooden towers ignited at dusk symbolized the purification of the land and the oncoming heat of summer. The village’s livestock paraded through them. They would be taken to the high pastures for the summer to bear their young and fatten up.

Men, women, and children hushed when they realized Aowyn was among them. They reached out to touch her with admiration and respect. Aowyn was still not used to all of the attention, but smiled and tried to enjoy herself. She threw herself into the dancing, trying to forget the way all eyes dwelled on her. She let her spirit join in the joy of it. Her family’s trials had passed with winter. She should be rejoicing.

Aowyn stepped back when they lit the wicker man. Flames licked the giant body. The field grew bright with its light. He would burn through the night and bring forth a long, hot, and prosperous summer. More and more lovers snuck away to the greenwood. Aowyn tried not to notice. She feasted and laughed with some of the girls who were by themselves. They drank sweet mead and munched almonds, oysters from the sea, and fresh cheeses from the first cream of spring. They even managed to find enticing, musky truffles growing close to the trees. Aowyn was caught off guard in the shadows of those trees when a form slipped his arms around her waist. Her heart stopped for a moment until she heard a familiar voice.

“I am the rutting stag. I am the mighty oak. I am the King of the Forest, and I hunt the Cétamain Queen.”

Aowyn shivered and turned in Xander’s arms.
I am the Cétamain Queen, both purity and strength, and I submit to you.

Drums began to beat again in a deep, driving cadence. Aowyn felt something stir in her and, not giving a second thought, grinned at Xander and grabbed his hand. The Bealtaine bonfires danced in her eyes. She tugged at him, and they dashed off across the fields to the edge of the woods. A rush of electricity zipped down Aowyn’s spine. She tingled with excitement. She led Xander into the woods where the firelight died behind them, and only moonlight illuminated the way.

Xander laughed breathlessly. He stopped her against a tree and turned her to him.

Aowyn’s eyes glittered. She bit her lower lip.

Xander smiled back and slipped his hand under her abundant curls.

Aowyn placed her hand on his shoulder and wondered if Xander could feel her pulse race beneath his palm. He lowered his head to hers. Noses touched. He stepped closer, wordlessly asking for consent to kiss her.

Aowyn’s eyes fluttered shut as Xander’s mouth pressed to hers. Her hand slid to the back of his neck; her fingers brushed against his wavy locks. Aowyn breathed in sharply and softened her mouth to the curve of his.

Xander was emboldened. One arm moved to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. His other hand slowly slipped down her neck and arm until it found her waist.

Aowyn’s breath raced as she became aware of him as a man.

Xander widened his mouth and teased at her lips with his tongue.

Aowyn felt heat rising in her, radiating from her core. Her hands went to his chest and pushed him away.

Xander studied her with confusion.

Aowyn leaned against the tree. Moonlight washed over her face. Aowyn dug her nails into the bark and gasped.

Xander approached her again and embraced her gently. He caressed her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. “I mean to make you my wife, Wynnie.” He took her hand and slid the Ring of Royals onto her finger. “Will you not have me?”

Aowyn searched his eyes. She grasped his wrists to put them away from her and bolted.

Aowyn skidded to a stop on the shore of An Cuan Áille. The air in her lungs stung. Her chest heaved. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought she might die. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply.

Aowyn clenched her fists and opened them again, aware of the ring. She held her hand up to the moonlight and recognized the Ring of Royals. If Xander had given it to her, it meant Aodhagáin consented to their union, blessed it even. It had not been a coincidence that it came on Bealtaine. The only other person to have worn this ring was Sulwen. Aowyn beheld the moon with heartache.
Mother….

Lorgaire swam over to Aowyn and honked.

The other swans, who had been nesting on the far bank, orange noses tucked under wings, raised their heads. Rógaire crossed to them.