On Fallen Wings (14 page)

The heated water was exhilarating; it replenished my energy and soothed my sore arms. I slowly washed my shoulders again, before soaking the rest of my body. During Moon Season, a hot bath was the most satisfying experience under the sky; that day’s wash—after a long day in the wet snow—felt exhilarating. I glanced at the empty stone tub in the corner of the small bathing chamber and wished I had more than a quick moment to clean.

Refreshed and no longer smelling of grass, I returned to my bedroom, brushed my hair, and added a pair of warm stockings for the evening. Outside my window, the day had ended. The moon brightened the snowy landscape; even the trees, still covered with white, glowed with mysterious beckoning. It was magical. I stared east, mesmerized by the enchantment of the newly decorated forest, and closed my eyes.

“Sean, if you can hear me,” I whispered. “Please accept a moonlit message of peace. I’m thinking of you. And, I love you.”

Laughter and the familiar chant from the afternoon, raced up the stairs and broke my trance. I blew out the tiny flame of my candle—dreaming would have to wait—and went downstairs.

When I arrived at the dining room, Father, Cael, and Ethan sat at the long table, drinking from tall goblets and singing with energy. I stared for a moment, wondering if my father had already introduced our guest to his ale. He lifted his hands and revealed a tall red bottle.

“Rhiannon, will you help with the plates, dear?” Mother called from the kitchen.

Leila handed me a stack of wide pewter plates. I accepted them with a weak smile and returned to the table.

Cael looked up from his goblet. “You bathed,” he said. “That was fast.” His words were slow and drawn out; Father’s ale was already affecting him

I ignored him and placed a plate in front of my father, whose cup had introduced the verse of another song. I turned away without answering Cael. Drunken men were annoying and rude. I wouldn’t allow myself to be embarrassed by an idiot, especially in my home.

“Mother?” I asked, loudly and on purpose. “Did you know that the Fae have no cure or relief for drunkenness?”

“Yes, dear,” my mother answered. “You’ve told me before. Why do you ask now?” She handed me a platter of steaming potatoes, onions, and carrots.

I nodded my head toward the table while balancing the heavy plate. “I wanted you to know that it’s better to forget he exists, and allow him to slumber in his perceived wisdom, than to try to cure a drinking man.”

My meaning was sincere and true, but all the same, no one understood. The men at the table erupted in a spray of laughter.

“Wise you are, Rhiannon,” yelled my father, his voice dusting the rafters. He held up his goblet and spilt ale onto his face. “I’ll drink to your words.”

Annoyed, I spurted a groan and returned to the kitchen until the evening meal. Even at my mother’s polite prodding, I refused to go back into the dining room as the victim of the men’s rudeness.

Our meal was a quiet event; the women sat silently, while Cael and Father drank heartily from the bottle between slabs of meat. I ate more than usual—so did everyone—and wrestled Leila for the final large biscuit. With a smile, I conceded. Of course, the marks on my hand from her fingernails were a painful reason to stop trying.

As I turned to step from the bench, tight pain twisted every part of my body; the heated relief from my bath had faded. With a muffled groan, I stood and grabbed my plate.

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Mother.

Surprised, I glanced up. Then, unwilling to draw attention to myself, I nodded and turned to see if anyone else had noticed. Fortunately, Cael was deep into his goblet and Father leaned back to puff large wafts from his long bone pipe.

“Leila will help me clear the table,” said Mother. “Rhiannon, go begin your practice. Tomorrow will be a long day for you.”

“Thank you, Mother,” I answered.
Today had been a long day.
I placed my empty plate on the kitchen counter and approached the warmth of the fireplace. Turning, so that my back faced the flames, I retrieved my boots and stepped into them. Steaming and hot, their fleece lining massaged my toes. I wriggled my feet before working to tighten the laces.

“Are you going to Stone Meadow?” asked Ethan, stretching from his usual seat on the bench in front of the window. “What about the bandit?”

“That’s why I’m here,” said Cael. He wiped his mouth and slid the goblet away. “I’m your private guard for the night.”

I glanced up and resumed lacing my second boot. Once they both felt tight and secure, I stood and stretched my arms toward the rafters in the high ceiling above. Wincing, I exhaled slowly and allowed the tightness in my back, legs, and arms to pull away. “We’re not going to Stone Meadow, Ethan. I can practice here in the yard.”

“Then the boy can stay inside,” said Father. He slapped Cael on the shoulder and lifted his glass. “And help me open another bottle of ale.”

Mother dashed to the table. She crouched behind Father and twisted locks of his beard around her fingers. “I think we should save this for another evening,” she said, grabbing the bottle. “Tomorrow is the celebration.”

He reached out to protest, but she kissed him on the forehead. Ethan giggled. I put on my cloak and crept to the back door.

“I’ll come with you,” said Cael, grabbing his coat from the floor. “I promised Sean to keep you safe.” He turned to my father. “Thank you, Neal. I enjoyed the company.”

As I pushed open the door, he reached an arm across me to hold it open.

“Thank you,” I whispered, politely.

The night was frozen and still. Steam from my breath blew forward with every exhale and then rose to fade away. The moon’s glow, combined with the reflection from the snow, made the night feel like an eerie blue midday. The silence added to the effect. I stomped toward the stable, where the ground was open and flat. Behind me, I heard the door swing closed and pound against the house. Cael’s heavy footsteps broke the snow.

“So?” asked Cael. He stood uncomfortably close behind me. “What’s next?”

“If you insist on staying, find a place to sit and rest. I’ll be busy for a while.”

After careful examination of my surroundings, I stepped carefully and took my starting pose. The raucous echoes of the day’s songs rattled inside my head. I took a long breath and tried to focus my chaotic thoughts. The moon, the season, a perfect beginning. Silence enveloped me. I closed my eyes and began to dance.

At first, the steps were awkward. My heavy boots weighed down my legs and the snow seemed to grab my ankles. I lost myself in the rhythm my body yearned for; it helped me escape the night. I extended my arms and spun in place, then ducked and stretched, imagining that I stood in front of the majestic stone columns at Stone Meadow. I completed a tiny circle while hoping for a warm comfort in my mind.

Satisfied, I smiled and began a new dance, and a new rhythm. This time, I raised my face to the sky, and opened my eyes to the moon.

“You look beautiful.”

My trance broken, I stopped dancing and searched the darkness in the direction of Cael’s voice. I found him perched on a pile of cut logs under the roof of the woodbin. “What did you say?” I asked.

Cael grinned at me; his smile touched his ears and his teeth glowed in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated. “I think you heard me the first time.”

“I think you’re drunk,” I told him, scowling. I returned to my original spot—where the snow was trampled firm—and closed my eyes to start again.

“I understand why Sean likes you.”

I stopped.

“He loves me,” I retorted. The peace left me. I turned to face Cael again; he sat reclined on the woodpile and leaned against one elbow. “If you keep distracting me,” I said, “I’ll be here longer practicing—and you’ll get colder.”

“I could watch you all night.” Cael’s smile was like a dagger in the dark.

I turned away, offended.

Cael got to his feet, but didn’t approach. “He’s a lucky man.”

I felt my face warm. “Cael, I don’t want to talk about Sean.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “I want to dance. I am going to finish my practice.”

“May I stay and watch?”

“Yes,” I said, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “If you let me finish.”

I waited for another response. Chilled silence overtook the night again. I resumed my starting pose for the next dance. Unable to picture the celebration in my mind, I fought the tears that drained onto my face. “Come on, Rhiannon,” I whispered to myself. “You can do this. Be at your best.”

Despite the piercing gaze of Cael, and my struggle with emotion, I managed to complete three more dances in the snow, until my heart pounded against my chest and my eyelids drooped with fatigue. I sighed, wiping loose strands of hair from my sweating forehead. Slumber had begun its call; my body longed to rest.

“Come on, Cael,” I said, without looking at him. I knew he was watching me. I motioned to the house. “Come inside and get warm. It’ll be a cold walk home.”

Cael yawned and followed me—I could hear his steps in the crispy snow. Then, as I reached for the brass handle of the back door, he grabbed my shoulder.

I froze.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” he whispered in my ear. The ale in his breath burned my neck. “I just wanted you to know how lucky my brother is.”

“Okay.” I spoke without breathing. “May I go inside, please?”

Cael released my shoulder. I scrambled into the house, welcomed by the warmth and smell from the fireplace.

Mother sat in front of the flames, wrapped in a bear blanket. “Are you finished, already?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m tired. I need some sleep.” I walked toward the fire, holding out my hands to accept its growing heat.

“I’ll be leaving,” said Cael, from behind me. “Thank you, Keelia. Rhiannon. It was a great day.”

Mother stood and dropped her blanket at my feet. “Where are you going, Cael?”

“Home.” He kept one hand on the door handle.

I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“No.” Mother rushed to Cael as he opened the door. “You can’t leave. The bandit is out there.”

Cael smiled. “I’ll be all right, Keelia. Thank you for your concern.”

Shaking her head persistently, Mother grabbed his arm. “You’re drunk, and you won’t break the law on our account. I won’t allow you to leave alone.”

Cael allowed the door to close noisily. “I’m fine. I need to go home.”

“You may leave in the morning,” said Mother. She nudged Cael toward the large storage room next to the hall. “We have plenty of blankets in here. You will stay the night.”

Too tired to talk and protest, I removed my boots and cloak and left them near the fireplace to dry. I kissed Mother on the cheek. “Goodnight, Mother. Goodnight, Cael.” Without turning back, I carried myself up the steps to my bedroom.

I had changed into my nightgown and was crawling into bed when I heard Mother climb the stairs. I was sinking into my dreams when she kissed me on the forehead.

Moon Season

Light covered my eyelids; I opened my eyes to blindness. The sun had crested over Taylor’s Ridge, directly in front of me, masking everything in white. I rolled over to shield myself from the morning, my legs and arms protesting the movement. I remembered what day it was.

Moon Season had arrived.

I spun back to face the window, ignoring my aching muscles, and stared outside. Subtle lines of thin clouds caressed a blue sky that hinted at good weather. I rubbed my arms and swung my feet out of the warmth of my covers. The house was silent. Groaning, I tiptoed across the coarse-grained wood and stepped into my slippers. I opened my bedroom door with creaking stealth and drifted down the steps.

The whisking of Mother’s skilled knife announced she was in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mother,” I said, smiling as the scent of hickory bacon met me. “Good Moon Season.”

“Good Moon Season, Rhiannon.” Mother turned and smiled. In one hand, she held the thin blade of a paring knife, in the other, a stubby carrot.

I yawned and stretched my arms. “What should I do to help?”

“Will you warm some cider?” she asked. She turned back to the counter full of vegetables and continued to slice. “I suspect your brother and sister will be cranky and cold when they wake.”

I glanced into the room across the hall. It was empty. “Where’s Cael?” I asked, turning my attention to the cider bottles lining one wall of the kitchen floor. I chose one and lifted it onto the counter.

Mother kept slicing. “He’s gone.” She bent her neck and nodded toward the dining room. “He had a warm fire burning when I awoke this morning. Then he left without a meal.”

I hid a smile of relief. His absence meant one less thing to worry about. I pulled a silver kettle from the ceiling hooks and set it on the floor to fill.

“He left you something.”

I looked up at Mother and questioned her with my eyes.