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And just like that, she had said, we are something new.He wondered if this was how a newborn felt.He had never seen a human infant. But it seemed to him that a babe born gasping into the color and sound of the world must feel something of the same sense of awe, so overwhelmed that it could only lie still, awash with new sensations. And so was he born again, into a new universe of wonder; he had no words as yet to describe it. He let himself rest against the warm body of his bride, limp with speechless bliss.Her ribs expanded beneath him as his head, anchored at her shoulder, rose and fell upon her breath. “Taran,” she whispered, “tell me. Have you wanted me as long as I have you?”Heat stirred within him again, and he rose up, propping himself on his elbows to look at her without leaving her embrace. She already knew the answer, but if she wanted to hear him say it out loud, so he would, every day, every hour.
“I dreamed of this before I even understood what it was I wanted,” he confessed, “and after I knew it, I longed for you until I ached. Indeed there have been many nights when I could not stop myself from imagining you next to me…though it shamed me, afterward, as though I had held you without your knowledge or consent.”
A mischievous smile touched her lips. “You need not torment yourself with misplaced
guilt. I grant you my consent for every night you spent in such good company.” Her fingers sifted his hair, tugging a little for emphasis. “If I couldn’t be with you in fact, at least I was with you in spirit.”“I thought you’d be shocked if you knew,” he said sheepishly, and a soft laugh made her throat ripple, so that he had to lower his head to taste it. How odd it was…to be so wholly satisfied and yet want to be hungry again.
“Shocked,” she purred, her voice a delicious buzz against his mouth, “that you were thinking of the same things I was? I hope you don’t think I’m that unjust, Taran of Caer Dallben. But if it comforts you, I shall trade that consent for a full pardon. That is one of a queen’s prerogatives, after all.”He chuckled, laying his head down again, and wondered how he had ever thought any other repose comfortable. No royal couch, no feather-stuffed mattress would ever compare to this...this warmth, this softness, the very smell of her skin ...a sum of sensation more luxurious than anything he had imagined.And he had imagined much. He could hardly bring himself to believe that she had done so also, despite her recent, scorching whispers in the heated darkness. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, feeling himself flush again at the memory of her confessions, “that women even…even felt the same…sort of…”She sighed into his hair; he knew by the sound of it that she smiled. “You’ve not been around many women...though I won't complain about that. But I think you will find my appetite quite equal to yours.”
“Keep talking that way,” he mumbled against her neck, “and we shall soon have a chance to find out.”She giggled, trailing her nails up his spine, sending sparkling tremors
over his skin, interrupting his delightful lethargy.
A long lock of red-gold hair trailed over her torso and he wound it between his fingers, rolling it against the creamy curve of her shoulder, admiring the contrast. Was this real? Was it possible, after all their long separation, that he now lay in her naked arms, bathed in beauty…that he could look forward to this the next night, and the next, and every night from now on?It had sometimes seemed to him that such a time would never come, that he was daring beyond decency even to hope for it, and had known shame and dismay at his own frustration and impatience.
He had spent enough time in war camps to know that such struggle was common to men. But the talk from those quarters tended to be coarse and vulgar, too often revealing cravings born not of love but of greed and lust.
Such discourse was abhorrent to him, and he had swiftly removed himself from any company that engaged in it, thankful that the companions dearest to him never did.But he could not help overhearing certain things that had burned into his mind. They planted ideas difficult to ignore when Eilonwy was near him, sharpened his awareness of her myriad attractions, awakened desire until he found it difficult to keep his mind on task, eaten with guilt but unable to completely control the impulse.
Her insistence on joining his war band had complicated the matter tenfold. The distraction she posed had been troublesome enough, but on top of it, he had feared for her safety not only from their enemies but from within his own ranks. That explicit education in camp had made him painfully aware that some kinds of honor were a rarer commodity than he had once supposed. Thankfully, Eilonwy had been treated with deference by most. No one had dared speak a disrespectful word of her in his presence. But he had intercepted more than one lingering look in her direction, and had made a point, when assigning positions, of placing her among those of his company he knew and trusted most.
He could not regret that she had been with him —not after all that had transpired. But still…he shuddered, when he thought of what might have happened.
“When you went missing, after the skirmish along the march to Annuvin,” he murmured, laying the silken strand of her hair across his own cheek, “I lost my own heart. I could not feel anything at all—not happiness, nor courage, nor hope. Nor even grief. I think...it must have felt like that, for the cauldron-born —an empty shell, just moving because it is compelled to, without life or breath.”
Her entire body went rigid. He reacted instantly and instinctively in alarm, rising up to look at her again. She was staring into the space beyond him as though he were not there, pupils blown wide with unmistakable terror. A tremor passed through her, shaking him likewise. She took a single harsh breath as he spoke her name. “Eilonwy…Eilonwy! What is it?”Had he hurt her after all? He rolled swiftly to the side, but she clung to his arm, continuing to gasp, like someone on the verge of drowning. Scrabbling for a blanket, he spread it over them both, gathered her against his chest and held her as tightly as he could, somehow hoping he could still her trembling by sheer strength. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”“No,” she whispered hoarsely, clutching at him, “no, it isn’t you…Taran, I’ll tell you; just don’t let go.”There was a note in her voice he had heard before. In the quavering plea to stay with her that night in camp... in the cry he had startled out of her a few days later, having approached her when she was unaware...in her apology after she had flinched violently away, flinging off the hand he had laid on her arm. It was a note he had never heard before her disappearance, before whatever had happened during her absence. Dread settled upon him...but he would not fail her. Her comfort, her safety, her strength were all within his power now, as much as they were anywhere, as unworthy as he might be of them. “It’s all right,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her hairline, cradling her head against his shoulder. “Tell me what is the matter. I’ll be here, whatever it is.”Her trembling eased a little and her breath steadied, with the long, deep inhales of one deliberately pacing them. She was quiet for a time, her hand resting still over his heart, as though she found peace in its steady rhythm.
“When I went missing from the company,” she said finally, in a quiet waver, “it was because Gurgi and I got separated in the fighting. I don’t believe we were far off — we’d have found our way back, but before we’d gone twenty paces we were ambushed and captured.“It wasn’t cauldron-born or Huntsmen,” she went on, “but a band of common ruffians. Drawn by the sound of battle, I suppose, the sort of carrion-birds come to raid the spoils. I was a fool to be caught so off-guard, but we were exhausted, and I was only thinking of finding you again.“They thought I was a boy. I knew it was safest if I let them think so, so I said nothing, though they made threats, and cuffed us about a bit. One of them found my bauble and mistook it for treasure, and that’s when they decided to take us to their camp.”She paused for a moment, her hand at his chest curling into a white-knuckled fist. “They dragged us a long way into the hills, where their band was gathered. A dozen men or so, led by a nasty brute with a scar across one eye.”“Dorath,” he hissed, through clenched teeth.“Yes,” she sighed. “He recognized Gurgi, from whatever business you’d had with him. And that made him look closer at me.”She was trembling again. Taran forced himself to breathe slow, to keep his simmering rage in check. There was no use for it, against a dead man. But his hand shook as he stroked her hair.
“It didn’t take him long to realize I was no boy,” she said, her voice cracking, “so there was no point staying silent. I told him off, but I was too trussed up to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.“He guessed who I was.” She sounded faint now. “You had mentioned me, I suppose.”“Only in passing,” Taran muttered, furious with himself; a man like Dorath’s even knowing of her existence was an offense; the thought of her name in that ugly mouth, nauseating. “It was stupid of me, but I hadn’t yet known what he was. I'm sorry; it only endangered you more.”She sighed shakily. “Don’t blame yourself. He made much of having a score to settle with you. But he would have had the same intentions whether you had been involved or not, I’m sure. Such men don’t need a reason.” Her breath caught in a sudden sob. “Taran. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.”He could not bear to hear her cry; in agony he cradled her under his chin, kissed her hair, her forehead, tried to murmur comforting words. She kept on talking over him, gasping out her fear in broken phrases.
“I couldn’t move. I wanted to fight him off —and I should have done something; kicked him, or…I don’t know, but…in that moment I couldn’t even think, and I don’t know why. It was like…like being frozen. Or as though it was happening to someone else. And all around, his men were watching and laughing and waiting their turn.”Despite his resolve, red fury swam before his eyes. His heart raced; he forgot where his hands were; their tightening grip left red marks on her white shoulder, but if they pained her more than the memory she was trapped within, she made no indication. “He didn’t get very far,” she went on, compelled to finish. “I suppose I can thank the cold for that. I had so many layers on, and armor. He did a lot of...of groping and pawing...I think he would have cut my clothes off in another moment, but before he could manage it, there…Taran, there were wolves. They came out of nowhere… attacked them all. Tore that brute off me and ripped out his throat. And a bear, I think…I don’t…it was dark. Hard to follow. There was so much growling and snarling… and screaming. Men screaming, and things tearing and cracking and crunching. I hear it all again, sometimes, just before I fall asleep.”
He listened in horror, yet not without the first glimmer of relief since she had begun to speak. “Then,” he whispered, “you were…rescued? By wolves?”
She nodded, her face buried in his shoulder. “It was horrible to hear, but I wasn’t afraid of them. I think two of them were Medwyn’s wolves — you remember, from his valley? And they led me back to the company afterwards.” A long and shuddering breath warmed his arm. “But if they hadn’t…come in time…” Another sob; her ribs jerked. “Sometimes I have nightmares, where they don’t…where it’s one horrid man after another…and I can’t move or scream or fight back, and they leave me…just…ruined.” She seemed to shrink in his arms, stiff and drawn in. “Not fit for you. Nothing left.”He made a horrified sound of protest as she burst into fresh tears, pulling her closer even as she shrank away, kissing her brows, her eyelids, the salt on her cheeks. He murmured her name, a hoarse and fervent chant, until she quieted, and he knew she would hear him. “Listen to me,” he whispered against her forehead, “and know this, always: none could ever make you unfit for me, no matter what they did.”She huffed out a disbelieving sound, but he hushed her, laying a thumb over her mouth. “For Medwyn and his beasts, I am glad—for your sake, for saving you from worse than you had already endured. But even had they arrived too late, or not at all…nothing could diminish your worth. How could you even think so? My heart has been yours long before tonight, and would be no less, had your body been used against your will.”She dropped her head against his chest and cried freely, but he felt the tension drain from her, in a slow yield of healing relief. He waited, stroking her hair, until she was soft again, fluid within his embrace, until her ragged breathing slowed into a calm rhythm, and her hand curled limp at his ribs.
He was all warmth and strength, as fast an anchor as could steady her through any tempest, and she sighed as the weight of the fear she had carried was lifted off, no more than a specter after all.“I should have told you before now,” she murmured softly, “but I’ve hated the thought of speaking of it at all, let alone to you. I didn’t mean to bring it up and spoil things—tonight of all times.”“Spoil tonight?” He almost sounded amused. “Cariad, if I spoke nonsense like that, you’d call me a silly assistant pig-keeper.” She released a grateful breath, not quite ready yet to smile, but warmed by the endearment, new and lovely from his lips. He raised her palm to his mouth and pressed it there.“I would not have you carry such a memory by yourself,” he said, and she felt his teeth scrape suddenly hard beneath his kiss before he went on, in a different tone, dark and raw. “It is my fault, Eilonwy. I knew what he was, and I spared his life when I should have ended it.”
“No,” she said firmly, and moved to grip his chin, turning his face toward her. “You are not to take the blame for another man’s wickedness, Taran of Caer Dallben. I don’t know what happened between you, but I can well believe you showed him mercy that he did not deserve.” Her palm spread out, cupped his cheek in warmth. “Because that is who you are, and why you are so far above those like him. And always have been —even as an assistant pig-keeper.”
He tried to smile, but there was a line between his brows. It occurred to her that he would have to make such decisions now, regularly, and that he would hate it, and wonder, every time, whether he were judging rightly, whether his mercy would be abused. Perhaps he was thinking the same. But it was no topic she wished to discuss at the moment.“All the same,” he grumbled, turning his face toward the ceiling, “part of me wishes the wolves had left that creature alive, so I could have the satisfaction of…”She cut him off, shuddering. “Don’t. Such thoughts lead nowhere good. His memory is not worthy of our anger or our time. From this moment we shall never speak of him.”
He sighed, and laid her hand over his heart. She felt his tense chest relax, a silent acquiescence. “Nor will you awaken alone from your nightmares again,” he said quietly. “Not while I am here.”She weighed the words, solid and strong, his body stretched next to her a tangible
proof of this promise. She had already slept next to him enough to know the comfort of his presence, but never like this...held against his heart, as close as his pulse and his breath. “I don’t believe I’ll have as many now,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I have much better things to dream of.”He shifted over her again, settling her within the frame of his arms. His mouth was gentle upon hers, soft with a languid sweetness that slowly heated into a simmering urgency. His hands wandered, but at her first whimpering sigh he hesitated, breaking away, and she opened her eyes to see him looking distressed.
A frisson of fear trickled down her spine — that perhaps, despite his noble intentions, he could not help but see her differently. “What is it?” she asked, trying not to let her voice falter.
“I just…” he whispered, “…I don’t want to upset you…by reminding you of anything that happened. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
She stared up at him, at his dear beautiful face and his soft darkened eyes and his full flushed mouth, and wondered what magic had made him so perfectly, purely wonderful. Her heart swelled so full that it chased the breath from her lungs and the words from her mouth, so full that it spilled from her eyes.
He brushed a hot-trailing tear away and began to speak her name in concern. “Eil—” but she had reached for his face and pulled him back to her, muffling the rest in a silent assurance that his hands were always welcome, that his touch burned away the memory of any other.
After a moment she pulled back, breathless, with a whimsical smile. “What did you just call me?”“Call you?” He blinked dazedly, staring at her lips. “I was…oh, no, I just said Eil—”She cut him off again, dizzy with the taste of her name in his mouth, and he recognized the joke now, his fingers curling into her ribs as he smiled against her teeth. “Will you let me finish it?” he whispered.
“You may keep trying,” she suggested, and he did, a third time and a fourth, with no greater success, and less and less attention to the game, being much diverted by its consequences. These, they followed to their natural conclusion, by which time he had whispered it into secret hollows, sighed it over glistening expanses of skin, breathed it into her ear many times without any interruption on her part; the loveliest sound she had ever heard.
The rushlight lamps had burned out by the time he rested against her shoulder again, leaving them washed only in the silver stream of moonlight flowing in from the window. The women of Mona had called such shafts of milky light the trail of Rhiannon’s gown, and she smiled, watching the soft dance of dust motes glittering in it like stars.
His hair slid through her fingers like dark water. When she closed her eyes she felt that they did not lie on solid ground, but floated on a serene and gentle tide, seeking deeper and deeper into its fluid embrace.“Eil,” he whispered, somewhere on the velvet edge of sleep, “have you wanted me as long as I have you?”In her half-dreaming state she thought, somehow, that she remembered wanting him as far back as time itself, from the moment the dark earth separated itself from the sea, from the carving out of its lake-filled hollows by the fingers of the gods, their drawing of the silver veins of streams and rivers through its channels.An impossible fancy. And yet…“From the very beginning,” she whispered, setting his hand over the silver crescent at her breast, and slipping, content, into darkness.