Enchanted (29 page)

“Oh yes, my muse, sing for us.” Myrielle beamed at him, the light in her eyes shining on him.

He bowed once more, then lifted the small harp he held and began to strum a soft melody. The lyrics of the ancient song rolled from his tongue as his magic twined with them. He sent waves of his spell toward the royal couple.

Holl amrantau’r sr ddywedant

Ar hyd y nos.

Golau arall yw tywyllwch

I arddangos gwir bryferthwch

teulu’r nefoedd mew tawelwch

Ar hyd y nos.

The words filtered through his mind.
Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night, soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and dale in slumber steeping, I, my loving vigil keeping, all through the night.

Within moments, Myrielle drifted to sleep. Rhys, the stronger of the two, listened to several more lines before his eyelids closed and his head drooped.

The second both slept, Shay, heart pounding, scanned the garden as he continued to strum the harp. Gwyneth stepped from the shadows near the scrying fountain. A satisfied smirk of pleasure covered her features. She crossed the garden, brushing past him on her way to the bassinet.

Shay heard a soft cooing before she bent and lifted the babe. Wicked, scalding laughter erupted from her, and she began to speak.

“This babe will suffer the torments of the human world until her twenty-fifth birthday when the curse is fulfilled and she dies. At that time, my vengeance will know satisfaction. For until she returns to her people, the Tylwyth Teg, and solves the riddle binding the curse, she will have no hope.”

The words sent ice rushing through his veins. He shook his head. No, he must stop her. He raised one foot to move forward, but halted when the woman, clutching the babe, disappeared into a thick black mist. A sulfuric stench filled the air, burning his eyes and nose.

A shout from Rhys, King of the Tylwyth Teg, echoed through the walled garden.

The harp Shay strummed moments earlier fell from his fingers to shatter on the stone. He opened then closed his mouth. Coherent words refused to form.

Gwyneth had lied to him.

Used him, and now, deserted him.

He shifted his gaze toward Rhys, standing on the terrace. An ice blue stare, shimmering with frozen fires locked with his. The king’s face appeared waxy, but then flared with heat.

“Traitor. You aided her.” He moved toward him, past the bassinet, to the terrace’s edge.

Sorrow traced the queen’s cry when she reached the bassinet and lifted a bundle. “She has left a babe. A dead human baby–a changeling.”

Myrielle looked toward Shay. Tears filled her emerald green eyes to fall. Her misery, so great over her loss, was palpable. He opened his mouth once more to deny Rhys’s accusation, but the words refused to pass his lips. He was at fault. There was no one else to blame for this. His heart ached for the wrong he’d done to the very ones he adored above all others.

Movement from the outer edges of the walled garden forced his gaze away. The royal guard stepped nearer, their weapons ready to prevent his escape. Fools. Dry, gasping laughter erupted from his mouth. Pride prevented him from fleeing his rightful punishment.

Stupid youths. Did they not know who they dealt with? A true Tylwyth Teg who remained from the ones arriving in ships of clouds on this world over five thousand years ago, his power could match that of his king if he desired it. But he did not. At this, he chose not to prove his abilities to the young warriors.

Thunder bellowed. Lightning flashed in a brilliant flare. Shay shuddered and looked back at Rhys. The king, muttering ancient words, rose and levitated several feet above the ground. His golden hair drifted and swirled around his head and body. The strands joined with the next bolt until Shay could not separate them.

The stone beneath his feet cracked and split. He dropped six inches into a rip, and his feet ached from the slight fall. He glanced down. Long coiled roots tore through his boots.

“No.” He jerked his head up, his gaze riveted on his king’s features. “I did not know what she would do. I beg mercy. Let me find her.”

Thunder roared. Rhys pointed at him. “Liar. For some time, I have felt a wicked restlessness in your spirit. I hoped it would pass, but no, you desired to see what bedevilment you could stir. Your punishment will last for eternity, even until the stars fade. This is my wish for you, betrayer.” He raised both hands, palms out, and spoke three last words.

Shay tried to shake his head, but his spine solidified, the bones fusing. He lifted a hand in supplication to his king. Flesh cracked and peeled before turning black. Thorns erupted from his tightened skin. He opened his mouth and felt his face fracture under the dry, hardening effect of Rhys’s spell.

“Live your life in this hell, for into a blackthorn you will go, never to be released, unless I decree it. Here you will stay to remind me of my error in keeping faith with one such as you.”

Shay shouted but the sound fell silent, a last gust of breath as muscles and bones knotted and his hair rose outward. His body hardened, narrowed with twigs and leaves sprouting from his skin until he was a mass of solidified wood. Blinded by pain, struggling for breath, he tried to fight the spell engulfing him.

When the transformation finished, he was aware of Rhys standing in front of him. He saw all around him at once, yet could not move. The pores and cells of his new form gulped much-needed air. He would live.

The queen approached, her eyes filled with sorrow. For him? No, only for her lost child. He did not expect pity or understanding from the royal couple.

“She left this on the babe,” the queen spoke, handing a parchment scrap to Rhys.

Shay listened to the words of the riddle as the king read them aloud.

“A key you need to unlock the heart, look ye close to the peeling bark. For beneath the roots lies the key to unlock the heart for eternity. Two powers unite and be as one. True and strong, it will be done, if you trod the right road to pay the price for which you owe.”

When he finished, his ice blue gaze shifted to Shay.

“Do not fear,
my friend
. We will find my beloved daughter. She and I will tend you with the utmost care so your years will be long. I would not want you to wither.”

Rhys had never spoken to him in such a cruel manner in all their years together. Now, he verified how deeply the pain went with the sarcastic words. The queen sobbed, and her husband wrapped his arms around her. He lifted her and turned away.

A windy gust swirled through the branches on the tree, tearing several leaves free. Spiraling to the stone ground, they scattered across the garden, slowly withering, death bearing down on them. Shay envied them.

* * * *

Strong hands gripped Caitlyn’s upper arms, pulling her from the fountain. Her mind tore from Shay’s like Velcro coming apart. She wanted to scream, shout and rail at Rhys.

The pain Shay suffered shredded her heart. She experienced every fraction of the ripping wounds on his body. Because of what he’d no control over, he bore the wrath of her father. He’d realized too late the choice he’d made was wrong. Now, he was doing what was right and still Rhys refused to forgive him.

Chapter 32

“What did you see?” Rhys said, holding her by the arms.

Steely fingers pried Caitlyn’s from the surface of the spheres surrounding the fountain’s rim. She tried to draw in air but found it almost impossible. Shay’s agony remained in her mind. His dissatisfaction threaded through the pain, followed by the rise of emotion when he’d reacted to the baby exploded through it all to bring swift enlightenment to her.

She was the one he’d given his heart to all those years before.

The muscles in her body refused to work. Numbness filled the tendons and cords, making it difficult to speak. A sob left her in a gush of air.

She opened her eyes and sought Rhys’s. “He loved you. Wanted to keep you and your family safe. Oh, there was so much going on inside him. There were so many doubts about what Gwyneth planned but he wanted you to see there was true danger lurking around. He only wanted to help you.”

Her hoarse voice echoed with misery and sorrow as she struggled to speak. “How could you do this to him? He suffers right now because of the wounds and guilt he experiences. It’s nonstop for him while he’s in that form. How can you live with yourself?”

Rhys didn’t answer right away. With his arms about her shoulders, he guided her to the bench near the blackthorn. Caitlyn stared at the tree. Tears threatened.

Shay.

Rhys knelt in front of her, bringing her attention to him. A glimmer of sorrow reflected in his blue gaze. “I cannot rescind my judgment. Chaos would follow. Remember, my daughter, I am king to the Tylwyth Teg. My duty to the protection and well-being of my clan must come first. If one attacks the clan, I must, and will, retaliate in a manner befitting the action. What Shay did violated not only the clan and our system of life, but it was aimed personally at me. I cannot relent on this matter.”

“He wanted to you to strengthen your guard. He was trying to help you but you wouldn’t listen.” No matter how hard Caitlyn tried, she doubted she’d convince Rhys. Stubborn man. “This is exactly what Shay went through all those years ago.”

“Because one wants to help does not mean that their help is right. Shay knew the chance he took. He knew. Because of this, he did not fight his sentence. Even now, he could have chosen not to return. He did so with the full knowledge that his sentence would resume.”

Rhys reached up as he finished speaking and gently tucked a strand of her hair over her ear. Not only did grief radiate from his gaze, but something more. Caitlyn sensed that he wanted to release Shay.

“He brought me back. Isn’t that grounds for a possible pardon? He is changed. He won’t do something like this ever again. I know he won’t,” she cried, then stopped. “Great, now I’m begging. I don’t beg. Not to anyone.”

Spine stiff, she scooted sideways on the bench. The stone edge beneath her rear pressed into her skin, waking up numbed nerve endings throughout her body. A cool touch on the nape of her neck caused her to jerk around.

Myrielle leaned over her. “Come, Caitlyn. Rest for the night. When morning comes, you will be refreshed so you might solve the riddle quicker. Come, daughter.”

Numbness returned, only this time instead of her thoughts remaining clear and focused, a strong desire to sleep washed over her. More magic. Her eyelids drooped. She hated magic.

Strong arms encircled her shoulders and slid under her knees, lifting her up. Eyes heavy, she rolled her head against solid muscle covered by fine velvet. Rhys’s blue gaze caught hers and he smiled.

“Sleep, Caitlyn.”

With the soft spoken command, she closed her eyes and drifted off.

* * * *

Birds trilled and Caitlyn stirred within the warm cocoon of blankets. Sluggish, she cracked open her eyes. Sunlight streamed through the open windows and doorway across from her. The arched entrance revealed trees swaying in the gentle breeze.

She smiled and stretched. A sharp stab of awareness shot through her. Someone was with her. She sensed their life force. Frowning, she remained still, listening. Several moments passed with the buzzing of the insects and the chirping of the birds the only sounds around her, then a faint noise reached her. Wood shifting.

An accented voice came to her. “I know ye be awake, princess. Are ye planning to stay abed for the rest of the morn, or do ye wish to rise up and help yerself and yer Shay?”

Grazelda. There was no mistaking the woman’s voice.

She sat up and searched the room. Drawing her knees to her chest, she saw Grazelda. There before the empty hearth, Shay’s housekeeper sat in a straight-backed chair. After a deep breath, Caitlyn questioned her, “You’re one of them, too?”

The elderly woman cackled. “One of them? We, all of us that were closest to Shay, are ones. As ye are, sweetling. Now, up with ye.”

Resting her cheek on her bent knees, Caitlyn sighed. “Get up for what? As soon as I find out some new information that upsets me, Rhys and Myrielle will put me to sleep. I wish they wouldn’t do that.”

“Then tell ’em not to. They may not like it, but they will abide by yer wishes.”

Caitlyn shifted so her chin dug into her kneecap. She studied the old woman. “Tell me about Shay and Gwyneth.”

“Tell ye what?”

She waved a hand around. “What were they like? What made them do what they did? Do you believe Shay is innocent?”

Grazelda glanced at her. An audible gush of air escaped her as she rose from the chair. “Shay is a loving, sweet-natured youth.”

Caitlyn lifted a brow at the old woman’s last choice of word as she described Shay. At almost four thousand years old, he was not a youth. Deciding not to argue the point, she prompted Grazelda. “And Gwyneth?”

A look of disgust washed over the old woman’s features.

Grazelda ambled to the bed and stood gazing at Caitlyn. When she spoke, she left no doubt of her feelings for Gwyneth. “She thought too much of herself. Always with airs about her. She considered most of the clan inferior. She, after all, is the youngest sister to the ruler of our home planet. Overlord Tyr taught Gwyneth all she knew about status and order. She never understood, that when we arrived here, what always served on Vanir did not apply to this new and wondrous planet.”