Chapter 15

Against all odds the mood from the beach survived through dinner. Thaylum, Cole, Nessa, Brian and Gwydion had been invited to stay in Lugh's house which was the largest of the twelve longhouses in the stronghold and with Nimue, Morgana and Merlin's Shadow there, it was a pleasant, if somewhat subdued, meal. Rhiannon was not surprised to find Lugh absent. She suspected that the council meeting had been more traumatic for him than for anyone else. She suspected that he was swimming in a sea of regret. Rhiannon let her thoughts skirt around the subject of her father as she ate and instead focused on ignoring the eyes she could feel inspecting her and not letting the weight of those eyes weigh down her every movement. She had made quite an impression at the Council meeting and the hall was filled with talk. Most of it in her favour. She finished her plate then whispered to Nimue, “Do you think that it would be an invasion of his privacy if we went to say goodnight to Lugh, to our father? I don't like the idea of him sitting alone right now.” She looked into her sister's identical eyes and the feeling was unsettling and satisfying at the same time. Like coming home to a home you never knew you had.

“No, it would not be an invasion,” Nimue answered softly. “Let us go to him. He was very sad after the meeting. I think that it would please him if we went to see him, just the two of us.” Nimue twined her fingers with Rhiannon's and Rhiannon whispered to Rowan that she would see him in their rooms later. The sisters left the hall together, hearing the whispered thoughts of dozens of projecting Fay telling them that together they looked like two sisters from a tale, from a story, so much alike except for their dark and fair hair. Ebony and Willow. They looked like two sisters to which much would happen, and there was a ring of prophesy to those thoughts which both Rhiannon and Nimue tried to ignore.

As they walked down the long hall together Rhiannon asked Nimue, “What are the Groves?”

“Sometimes when a Dryad is very old, instead of waiting for their body to die they wander out into the forest and go back to their element. They let go of the life they've lived, put down roots and change their existence. It isn't very common, and usually only the wisest go this way, but they usually begin to congregate in the same clearing until you have a Dryad grove. They are places of peace and wisdom. We care for them, and go to them when we need guidance or inspiration, or just a quiet place to get away from our parents. Not that the trees communicate anything except perhaps acceptance. Most of the Fay have an exceptional few, who go back to their element at the end, and sometimes Sylphs and Water Fay do this in the Groves as well, so that the trees might breath them in, or drink them up with their roots. No one has ever desecrated a grove the way the exiled prince has our grove. It was eight hundred years old.” There was a deep sadness in Nimue's voice as she spoke.

“Do the Fay live a very long time?”

“Long enough. As long as the Humans, maybe a little longer.”

“Oh. I just wondered. There are stories in the other world.” Rhiannon paused then blurted, “I wish I hadn't asked about the grove. I didn't need another reason to feel sad.”

“Do not feel sad. Let us be happy together.” Nimue turned and hugged Rhiannon so that the dim hall outside their father’s rooms was filled with coloured lights. And then she reached out and turned the handle.

*

They sat with Lugh, quietly, by the fire. He smiled wistfully and listened to Rhiannon and Nimue talk softly about their childhoods. Rhiannon could see that he had been crying. He was so young to have been through so much, and she wondered what it had cost him to let go of her mother—of Sulamith—after they had been found out. She knew how she would feel if she were expected to let go of Rowan, knowing that any attempt to stay with him would result in his death, or the death of her child. It was all too easy to put herself in the shoes that her biological parents had walked in. It was impossible to assign any blame. It was difficult for both herself and Lugh to maintain eye contact for long, but she could sense that while it was painful to him when she looked his way, that he found it comforting to watch her, and listen to her voice, so she sat next to Nimue on a low bench by the warm fire so that he could sit and watch her and, maybe, ease his losses, if only for a while.

*

It was a relief, after she had said goodnight to her father, to be behind closed doors with Rowan. She removed her jewellery as he helped her undo the forty five buttons on the back of the dress and then she pulled on the blue night gown and hung the dress in the large carved wardrobe. Throughout the course of the day at least nine new perfect dresses had been hung there and while at one point in her life owning dresses that looked like they had been spun by magical silkworms would have been an enchanting concept, now it only made Rhiannon feel more pressure. She flopped down on the bed with a hair brush in her hand realizing how good it felt to slouch after maintaining a state of extreme poise. The circlet, that she had worn on her brow all day, hadn't let her forget to hold her head high and walk smoothly. Rhiannon wasn't clumsy. She wasn't the sort to stumble and trip, but it was another thing altogether to maintain a flawless grace, which apparently she had if she was to believe all of the whispered thoughts that she had heard as she had entered the dining hall that evening. But now she just wanted to be herself and she slouched gratefully and sat there doing nothing and holding her brush. “Here. Give me that,” Rowan said, sitting cross legged on the bed behind her and taking the brush from her hand.

“I don't think that I've ever felt so drained in my life. Carting cabbages all day is less exhausting than this. I'm not used to this. I don't like being the focus of everything that's being said and thought.”

“You did fine,” Rowan said, running the brush rhythmically down the length of her hair. “Actually, I think that perhaps you may have done more than just turn the council in your favour, I think that you may have made them love you.” He ran the brush through her hair a few more times then rose and put the brush on the dresser top.

Rhiannon pulled herself into bed and Rowan grinned at her as he got in next to her, “I was so proud of you today when you put all of those old Fairies in their places. You were every bit a queen and they could all see it.”

She smiled softly, “I don't know where that came from. They were being ridiculous and I wanted them to shut up and accept the situation. It isn't only about me, and I thought that if I could make them see that they're the same as me, that it might work.”

“It did work,” Rowan answered but then changed the subject abruptly and smiled. “But lets not think about all that. Lets be selfish, if only for a little while, and think only of us.”

“Alright. I can handle that,” she smiled back, and they whispered sweet nothings in the other's ear until the rest of the world ceased to exist, and when they lay together dropping off to sleep, she asked Rowan, “Next year, at the end of summer, will you take me home for the harvest?”

They both knew that this wasn't something that he could promise her, and he didn't try to. He could be dead next year, they both could be, but it was the intention that mattered, and it mattered to both of them. They held on to one another in the dark and he whispered, “There's nothing in all the worlds that I want more.” And then they slept.