Chapter 18

“Hello,” she said to the angel. “My name is Rhiannon.”

“Yeah! I know!” he said, as if he found the fact that he knew amazing.

He reminded Rhiannon of a celestial Keanu Reeves. Only Keanu Reeves from Parenthood or Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Thankfully it didn't last and the angel pulled himself together . . . a little.

“My name is Raphael, and no, I'm not molting. I just have a bit of eczema.” He scratched at a wing.

This is weird, Rhiannon thought to herself for the first time since all of this had started, then asked the angel, “So, how long have you been watching me?”

He smiled at her again. “I took over about four years ago. My mother was doing it before me. I used to sit in the willow tree outside your bedroom window when you were still living in the other world. I've had a hard time keeping up with you over the last six weeks. I lost your trail a few times. I'd have felt awful if anything had happened to you.” The last words few words were spoken more seriously.

Rhiannon was still caught on the fact that he had been sitting in the tree outside her bedroom window for four years. It wasn't as if she had ever closed her blinds. There was a giant tree outside her window, in theory blocking it from view. She thought of all of the things that she had done in that room that hadn't been meant for anyone else to see. Not just changing her clothes or looking at herself in the mirror undressed. There was more than just sitting on her bed naked, brushing out her hair. There were things that any lonely teenaged girl might do in her room when she thought she was alone. She knew she was red and she felt all sweaty. “You've been sitting outside my window?!” she asked in alarm.

His response was even more alarming, “Yeah! But don't feel embarrassed, I didn't mind.” He winked at her.

“They say angels don't have genitalia in the other world,” Rhiannon mumbled.

Raphael grinned, “Oh, we have genitalia. Believe me. I'd know.”

Rhiannon looked at Nimue, “Great. I've had a teenaged angel jerking off outside my bedroom window for the last four years.”

The angel was still smiling, “Like I said. Don't feel embarrassed. I didn't mind.”

Even Nimue was doubled over, red faced, and laughing hysterically.

The angel continued, “The truth is that I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for years. I guess . . . I've lost my chance.” His face was suddenly soft, wistful, sad, and in a glance, in one alarming look, Rhiannon knew that the angel was in love with her.

The three women stood there and looked up at Raphael. To an onlooker they would have seemed tiny next to the massive angel. Morgana cleared her throat, “If you don't mind sharing with us, how exactly did Rhiannon come to have a . . . Guardian Angel?”

“That's a long story,” Raphael said, suddenly serious. “I'll tell you if you have the time?”

Morgana looked up at the sky. “It is nearly time for dinner. Would you object to dining with us and telling all of us your story over the evening meal? I assure you, you would be perfectly safe with us, and very welcome.”

Raphael glanced questioningly at Rhiannon as if for reassurance.

“You would be very welcome, and honestly, right now, we need you. Your presence would honour us.” She smiled at him, though it was difficult for her, and he seemed to relax and make up his mind.

“Alright, then I'll come.”

*

Dinner was an interesting event that night with more Fairies staring at them in the dinning hall than ever, but this time Rhiannon couldn't blame them. Raphael was something to behold. Gwydion's reaction to him was that of pure academic bliss. Lugh stared at first in rapt admiration. Rhiannon had a hard time gauging Rowan's reaction to the angel, but she thought she caught a hint of jealousy. It would take an angel to make Rowan jealous, she thought to herself. Over the meal they told Raphael of their plan. He was aware of much of it. He had watched the council meeting through the skylight and had been able to hear most of what was said.

“So what do you think?” It was Rowan who had asked, “Do we stand a chance? Do you think that the Angels will help us?”

“I for one am more than willing to join you. There is a certain amount of discontent amongst the younger Angels and I think that you might well convince some of them, although I suspect that the older ones will stay in the mountains. On the whole I think that the plan could work and I'll lead you to our city. It may not be easy once we are there, but I think it would be worth trying.”

Rhiannon had for the most part left the logistical aspects of planning up to Rowan. It was what he did after all, and he was efficient and competent, but sometimes it made her feel guilty, as though she wasn't pulling her weight.

“We plan on leaving the day after tomorrow. How long do you think it will take us to get there if we take horses?” Rowan asked Raphael.

“I injured a wing a few years ago and had to walk up the mountain. It took me three days to make it home but I'm not used to walking long distances. With horses and strong legs, I'd say two days.”

Rowan nodded. Rhiannon could see his mind working, fitting information into its proper place. They were finished eating and tea was being poured when finally Lugh asked, “Please do tell us now though, how did you come to be protecting my daughter?”

“Certainly,” Raphael agreed, carefully looking behind him and stretching his wings. “Actually, it started before either of us was born.” He looked at Rhiannon. “You and I are the same age. I'm just a few months older than you. When my mother was pregnant with me she would feel restless at night so she would go flying. She loved to fly over the King's City at night and fly around the towers of the castle. You have to understand that this was forbidden, but my mother has always been a bit of a rebel.

“One night as she flew past she could hear crying so she landed on the roof of the tower. She was just curious but we all know where curiosity can lead. Anyway, if it's forbidden to fly over the city then actually talking to a Human is absolutely out of the question, but talk to Sulamith she did. My mother and Sulamith had a lot in common. They were the same age, they were both expecting their first child and they were both rebels. They became friends and when it came time for Sulamith to be taken to the other world my mother followed her and told her that she would watch over you and bring news of you. For many years my mother lived something of a double life. She flew to the other world a few times a week always careful to make sure she wasn't seen, then went to Sulamith and told her about you. When I was nine I started going with her on these trips. I remember being fascinated by you and the few times I met Sulamith before she died had an impact on me. She was beautiful and so sad. She might not have known you, but she loved you, and seeing how happy it made her to hear about you made me believe that there was no reason for us to isolate ourselves. Humans might not be perfect, but they are capable of so much love. More, it seems to me, than the angels.” He continued to tell the story, continuing to address Rhiannon. “When I turned fourteen and I received my sword it became apparent that you needed more than the occasional check. There was one month just after Sulamith died when we killed three elves in your back yard so my mother and I took turns watching over your house almost constantly. Things got a bit better after you grew your garden. Did you know that it was magic?” Raphael asked Rhiannon.

“Not at the time, no.”

“Oh, well. Once it was going full bloom, the elves couldn't get near the house and things got easier. I took over so that my mother could rest, not that she could ever let it go altogether. In some ways she loves you like her own.” He paused and blinked rapidly a few times. “Things had been quiet over the last couple of years but two months ago I noticed a small group of men and an elf casing the house so I stepped up my watch. The night you disappeared was terrible. I didn't know what to do. You hadn't come back from your walk but I couldn't risk flying in broad daylight so I had to wait until it was dark to go looking for you. I searched for hours, so when I couldn't find you in the woods, where I was sure you had gone, I headed back to your house. When I got back it was already engulfed in flames. I went into the house to try to find you. You weren't in your room. I tried to get to your parents but the fire was too hot. I felt that I had failed you.” Rhiannon looked at the angel who now had tears falling down his face. She passed him her napkin which had gone unused through the meal. “Thank you,” he said, taking it. “I went back to the woods to look for you. When the sun rose I found a few of your hairs and I could feel a residue of magic so, on a hunch I crossed over and I found more of your hair along with a dead elf, and then I lost your trail. It took me weeks to track you down and I found you the night of the harvest dinner at Fiannasmere. I tailed you when you left two days later and even managed to cross over and follow you through East Vancouver in broad daylight. I got a couple comments on the wings, but it’s not a bad part of the city for a guy like me. I killed an elf in the back yard of your friend Sheila's place but I lost your trail again the next morning when you went downtown. I waited for you to come back but I had to hide from the police and I missed you, so I waited for your friend to come home and I asked her where you had gone.”

“What did she say?” Rhiannon asked.

“She was quite funny actually. She invited me in for dinner and made some cryptic comment about people called Lancelot? And, Beowulf I think? And then she said 'Why not Angels too?' We talked a bit. After nine years of watching you I can speak the language of your city fairly well. She told me that you had gone back to this world. She said to say, 'Thanks' for her, if I found you, and that night I flew down to the lake, crossed over and found you just as the Fairies did. I think the rest is obvious.”

“Thank you,” Rhiannon said to the Angel. “You've saved my life several times over and I have nothing that I can give you that would come close to repaying you for all that you've done.”

Rhiannon didn't want to look into Raphael's face. She didn't want to deal with what she knew she would see there, but she felt that she owed it to him. She looked up into his eyes, unable to keep the sadness out of her own, and felt the hurt in the angel's eyes. Regret. Love. Loss. There because of her.

He held her gaze and said softly, “I've never expected repayment.”

Rhiannon nodded then rose to leave. She couldn't stay there, not with everyone watching. Not for another moment. “Please excuse me. I suspect that tomorrow will be another exhausting day, and I am tired. Goodnight.” She left the dinning hall and walked quickly back to her rooms.

*

She had been dressed for dinner in the yellow silk dress, complete with circlet and sapphire and pearl necklace. Once she was in her bedroom she removed the jewels and unlaced the dress, no buttons, and hung it in the wardrobe. That was as far as she got. She walked to the bed and curled up on her side. It was confusing and uncomfortable and hurtful to know that for years someone had been sitting outside her window loving her. But Raphael had never acted. It made the sting that Evan had left behind burn in a way that it hadn't in months. She cried, wishing that she could get the image of her mother's face out of her head. Wishing that Rowan would come and hold her and remind her that there was beauty without sadness in the world, and let her talk to him about this so that it wouldn't feel so much like it was crushing her. It wasn't purely Raphael's appearance that had brought this on. He was simply the straw that had broken the camel's back. He was one more person looking at her with sad eyes. It was one more sad story that ended with her, and she wished that she could undo it all. Then Rowan was there and his warm arms went around her. He kissed her head and brushed her tears and her hair out of her face. He held her tightly until she stopped crying, even though it took her a long time. If he hadn't been there she would have cried herself to sleep. After she stopped he didn't say anything. Just covered her cold skin with a blanket and held her a while longer. Rhiannon looked into his eyes after a time, and saw only love. She smiled and ran her fingers over his forehead.

He smiled back, a little ruefully, and said to her, “I don't envy your Angel.”

“My Angel?” She said, eyebrows raised.

“Oh he's your Angel alright and I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I don't envy him.”

“And why is that?” Rhiannon asked.

“Because he's loved you for years and he's lost his chance with you. I wouldn't be him for all the worlds.”

Rhiannon sighed. “It makes me uncomfortable and heart-sore. He wears his feelings so openly. I'm not sure what to think. I wasn't sure if we could talk about this.”

Rowan's mouth quirked, “Honestly . . . If I'm telling you the absolute truth, for the first five minutes all kinds of immature, hotheaded things flew through my mind but . . .” he paused for emphasis, “I like to think of myself as a reasonable person, and reasonable people think things through. By the end of dinner I just felt sad, maybe a little guilty, and quite sure that we're doing the right thing.”

“Why guilty?” she asked in a gentle tone.

It was Rowan's turn to sigh, “Because he was there first. He was devoted to you, he protected you and he lost track of you for a few short weeks, and I stepped in and took his place. For half of his life he's been thinking about you and hoping, and now, just like that, you're out of his grasp.”

“But Rowan,” she paused for words, “He's had his chance. He's seen so much of me over the last four years that it's embarrassing. In fact I think he may have permanently disabled my ability to blush. But he's also seen me cry. He's seen me lonely, and in desperate need of a friend, and he sat outside my bedroom window and did nothing. He had his chance, and I love you.”

They were sitting now, cross-legged on the bed, face to face in the light of the candles Rowan had lit when he came in. He put his hands on her cheeks, leaned forward and kissed her. “I know,” he said. “And so does he. And I can see how his lack of action would make you feel hurt, but I can't help seeing it from his perspective. He probably sat outside your window and cried with you. It's what makes me certain that we're doing the right thing by going to the Angels. If he hadn't been fighting hundreds of years of conditioning, do you think that he would have hesitated?”

“No,” she admitted softly.

Rowan continued, his voice growing passionate, “If we succeed in bringing the Fairies, the Angels, and the Humans together, then in some ways it makes all of the sadness that everybody has had to bear for so many years just a little less unbearable. Suddenly there's a point, beyond mere survival, to all of this.”

Rhiannon nodded and they sat quietly, not needing to speak for a few minutes, when one of those questions that surfaced periodically in Rhiannon's mind, always at the wrong time, came up for air. It wasn't a great time for the question but it would have to do. “Rowan? Why didn't you show me how to use my magic?”

She trusted him and she knew that he would have a good reason, but his track record for sharing information with her wasn't stellar. That being said, she knew that he would tell, if she asked. She wasn't sure in the candle light but she thought that she saw him blush. She squinted and leaned closer to his face and he chuckled embarrassment.

“Uh . . .” He scratched his forehead. “I wouldn't know where to start. I mean, I understand the basics of how it's different for women but . . . It's not the same for us at all and, oddly, telling you makes me feel like I'm giving you the intimate details of being with another woman.”

“Have you been with many other women?”

“Let's talk about magic!” Rowan said returning with enthusiasm to the original topic.

“Okay so tell me how it's different for guys?”

“I wasn't raised in a stronghold so my grasp on the finer details isn't good. It gets me into trouble sometimes, but other than Nimue, and that's more of a brother sister relationship and it always has been, I've never been close enough to any Fairy women to discuss this. My understanding of the way women use magic is that they . . .” he hesitated, “let it into themselves.”

“Yeah. That's the way it works,” Rhiannon said wondering what the big deal was.

Rowan laughed again. “Okay, well, if you think of it more like making love . . .”

Rhiannon got it right away and cut him off, “Women let it in. Men immerse themselves in it.”

Rowan blushed.

“You're funny,” Rhiannon told him and laughed. “I'm right then?”

“Yeah.”

“So the other night, I wasn't the only one getting tangled up in magic and willing this baby to happen? It didn't feel like it was only me. It shouldn't have happened you know? In fact I'm sure you did know. You probably asked Fenna when my last period was before you asked me to be your wife. Correct?”

“Yeah, I did ask Fenna,” he looked sheepish. “And, no, you weren't the only one getting tangled up in magic the other night, but I didn't know that we could do what we did either. It wasn't entirely conscious, but somehow, to me, the fact that we were both, not entirely consciously, doing the same thing is awfully wonderful and I just keep falling more madly in love with you.”

Rhiannon smiled. How could she not. Rowan smiled back.

“I have one more question. I have to ask while I have a chance because I can't ask some things in the middle of dinner.”

“Go ahead,” Rowan said, still smiling.

“Why don't you coach me more on what to expect in council meetings? How do you know I'll say the right thing. I feel like I'm floundering sometimes.”

“I don't need to coach you,” he said without hesitation. “You and I have spent hours talking. I don't think that you realize how concisely you express yourself or how often the things that you say seem to be coming straight from your heart. It endears you to people. If I were to coach you your responses wouldn't be unguarded and natural anymore and you would lose some of your appeal. If we want to sell you, so to speak, to the human kingdom . . . well, let's face it, you're not a symbol of strength, with the exception of the Fay power you'll bring with you, but as you are, without anyone telling you how to act or what to say, the people will love you. They'll love your story. They'll love the fact that Seamus hasn't beaten you down, that you survive as a symbol of what Sulamith wanted, because the people loved her. All you have to do is be yourself, and be brave.”