“Yes.”
“After, we’ll return to camp, and I’ll declare myself.”
“And then you’ll be king?”
“Then we’ll march on Dryslwyn Tanllyd, and I’ll be king…and then I’ll finish what Gerralt started.”
My lips pursed, and I slipped from the altar. The moment I stood I felt Yorwrath’s seed shift inside me and drip from my sex down my inner thigh. We stared at each other for a few moments and then I started gathering up my discarded pants and boots.
“I’ll go tell Caoilfionn,” I called to Aneurin as I slipped back into the temple, letting everything he told me, and everything that happened the night before, really sink in.
I dressed in the hall before walking down into the temple. The conversation between myself and Aneurin lingered with me. But I pushed it as far as I could from my mind. That wasn’t my Aneurin anymore, it was someone else in his skin. Still, I walked down those stairs and slipped into the room the elves shared. Islwyn was standing by the hearth talking with Caoilfionn. Their soft murmurs drifted to me in that foreign tongue. My lips pursed as I stared at Caoilfionn and Islwyn. Someone had stitched up the gash on Islwyn’s forehead nicely. The wound had healed, and not even a scar remained.
Caoilfionn smiled at me as I neared them. It took every bit of willpower I had not to push him into the flames at the hearth. As I glanced around the room I observed there were only the three of us in it. Yorwrath and Grwn were nowhere to be found. Grwn probably had dragged him off hunting finally.
“Why?” It was the only thing I could think to say as I crossed my arms.
“Why what?” Islwyn asked mirroring my gesture.
“Did you know he’d lose his memories of me?” I tilted my head to the side. Islwyn smirked and shook his head.
“No. I knew there would be a price, but I didn’t know what that price would be.” The pretty blond elf sighed and looked at his hands. “This wasn’t some grand plan of mine or whatever you think. I saw you here standing by the silver pool in a vision. I knew he needed to come here. I knew the legends about a Swynwr needing to wake their powers, and every awakening has a price. That was all I knew at the time…” His voice faded to nothingness for a time, and he glanced at Caoilfionn. “But he survived.”
“Has he?” I narrowed my eyes at him, and my upper lip twitched. “His body, certainly… But he called me ‘Dy’ne
,’
Islwyn. Does that sound like Aneurin to you?”
“Does it matter? You’re still his queen.” Islwyn shrugged. Caoilfionn remained quiet. He was back in those robes. Wrapped in that soft white fabric, he looked more than a little feminine. In fact, I would have easily taken him for a pretty woman if I hadn’t known better. His bone structure was so delicate. He looked like a work of art, like a painting done by one of the great masters that nobles liked to hang in their homes.
“He’s a stranger to me. He doesn’t remember me… But he certainly remembers you.”
“I didn’t plan this, Valentina. It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.”
“He had a hard time with the ritual.” Caoilfionn finally spoke. “These things are best done with the young. He had too much of himself… The change…” He took a breath. “I told him to say good-bye. He…said he believed his love for you was strong enough that it wouldn’t be an issue. There is power in true love and his love for you was immense, but I told him it wouldn’t be enough. Blood curses—and the power of the
Swynwr
is a blood curse… Blood curses are beyond my gift, even yours at its fullest, I believe. The curse once it fully manifested took away Aneurin’s only form of power and resistance…his love for you.”
“And you let him…” My voice was whisper-quiet as I scowled at him. I couldn’t help but wonder what unicorn meat tasted like as I glared, attempting to cook him with my gaze. Islwyn stepped between me and Caoilfionn.
“You want to do the ritual, though. Correct?” he asked, drawing my attention away from the unicorn.
“Yes,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“He’ll get his memory back, and all will be well,” Islwyn reassured me, and I shook my head.
“The preparations will take a few days. I’ll start them now.” Caoilfionn then turned and left in a flutter of white silk and the jingling of silver.
We stood there alone, staring at one another. Islwyn lingered close, so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. That pale, pure blue gaze danced over my face for a moment before returning to the hearth.
“You smell like Yorwrath’s sweat,” he commented, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up.
“We spent the night together.”
“Of course you did. One brother as good as the next, Dy’ne?”
“Jealous?” I quirked a brow and pulled my hair over my shoulder. Islwyn’s pale lids fluttered as his speech failed him and my smile sweetened.
“Me? What do I have to be jealous of?” He laughed nervously, and I took a slow breath, looking him over. There was no denying Islwyn was pretty. He was too beautiful to be handsome, and those loose blond curls did nothing to harden his face. But his heart was an ugly thing—a bitter, jealous, monstrous thing.
“So you don’t want me? I suppose that’s going to make the ritual hard on you. Since you’ll have to lay with a Dy’ne.”
“That’s not it. I’m fine with fucking Dy’ne. My problem with you is that you don’t know your place.”
“And what is my place exactly?”
“On your knees at an elf’s whim, not by his side.” Before I could register what my hand was doing, I slapped him across that lovely generous mouth as hard as I could. The sound of it rang out through the room as my fingers and palm tingled. He held his jaw and glowered at me.
“I have Arwn’s blood in my veins,” I roared in defiance.
“Which is why I will call you queen, but you’re still a Dy’ne. You were raised amongst them, you think like them, you act like them. You probably rut like Dy’ne as well. Even with Arwn’s Gift…you are still Dy’ne, but unlike the others, you can elevate yourself.”
“Yorwrath says you don’t hate me, but rather you have a deep desire for me.”
“I saw you first.”
“What?”
“I saw you first. I wanted you as my own but I acquiesced to Aneurin because he is Swynwr. I was fine with all of it until you two took vows.”
“And you realized you’d never have me.”
“Precisely.”
“That’s why you were gentle with me at the claiming.”
“Mhm, I wanted desperately to break protocol… But I am Aneurin’s. I’d never dishonor him like that.”
“Do you know much about the ritual?” I changed the subject, not caring to hear about how he wanted me.
“Quickenings are fascinating things. I know the basics, but I’ve only seen one. I was an adolescent at the time. I spied on the Dragons’ matriarch performing one on someone who had a bad head injury.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes. Will it with Aneurin? I can’t say. Right now…inside of that body is a sea of personalities, and they have most of his memories. I knew the moment he gasped out of the deep trance that he wasn’t all there. The look he gave me…pure disgust. Someone in there doesn’t like that Aneurin’s lain with males.”
“So what will the ritual do exactly?”
“If it works it’ll give back the missing memories. But…”
“It’ll never be the Aneurin I knew.”
“Anything is possible with strong enough magic. However, if Caoilfionn can’t do it…”
“I’ll have to make a pact with Baba Yaga.”
“No, oh…Gods no. Nothing that extreme. You’d have to wake your gift… Gods. Urgh, don’t even mention that please.” Islwyn visibly trembled.
“But you’ll help me?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Because of ill-placed desire?”
“Because…” he trailed off and a half chortle caught in his throat. “Yes, I suppose that is the simplest way of putting it.” I eyed Islwyn skeptically for a few moments before I nodded slowly. I didn’t fully believe or trust those words. Something about what he said didn’t fully sit right with me.
* * * *
The next day Yorwrath and I sparred in the ruins of the city. Autumn was starting to set in. The air was getting crisper, and the leaves had started to change; the bright green was beginning to shift to a yellow-green hue. With each attack, I was fairly certain that I’d slip and split my head open on either the cobblestones that peeked between the vines, the chunks of stone that littered the ground, or the vines themselves.
Yorwrath danced between the obstacles with ease as he swung his sword at me. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to keep my footing no matter what I did. He had taken to swatting me with the flat of his sword when I missed a block.
“Stay still so I can hit you!” I snarled as I chased him, practically waving my sword.
“C’mon, Dy’ne, steel to steel, give me some play. I grow bored,” Yorwrath grumbled, easily dodging my wild swipes at him.
“Maybe if we weren’t in a thicket of fucking vines!” I roared as I chased him on unsure feet. Wading through the vines felt like learning to walk again. My calves ached, but I eventually caught up with him. I swung my sword, and he blocked the strike. I had never felt so happy to hear the clang of steel on steel. I hissed with delight and…he kicked the sword from my hand and cackled. “Why must you be such a sheepfucker?” I groaned as I walked off to find the sword.
“Sheepfucker? Sometimes. They do tend to be tighter than most Dy’ne. They also scratch less… Smell better too.” He laughed.
I can’t believe I fucked him.
I turned and stared at him as he adjusted that red bandanna. “I haven’t all day, Dy’ne.”
“Aneurin wants to war with Ersland.”
“About time.”
“What? I mean honest war as in sieges and battles.”
“And my Redcaps will deliver the smaller cities… We’ll leave so many bastards in our wake you Dy’ne will never be able to breed us out.” He snorted. I stared at him slack-jawed for a few moments and then started shaking my head. “What?”
“Nothing. I honestly haven’t the slightest why I expected another answer from you.”
“Pretty Dy’ne, just because I enjoy that tight, hot, drooling slit between your thighs doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a different elf. I might want you even right now, but the thought of throwing you on the ground and taking you as rough as I please, after putting a town to the torch, while still drenched in the oh so red blood of those Dy’ne who dared stand against me… Well…” He sighed. “Nothing could be sweeter…except maybe if I forced Islwyn to lick my seed from you after.”
“That’ll never happen,” I said with a laugh, as I turned around and started my search for my sword in the brush.
“What are you’re going to do if it doesn’t work, Dy’ne?”
“If what doesn’t work?”
“The ritual, of course. Keep up, Dy’ne. Or do I need to use slow words for you?”
“Why are elves so fucking pessimistic?” I growled to myself as I retrieved my sword.
“Because we’ve learned hope is a lie, Dy’ne.”
“I know you didn’t always think that.” I turned and sheathed my sword.
“You’re right. I didn’t.” He sighed and looked around. “But trust me… You shouldn’t get your hopes up. You’ll just end up hurt.”
“I’m already hurting, Yorwrath. I have to look at him every fucking day. I have to look at him and remind myself that’s not my Aneurin. I would kill every last one of you just to have his arms around me…to kiss his lips or to see half of that recognition back in his eyes. I would fucking walk barefoot and naked through the sands of Athari. I woul—”
“I get it. I’ve been there.” He walked toward me and looked around quickly before pulling me into his arms in an embrace. “We’re survivors. I got past it, and you’ll get past this.” He placed a nervous kiss on my cheek that took me by surprise. I blinked up at him in half confusion. “Or I’ll claim you as mine like the soft little Dy’ne bitch you are and make one of m—” I cut him off by punching him in the mouth with a tiny yowl. He chuckled in response, flashing me blood-pinkened teeth as he smirked down at me with sparkling metallic eyes. “Mmph, that’s my girl.” He moved to kiss me, and I bit his lips hard, making him wince, but he never pulled back. Eventually, I released that tender torn flesh and returned his kiss.
“Call me a bitch again, and I’ll slip you water lily and saltpeter.”
“Oh?”
“You won’t be able to enjoy this.” I reached between his legs and grabbed that turgid flesh straining the leather of his trousers.
“Mm, that would be a pity.” The rough whisper escaped his lips as he sought out my mouth again for a deeper kiss. I ended it almost as quickly as it began.
“Tonight you’ll have enough of that.”
“But I’ll have to share.”
“Yes, with Aneurin and Islwyn.”
“They’ll probably be too busy plowing away at each other to notice us.”
“I’m sure that won’t be the case.”
“It was last night. I could hear their moans through the door.”
“Islwyn—”
“Told you some sob story, did he? And you fell for it? G
waedlyd gwirion
Dy’ne.” He snorted.
“What?” I peered sharply at him as I stepped from his arms.
“Bloody stupid human cunt.”
That’s a sudden change in mood.
“So you’re going to call me a cunt because I don’t want to fuck you?” My words won rich, deep peals of laughter from Yorwrath.
“That’s more or less what ‘Dy’ne’ means, Dy’ne. Though it also means human slut, or human whore, or human slave.”
“Lovely.” I looked up at the sky. “Well, I have to meet Caoilfionn to be anointed; I’m sure you can wait. Besides, I’m only a Dy’ne to all of you after all… What does it matter? I’m sure I’m merely a step above your fucking sacred sheepfucking right hand.” I flipped him off as I walked back toward the temple. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I could feel that heavy glare follow me all the way to the steps.
Aneurin was on his way down the stairs as I was on my way back up. He walked past me without so much as a second look. I swallowed and stopped in my tracks. It was amazing how much such a banal gesture could hurt.
“So much for love,” I breathed as I trailed him with my gaze. He stopped.
“What?” He turned and tilted his head to the side.
“Nothing, ignore me. I’m not even here.” I sighed and continued back up the stairs. I heard those familiar, sure, quick footsteps and soon found myself shoulder to shoulder with Aneurin.