Prophecy: Child of Earth

38

After she returned with the tea, she sat down next to him on the floor and handed him a cup. He took a sip, then decided to plunge ahead. ; “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“Why did you do this?”

“Do what?” He held up his hand with the ring. “This. And everything you must have done to get it.”

Rhapsody looked confused. “I told you all that a moment ago; there is nothing I wouldn’t do for a friend. I told you what I would do, what being your friend meant, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there you have it.”

“Are there any other reasons?”

“Other reasons for what?”

“Other reasons for giving me this incredible gift; for helping me like this.”

Rhapsody was surprised. “Other reasons? Other than the ones I’ve just given you?”

“Yes, if there are any.”

She considered, looking down into her lap, and rested her hands on her knees. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I suppose there are two other reasons, but they aren’t as important as the first.”

“Tell me,” Ashe said, looking down at her. He was very uncomfortable with their seating arrangements; she was sitting at his feet in the traditional position that a servant assumed in a human royal court.

“Well, I’m not sure I can really explain this, but ever since I met Lord Stephen and saw the shrine he has to you in his museum, I believed you weren’t dead, and I felt a sort of inexplicable need to help you.”

“Shrine?”

“That might be a bad word for it, but Lord Stephen has a little area in the museum in his keep with a plaque dedicated to you and some artifacts that were yours. I asked him who this Gwydion was, and he told me a little of your story. It was somehow clear to me that he, I mean you, not only might still be alive, but, in fact, were. I can’t explain it past that.

“As you know, I’ve had dreams and visions of the Future for a long time, and sometimes they are frighteningly accurate, so I tend to trust my instinct. That instinct said you were alive, and so I guess I became a little obsessed with finding you and helping you. I obviously didn’t know that you were Gwydion when we first met, but as it has become more and more apparent, I have done what I can to help you.”

“And I can’t begin to express my gratitude,” he said, looking at her with a unfamiliar expression in his eyes. Rhapsody felt the color rise in her face, even though she was not sure why. His eyes were so strange; the vertical pupils were unnoticeable from a distance, but it was evident there was something different about them. Perhaps that accounted for the odd look. “What else? You said there were two things.”

Rhapsody looked uneasy. “It might make you a little uncomfortable to hear it,” she said, her face continuing to redden, her eyes clear and green as the forest canopy, shining up at him.

Ashe couldn’t bear to hope. “What?”

She looked down at her hands again. “If things go the way we expect, you will eventually be the Lord Cymrian. Since I am Cymrian, you will be my sovereign lord, and I will be your subject, so I owe it to you as my liege to help you in any way I can.”

The expression on Ashe’s face when she looked back up caused her to move away a little. It was a combination of sick disappointment and horror.

“I’m sorry if I’ve reminded you of anything painful,” she said, wishing she had kept silent.

It took him a moment to formulate a response. He fought to keep his voice calm and gentle. The last thing wanted was to frighten her with the intensity of his feelings.

“Rhapsody, I don’t want you to be my subject.”

She looked at him with a surprised expression, one that was even a little hurt.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath and dropped her eyes again, looking like she was coming to understand what he said.

“Well, all right then,” she said slowly, “if that’s the way you feel, I’ll stay away from Roland. I can live here, I suppose. These are Achmed’s lands; they won’t be under Cymrian domain. Or I can probably go live in Tyrian; Oelendra said I was always—”

She stopped as he moved like quicksilver to the floor beside her, seized her face and kissed her.

His lips were warm and insistent, his kiss intense, if not intimate. Her eyes opened wide with shock, her lashes fluttering against his face. Rhapsody froze in his grasp; when he released her, unwillingly, she stared at him in utter amazement, then dropped her gaze when she saw the look of desperation on his face. She rose and crossed the room, running a hand self-consciously over her hair.

After a moment she spoke. “You know, it’s amazing the lengths people go to just to get me to stop talking. Achmed once threatened to have me stuffed and roasted on a spit and fed to Grunthor if I—

“Don’t dodge this, Rhapsody,” Ashe said quietly. “It’s not like you.”

“I’m not dodging,” she said, nervously twisting her hands. “I’m just trying to decide which action, his or yours, was the more extreme measure. I mean, he had chosen the marinade.”

“Frightening. He was probably serious,” said Ashe, annoyed at the turn in the conversation.

“I know he was serious,” Rhapsody replied, looking away. “What I don’t know is if you are.”

“Completely.”

“Why?” she said, incredulously. “What in blazes was that about?” Ashe watched her face, a look of disbelief replacing the shock that had been there a moment before. “I guess I just couldn’t hide it anymore, Rhapsody. I can’t bear you talking to me like I’m your lord, or your brother, or a stranger who cares nothing for you, or even just your friend. I may only be those things to you, but it’s not because I want it that way.”

“What is it you do want?”

Ashe sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then returned his gaze to her. “I want to be your lover, Rhapsody.”

The confusion dissolved, and, to his surprise, her face relaxed and she began to smile.

“Well, now I understand,” she said kindly. “You’ve been in terrible pain for so long, Ashe; and you’re feeling better. It’s natural that the things like that would come back as—”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, a bitter ugliness in his voice that stopped her in mid-sentence. “You insult both of us. This is not a recent physical need to satisfy because the pain I’ve carried is gone. I have wanted this all along. Gods. You don’t understand me at all.”

“No argument here,” she replied, her anger rising. “Now, why might that be? Let’s see—first you refuse to tell me anything about what you want, or what you think, or even who you are. Then, when you finally did tell me what you wanted from me, I believe the roles you outlined were ‘friend’ and ‘ally.’ Oh, yes, and ‘maid.’ Please correct me if I’m wrong—did you mention this other one and I just didn’t hear you? How stupid of me not to make the connection between these things and ‘lover.’

“Perhaps I should have figured it out when you thought I was a courtesan, and then had the very bad taste to tell me so? Or maybe I should have realized it when you were telling me to stay away from you, that you didn’t trust me, to leave you alone? I don’t know how I could have missed it with intimacies like that on a daily basis, Ashe. That kind of sweet talk usually makes me want to find the nearest horizontal surface and lie right down.”

Unable to contain her fury anymore, she turned away from him and put her clenched fists to her burning forehead. “I can’t believe it. You’re right, Ashe, I am stupid. All this time I thought you had learned to like me, at least a little, as a person, not as just another potential conquest. I felt comfortable with you because I thought you didn’t just want what they all want, that you were finally learning to trust me. It proves what a fool I am, I guess. I should have known it was too much to expect from anyone but Achmed.” The fireplace roared along with her, leaping flames filling the hearth, splashing angry light around the room and onto the pictures on the mantel. The eyes of the grandchildren seemed to glitter in silent accusation.

Ashe stood in that silence for a moment, examining the interwoven patterns in the carpet on the floor. Then he went to her and stood at her back, watching the flames twist and dance in confused fury.

Finally he let out a deep, painful sigh. “No, Rhapsody, you aren’t the one who’s been the fool; I think I have that honor. Please, don’t start doubting your own senses. Surely you must know you were right about my learning to trust you.”

Rhapsody stared at the fire. “Actually, Ashe, I think it would be safe to say that I know nothing about you, nothing at all.”

“Please say you don’t mean that.”

She turned and faced him, her face filled with regret. “I’m sorry; that would be lying. And you know that’s something I try never to do.”

Ashe took her by the shoulders carefully, looking directly into her eyes. “How could you possibly doubt that I trust you, Rhapsody? Look at me. Can you see me?” She nodded slightly. “Well, that makes you the first person in almost twenty years. Even my own father hasn’t seen my face in all that time. Yet here I am, uncloaked before you, unarmed and open in your domain. And this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Rhapsody gave him a gentle smile to ease the desperation she could see on his face. “I suppose so. I guess I’m just not sure what.”

“I know you don’t understand the significance of some of these seemingly simple things, but that’s because you have no idea what it has been like for me to wake up every morning, year after year, wishing more each day that I was dead, and knowing I couldn’t even take my own life because it wouldn’t help.”

He slid his hands down her arms until they held her own, and he spoke even more seriously.

“Out there somewhere is an abomination that looks just like me, with part of my soul powering it, giving it abilities to inflict unspeakable acts. And for all this time it has been committing atrocities untold to innocents I can’t protect, because it is totally chaotic and random in its violence, even though it obviously is enacting a plan of cruelty that even my twisted mind can’t fathom. It has been my first thought, every moment, each time something bad happens anywhere. It haunts me with each heartbeat, with each breath.

“How, then, can a soul as pure and innocent as yours be able to comprehend this?” A choked laugh escaped Rhapsody but her ironic smile faded when she met his eyes; their gaze was steady and sure, and he spoke as though he was certain of what he was saying.

“Don’t laugh, Rhapsody; you are an innocent, even if you have been through the mill yourself. You believe in people who have no right to that belief; you love people who really don’t deserve it. More than anything you want to find something or someone to trust in, because it is your nature to do so. It doesn’t matter what your experiences have been, or what you’ve done—it hasn’t touched you. It’s like you are a virgin, a real one, in body and soul.”

Rhapsody laughed again. “You have no idea how funny that statement is,” she said. “If that’s what you’re looking for, you are definitely in the wrong place.”

“I’m not looking for anything—that’s the point,” Ashe replied seriously. “I have been hiding, Rhapsody, for two decades, trying to avoid all contact with the world, and doing a credible job of it. And then out of nowhere, one day there you were, like an unavoidable beacon, and everywhere I went, no matter how much I struggled to put you out of my mind, no matter how far I went to stay away, you were there, in the stars, in the water, in my dreams, in the air around me. I have tried to exorcise you from my blood, Rhapsody, but it’s no use. I can’t make you go away.

“And probably the paranoia, the pushing away, the attempts to offend you into hating me and leaving me alone, were not only my way of trying to break free of the hold you have on me, but they were experiments of a sort; testing to see if you were really what you seemed.

“You have to remember, the way this demon enacts its evil is to bind itself to innocents, and then to work through them. For all I knew, you could be the F’dor yourself. I had no idea if you were seeking me for the same purposes that its countless other minions have been since that night twenty years ago, looking to destroy what is left of my soul, or worse, to use it in a more despicable manner than it is being used now.

“And what a wonderful way to finally catch me off guard—throw an in nocent heart my way, wrapped in an exquisitely beautiful package, flavored with powers of an old world that disappeared beneath the waves before my father was even conceived—what better bait for a dragon? I was especially suspicious when I realized you are a virgin—what is the probability of that?”

“Not great,” Rhapsody said humorously. “It’s really only a technicality.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ashe went on. “Can’t you see what I am saying? You are the ultimate in everything I, man or dragon, could ever desire—you are far too good to be true. So of course I was suspicious of you. I have to be paranoid—it’s what has kept me alive these twenty years.

“And there you were, offering me comfort, seeking to help me, taking me into your heart; it wasn’t possible that it was real. So I waited for you to reveal your other nature, to turn on me. I waited and waited. But it never came about, of course. If anything, you left yourself far more vulnerable to me than I could ever have been to you.

“And then, slowly, my heart began to wish that it was real. It has been hoping that from the moment I first saw you, but the more sensible parts of me have beaten it back. And finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. So, like you said that you have just decided to trust me and live, or die, with the consequences, I had decided the same thing—that I just had to tell you and pray that I wasn’t delivering the rest of my soul into the F’dor’s hands.

“And truthfully, Rhapsody, if I am, I don’t even care. I would have come to you even if you hadn’t called. I was still trying to figure out how to tell you, and I suppose I have botched it now, but I couldn’t lie about it anymore. Not to a woman who won’t even lie to save her own life. How could I ever hope to be worthy of you if I did?”

The irony of his words overcame her, and, against her better intentions, she broke into laughter. “I’m sorry, Ashe, please forgive me,” she said, struggling to contain her mirth. “That’s just too funny.” Ashe was thunderstruck. “Why?”

Rhapsody took his hands. “You are the future Lord Cymrian, the convergence of the royal lines of all three Cymrian waves. I am a peasant, and more common than most. And you hope to be worthy of me>. Don’t you see the humor here?”

“No,” said Ashe shortly. “I don’t. I’m actually surprised at you, Rhapsody. Of all people I would think you would understand that a person’s family lineage doesn’t dictate her worth.”

“Not her worth as a person; of course not,” Rhapsody said, growing serious under his terse tone. “But when one is talking about lovers, well, people like you don’t generally take people like me into that role except by fiat or for recreation, and I don’t expect that you would ever try either of those things with me. I believe we settled that some time ago on the banks of the Tar’afel.”

Ashe turned toward the mantel; she could see he was gathering his thoughts. Absently he picked up the painting of the Firbolg children and looked at it carefully.

“Now I see the basis of our confusion,” he said at last, more to the painting than to her. “You don’t understand what I meant when I said I wanted to be your lover.”

Against her will, Rhapsody laughed again. “I think I actually have a far better understanding than your dragon sense has led you to believe. There are many things you don’t know about me, Ashe.”

“And one very significant thing you don’t know about me, Rhapsody.”

“Only one?”

“Only one that matters.”

“And that would be—?”

Ashe looked up from the painting, fixing her with a direct stare from the crystalline blue eyes. “I love you.”

Rhapsody sighed silently.

“Don’t,” Ashe said, a warning note in his voice. “Don’t dismiss this, Rhapsody; I know what you’re thinking.”

“Really?”

“Well, I believe so; you be the judge. You are thinking I’m throwing around sacred words like countless other fools have at you, either because your beauty has deluded me into believing it, or because I am trying to get you into bed.”

“Actually—”

“Don’t you dare lump me in with those imbeciles who took one look at your face and professed their love for you while drooling on their shoes. I am not one of them, Rhapsody. I fell in love with you even before I beheld you; I could feel your magic leagues away. What do you think I was doing in Bethe Corbair in the first place?”

“Shopping?”

“No, dear.”

“I really have no idea; I’m sorry if I’m being thick.”

“I was looking for you, Rhapsody; looking to find whatever it was that was calling to my heart on the Krevensfield Plain two leagues away. I came to find you and when I did, I knew I was lost to you. Did you think I came to Ylorc just for the pleasure of having Achmed insult me repeatedly?”

“Well, that certainly is a rare treat. And besides, the view from the Teeth is lovely in the spring.” The humor was beginning to return to Rhapsody’s eyes, and it washed over Ashe like warm water.

“Yes, it certainly is,” he said, remembering the sight of her running through the mountain fields, dancing with the wind across the heath. “Well, am I right?” He smiled at her to test her new mood, and was delighted to see her smile back at him.

“About what?”

“About what you were thinking?”

Rhapsody chuckled. “Well, not really,” she said, taking the picture of her grandchildren from his hand and looking at it herself. “But thanks for making the attempt.”

“What, then?”

“Well,” she said, turning her back to the fire and letting it warm her shoulders, “I was thinking about one of our conversations on the road.”

Ashe leaned an elbow against the mantel. It was spotlessly polished and completely free from dust. “Really? Which one?”

“Do you recall when I said to you that in my experience foresters and other wanderers sought different things from women?”

“Yes,” he answered, his face warming with the memory. “You said most men were looking for release, while wanderers sought contact.”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Why are you recalling it?”

Rhapsody sighed. “I can’t help but wonder what the point is for you in starting something with someone who clearly is only a temporary diversion in your life, especially when there is so much risk involved.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She turned and stared at him. “No? Perhaps I can remind you of a few situations you seem to have forgotten. First, as I mentioned before, we are of totally different social classes; about as far apart as one can get, actually. So obviously your interest in me can only last so long before you choose someone else who is suitable as a life partner, someone royal, or at least noble, as she will have to take on the role of Lady Cymrian.”

“You really don’t understand the way the succession works, Rhapsody.”

“Are you telling me that you are not in line for the Lordship?”

Ashe’s face grew solemn. “No, but—”

“And is there not an expectation that the Lord will take a suitable wife, who then becomes the Lady?”

“Yes, but—”

“Well, there you have it, Ashe,” she said simply. “Our timetable to find and kill the F’dor, and reunite the Cymrians, is within the year. I am not sure how long after that is considered suitable for you to remain unmarried, but I can assure you, as I believe I have mentioned before, that I make it a point not to consort with married men, ever, no exceptions. So anything we might undertake together would have a very brief life; I’m not sure I understand why it would be worth your time and effort, given what you’ve said to me about longevity.”

Ashe removed his elbow from the mantel and crossed his arms. Her logic, from her perspective, was perfect; there was no point in arguing with it, at least not now. “So you don’t think love is worth anything if it lasts only a short time?”

Rhapsody looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with memory. She thought back to her talk with Oelendra about her husband: in our short rime together we loved a lifetime’s worth. “No,” she said softly, out of respect for the thought, “I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

“What, then?” Ashe could feel his desperation rising again. “What do I have to do to convince you to give me a chance?”

“A chance at what?”

Ashe felt like shaking her. “A chance to act on my feelings for you, Rhapsody. A chance to cherish you, and spend time with you; a chance to be as honest with you as you have been with me, to trust you with my heart, even if—” He stopped, unable to finish.

“Even if what?” Her voice was gentle, and when Ashe looked up he saw the same mildness in her eyes.

“Even if you don’t want to keep it.” The pain in his face and his voice went straight to her heart, and she felt it tug in a way that was not altogether unknown to her. She stared at the floor, afraid that if she continued to look in his eyes she would begin to weep. For a few moments they stayed there, Ashe watching Rhapsody, Rhapsody watching the fireshadows flicker on the rug. Finally she looked up.

“So you would be willing to become lovers, knowing that it was only for a short while?”

“Yes. I would be grateful for any moment with you, any time at all, no matter how brief. I know it would be worth whatever it cost me.”

“And that would be enough?”

“If it had to be. When you want something this badly, anything you can get is enough.”

She nodded after a moment, as if finding her way out of a lost thought. “And what of yourself would you hold in reserve during this temporary arrangement?”

“Nothing. I don’t believe I would be able to hold back anything from you, Rhapsody—I don’t really want to, either. We tend not to discuss the Past because it is painful, but I will, if you want to.” She shook her head. “There are things that we both know we can’t share with each other, because they are other people’s secrets. But I would have none of my own from you.” His heart rose a little when he saw the expression in her eyes change, and he hurried ahead.

“I know the prospect of being loved by a dragon is a scary one, especially if you know anything about the nature of the beast—we do tend to be possessive on a rather grand scale. But it is the human part of me that loves you most, and it would never stand in the way of your happiness if the time comes when you want to leave.”

Rhapsody shook her head in amazement. “I think you have it a little off,” she said, laughing. “I’m not the one with all the royal commitments.”

Ashe just smiled. “You’ll think about it, then?”

Rhapsody handed him back the painting and turned again to face the fireplace. She was silent for a long time, lost in thought; Ashe was used to her quiet moments, and he waited patiently. He knew her mind was racing a mil lion leagues with each passing second, and when she came out the other side of the thought she would be that distance away, so he resolved to remember to put the question to her again. At last she spoke, though her question seemed directed to the fire.

“Do you believe in the concept of soulmates? You know, two people sharing halves of the same soul?”

“Yes.”

“And did you ever meet yours?”

Ashe was silent himself for a moment.

“Yes,” he said finally.

Rhapsody glanced up, and for the first time in a while her eyes seemed clear and focused on him. “Really? If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to her?”

“She died,” he answered, his face twisting in pain.

Rhapsody flushed with mortification and sadness at the sorrow her question had caused. “Ashe, I’m so very sorry.”

“Not only that,” he said, unable to keep the words inside, “she died believing I betrayed her, because I didn’t say goodbye.”

Rhapsody looked away. For at least the second time that afternoon she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. But then she thought back to the first time she had, on the forest road to Tyrian, and remembered the pain her embrace had caused him. She didn’t want to repeat the mistake, she told herself, then silently owned up to the truth: she was afraid of what might happen within her own heart if she did.

Ashe looked up to find her averting her eyes. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“No,” she said softly. “I mean, yes, I guess there are for some people, but I don’t believe I have one.”

“No? Why not?”

Rhapsody sighed, wishing she could change the subject gracefully and knowing she couldn’t. “Well, I thought so once, and I was consummately wrong.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back. Standard fare.”

Ashe laughed aloud and shook his head.

Rhapsody was annoyed. “What? Is that so hard to believe?”

“Actually—yes.”

She was flabbergasted. “Why?”

Ashe put the painting of the Firbolg children back in its place on the mantel and walked to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, arms crossed, studying her, watching the firelight play off her features, responding to her mood. The flames were burning quietly, with the occasional crackle and hiss.

“Rhapsody, in case you hadn’t noticed, men profess their undying love for you from little more than a glance. Even when you walk about cloaked and hooded, ox carts run into each other, men stumble into walls, and women stand with their mouths agape. The mere sound of your voice causes those who have been happily wed for thirty years to cry for the sorrow of never having known you. And your smile—your smile warms the coldest of hearts, even those that have wandered alone and wounded for decades.

“Yet I suppose I could understand a man not loving you for these things, for they are only physical. But as beautiful as your bodily form is, it’s only a shadow of the soul that wears it. How someone could come to know the person that you are and fail to lose his heart to you is, frankly, beyond me. Gods know I lost mine immediately. Whether you understand it or not, Rhapsody, I do love you, and not just for your appearance, but for the myriad and contradictory things that you are.”

“What does that mean? How am I contradictory?”

“Almost everything about you is a contradiction, and I love each one. I love that you are a Singer, but that most of the songs you know are in a tongue no one understands. I love that you are the Iliachenva’ar, but hate to have to use your sword, whether it’s for the pain or the mess that it causes. I love that you are a virgin, and yet you seem to know the charms and enchantments of a prostitute.” Rhapsody blushed, and Ashe had to avert his eyes quickly to stifle his laugh when he saw the look of shock cross her face.

“You want the rest of the litany? All right, here it is, good and bad. I love that you make what is perhaps the worst pot of tea I have ever been asked to endure. I love that you still tear up at sad songs you have sung a thousand times. I love that your best friends are a giant half-Bolg and the most obnoxious creature I have ever laid eyes on, they are rude to you beyond measure, and yet you love them like brothers. I love that you think of food as a musical instrument—”

“You said that was manipulative,” Rhapsody interjected.

“Don’t interrupt. I love that you have a better right cross than I have, and, even though you’re half my size, you’re not afraid to use it on me. I love that you sing the Ballad of Jakar’sid and always get the words of the refrain wrong. I love the way you look after Jo as if she were a little girl when she clearly lost her innocence years ago. And I especially love that you speak your mind to me, even when I don’t want to hear it.

“I love that you can’t conceive of jealousy in anyone else because there is none in you; that you think that all women have the same effect on men that you do—that you don’t even realize you are beautiful at all. I love that your beauty—the thing so highly prized and sought after by almost everyone else—is the bane of your existence.

“I love that you have survived the cataclysm of your whole world, and have lived among monsters, and still always attribute honorable intentions to people. I love that you have the mind of a scholar, the will of a warrior, and the heart of a little girl who only wishes to be loved in spite of all that she is. I love all these things—I love you, and I cannot see how anyone could come to know you, truly know you, and not also love you, not for what you appear, but for who you are. Whoever this man was that didn’t was the world’s most consummate imbecile.

“But perhaps that’s the answer. Perhaps no one else truly does understand you. I know you, Rhapsody, I really know you. I know what it is like to lose those you love, to have to leave them behind and to know that they continued on with their lives until the end of their days, never knowing what became of you. I know the sorrow that brings, though no doubt I do not know that pain to the depths you do.”

Rhapsody, whose face had been growing rosier at each word, paled and turned to face the fire, her back to Ashe, her shoulders straight. The dragon within him sensed the tears brimming, but the dam inside him had already ruptured, and he could not stop the words from pouring out.

“I also know what is worse is that you feel you cannot even fill the holes it left in your life with new friends, new loves, for fear of showing your face. That, I think, is the worst pain of all.

“You are a woman who longs to be taken at face value, but the nature of your beauty forces you to hide yourself behind a cloak, unable to show yourself for fear of the consequences that will ensue. And then there’s the fear of whether or not you can trust that the love so abundantly expressed is genuine, or motivated by something else—something as innocent as blind infatuation with your physical attributes, or as sinister as wanting to possess or destroy your soul.

“I know that fear. I know, perhaps better than anyone, what it is like to live behind the mask, remaining unseen, unknown, even though your heart cries out for recognition. It is hideously lonely, in ways no one could ever expect. It makes you want to turn your back on it all and go live in a goat hut, but you can’t. Your destiny won’t let you, and I know what that feels like, too. I know what it is like to live in that pain, Rhapsody. I know what it is to need that kind of healing. And I would give my very life to spare you from one more moment of it.” His voice broke, and he fell silent.

The fire had died down to softly burning embers while he was speaking; now a few flames licked up, catching new life from parts of the wood revealed as the spent logs crumbled. Rhapsody turned to face him again.

Ashe’s dragon senses had told him that she was crying, but the actual sight of her in tears caught him off guard. Her face had never been more beautiful, and his heart, now whole and freed from its former pain, twisted into tiny knots at the sight of it.

She smiled through her tears, and came and stood before him, looking down at him for perhaps the first time. Her fingers carefully touched the coppery hair, brushing the strands gently off his forehead, a look of wonder and discovery on her face. As on that day in the forest where she first saw him without his disguise, her eyes sparkled as they took in his features. Then she bent down and rested her forehead on his.

“So,” she said, closing her eyes, “you came here hoping to heal me, too?”

“Not really,” Ashe answered. “I came because you called. I came intending to tell you the truth about how I feel.” His face grew florid in the firelight. “If the whole truth be told, if you want to know my deepest desires, I came hoping to make love to you.”

Rhapsody smiled again. “You just did,” she said softly.

She kissed him gently, and then stepped back and opened her eyes. The look of hope and love and fear on his face broke her heart in that instant. He reached out his hands to her, and she came into his arms and kissed him again.

Ashe began to feel the control he had over his senses give way. The warmth, the sweetness of her mouth was intoxicating him; he was growing dizzy with joy. He pulled her even closer and pressed her lithe body to his, and the burning in his fingers from when he had first let his dragon nature sense her cooled and disappeared as he touched her. Headiest of all was the sensation of being whole again, being without pretense, knowing that she was aware of his feelings and responding to them without fear. And as he gave himself over to the ecstasy of holding her, the dragon arose and reached out to sense more fully the woman in his arms.

I want to touch this.

But as its awareness began to envelope her, Rhapsody pulled away. She pushed out of his grasp and turned from him, her hands covering her face. Ashe could acutely feel each muscle in her body begin to tremble and hot tears fall onto her hands; tension knotted her shoulders and her heart began to race. She was crumbling before his eyes.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t. It isn’t right; it isn’t fair. I can’t.”

“Fair to whom?” Ashe asked.

Within him he felt the fabric of the universe tremble. The power that the dragon held over the forces of nature began to rise. Though no outward sign betrayed the inner battle that was waging in his soul, Ashe stood at the brink, fighting his own nature and the longing that both parts of it shared. He held as physically still as he could, praying that Rhapsody would not look at him while the dragon was dominant, for the guile it would use to enchant her would be evident in his eyes. And though every part of his senses was primed for what the dragon wanted, it was finally the man who prevailed. The human soul longed for her far more than the dragon could ever covet her, and the human understood that her love had to be given, not taken, so the wyrm was forced back into submission, and the man was left, human and alone.

“Fair to you,” she answered, her voice thick with tears. “You really deserve someone better, someone who has the capacity to love you back. Someone with a heart. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ashe stood up, walking until he stood behind her.

“Please turn around,” he said.

Her body went rigid, but she did not pull away. Slowly she obeyed, looking up at him through strands of shining hair that had fallen out of place, her eyes dark, her chin trembling slightly. He held up his hand.

“May I touch you?” he asked softly.

Rhapsody’s eyes cleared. He was remembering his promise. She nodded slightly.

He reached out, and, gently caressing her cheek, he traced the trail of a tear. Her eyes closed at his touch, and her head tilted slightly toward his hand. His fingers traced on, down the line of her neck, to her collar and the neckline of her blouse, which he traced down to the hollow of her bosom before stopping. Lightly he rested his hand upon her chest, just above the heart, and felt it pounding.

Rhapsody drew in a sharp, broken breath, and stood trembling beneath his hand. She wanted this; some part of her wanted this, and deep within her being the part of her bound to fire rose at his touch and flowed into the void places of Ashe’s soul where the fire had been taken. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at him.

They stood just so for a moment, neither one moving or breathing. Ashe felt the racing of her heart beneath his palm and saw the bewildered look on her face as the swarm of conflicting emotions fought within her.

“It feels like you have a heart to me,” Ashe said at last. He watched her, breath held, trembling, vulnerable but not defenseless, and he wanted her. As Ashe, as Gwydion, as man and dragon, he wanted her. Not to vanquish or possess, but to cherish. He wanted her, and he waited in fear of her answer. “You do have a heart, Rhapsody. Why don’t you trust what it tells you?”

Her answer was a whisper. “It lies.”

“You never lie. No part of you could either.”

“Then it has terrible judgment. I believed it before, and it couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“Give it another chance. I thought you believed in taking risks.”

He had to bend nearer to hear her soft reply. “It’s fragile. I wouldn’t survive it being wrong again.”

Ashe removed his hand from her chest and caressed her face again. “You seem to have appointed yourself the guardian of my heart, Rhapsody. Why don’t you make me the protector of yours? I promise I will keep it safe.”

The conflict around and within her was making Rhapsody’s head spin. She struggled to hold on to what she believed was reality as her eyes searched his for assurances. They seemed so alien, and yet more human than she had ever seen them, and the depth of feeling she could see in them amazed her. How could I have been so wrong about him? she thought, remembering their sibling-like bickering during their travels, the distance at which he held her when she tried to learn more about him, their platonic level of comfort. I didn’t know him at all.

I

He was as much a contradiction as he had said she was—handsome and alien-looking, hunter and hunted, dragon and mortal, Lirin and man, pushing her away from him while all the time wishing her closer. And she herself had known things about him even before they had met; known that he was still among the living when the rest of the world had given him up for dead. Why?

As her mind turned the questions over and over, deep within her she felt a part of her awaken that had stood closed and neglected for many years. At first she was aware of it as a trickle, like finally noticing the sound of a stream that had been flowing slowly in the distance all along. Then it came with more force than she had known the whole world could muster. She was drowning in longing, and hurt, and desire—and something else, something strange and wonderful and long forgotten. Rhapsody was lost in a flood of emotion too fast for her thoughts to keep pace, and all the lyrical beauty of her abilities as a Singer, a Namer, deserted her. She was left with the heartfelt, unpoetic entreaty of a vulnerable woman.

“Please be what you seem. Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Tears stung Ashe’s eyes. “I am. And I never will.”

And then she was in his arms again, mingling her tears with his, holding on to him as though their lives depended on it.

The element within her that was fire found its way into the dark places of his being that had felt no warmth since the night his soul was torn open, until at last it touched his wounded heart. The flames filled in the empty parts of his soul and he felt it heal, if only for a while.

And then her lips were on his, freely given, and as their kiss deepened into heady darkness the dragon again came forth from where he had held it to sense the wonder that was this woman.

I want to touch you.

Yes.

His awareness expanded and Ashe could feel the moment when her tears stopped and her breathing eased as her defenses came down. His hands glided over her body and the dragon could feel each place that his touch pleased her. Minutiae became magnified, and he reveled in the tiniest detail of information the dragon could sense. He surrendered to it.

A trickle of sweat made its way down her back; her muscles rippled and flowed as she moved within his arms. Her blouse caught slightly in his embrace and was pulled tight; he felt its fabric weaken, thread by thread, at the seam. There was a small crack in a floorboard in the next room that widened ever so slightly as their weight shifted in this one.

Rhapsody’s eyes kindled from dark green to a brilliant emerald. She drew in a deep breath; on the hearth the fire leapt and crackled, sending embers up the chimney where they lodged in the bricks and smoldered quietly.

Currents and eddies of power flowed through this place and circled around them and the lore they held—music, fire, time, dragonlore—drawn into their passion and passed out again as a whirlpool of essence exhaled like a breath.

Flowing faster, more wildly, but with no direction, it swirled through the air, across the land, and over the waters which echoed with its passing. The grotto became alive with that power, alive as it had not been for centuries uncounted, since the war that had begun here.

Within the lake a fish leapt, causing a splash that sounded softly through the cavern, echoing off the rockwalls and drowning in the sound of the waterfall, which tumbled down into the pool with a musical flow that poured over its brink, creating the mist that refracted the light of the moon to form a barely visible rainbow, and sent forth the myriad vibrations that helped to hide this place from the prying eyes that hunted and searched for them both. The churning water caused the waves that lapped against the shore of the small island covered in gardens upon which the house stood with its smoke rising through the air, up the chimney from the fire fed by the rising passion of Rhapsody.

Rhapsody, from whose body fire and heat flowed into Ashe’s own and beyond. Rhapsody, whose soft voice was musical even in the breaths she took as they kissed, and whose back still held the healing bruises from her fight with the Rakshas. Whose blood flowed faster with the pounding of her heart and the movement of his hands over her body. Rhapsody, the woman he had loved from the moment he became aware of her.

Ashe unbound the ribbon in her hair and, with eyes closed, sensed every strand as it fell across her shoulders to her waist. He pulled away, cradling her face in his hands, and looked at her. The light sparkled in her eyes as she searched his face, the fire bringing life to her hair. She breathed deeply and caught her breath; her mouth was open slightly, but she said nothing.

He kissed her again, and his hands innately went to the places he knew she desired to be touched. She responded in kind, her own hands gliding smoothly over his shoulders. They rested for a moment on the muscles of his chest, and he felt them burn. Then they moved under his shirt and gently touched his skin, and the scar which until that night had been so painful for so long.

Ashe caressed her face, and slowly slid his fingers into the shining waterfall of hair, drawing them down through the glistening locks that were even silkier than he imagined, sending tremors through his entire body and making the arousal he felt even more unbearable. Then his hands slipped beneath her blouse, under the lacy camisole, and his fingers played lightly upon her breasts, reveling in their firm softness. He felt her shiver, and his lips sought the hollow of her throat, drinking in the scent of her hair, her skin. Rhapsody ran her hands through the coppery hair, amazed that something that looked metallic could feel so soft. Her fingers entwined around the shiny curls, holding tight as he began to kiss down the line of her neck.

Ashe’s hands encircled her waist, his fingers caressing the small of her back as he gently loosed the laces of her skirt. When the last tie was unbound he spanned her waist again and lifted her free from the garment as it crumpled to the floor. She smiled down at him as her hands went to the laces of his broadcloth shirt; he waited for her to finish untying them before rising to kiss her mouth once more.

They moved in a wordless dance, drawing each other free from their outer clothing. The sight of his bare chest brought tears to Rhapsody’s eyes again; the blackened flesh and gnarled scar gone, in its place new, healing skin, no different than that on her own leg. She turned away, overcome, and he wrapped her in his arms and held her fast against his chest, both of them celebrating his freedom from pain.

She reached up behind her neck and unfastened the clasp of her locket, holding it tightly in her palm for a moment before dropping it to the table near the sofa. Ashe’s lips caressed the nape of her neck; then he turned her gently around and looked into her eyes to find, for the first time, his own euphoria reflected back at him.

They embraced once more, slowly moving to the floor as each removed the few remnants of clothing that remained. He leaned over her, pulling away from their embrace for a moment, and let his eyes see for the first time the form his dragon senses knew so well. She was luminous, perfect; her skin glowed with a radiance the like of which he never could have imagined.

“You are beautiful,” he said, awe making his voice husky. “So beautiful.”

Rhapsody smiled at him. “I’m glad you think so,” she said, and brushed his face gently with her hand. Ashe closed his eyes, and took her hand in his. He kissed it, then the crook of her arm, and then he was lost to her. As the fire blazed behind them they made love upon the floor of Elysian.

In time he gathered her in his arms and moved to the bed, where their lovemaking continued until the night had passed into the new day, and the flames had diminished down to sleepy coals that glowed on the hearth like firegems, spilling warmth from the room into the fog that swirled around the silent lake.

In the night Ashe woke and felt the top of her head near his lips in the darkness as she lay on his chest, sleeping softly. The dragon had wrapped itself around her dreams, guarding her from her nightmares, and so she was silent, breathing easily. He brushed the crown of her hair with a kiss and pulled her even nearer, burying his face in her neck. He took in a deep breath, inhaling her scent and the warmth and sweetness of her skin.

In her sleep Rhapsody felt warm tears in the hollow of her shoulder and the heat of Ashe’s breath. She sensed him shiver, and sleepily she turned on her side and slid her arms around his neck, drawing his head against the bare skin of her shoulder and breast, shielding him like a child from whatever demon dreams were causing him to wake.

But Ashe was not sad; his were tears of gratitude that this time the dream he had been holding in his arms was real, and was still there when he awoke.

His lips stroked her shoulder, then lowered to her breast, and with the warmth of his mouth he caressed the fragile skin, feeling its sleepy softness stir at his touch and respond to him.

Ashe deepened his kiss, gliding his fingertips up her side. He was filled with longing to give her pleasure, to see her as happy as she had made him. She stretched with drowsiness and as she did his hand traced down the slender abdomen, over her flat stomach and came to rest on an exquisite leg, trembling as he touched her.

In her sleep she sighed, a soft, musical sound that stirred him even more. He waited for her to wake, but her eyes remained closed and her arms drowsily entwined around his neck again as her fingers absently caressed the hair at the back of his head. She was well and truly asleep.

Ashe was lost in the dilemma of what to do next. His desire for her grew more intense by the moment, but the dragon could tell she was tired, weary from being emotionally overwrought and worn out from the cataclysmic love-making that had begun on the floor in front of the fire as the sun was setting and had gone on long past midnight. She had satisfied him in ways he had not even dreamed of, and she was irresistible; the more of her he got, the more he wanted. Whatever stores of energy she had were spent, and now she was sleeping deeply, her body trying to gain it back.

He imagined making love to her again now, taking her in ways that would return to her some of the joy she had given him, but he looked into her face and decided not to. Exhaustion was taking her, too, like an overly insistent lover, and her sleep was undisturbed by the dreams that frightened her and made her wake, trembling, in the night. It was the first time he had seen her slumber in complete peace. So he swallowed hard and let his need pass, difficult though it was, and cradled her in his arms, guarding her dreams and her rest. He could wait.

In the gray haze that preceded dawn in the underground grotto Ashe rose slowly from the bed, careful not to waken Rhapsody. His feet recoiled at the chill of the floor as he moved to the fireplace where the dragon had sensed the sign. He knew what it was, and exactly how much of it there was, yet he went all the same, just to see it with his own almost-human eyes. On the floor were three drops of blood, Rhapsody’s blood, blood he had let in passion.

He had known she was untouched, of course; the dragon had sensed that from the start, but three drops—as with Emily, it was three. An omen, no doubt, but of what he did not know. That this was his grandmother’s house did not escape him, nor was her office as Seer of the Past insignificant. Three drops of blood, just like Emily. A sign of things to come, or a completion of things past?

Ashe turned back toward the bed and looked at Rhapsody, still softly sleeping. Her face was free of regret or fear; her dreams were happy, or at least seemed to be. His smile was melancholy as he left the room and went down the stairs to the front hall where his cloak hung on a peg. He reached inside it, feeling the cool moisture of the mist, and from it drew out a small silver button he had kept there for years. Then, leaving the cloak where it hung, he walked out of the house, down to the waters’ edge.

He stood there, letting the waters of Anwyn’s cottage speak to the waters of his soul, as he held the silver button and contemplated the omen in blood. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and, tightening his hold for a moment, leaned back and threw the silver button out into the waters of the grotto.

“Good-bye, Emily,” he whispered, then stood silently for a moment, tears touching the corners of his eyes.

Rhapsody woke to the knowledge that Ashe was no longer in bed, but to the equal certainty that he was still nearby. She could feel his presence as surely as she had heard his breath as he lay beneath her while they slept. And though she was confused by everything that had transpired, she was assuredly happy he was there.

She drew a blanket about her as she stood and moved to the window where she knew she would see him. In the distance she could make out his form, naked and wrapped in the mist of the lake, staring out into the distance, watching what she did not know. She felt her skin tingle and knew the dragon sensed her movement as surely as she had felt her his presence a moment before. The thought comforted her.

At the sight of him she felt a tug at her heart, a melancholy that at first she did not recognize, though she had felt it before. It had been with her a long time, and she realized she had felt it on each occasion that she had thought about Ashe over the past few months. It was not until now that she recognized it for what it was, because it had been so long since she had felt anything like it.

What a strange man you are, Ashe, she thought. At times as unassailable as a rampant dragon, now he looked as lost as a kitten. Whatever he was, for good or ill, he had her heart, the heart she hadn’t realized was still there. There was no turning back now.

Down by the water’s edge he shivered and rubbed his hands on his arms as though chilled. Rhapsody hurried to him, bounding down the stairs, throwing wide the door to the cottage, and running to the beach before slowing her steps as she came up behind him. She took the blanket from herself and draped it around him, leaving her arms with it.

Ashe turned and smiled down at her, then drew her under the blanket with him. He kissed the top of her head, trying to decide which was shining more brightly—her hair or her face.

“Sleep well?”

“Very, thank you,” she replied. “I’ve discovered something, and I thought you should know.”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too. And I’m sure of it.”

His reply was a deep, sustained sigh; wordless, but it spoke volumes.

Rhapsody laid her head on his chest, and there on the shores of the lake they held each other until the early light of dawn had given way to the brighter sun of midmorning. The green light that filtered through the bushes that grew above the firmament made the grotto seem as though it lay in some deep forest.

Against all likelihood, a small silver button washed up on the shore of the island, unnoticed.