24: Captive!

Chapter 24 of "A River Trembles", Book Two of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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Hi — popping in to say that in about 2.5 hours from when this email goes out, I’ll be going Live on Substack with a tour of the library in my dollhouse uhh representation of Eidothea’s Welsh home! Not on the Substack app, or missed it? Never fear, the replay will go out in an email.

The story began in A Grail for Eidothea. You really need to catch up to make sense of A River Trembles. Go on, save this post and go have a binge read. You deserve it.

On the way back from Maeve’s abode, Llyr joins them and they are soon set upon by unknown dreigiau môr assailants. Reinforcements arrive and Eidothea, Llyr and Cychwr lose the fight. Meanwhile, Rhiannon discovers the absence of a garden. She and Emrys realise Eidothea is no longer in Caer Morgana and that she’s in trouble.

When I woke, I found myself in human form, which meant we had been returned to the caer. At my side lay Llyr and Cychwr, blood oozing from their bandaged wounds. My head throbbed. I touched my forehead, finding it sticky. I looked at my shaking fingertips. Blood.

Even though everything hurt, I struggled to sit up, taking in my surroundings. Three stone walls. The fourth wall consisted of a thick heavy grille.

:We’re in prison.: Cychwr’s low thought made me start. I winced, putting a hand to my head. :I’m glad you’re awake. I was beginning to worry.:

I twisted to face him, but Llyr’s still form caught my attention. Something felt out of place, out of kilter. :I cannot sense him!: I rested my hand on his chest. It fell and rose but the slight uneven rhythm frightened me. :Why can I not sense him?: Even when Llyr blocked me, I still sensed his presence, I still felt his heart next to mine.

I scanned his body, first with my eyes, then my hands. Far too much blood stained his many bandages and I hated to think of the damage they concealed.

Cychwr watched me, his eyes wary. :He saw you’d been taken and he just went mad, trying to get to you.:

Panic rose within. :He needs a doctor, a healer.: I corrected, my head pulsing in pain. :We all do.:

:We have been occasionally checked, but no healer has come since we first arrived.:

I sat up, sending a thought to Grandmother, to Emrys, although I had a sneaking suspicion we were in his dungeon. My thoughts echoed back to me.

:I tried that,: Cywchr said. :We are sealed off from the world.:

I remembered Ceridwy complaining she could not reach us when she’d been briefly imprisoned. :The Esteemed is behind this?: I sank back against the cold stone. Had our tenuous alliance been a lie?

:The last dreigiau môr to arrive at the fight wore his sashes, so it’s pretty likely we’re here because of his order, rather than the Lady Angharad’s.:

I turned to look at him, leaning my head and shoulder against the cold stone. :Are you badly hurt?:

He shrugged. :I’ll live.:

The cold and the damp rising from the floor made me shiver. :Llyr cannot stay on the cold ground like this. Help me?: My head spun, but somehow we manoeuvred him to lie on top of both of us, sharing his weight. The icy flagstones pressed against my back but I endured it, to spare Llyr who was far worse off than either I or Cychwr. :If only Ondine were here.: Llyr’s head tucked under my chin. His gills fluttered against my robe.

:No,: Cychwr grimaced, sounding angry. :I would not want her in the midst of this. She’s safer where she is.:

I had no argument for that. I wanted her to be safe too. My eyes grew heavy.

Cychwr nudged me. :Try to stay awake. That’s important with a head wound.:

:I will try. I know you are also hurt, Cychwr, but will you talk to me? Tell me stories?:

:I’m no bard,: Cychwr grumbled. :Shall I tell you how I got this tattoo?: He lifted his bandaged arm.

I remembered there being a tattoo of anchors and roses. I mumbled agreement and got another shove for my troubles.

:Stay awake.: Cychwr told me how he had been press-ganged into the British Navy, forced to leave his family without ever saying goodbye. :I would have slipped overboard the first night but we’d all been warned our families would be punished should we try to escape…:

Indeed, Cychwr was no bard. He said very little about life aboard ship and even less about the sea battles he’d seen and participated in. I did hear about every port he had visited.

:How did you end up escaping?: I asked, tired of hearing the travelogue even though I knew he shared it for my benefit.

:I’ll get to that,: he replied, continuing as if I had never interrupted him.

He still had not gotten to how he escaped when the grille rattled. An opening appeared at ground level. A tray slid through.

:Wait!: I called. :Your Chosen Queen commands you!:

:Not Chosen for much longer,: came the amused response. He added mockingly, :How may I serve you?:

I ignored his sarcasm. :Fresh bandages, ointment, and a healer. Or do you want to explain dead prisoners?:

The grilled clanged shut. I’d received my reply.

Cychwr slid out from under Llyr, leaving me partially supporting him. :We should eat something.: He picked up the tray and crouched next to me. Cychwr tasted a spoonful before offering to me. :Doesn’t seem to be poisoned,: he muttered.

I swallowed the food with difficulty. We ate the meagre amount and pressed liquid against Llyr’s lips to no avail. The meal over, Cychwr placed the tray by the grille and reassumed some of Llyr’s weight. :Try to stay awake,: he said but before long, he snored.

With a shuddering sigh, I allowed my grief to rise and overflow. The absence of Llyr’s indefinable self frightened me, even with his body lying on mine. I feared I would lose him too. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I stifled my sobs with one hand.

Whatever trouble Angharad brewed, the Council had locked it down. It meant that neither I nor Elin Grealseeker could find out what had happened. For hours, I waited in the hallway outside the Esteemed’s door until he returned.

He looked grey and wan, shoulders slumped. Without thinking, I reached out and touched his shoulder.

Emrys shook me off. :I can’t talk to you. Matters of state.:

:Eidothea hasn’t returned.: It had been days.

He released a breath. :She’s safe. I can’t tell you any more than that.:

:What can I do to help?:

He shook his head. :Nothing. Perhaps you should return home. It will be safer for you there.:

I refused. :Eidothea will need me when she’s back.: Eidothea Grealfinder gave the impression she needed nobody, but they hadn’t seen her at night curled up by the window, doubting, in tears, nor heard her heart in the darkest hours.

I must have slept for the rattling grille woke me. I inhaled Llyr’s hair and snorted it out, pressing an apologetic kiss to the top of his head. I watched our empty tray being removed and replaced with a new one holding two bowls.

:Bandages?: I prompted. Cychwr woke with a groan. :A healer?:

The grille slammed shut. Cychwr collected the tray. We repeated the ritual of his tasting our food before he allowed me to eat. That he put himself in harms way to do this turned my stomach, but I obediently ate.

We made desultory conversation but mostly lay silent, occasionally dozing.

Some hours later, the grille opened. This time the gap grew larger. A guard stood in the opening, his body bearing the Esteemed’s sash. :The Esteemed will see you now, Chosen Queen.:

All my fears came true with his declaration. Emrys had betrayed the Chosen Court. :I do not need to see him. I need a healer!: I knew my plea would be in vain without sympathetic support from the Esteemed, but I still asked.

The guard shrugged. :Plead your case to him.:

I stared, open-mouthed. Cychwr dragged Llyr onto himself. :Go, Eidothea. Get Llyr the help he needs. Get us out of here.:

The last seemed quite impossible. I rose, every stiffened joint protesting. The room spun. I steadied myself with a splayed hand against the stone.

:Eidothea?: came Cychwr’s worried thought.

I pushed off the wall and stumbled toward the grille opening. The moment I stepped through I sent a thought to Grandmother. It bounced back.

The guard chuckled. He grabbed my arm and hauled me down the dim and narrow hall. We stopped outside a door. :The Esteemed can’t see you like that, bloody and filthy. Every dreigiau môr can dissemble. Do so.:

My hands shook as I cast a dissembling glamour over myself.

Satisfied with my appearance, the guard opened the door and gestured me to go through. The door slammed behind me.

Inside, the Esteemed sat, his chair on a low dais made of the same stone as the walls. :Eidothea, I told you to delay…:

:Forgive me, Esteemed.: I made the motions of bowing without actually doing so. I feared I would lose my balance if I tried. I needed to sit before I fell down but the Esteemed occupied the only chair.

:There is much you need to explain to me,: the Esteemed began.

I could say the same to him but I had no time for an argument. :I need a healer, ointment and bandages.: I tried to keep my thought even, but it trembled. :Llyr is terribly wounded. If the Prophet dies—: I could not finish the sentence. I swallowed the rising grief. :Why did you take us alive if you do not intend to keep us alive? What kind of caring ruler are you?:

The Esteemed seemed unmoved by my outburst. :Llyr’s treatment depends upon your explanation.:

:What am I meant to explain?: My head pounded.

:Why you would lie to me, to everyone, about who you are.: The Esteemed gripped the arms of his chair.

I shook my head and immediately regretted it. The room span and I took deep breaths to try and steady it. :You know who I am. I am the daughter of Berlewen Grealseeker, granddaughter of Elin Grealseeker. Fully dreigiau môr yet human, thanks to my mother’s sacrifice. The mark I bear makes me the Queen of the Chosen Court.: What more did he want?

:Eidothea, a new prophet has arisen, claiming that you and Llyr have formed a false court, which if it succeeds, will bring destruction, everything Llyr has seen in his vision.:

My knees gave way. I fell onto the floor. The Esteemed started forward but kept his seat. I propped myself up into a semi-kneeling position, letting my glamour fade away. Looking at him with blurred vision, I barely registered his shocked expression.

:What happened to you?: he demanded, quitting his throne and scrambling to kneel before me. He grasped my shoulders.

I drew myself up and sat back on my heels, out of reach. :We were attacked. Did you think I escaped injury when Llyr is so badly wounded?:

Emrys dropped his gaze. :It was a minor hurt, they said.:

I tsked. :They lied.: Doubtless they had heard of this new prophet and had judged against us.

At least Emrys looked suitably abashed. :I will call a healer for you now.:

I forestalled him with a hand upon his arm. :Not for me, Llyr first. What do you mean a new prophet? When did they appear?: As his news sank in, my gut roiled in dismayed horror.

He did not reply at once, communicating orders to someone outside the room. :A few days ago. They contacted us yesterday, while you were out.:

My breathing became easier, my head hurting a little less. :How do you know this new person speaks truth, not lies?:

:His Chosen mark shines.: No warmth came from the Esteemed, from Emrys who I thought of as a mentor and a friend.

Could it be true? That I had been wrong all along? Covering my face with my hands, I rocked back and forth. :No, no, no,: I moaned, repeating the syllable.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I gazed up through my splayed fingers. The Esteemed frowned. :It is true?:

A sob escaped my lips and I clapped a hand over it. :Jasper betrayed me. Maeve is dead. Llyr is dying. My Chosen Court has already failed. Maybe this prophet is right.:

Emrys drew me into an embrace. I did not resist, needing comfort. :I have my doubts, Eidothea, but I did not expect you to acquiesce so fast.: His embrace loosened.

I leaned against him. :Emrys, I will take Llyr and leave Caer Morgana and never come back. Just let someone heal him? Please?:

Emrys stroked my hair. :I’ll have a healer see to you—:

:—Not me, Llyr. He is still unconscious, Emrys. I cannot feel his presence…: I cried then and he let me, stroking my back.

My head hurt even worse by the time I was done. :I never wanted to harm anyone,: I thought, my face still hidden against his chest.

:I believe you,: murmured Emrys. :I wish you fought me on this, because if this prophet is right, all of your Chosen Court will be sentenced to death. I cannot guarantee the safety of your family or your supporters. Exile is not enough to circumvent the prophecy, Eidothea.:

I straightened, staring at him. :Death? Is that why we are in prison? For our execution? Cychwr is not of the Court. He should be freed.:

:And stir up foment? No thank you. I’m keeping him and you safe. Lady Angharad is out for blood. This is a serious business. I can save you but only if you tell me the truth. I have that gift you know.:

I vaguely remembered. :I did not want to be Queen, Emrys, but I could not escape that duty, that obligation. Not when lives were at stake. To think I will be the cause of it.: I violently shook my head.

:Convince me, Eidothea. That you are the Queen.:

With shaky hands, I unclasped the jewelry piece that straddled my chest. It fell, a bit lopsided because my long curls had tangled in it. My mark glowed. :This is my proof,: I whispered. :I have no other.:

:I believe you.:

:You want to believe me,: I contradicted him. :Do you believe this new prophet?:

Emrys tugged on a lock of his long, long dark hair. :I cannot tell if he speaks truth or lies. My gift has failed me.:

:That can happen?: I frowned, wondering what prevented him from discerning the truth. :Is there a spell? Did Angharad bring this prophet to your attention?:

:Good. You are thinking again.: He sat back on his heels. :Yes, she did.:

:You cannot fake a Chosen mark—but it was Lady Angharad who said mine was magical.:

He regarded me with compassion. :I have seen the mark. It shines like yours.:

I dispelled the revival of fear, the ache of despair, pursuing the facts concerning this new obstacle. :What of the new monarch? Our marks shine only once we have bonded. Llyr and I have already done so, even though we were supposed to wait.:

Emrys nodded his approval. :Excellent question. If Angharad figures that out, she will present a candidate for that role very soon. Leave this with me. Now you must return to your cell.:

:Emrys…:

He gathered my hands in his and squeezed them. :I’ve sent for a healer. I’ll make sure you receive cots, for you’ve been shivering this whole time. I am sorry I doubted you, Eidothea.:

I managed a weak smile. :I doubted myself.:

Emrys brushed the back of his forefinger across my cheek, no doubt smudging the path of my tears. :A good monarch cares for their people. You care, Eidothea.:

He rose, helping me stand. We stood like that while I waited for my head to stop spinning. In the next breath, he hugged me tight. I held on, knowing if I pushed him away, I would stumble and fall.

Did anyone else worry that Emrys had betrayed Eidothea? Or that he still might? Thoughts about today’s instalment? Comments? Share below or join the Chat!

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