Carpe Diem

Chapter 29 of "A Sword for Wellington", Book Three of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles. Now the Chosen Court seeks another Arthurian treasure. New here? Save this post and have a binge read. You deserve it.

Three chapters ago, we left the Chosen Court with a letter wanting their deaths (and Eidothea’s capture) and a drawing room door bursting open.

Two chapters back, Gerald and Meredith consummated their long lost love and she had a horrible vision which was the moment the jubilant Gwenddydd and Sir Hugh discovered them after getting the Duke’s promise to receive the sword on the morrow. Phew.

In the previous chapter, we discovered that Gwenddydd and Sir Hugh were responsible for bursting into drawing room. Lady Meredith had a vision of Eidothea being in great danger. As the agent and his family have fled, the Chosen Court agree to move to the same hotel for additional protection. Thus, Eidothea learned of her father’s romance with Lady Meredith. Sir Hugh interrogated the Court regarding Ladon’s letter and their pursuit of Caledfwlch.

I wished I had been a little more circumspect in my revelations to Sir Hugh Devenish. Jasper was right about it being time to share what we knew. We needed to gain their trust for them to help us.

I released a long breath. “I am the monarch of the Chosen Court, Llyr is my prophet, Ondine my healer, Mr. Tregallas here—” I touched Jasper’s hand, smiling at him, “is my Fisher King.” I touched my eyepatch. “And Maeve is my Sage.”

Sir Hugh exchanged silent looks with his aunt and Miss Jones. They seemed as much at a loss as he. “This is incredible. Where is this Maeve?”

I forced a smile. “Ah, Sir Hugh, you always wanted to see beneath my eyepatch.”

“Meredith, dear,” said my father with a silent look at me to ask if I really wanted to do this. “You best put down your tea.”

With red cheeks, Lady Meredith placed her cup on the low table.

I untied the ribbons, letting the eyepatch fall from my face. I gave them a minute to see my eye. I knew what they saw. A strange pearlescence clouded my left eye. Tiny lights skittered and shimmered across my cornea. Battle-scarred Sir Hugh looked horrified, Lady Meredith clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Miss Jones leaned forwards, interested.

I murmured the spell to summon Maeve, setting the pearl in the Grealseeker ring aglow. “Meet Maeve.”

“Eidothea, I am not a party trick.” Her gravelled voice grated through my vocal cords.

Miss Jones whimpered.

“By the Lady,” Lady Meredith breathed.

Sir Hugh breathed. “I see her.”

I stared at Sir Hugh. That was new. No one else had seen Maeve in her new form, they could only hear her. I tucked that away for a later conversation. In my own voice, I said, “Maeve, allow me to introduce you to Lady Meredith Rathven, Sir Hugh Devenish, and Miss Jones.”

Maeve sighed. “They are humans, Eidothea. Outsiders. Will you bring persecution upon us all?”

“Persecution?” Miss Jones echoed.

Hugh’s gaze looked a little wild. “Humans?” he mouthed. “Outsiders?”

I winced. Had I revealed too much?

“Maeve, they saved us,” Ondine protested.

Sir Hugh stared a little wild-eyed at some point near my head. He stilled as if in the presence of a wild animal he did not wish to provoke. Maeve had that effect on people. “Actually the jury is still out on that, although I appreciate your honesty.” He kept his voice calm.

Ondine made a dismayed noise. Father and Llyr stiffened. Jasper shifted forward in his seat, ready to throw himself between us.

“We are no threat,” I said. “We have been called to save the world from destruction.”

“And to rule it?” Sir Hugh questioned, his voice harsh.

“Hardly,” I snapped. “Maeve,” I said, “we need to warn Cychwr but we are too far inland to reach him via thought.”

“Thought?” Sir Hugh got out in strangled tones.

Miss Jones’s eyebrows rose. She smiled. “Oh, that is why you look faraway sometimes.”

Maeve overrode my response. “How is that one alive? Your Miss Jones is ancient.”

I frowned, not understanding. “Could you reach Cychwr?”

“There is no recourse but for one of you to go and warn Cychwr. My abilities are not endless, child.” Her presence faded as did the pearl.

“She’s gone,” I murmured. I concealed my eye with the patch.

“I will go,” Llyr said in a low voice.

Sir Hugh sighed, rubbing his face. “I cannot spare anyone. War is imminent. At some point, it will not be safe to travel at all.”

I blinked at him in surprise, not expecting him to even make the offer. “People have been saying that for months.”

“I will go with Llyr,” Jasper offered.

I folded my arms. “I do not like the idea of my Court scattering like this.”

“We will be back in less than a week.” Jasper rubbed my upper back. “If we are in danger, you will know of it.”

I bit my lip. “But I will be too far away to help.” I murmured the shielding spell under my breath. I wished I could avoid experiencing my rising panic but I could not shield from myself.

Sir Hugh exchanged some human silent communication with Miss Jones and cleared his throat. “There is more news.”

Miss Jones grinned at him. “We deliver Caledfwlch to Wellington tomorrow.” She burst with pride and excitement.

“Could I go with you?” I asked. “I would like him to know there is a condition upon the gift.”

Sir Hugh winced. “Are you going to show him your Maeve-eye?”

I smirked. “If he proves troublesome.” I grew serious. “I wear this eyepatch for a reason, Sir Hugh. I will not overset our commander so close to battle.”

“Miss Pendyr would be safer in your company,” Lady Meredith said in a low voice. She had looked but once in my father’s direction during the entire conversation.

“Ondine will stay with you,” I murmured. She grinned at me, knowing exactly why I placed her as an obstacle.

“We could all go,” my father said. His uneasy regard told me he saw through me as well.

“May we … may we see the sword?” I knew I asked much, especially given the look exchanged by Sir Hugh and Miss Jones.

The latter rose and fetched it from her bedchamber. She opened the narrow case containing the sword and held it out to me.

Dark grey in colour, the wide blade ended in a hilt made of curling serpents. Dreigiau môr. I reached out to claim it, but the grip stung. I snatched back my hand, looking for the burn marks.

“You are not chosen for this,” Miss Jones gently remonstrated.

With that, Jasper and Llyr left to make arrangements to travel back to Ostend. Sir Hugh and Miss Jones excused themselves. I decided it was time I spoke with my father about his new paramour.

Sir Hugh and Gwenddydd left the city of Brussels behind them, voyaging out into the surrounding countryside. The gentle hills rolled, blanketed with wood copses and fields of newly ripening grain.

She sensed a certain strain in his light remarks about their surroundings. She could stand it no longer. “What is it you really want to say? Is it about Miss Pendyr?”

“I have enough cause for concern there. A Chosen Court outside of current state systems? That magical eye of hers?”

“I heard you say that you saw Maeve. That surprised Miss Pendyr.”

“It surprised me.” He seemed unwilling to say more.

Gwenddydd changed tack. “I do not think any of them are bad people.”

Hugh sighed. “Not intentionally so. She trusted us with her secrets, but I wonder if it was a ploy to reveal ours?”

“Did we do the right thing telling her we’re giving the sword to the duke tomorrow?”

The pause before he answered felt endless. “It felt like the right thing. She wants to see Wellington tomorrow. I wonder at the wisdom of allowing it.”

Gwenddydd understood. “We will be there to stop her if she tries anything.”

“That is true.” He stared at her, long and hard, an indefinable emotion lurking in his bright blue gaze that pierced her. She wished she could read his mind like Eidothea’s people. He gestured to a lone tree standing on a green hill on the far side of the valley. “Race you.”

Before she responded, he urged his mount into action. She spurred her horse after him.

They tore across the green valley, their horses stretched out in a flat gallop. Her horse swerved to miss a large bush and resumed its breakneck pace.

Her riding cap tore from her head, taking a good number of hair pins with it. Her hair tugged free of the remaining restraints, streaming out behind her. A wild whoop tore from her smiling lips. She felt free, at one with the wind and the world.

Hugh glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin. They ascended the low rise of the hill. She drew nearer. Their evenly matched mounts meant that her lighter weight gave her the advantage.

Just beyond her, his jacket pulled tight over his shoulders. She came alongside. His teeth bared in a grin, urging his horse onward.

He won, by a neck’s length. Laughing with sheer exhilaration, she flung herself from her horse, gathering the reins. “No fair!” she accused. “You got a head start!”

He grinned at her. “Who said anything about being fair?” He dismounted and closed the distance between them. “Now I shall claim my prize.”

She retreated, bumping into her mount, which snorted and shuffled away. “Who said anything about a prize?” she retorted, pleased to find her voice steady.

“Gwen.” He reached out and pulled her to him. “One kiss is surely not too much to ask.”

“Only one?” She closed her eyes, tilting her head to receive his kiss.

His breath heated her cheek. He spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. “After you hand over the sword, do you still mean to go back in time?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, squeezing out the pain, and opened them. “I—I knew Olwen would come back.”

He inched closer, reaching out to caress her cheek with a fingertip. “What if I don’t want you to go back?”

“I have to finish my mission. The fate of Britain...” Her gaze fastened on his lips. She licked her own, feeling nervous and filled with some undefinable emotion: an odd mix of love and pain. “I cannot stay here, I do not belong.”

“That does not matter to me.” His lips brushed hers.

She pulled back, hating to do it. “Yes, it does. It matters to Lady Meredith and it matters to you. The world will think I am crazy—and they will pity you for—“ She broke off, feeling her cheeks stain red. Why talk of permanence? That could never happen.

“For marrying you?” His lips curved into a smile. “Now who’s making assumptions?”

“I—I did not mean...” She bowed her head, shutting her eyes.

“Yes, you did.” He tilted up her chin with a crooked finger. “I meant it too.”

Her eyes flew open. He wanted it? He wanted her—as his wife? Could he really mean it? Her heart pounded.

“But I am so—so out of place...” she stuttered.

“It is not so bad as you think,” he murmured. His mouth closed over hers.

She responded to his kiss, stroking his dark hair. Breathless, she gazed at him, fascinated by the raw desire in his face. She reached up and traced his scar, barely touching it.

He froze, his gaze shifting from her buttons to her face. His mouth twisted into an uncertain smile. “It really doesn’t bother you?”

Her lips curved into a smile. “I have seen worse.”

He believed her. She saw it in the rueful grimace of his mouth. She drew his head down to hers. “There is another difference between now and my own time,” she murmured. “We tend to live in the moment.”

He captured her lower lip between his and let it go. “That is a soldier’s creed.” He kissed her again, her senses swimming in sheer sensuality.

To live in the moment. Llywelyn had taught her that in a way years of soldiering had failed to do. It protected her. It protected them both. In a flash of insight, she understood Llywelyn better than she ever had. She wanted Hugh to understand too. “Then you know,” she said when their mouths parted.

His expression hardened. He stared down at her, searching her face. She wondered what he saw. The hard lines of his face relaxed, his gaze sparking with desire. “Oh yes, my love, I know.” The fires in his eyes lit with renewed fervour and he bent to claim her mouth once more.

She shifted, her mouth leaving his and trailing across his ruined cheek.

Hugh sucked in his breath, holding very still. He shut his eyes as she gently nuzzled the line of his scar. He felt like sun-warmed stone, hard and immovable. She leaned into him, straining to reach the point where the scar disappeared into his hairline.

Her tongue tip retraced her path. A tremor shook him. A breath away from his mouth, she broke contact. He opened his eyes, staring down into hers. “Why—“

“Because I—“ She struggled to find the right words, the perfect words.

“You love me?” he supplied, brows rising in hope.

“You know I do,” she whispered.

“I love you, my wild one.” His forehead rested against hers, before he angled for another kiss. Their mouths merged.

In the dappled sunlight, they clung together. Eventually, their kisses ceased. She tucked her head against his shoulder.

“I want this to last forever,” Hugh breathed into her hair. “I have not felt at peace like this since the Peninsula.”

Gwenddydd hugged him tighter. She knew it could not last but she floated on the promise of his arms always being around her, that she could always lose herself in his warmth.

“We have both been scarred by war,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on her brow, “but for the first time I have hope.”

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting back her head, ready for his kiss. He obliged.

At some point they needed to return to the city. What then? She never wanted this moment to end. There may never be another one like this.

With reluctance, he pulled out of her embrace. “We have an evening engagement.”

Gwenddydd pouted. “Do we need to attend? We’ve secured the Duke’s promise to give him the sword.”

He smiled, the scar tugging on his lip. “Will you refuse a chance to dance with me, Miss Jones?”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Perhaps I do. We have the Pendyrs to protect as well. That hasn’t changed?”

He shook his head. “It has not. My gut tells me they keep something quite disturbing from us. That spirit called us humans and outsiders. Did she mean Miss Pendyr and her companions are not human, or did she mean herself only? I would have it out of them. In the meantime, with most of her menfolk leaving for the coast, she should not be left alone.”

“So no fancy supper?”

He laughed and helped her mount her horse. “I promised you a dance. It might be easier to learn more about them when they are surrounded by distractions.”

They rode back to the city, leaving behind their oasis.

Hugh cleared his throat. “Tomorrow, I will escort you to headquarters.”

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded constricted.

A heart-pang made him add, “I cannot say precisely what time the Duke will see us but I ask for your patience. The Duke is truly a busy man.”

“Of course.” She flashed him a smile.

Would he delay the meeting, somehow, just to spend another day with her? She wanted him to. Maybe the excuse of prying the secret out of Miss Pendyr would work? But hadn’t they just agreed to keep things for the “moment”? What room did love have in that?

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