Come Undone

Chapter 4 of "A Shattering of Souls", book 4 of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles and A Sword for Wellington. It now concludes with A Shattering of Souls. New here? This is a Regency-set fantasy romance adventure with shapeshifting sea dragons, where our cast search for Arthurian treasures to save the world from ecological collapse. Save this post, go subscribe (you’ll get the first two seasons in an e-book) and then have a binge read of the rest. You deserve it.

A little reminder that sources will be listed in bold. There are dates included as well, as I have needed to go back and forth in time to pick up the threads of someone’s part in this story due to the fact that we have multiple journals in play this time around.

Thanks to Ondine, Gwenddydd gives birth to a baby girl but is much weakened by the loss of blood. The crisis over, Eidothea agrees to head to Caer Morgana with Llyr, and as Gwenddydd slowly revives, Ondine follows a few weeks later. Jasper gets a burst of terror through the bond: Ondine is in trouble.

Jasper’s Journal

I stood for hours on the sandy beach, the Severn’s estuary in full flow. As none of the caer’s royal guard remained, I had no one to dispatch to Caer Morgana to find out what had happened to Ondine. I could only hope that someone would send word. I hoped even more for Eidothea to rise out of the waves so I could hold her, console her.

I shivered. The sun disappeared behind the hills on the opposite bank. Behind me, I heard the snort and stamp of the carriage horse.

Another spike of fear, coming from both Eidothea and Llyr. Their growing anxiety gnawed at me.

The waves foamed, unnatural for this part of the river. Dark heads surfaced. I hobbled forward, trying to make out their features in the growing gloom.

One figure carried another. Cychwr and Ondine? But no. The man lacked Cychwr’s bulky shoulders. He also wore his hair short and suffered a limp.

My grip on my crutch tightened.

Ladon. He had Ondine. A handful of burly dreigiau môr accompanied him.

“Brother.” Ladon grinned in the fading light. Ondine lay limp, eyes closed, blood streaking down her face.

“You found her?” Even as I asked, I knew how ridiculous I sounded.

Ladon laughed, hefting Ondine in his arms. “You could say that. I’ve a message for you and your Queen. You took what was mine. Now I’ve taken one who belongs to you.”

I frowned at the wrongness of his words. “She does not belong—”

“She’s been mine ever since she tripped the spell in Father’s Greal library.” Ladon’s lip curled. “I know she launched herself at you.”

“That was not her. That was the spell. Let her go, Ladon.” My voice sunk under the weight of my futile words.

“I wanted you to know, brother. Here is another life you failed to save. Good luck in finding us. You’ve failed in that thus far.” With a bob of his head, Ladon commanded, “Take care of him, but leave him breathing.”

I regained consciousness to find Eidothea sitting beside me. I lay in our bed at Craiglyn House. In her pale dress, she loomed out of the dark. A candle guttered on the bedside table.

I wet my dry lips. “How long …” I gasped remembering Ladon at the cove. I sucked in my breath, rocked by the onslaught of her worry through our bond. “Oh, God, Eidothea.”

She flung herself on top of me, surprising a grunt of pain from me. I compressed my lips. “You have been unconscious for over a day.”

I ached from head to toe. A deep breath revealed at least one cracked or broken rib. I ran my tongue over my teeth. At least I had not lost any. “Where’s Llyr?”

“Looking for Ondine. I … I couldn’t leave you. Sir Hugh says he found you on the beach.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat raw and constricted. It hurt to breathe. “Eidothea…”

She leaned in, my vision filling with her lovely face, all the more beautiful for its fierce expression. “Who hurt you?”

“Ladon,” I answered before succumbing to oblivion.

My heart ached. A deep throbbing worse than any heartbreak. Of course it ached. My love hurt with Ondine’s abduction. It roared louder than Gwenddydd’s or even Llyr’s anguish.

I blinked, suddenly wide awake. Anger and frustration surged along the bond.

Shrugging on a robe and retrieving my crutch, I went in search of them. My breath hitched with each intake.

I found them downstairs in the morning room. Llyr had his back to me, his shoulders stiff and high around his ears. I noticed his clenched fists.

Gwenddydd sat in the window seat, Hugh’s arm protective about her shoulders. She radiated hurt and guilt. Hugh grimaced, glaring at both Eidothea and Llyr.

Eidothea faced away from both Llyr and I, her shoulders slumped and shaking.

I hobbled forwards, putting myself between Eidothea and Llyr. “I take it you have not found her.”

Eidothea shepherded me to a seat. “You should still be in bed!”

Sitting, I grasped her hand, keeping her by me. “How could I when you two are at odds?”

She grimaced, her hand tightening in mine. “He wants me to return to Caer Morgana.”

“It’s safer there,” Llyr interjected. The last time I had seen that glowering expression had been when Ladon’s men kidnapped Eidothea in Brussels.

“How can I sit there when Ondine is out there hoping we will find her?” Eidothea wailed. It sounded like they rehashed the argument for me.

“I’m searching. Cychwr also as best he can in his state. As are the royal guards. Half the caer’s populace has turned out to look for her.” Llyr’s features shuttered. “I can’t afford to lose you too.”

“Nor I you and yet you go out—”

“—She’s my sister!” he bellowed.

This was not the first time they’d had this argument. “Ladon has her,” I told them. All attention fell on me. “He carried her in his arms. She’s hurt.” I touched my temple, where I had seen the blood flow.

Eidothea mewed a small cry of pain. She sat beside me, fingertips gently tracing my face’s bruises. I wanted to sink into her loving gaze, bury myself into her bosom and forget all of this.

I drew her hand away from my cheek. “He had a message. We took what was his, and now he has taken one who belongs to us.”

Eidothea paled, her freckles standing out across her nose and cheeks. I thought she would faint.

“That damned library,” Llyr cursed. He looked ready to punch me.

I agreed. “He said the spell she triggered in the library made her his. He taunted us, because we have been unable to find him so far.” I grimaced. “Always he finds us first.”

Llyr swore. I knew enough of the dreigiau môr language to recognise most of the words.

“Why did you go to the cove?” Hugh interrupted. His calm voice reminded me of the time he had interrogated us in Brussels. Hugh planned to put his keen mind to use.

“To wait for word of what had happened to Ondine.” I glanced at Eidothea. “I knew you would come—or send somebody—as soon as you could.” I winced, closing my eyes. “God, I am so sorry, Eidothea. I was outnumbered.”

She wiped a tear from my cheek. “This is not your fault.” She straightened. I realised she communicated via thought to Llyr, or perhaps to a royal guard. Her hands rubbed mine. “Ceridwy will never forgive me…”

“It is not your fault,” I croaked. The blame was all mine, thanks to my greed for Father’s resources. “How could it be?”

Eidothea buried her face against my shoulder. “I can still sense her presence, how she is hurt, but no more than that.”

I sensed the same.

“Ladon is draig môr,” Llyr said. “He can’t take her too far inland. We will find her.”

Hugh frowned. “But Ondine is able to travel inland. Can we be certain Ladon will keep her with him?”

“If it made it harder for us to find her, I would not put it past him.” I winced, closing my eyes again. My family, my shame.

Llyr groaned. “We don’t have the ability to search inland.”

“You and I do,” Eidothea pointed out. “Sir Hugh, my father, Gwenddydd—” She darted a look at her Sword, who wiped tears from her eyes. “—once you have recovered.”

“If only the birth had gone smoothly…” She leaned against Hugh.

Llyr thought something at Eidothea. I heard her sharp intake of breath. She leapt up and poked Llyr’s chest. “Just for that,” she said for our benefit, “I am not going to Caer Morgana. I will search for her. They came ashore here. Someone must have seen something.”

“Eidothea—” snapped Llyr. “Is my peace of mind worth nothing to you?”

“And mine is? I don’t ask you to stay at home and not look for your sister. She is important to me too!”

Llyr clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’ll notify the coastal communities.” He stormed out.

Eidothea rubbed at her face. “My apologies, Gwenddydd, Hugh. We have not slept—”

I struggled to rise. “Then help me to bed and rest with me. Make a fresh decision in the morning.”

She threaded her arm around my waist, helping me towards the door. “I don’t want to leave you,” she murmured. “It feels like Ladon is picking us off one by one.”

I could not argue with that. It took all my concentration to navigate the stairs on weakened legs. My body ached so much, it burned.

I sank onto the mattress with a sigh. “What did Llyr think at you before?”

She shook her head. “He is hurt and angry. He did not mean it. He should never have said it.”

“What did he say?” My tone sharpened.

“That Ondine should not have been forced to heal a mere human.” Eidothea’s face crumpled. “How could he have even thought that?” She slumped against me, curling into the crook of my arm.

“Love, he is frightened and everything is out of our control. He seeks to make sense of it.”

“By blaming me. I was the one who asked for her.”

I stroked her damp cheek. “If there is anyone to blame, it is me. He’s my brother and my decisions have goaded him.” It hurt to twist and kiss her forehead but I did it anyway. “Sleep, love.”

“Mi cariad,” she murmured, brushing her lips against mine. They lingered and I wanted to console her with my body but everything hurt too much.

Six months later.

12^th January 1817

The last few days I have felt a strong tug towards Eidothea. Even over this distance, our bond remains strong. I feel her every disappointment, her frustration and despair increasing as each week and month passes with Ondine still lost to us.

My brother has gone to ground, the Tregallas network of agents and spies faithful to him and not I. That beating six months ago was not the last that I suffered at the hands of my brother’s men.

I am alone in Craiglyn House. Mr. Pendyr and his wife search the coast of Wales, going further inland in case Ladon sent Ondine away from him.

Hugh is in Paris, working for the Duke of Wellington again, and using the opportunity to expand the search for Ondine beyond the bounds of Britain. Gwenddydd and their daughter is with him.

I have neither seen nor heard from Eidothea or Llyr since their horrible argument. Eidothea left, while I slept, to continue searching for Ondine on her own, refusing to return to Caer Morgana. Even their hurt feelings are muted in the bond.

As for Ondine, all I can say is that she lives. At first, her connection to us remained strong. We could tell Ladon had enthralled her from the muffled desire we sensed. Then, stark terror and a series of sharp agonies, dimmed and then repeated until abruptly nothing. Just the sense of her presence, that she lived. Whether her torment continued or faded, I know not, for not a trace of emotion comes from her now, not even pain.

I have exhausted all local leads. Indeed Ladon is skilled at laying many a false trail. For all I know, he returned to the sea and swam with Ondine to the Americas, beyond our reach.

Through the bond, I send my heart to Eidothea, hoping she feels my support, even knowing that neither of us have found her Healer. In my imagination, I lay a firm grasp upon the bond. Let her find her way back to me. I miss her so much.

Mr. Pendyr has entrusted the estate accounts to me and I spent this afternoon working on them. I heard a disturbance beyond the study doors and began to rise from my chair.

A footman entered, his face slack with surprise. “Mrs. Tregallas, sir. She’s come on foot.”

She stepped around the footman, my Eidothea. Emaciated, her clothes hung from her skeletal frame, her clavicle a sharp line. Her eyes sunk in shadows, heavy-lidded and bruised.

“Gods, Eidothea, you look terrible.” I gestured to the footman. “Help her to a seat, man.”

I stuffed my crutch into my armpit and hobbled to her.

“You do not look any better.” She sat, her back stiff. Her body swayed with some unseen current. Eidothea searched out my face, reaching out to pat my cheek when I crouched by her side. “It is over,” she breathed. A shudder shook her.

“What is? You found her?” My hope rose despite knowing better. The bond didn’t lie.

She shook her head, trembling fingers at her lips. A sob escaped, then another. She slumped against me, burying her face into my shoulder.

I held her while she cried. “When did you last eat?” I murmured into her hair. I looked up and found the footman hovering. “Ask the kitchen to send up broth and porridge. Oh, and a pot of tea.”

I let her cry until the footman returned, along with a maid bearing a tray. I nodded to the maid to pour. I rubbed Eidothea’s shoulders. “Love, have something to eat.”

“I cannot,” she mumbled, but she straightened, wiping her eyes.

I collected a cup. “A sip of broth?”

She managed a shaky spoonful. Gripping her throat, she choked and coughed, the liquid spattering from her lips.

I dabbed at her clothing and mine with a napkin. “Perhaps too rich. A little tea?”

She took the cup only to set it down. “I cannot. I cannot live while Ondine lies trapped somewhere and … and Llyr has forsaken me.”

I arched a brow. That sounded rather dramatic, even for Eidothea. “What do you mean?”

She covered her face, tears flowing again.

“Eidothea…” I drew her hands away from her face. “Don’t think it, tell me.”

“I have abdicated the throne.”

“What?” What did this have to do with Llyr? “But you are Chosen.”

“An absent monarch is worse than no monarch at all. First, I spent too much time Above Sea, and now it is because I search for Ondine. The caer still needs to function.”

I patted her shoulder, a bit at a loss. “You are not happy about this, but you never wanted the throne.”

“I did not but this decision was forced upon me by Llyr and Ceridwy.”

I gaped. “Llyr forced you? Llyr??”

She curled inward, resting her head upon my chest. “We have not stopped fighting since Ondine disappeared. We agree on nothing.” She hiccuped a sob. “He does not love me any more. Ladon has destroyed us, destroyed the Court.”

I chafed her hands. “Love, you are exhausted and hungry. You still have me.”

“My Fisher King,” She sought my mouth. I gave her a tender kiss, then another, each one lingering. I had been too long without her. Eidothea cried again, her kisses growing hungrier, feverish.

I had missed her so much, I could have surrendered to her demand then and there on the low sopha. But her fragility … I feared I would hurt her.

I pulled away. “I love you,” I said to her look of disappointment. “If I could carry you to bed, I would.” Her arms twined around my neck. “First, I want you to eat something, drink something. Then we will go to bed — to sleep.”

She managed to eat a little porridge and had sufficient strength to walk with me upstairs to our bedchamber. She walked to the bed, stripping off and stepping out of garments as she went.

My breath sucked in. “You are so thin.”

Eidothea lay curled on the bed. Her immeasurable sadness sank through her bond. She didn’t shield at all, possibly to punish Llyr for hurting her, but it wounded me also. I refused to protect myself, letting her raw emotions wash over and through me. Once again, I wish I had the ability for thought communication because I badly wanted to give Llyr a piece of my mind.

I vowed I would make her smile, laugh, and call out in desire. But not tonight. Tonight, I would hold her and comfort her.

None of this was her fault. The fault lay squarely with me and my insistence on raiding my father’s library. I shook it off. Ladon had placed himself in the enemy camp long before this. We should have been careful with each member of the Chosen Court, not just our monarch. We should have held onto the instinct Eidothea had in Brussels of keeping all of us by her.

“I missed you.” I shed my clothing and slipped under the covers, curling around her back. I could offer my warmth, a lifeline for her to hold onto. I knew she sensed my concern.

She lay stiff and unrelenting until all at once she squeezed my hand. She rolled, burying her face against my chest. “I have missed you so much.” She paused. I cherished holding her in my arms, hoping this time she would stay. “I have made such a mess of things! With you, with Llyr, the Chosen Court. I have failed, utterly failed.”

I held her shaking body, stroking her back, murmuring soft words of love until her sobbing abated. I thought Eidothea had fallen asleep, for while the sadness remained, the storm had quieted.

Tendrils of longing curled along our bond. She pressed open-mouthed kisses against my clavicle.

What occurred next is only of concern between a husband and his wife. Our world narrowed to just she and I and her care slipped away … for a time.

Bonus Material

Read two short articles from Eidothea’s Scrapbook, one an advertisement and the other a rather chilling report.

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