Not Dead Yet

Chapter 2 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.

Eidothea has married Jasper, and Llyr lives with them. They are a dedicated threesome, but rumours are circulating that Eidothea is a monster. Afraid to reveal she and Llyr are dreigiau môr, they plan to flee, but Eidothea is captured by the locals, who throw both she and Jasper off the village’s pier into the ocean…

Jasper’s Journal

Obviously, I did not die.

In a whirl of bubbles, Eidothea carried me out to sea, beyond the reach of fishing spear or rifle. The rush of water assaulting my ears faded along with my consciousness.

I woke to the action of her patting my scaly face. We bobbed in the sea, heads above the surface. Llyr remained in dragon form, supporting us from below. I coughed and spat out water. Even the air this close to the sea’s surface held too much water for me to breathe with comfort.

Through water-spiked lashes, I stared at her, her chestnut hair a sodden mass falling about her shoulders. It reminded me of the day I had first pulled her from the sea. Eidothea is as beautiful now as she was then, just two scant years ago. My heart swelled with love.

I reached for her, drawing her into my arms, and kissed her, giving her all my fierce fears for her and the accompanying relief that we both survived this trial. Through the bond, her heart rose to meet mine.

She broke off the kiss, sinking a little deeper into the water, the waves lapping at her chin. “I almost thought we lost you.” Her arms wrapped around my chest. “We need to get you to shore before you freeze. Climb on.”

She turned and presented her back. With Llyr’s underwater assistance, I wrapped my arms about her neck, loosely hooking my legs around her hips. Eidothea sank, becoming draig môr in a whorl of bubbles. For a brief moment, I held onto nothing and then she was there, her lavender scales glistening below the surface.

Llyr’s red and gold scales twisted by her side. I buried the stab of jealousy that he could enjoy her in both her forms. On either side, I glimpsed the sinuous shadows of other dreigiau môr, her royal guard.

Not wanting to drown me a second time, she skimmed just below the waves. A few times, she got caught in a trough, becoming human until she dipped into the next wave.

Half-drowned, we ended up at the beach below our house.

With Llyr’s help, I staggered to the cave. Llyr retrieved dry clothing from a dark corner of the cave. Still naked, the sea dripping from her hair and beading over her skin, Eidothea towelled me dry. The act of drying became an opportunity for her to add wandering caresses. Not hidden, for her desire blazed through the bond to both Llyr and I. Even without the bond, her body rendered clues of her arousal.

I wished we had time to linger but I imagined the villagers would be headed for the Pendyr place next to ransack it and possibly even burn it. “I left the wagon at the rectory.” I donned the white shirt Llyr handed me. I imagined the warmth of Llyr’s body still lingering in the fabric, unlikely given both the season and the hours that had passed since he had last worn them. “I can cut across the fields and be on my way. You must leave here also.”

Eidothea clung to my hands. I stared at them, unable to meet her pleading gaze. “Alone? We will go with you.”

“It’s not safe for you, Eidothea.” Llyr rested a hand on her bare shoulder, caressed her upper arm. He yearned to comfort her. That and his fear for her shone clear in our Chosen Court bond.

She shook free, turning to him. “We bring the guards with us. They can turn back once we are safely past the Tregallas estate.”

Llyr thrust a pair of breeches at me. “Eidothea, the caer—”

“Can wait,” she snapped.

I looked up at that. She had folded her arms beneath her breasts, which momentarily distracted me.

Her frown and mulish pout underlined her sharp words. “Come with us to Craiglyn House. It will be safer if the three of us travel together. We can go to Caer Morgana from there. Another week will not make a difference.”

“Eidothea…” Llyr sighed. He and I exchanged glances over her head, almost communing through the bond. I agreed with his fear and frustration. I wanted Eidothea safe, but parting a second time seemed harder. At length, Llyr nodded, conceding. “We must make haste. This was far too close a call.”

All of us dressed, including the summonsed royal guards. The cave suddenly seemed too crowded. I shielded Eidothea with my body while she changed. I couldn’t object to Llyr seeing her naked, but the guards? It might not matter to the dreigiau môr but it mattered to me.

We climbed the narrow steps on the cliff face and headed across the rolling sheepfolds. One long walk later, not seeing a soul, we reached the rectory. Mrs. Smith appeared at the door as Eidothea and I boarded the wagon, with Llyr beside us. The four royal guards jogged before us. They had trained on the beach for this Above Sea assignment, strengthening their bodies to thrive in the air instead of water.

We passed the Tregallas estate without incident. Eidothea thanked each of the guards before dismissing them.

Llyr eyed the residence that stood in the distance, nestled in a shallow valley. “Now that we know that Ladon is back, we should have him arrested.”

Eidothea agreed.

“I wish them luck.” I shook out the reins. “Ladon will not remain long at the estate, certainly not once he learns of our escape.”

Eidothea’s Diary

2^nd May, 1816

We traveled across Wales, dropping down to Carmarthen and taking the coast road to Caldicot and the short remaining distance to Craiglyn House.

Each night over that week, we slept in an inn, in the same bed, curled together. I felt so protected sleeping sandwiched between Llyr and Jasper.

We arrived at Craiglyn House on the 2nd. Gwenddydd met us at the door, slumping against the large door’s frame. She looked heavy and uncomfortable, nearing the end of her pregnancy.

She clasped my hands with a weary smile. “I have never felt so helpless, knowing you were in danger and being so far from you.”

I squeezed her hands. “I wish I could have spared you that, especially with the baby… It’s not long now?” I peered at her. Through our shared bond, I sensed her good health. The travails of pregnancy stayed muted. Did the bond somehow know these aches and pains were normal for a pregnant woman?

My fingertips brushed over my lower belly. It had been almost a year and I had yet to fall pregnant with Jasper’s child. Llyr and I had danced as dragons and his pouch remained sealed. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Perhaps the Goddess refused the gift of a child for a reason. But had we not succeeded in our quest?

“Not long,” Gwenddydd confirmed. “You have arrived just in time for my lying in. Now, come inside and tell me precisely what happened.” She cast a look at loaded wagon behind us. “It is no small thing, I see.”

Leaving the unloading to others, I linked arms with Gwenddydd and retreated into their mansion.

“I sense exhaustion.” Gwenddydd beckoned a servant. “Some tea?”

In the morning room, Classically-styled in muted blues and white plaster details, I sat and told her everything that had happened.

She reached forward and patted my arm, her three quarter sleeve falling back to reveal a sliver of her dragon tattoos between glove and sleeve. “You are safe now. Stay here until Ladon is brought to justice.”

“He has already fled the Tregallas estate. Llyr heard from one of the guards this morning.” My prophet had insisted remaining in touch with my defensive forces. I bit my lip. “If he suspects we have come here, it will bring trouble to you.”

Gwenddydd managed a slight shrug, the movement constrained by her tight sleeves and bodice. “Nothing we cannot handle. The Sisterhood will not fall for such slander. They know their history, more than most folk.”

We gathered for the evening meal. I gazed at the faces around the table. I missed the rest of my friends: Maeve, whose spirit had been vanquished in Brussels, Cychwr, who was pregnant, and Ondine, who remained with him in Caer Morgana. Everyone else that I considered family now surrounded me: Jasper and Llyr, Father and Lady Meredith, Sir Hugh and Gwenddydd.

Jasper sat between Llyr and I. Since arriving, the tension had left him. The return of his crooked smile lightened my heart also.

“Daughter, you and Jasper look happy,” Father remarked, focusing upon his meal. “Marriage suits you both.”

Jasper squeezed my knee and shot a look at Llyr. “Our arrangement suits us very well.”

I caught Llyr’s smile and returned it. He reached behind me and ruffled Jasper’s dark auburn curls. “It does,” Llyr agreed.

Father coughed and grimaced. “Yes, well. You are here and safe now, that is the important thing.”

I tried not to notice how the evening felt a bit awkward afterwards. Gwenddydd retired early with Sir Hugh, complaining of tiredness and rubbing her lower back. Mrs. Pendyr found some reason to excuse herself, leaving me with Father and my lovers.

“I hope you will forgive me, daughter,” my father murmured. His gaze kept tracking to the double doors leading to the rest of the house. “I find I cannot keep away from my wife. We have spent almost our entire lifetime apart and cannot stand to be long away from each other.” Rising, he bowed and quit the room.

“Rude,” I muttered, leaving my chair. Was my ménage à trois really that awful to witness?

Jasper embraced my shoulders. “It has been a long day for us. There will be plenty of chances to spend time with your father.”

I gazed up at him. Jasper had such a knack for looking into my heart. He brushed his lips against mine. A light kiss that decided to linger.

Llyr slung his arm about my waist, bringing our hips together. “It’s too early for sleep,” he murmured into my hair. “Lady Gwenddydd has placed our chamber far from hers and your father’s. I want to hear you beg for me tonight.”

I broke away from Jasper’s kiss, finding and claiming Llyr’s mouth. “Yes,” I breathed into his parted lips, our mouths sealing. I yearned for them both, in a space where we were free to love as we pleased without fear of reprimand or reprisal.

Jasper trailed kisses along my neck, pressing against my back. “I want you to call my name too.”

I knew soon I would be undone and I did not want the Craiglyn House staff to see it. “Let us to bed.”

Llyr pulled me from the drawing room. I grabbed Jasper’s hand and followed.

6^th May, 1816

Craiglyn House became a refuge for us. I knew I had to leave and follow Llyr to Caer Morgana, to resume my monarchical duties. Yet, not even the promise of a dragon dance with my beloved could get me to stir.

Llyr did not insist. The bond told him of Gwenddydd’s rare nerves about the approaching birth. We all felt it in our bones.

Within a week of our arrival, the first birthing pangs started. I sensed them, distantly, much as I did with Jasper’s chronic aches.

Mrs. Pendyr sent for the local midwife, one of the sisters of the stone circle. Llyr and Jasper took charge of distracting Hugh from his wife’s moans, taking him to some other part of the house. I sat at her bedside, holding her hand, gritting my teeth each time a contraction wrenched her frame.

The midwife kept checking on Gwenddydd’s progress.

“How long does this take?” I murmured while Gwenddydd groaned through another contraction.

“As long as it takes,” came the midwife’s brusque reply. “Every mother is different. The firstborn usually takes its time.”

Between contractions, Gwenddydd paced the bedchamber, reaching out for me when her muscles spasmed.

Jasper’s Journal

6^th May, 1816

“Mr. Tregallas.” Mrs. Pendyr, formerly Lady Meredith Rathven, called to me.

I paused on my way to the small room I used as a study, not much more than a valet’s closet, but it suited me. We would be leaving once the Devenish baby arrived. “Yes, m’lady?”

“Where is your wife?” Mrs. Pendyr seemed stiff, almost brittle.

“Attending to Lady Devenish and the birth. I understand it takes a while.”

She delivered a short, stiff nod. “That is well. Come to my chamber and sit with me. I would read your palm.”

I hesitated. The last time she read a palm, it had been Mr. Pendyr’s and she saw calamity. I did not wish to see that. “Is it necessary?”

Her back stiffened. “I had a dream, Mr. Tregallas. One does not ignore the Lady when She appears.”

I frowned. “I thought your prophecies came in the form of fortunes, not dreams.”

“That is why I wish to read your palm, sir.” Mrs. Pendyr’s lips thinned. “Prophecies tend to leak through however they can. Will you oblige me with your presence?”

Hobbling, I followed her down the hall and across to the wing she inhabited with her husband.

She noticed me look for him. “Mr. Pendyr knows what it is like to become a father. He sits with my nephew. Sit, sit.”

I perched on the sopha’s edge. “Why do you not wish Eidothea to know about this?” Eidothea had muted our bond for the sake of Gwenddydd’s birthing pangs and the concern we all had for our Sword in this precarious, if natural, process.

“Give me your hand.”

I held out my bared hand, palm up.

Her fingertips traced over the various lines etched into my palm, some stained by ink. “You will be in great conflict with your brother.”

I held back from eye-rolling. “It has always been thus.”

“It is now more so. He seeks the crown—”

“—of the dreigiau môr?” I would not have my Eidothea in danger.

“Of the Fisher King.”

I sat back, almost unbalancing off the sopha arm. I tugged free of her loose grip. “I have a crown?”

“Your role in the Chosen Court, is it not? You have done admirably so far.”

I held back a derisive snort, grimacing with the effort. “I have done nothing, nothing of worth.”

“There is an item—”

“—oh no—”

“—an item, which if found by your brother will cause him to usurp you.”

“He does not have a Chosen mark.”

“That won’t matter.”

“All this was shown in my palm?” I rubbed at my temple. It looked like my adventuring days were not quite over yet. “What is this item?”

“Long. A spear.”

“Arthur’s spear.” I did not pose that as a question. First it had been the dreigiau môr’s coronation greal, then Arthur’s sword. Now his spear?

“Quite so. It has powers.”

“Of course it does.” The prospect of searching both exhausted and … excited me. I now had the perfect excuse to dive into my books, most of them still packed away, before heading out into the field to chase clues. “Why must I keep this from my wife?”

Mrs. Pendyr clasped her hands before her. “I did not see her in my vision. Only your brother. He limps too.”

That startled me, until I remembered the hitch in my brother’s step when he climbed into the carriage at Pysgota Mawr. Had he been trying to hide an injury?

I almost missed what Mrs. Pendyr said next. “The Lady sends only what she wishes me to know.”

“You sound just like Llyr.” Someone I planned to consult at the first opportunity. I changed the subject. “Was there ever a lake near here?”

“As the old tales tell it, yes. Much as old Glastonbury was once surrounded by marshes and water. Someone diverted the spring, so the lake is long gone.”

I rose and sketched a bow. “It seems I have a great deal of work to do.” I took my leave. First, I would review my notes and then dig out the relevant volumes from storage …

A surge of panic from Eidothea made my steps falter. Moments after, Llyr appeared. “I’m fetching Ondine. Look after our girl, will you?”

I clasped his forearm. I couldn’t delay his departure with talk of Mrs. Pendyr’s visions. It could keep. “Of course. Go with speed.”

Eidothea’s Diary

Hours passed. Gwenddydd’s shift stuck to her body, her vibrant red hair hanging dark and limp against her face and neck. I dabbed a cooling cloth on her temples.

The next contraction came, still too far apart for the birthing stool.

I grunted in surprise. The pain hit me low and deep. We hung on to each other. “Maybe this is it,” I breathed.

“Goddess, I hope so.” Gwenddydd panted.

The pain persisted, growing unbearable. Gwenddydd sank to her knees, dragging me down with her. “I must push,” she gasped.

The midwife hurried over. “Let’s get you on the bed and have a look.”

The two of us staggered to the wide bed, Gwenddydd crawling upon it and collapsing.

:What is happening?: Llyr’s frantic thought broke through the agony.

:I think the baby is coming,: I told him.

The midwife inspected the space between Gwenddydd’s legs. My gaze drew away, caught by the sight of something dark upon the white sheets.

Blood.

The sharp pain spiked. Gwenddydd doubled over, loosing a shout.

The midwife straightened, revealing bloodied hands. “Don’t push, lass. It’s not time. Baby isn’t in the right position.” She began massaging Gwenddydd’s swollen belly.

I felt lightheaded, acute pain lodged deep in my womb. :Llyr, fetch Ondine. Something is not right.:

This one has some of my favourite dialogue. Also, the “happy ever after” has started to fracture. Did you notice? Thoughts about today’s instalment? Comments? Share below or join the Chat!

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