Prophecy: Child of Earth

40

The gardens of Elysian were a marvel to behold, even by Ashe’s Filidic standards. Prior to the beginning of his nightmarish ordeal twenty years before he had overseen his father’s conservatories, as well as his own, vast country estates with formal gardens and massive greenhouses devoted exclusively to the holy and ceremonial plants of the religion. His knowledge of horticulture was deep, though limited in scope, and he had overseen hundreds of nature priests toiling in the fields and monastic farms as well. He had seen many strange planting techniques in his life, but nothing prepared him for Rhapsody’s unique gardening style.

She was up each morning before the sun, tidying Elysian, baking muffins and bread, filling the air with heavenly aromas. As she worked she sang softly, so as not to wake him, but the dragon knew she was gone the instant she left the bed, and began a long, unconscious process of vaguely sensing to be sure she was still within his reach. The lovely melodies would lull him back into semi-sleep until finally, when she had finished her work in the house and gone outside, he would wake, rise grumpily, and set about making himself human again.

Most days she left whatever she was baking in the oven and went out to tend the gardens, knowing he would sense the moment that the pastries were perfectly done and be there to remove them from the heat. It served as an effective and gentle wake-up call, and Ashe enjoyed the simple domesticity of sharing the cooking chores with her. He would lumber, still in the hazy throes of dragon-sleep, down the stairs, pull whatever she had made from the hearth, and then set to preparing the morning’s repast, arranging it on a tray.

Finally he would emerge with the tray and carry it out to the garden to share breakfast with her. Inevitably he would find her on her knees in the dirt, her hair tied in a shining knot, often in a frumpy kerchief. She would be caressing the leaves of tiny plants, singing merrily, or humming to herself as she worked with the shovel.

She had a song for each flower, and a method by which she soaked and tended each seed, producing thriving gardens almost overnight. By the time she had called him to Elysian the place was ablaze in summer colors and soft, shady hues, the scent of spice and a rich herbal tang hanging in the air. Now it was a virtual paradise, delighting the eye and nose with the perfect balance of greenery to brighter hues. She had a gardener’s eye and a farmer’s touch, and both had brought to Elysian a healthy, jubilant air that it had certainly not seen before her.

One morning he had awakened to a particularly beautiful song, a tune that put him in mind of the seasons without hearing the words. Later, when he had caught the lyrics wafting over the garden wind, he had smiled at them.

White light

Draw back the night

And wake to the call of spring,

Come and see, come and see,

What the warm winds bring

The butterfly’s wing

The meadowbirds sing

A new year in its birth

Welcomes the Child of die Earth

Cool green

In forests unseen

The summer sun’s high in the sky

Come and dance, come and dance,

On the verdant ground

In merry round

Where joy is found

The season of mirth

Laughs with the Child of the Earth

Red gold

The leaves grow old

And fall on the breath of the wind

Stay and dream, stay and dream

At summer’s flight

In colors bright

Autumn’s fight

To hold fast for all she is worth

Comforts the Child of the Earth

White light

Yon comes the night

Snow drapes the frozen world,

Watch and. wait, watch and wait

Prepare for sleep

In ice castles deep

A promise to keep

A year whose days left are dearth

Remembers the Child of the Earth

On that day he had commented to her about the song. Lovely, he had said as kissed her. Much too lovely to be about Grunthor. Needs more guts and phlegm, maybe some lice. Rhapsody had smiled, but her eyes darkened slightly in the way that indicated she was not telling him something. There are things that we both know we can’t share with each other because they are other people’s secrets, he had said to her on their first night as lovers. He had changed the subject. She had planted a small orchard at the edge of the subterranean meadow, the only spot where the fruit trees would receive enough light. Sometimes he would find her among the baby trees, speaking to them softly and caring for them as tenderly as she would a child. Inevitably when he would come upon her like that she would break into an embarrassed grin and run to him, taking his arm and walking with him to the gazebo or the stone benches in the middle of the perennial herb garden where they usually had breakfast.

This morning had been no exception. He had woken in a surly mood with the realization of her absence hanging in his mind, but had become reasonable after breaking his fast. Then he rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to dig in the dirt with her, helping her separate the roots of plants she was dividing and moving to the bank that led down to the lake in front of the turret.

They worked in the half-sun of the grotto for hours. Rhapsody sang joyfully; she had ceased to be self-conscious with him some time before when he had begun singing along, seeking to learn her songs of growing. He had taught her a few more from this land that he knew from his days in Gwynwood, which she learned enthusiastically. Today she was exceptionally happy; when he questioned her as to the reason, she smiled and kissed him. “Look in the lake,” she said.

He wandered down to the bank and gazed down into the water, but saw nothing unusual. He shrugged, and she smiled again.

“Must be muddy this morning,” she said, kneeling down once more and turning back to the pile of leaves and loam that she was working into the soil. “Usually it reflects better than that.”

Ashe felt warmth spill over him. He went up behind her and bent down, hugging her from behind. “I love you.” She kept digging. “You do?”

He nuzzled her neck. “Yes. Can’t you tell?”

“Not at the moment.”

Ashe blinked. “Why?” He felt his chest tighten.

She did not favor him with a glance. “Because no man who really loved me would be standing on my newly planted spritewort.” She gave his foot a playful push out of her flower bed.

“Oh. Sorry about that, old girl.” He gave the shining knot of hair beneath the ugly kerchief a playful tug, and patted her hindquarters affectionately.

“Keep your hands off my muffins, sir.” She looked up at him in mock annoyance.

“Your what?”

“Well, you’re the one who called them that,” she laughed, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen down back under the kerchief and turning back to her digging.

He crouched down next to her. “What are you talking about?” His fingers gently caressed the stray strands.

She tried to hide her smile as she kept working. “Whoever taught you Ancient Lirin had a poor understanding of idiomatic usage. Kwelster evet re marya—you have the most beautiful muffins.”

Ashe’s face colored in embarrassment and humor. “You’re joking. That’s what I said?”

She nodded. “Why do you think I make them for breakfast most every morning? I’ve never had a man think my baked goods were visually pleasing before.”

Ashe erupted into laughter, and pulled her to him, scattering moss and leaves as he did. He kissed her, interrupting her own laughter and smearing the dirt from her brow across his face. “I guess I have to work on my idioms, then, eh?”

“No, not necessarily; I thought it was delightful.”

“Oh, good. So, now, what do I say if I want to see your crumpets?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I suggest ‘please,’ although myriad other things come to mind.”

“In that case, please.”

She smacked him gently on the back of the head with her trowel. “Gods, you are insatiable.”

“That’s your fault, you know.” His dragonesque eyes twinkled, and her emerald ones did the same. They both knew that when it came to romantic fulfillment, she seemed almost as unquenchable as he was. She tried to return to her gardening.

“What makes you say that?”

Ashe removed the tool from her hand and pulled her lovingly into his lap. “You’ve become my treasure, Rhapsody. You must know that the thing a dragon obsesses about most, can never have enough of, is its treasure.” He smiled down at her, but in the back of his mind he was unsure if his light tone of voice was undercutting the sincerity of his words. He sensed that she was still a little uneasy in the knowledge of his other nature, and he hoped she wasn’t put off by the truth of his statement. Aside from the prospect of being taken by the demon again, there was nothing that worried him more than the prospect of what would happen later, when and if she turned away from him, as he knew she expected to one day. He knew the rampage he would undertake then would leave a scorching trail of devastation in his wake.

Rhapsody took his face in her hands and kissed him. “Then maybe I’m part dragon, too.”

“Why?”

“Well, I must be equally obsessed with you to allow you to continually divert me from my work in the garden, which hithertofore was my second-favorite thing in the world.”

“The first being music?”

“Of course.”

“But you’ve been working in the garden all morning. Surely you must be getting tired by now.”

Rhapsody stood and stretched, then shook off the remaining dirt and grass. “Actually, I am.” She gave him her hand and helped him up, then wrapped her arms around his waist. “And hot, too; I feel like a human flame, in fact.”

“I can vouch for that.”

“There you go again, you randy thing,” she chided as he pulled the kerchief off her head and began to unwind the knot in her hair. “Can’t you think of anything else?”

“Excuse me,” Ashe scolded in mock offense. “I wasn’t being lascivious; I was referring to your fire lore.”

“Oh,” Rhapsody smiled. “Well, as a human flame, then, I feel the need to be enveloped by water.” She hugged him tighter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

“Ask what? I’m going to take a bath.” She wriggled out of his arms and ran back to the house with him close behind.

Ashe had stayed in another part of the cottage while Rhapsody filled the tub with cold, clear water from the pump. When it was finally full she sank her hands beneath the surface and concentrated on the heat in her soul. The water began to grow warm, as did the room a moment later. She tossed a handful of spiced rose petals into the tub.

She looked around. It had taken quite some time to get enough water for the bath, and she had expected Ashe to come in by now, but still he had remained elsewhere. Finally she walked to the door and looked out; he was nowhere to be seen.

“Ashe?”

“Yes?” His voice came from downstairs.

“Where are you?”

“In the parlor.”

“What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Oh.” Rhapsody tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “You’re welcome to join me in the tub.”

“No, thank you.”

She tugged on the tie of her white robe. “Are you sure?”

There was no answer for a moment. “Maybe I’ll be up in a while.”

Rhapsody sighed. “All right.” She went back into the bathroom, chagrin beginning to spread through her. She hadn’t meant to offend him; usually he enjoyed being teased about their fervent attraction for each other. Perhaps she had taken the joke too far. She hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings.

The temperature of the tub water was perfect. She shook off her dripping hand and listened for footfalls, but they did not seem to be forthcoming. Rhapsody sighed one more time and resigned herself to having to wash her own back. She was standing before the glass, brushing the plant fragments out of her hair, when the door opened and Ashe came in, dressed in his robe, a bound book in his hand.

Rhapsody’s eyes sparkled with excitement, but her expression remained neutral. “I thought you were otherwise engaged with your book.”

“I am, but I thought you could use some company while you bathed.”

“I see.”

“From over here across the room, of course. I don’t want you to think I’m looking for an invitation or anything.”

“No, of course not.”

Ashe looked hurt. “I assure you, my intentions are purely honorable.”

“Right.”

“No, they are; really. I only came in here to read.”

Rhapsody looked at him with amusement in her eyes. “This is hardly the place to read,” she said, watching as the warm, soggy air laden with scented moisture lazily swirled around her. “Parchment tends to fall apart in steam.”

He came closer, ambling through the hot mist, hands folded politely before him. The vapors curled around his ankles like a playful kitten. The brightness of his smile matched the white robe.

“Tell you what: let’s make a bargain. If you let me stay, I promise you I will not touch you unless you ask me to. I won’t bother you at all. In fact, I’ll sit all the way over here by the door. Fair enough?”

“You won’t be able to see much over there.”

“I’ve told you already, I didn’t come in here to play the voyeur, I—

“I know, you came to read,” Rhapsody said, smiling. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, count on it,” said Ashe, returning her grin.

Rhapsody went back to the tub, watching the vapors hover over the steaming water. Clouds of roiling mist were rising around her, and water droplets settled on her lashes, making her eyelids feel heavy. Apparently the same thing was happening to Ashe; he had sat down on the marble floor next to the door, leaning up against it, and closed his eyes. She gave him one last chance. “You know, you’re welcome to join me if you want.” He held up his hand, eyes still closed.

“All right,” she said. “Suit yourself.” She drew a slender leg up over the rim of the tub and tested the water with her toe; it was hot, but she knew it would be comfortable, and so she walked a few feet over to the towel hook, slid the nubby robe off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground. She cast a glance back over her shoulder, but Ashe was still resting against the door, eyes closed, almost as if asleep.

Rhapsody reached into one of the glass apothecary jars on the table below the towel rack and extracted more dried rose petals mixed with sweet-smelling spices; the soothing aromas of cinnamon, rosemary, and vanilla melded with the perfume of lime flowers and joined the clouds of mist wafting through the air, filling the bathroom with a heavenly aroma. She bent to pick up her robe, hung it on the hook, and then turned toward the tub.

Ashe still looked as if he was sleeping, but the smile on his face broadened as she turned around.

“Ah HA! You’re peeking!” Rhapsody declared, laughing.

“Who in this world could resist?” Ashe said, eyes still closed. “Besides, I didn’t say I wouldn’t peek. I just said I wouldn’t touch.”

“Frankly, I prefer the latter to the former, but have it your way.” Rhapsody walked unself-consciously to the tub and tossed the spicy mixture in. The potpourri hissed as the heat released more of the aromatic oils, and the water swirled with a shimmery film. She took hold of the long fall of her hair and twisted it up on top of her head, securing it with her standard black ribbon. Then she stepped slowly into the tub, enjoying the warmth of the waves. The water closed around her as she sat down and stretched out, luxuriating in its torridity, and slipped beneath its surface up to her neck. Her body relaxed and her mind began to follow.

She slid back up to a sitting position again, her shoulders breaking the watery surface, and laid her head back against the pillow on the edge of the tub. The gentle waves swirled and surged around her, caressing her skin and lapping lightly at her breasts. She smiled, enjoying the tickling sensation as the heat of the water, then the coolness of the air, alternated against her upper body as the undulations came and went. Her nipples, normally pale pink as the inside of a seashell, warmed in the water and the sensation, and darkened to a deep rose.

Rhapsody sighed as the water continued to kiss her, and the porcelain skin rippled in tiny goosebumps. She settled a little further into the tub and slid her feet up the edge, her knees cresting the surface. Then she felt a vibration, much like a current within the depths of the water, swirling between her knees and gently separating them. Her body began to tingle as the current swirled lower, stroking her hips and back and then settling between her legs, whirling and rushing. She felt the water lightly surge around her thighs, growing in its intensity, darting in and around her most sensitive spots. Her body was beginning to tremble, and she felt heat, internal this time, rushing to the places it was caressing.

The waves became more insistent, whirling and throbbing into areas of her that were growing more excited at each motion. It was as if the water was becoming solid and was seeking out places to pleasure her. Rhapsody felt a flush course through her body as the water created a need within her that was beginning to beg to be met.

“Ashe,” she said; the word caught in her throat and came out husky. “Ashe, what are you doing?”

“Reading.”

She struggled to open her eyes and saw him, still leaning against the door, eyes still closed.

“Please,” she said as the water began to pulse in and out of her, “Please stop it.” Her breath was growing shallow as she fought the growing excitement.

“Stop what?” He smiled, but did not open his eyes.

“This is turning into a sexual experience here,” Rhapsody said, trying but failing to maintain her composure. “Now knock it off. Please.”

“You have something against sexual experiences?” he asked playfully, still not favoring her with a glance.

“Yes, if they’re not with you.”

Finally Ashe sat up, opened his eyes and looked at her seriously. “My love, that is me,” he said sincerely. “I can feel you every bit as much as you can feel me, maybe even more so.”

“But that’s the point,” she said as the solid water began to throb, making her desperate. “It’s not you, it’s water, whether you can sense through it or not. You are the only thing I want touching me like this. Please, Ashe. Please don’t do this.”

There was a desperation in her voice and on her face that he suddenly recognized; it was the same as the day at the Tar’afel River when she pleaded with him not to carry her across. He jumped to his feet and came to the edge of the tub; the vibrations in the water immediately ceased.

“I’m sorry, Rhapsody,” he said, watching her anxiety fade and calm return to her face. “I certainly didn’t mean to upset you.”

Rhapsody sat forward, drawing her knees up in front of her. “I know,” she said; she reached out a wet hand and rested it on his cheek. “I know, and it’s not your fault; it’s mine.”

Ashe wanted to take her in his arms, but he remembered his promise to wait for her invitation to be touched, and he held back. “How can this be your fault? All you did was try and bathe. I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

Rhapsody looked into his eyes, and the confusion she saw there went to her heart. She drew his head forward and kissed him tenderly.

“No, I’m sorry, Ashe,” she said softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that in the Past I’ve been used in unspeakable ways by men to vent their sexual excitement, and it was the worst part of my life. And the element of it I don’t think I’ll ever get over was being put on display and—” Her eyes dropped as her voice broke for a moment.

“I was happy to think that I would never have to experience anything sexual again when I came here—that I could live a chaste existence and be so much better off. And then you came along, and brought it back into my life, for literally the first time in a positive way. I never would have believed that could happen. You made love to me for the first time, really. And making love with you is such an incredible thing, a beautiful thing, that I’ve tried very hard not to let anything in my past touch it; I don’t want them associated at all. And through sheer force of will I’ve prevented myself from becoming inhibited in most ways—I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

For the first time, Ashe smiled, and Rhapsody caressed his face with fingers that were beginning to wrinkle from the warm water. “There are just a few things that still remind me of those days. The truth is I don’t mind anything you want to do with me as long as you are holding me in your arms, or at least on the same side of the room as me. It’s probably screamingly ironic that someone like me turns out to be so old-fashioned sexually, but I can’t help it. Every charm, every fantasy, anything I can do to please you is yours, but only because it’s one of my ways of expressing that I love you. And it’s my choice to give myself to you. I’m no one’s toy any longer.”

He looked into the emerald eyes and it was as if he could see straight into her soul. The honesty of her heart and her words made him tremble. “Rhapsody, if making love reminds you of something you dislike—”

“Don’t say that,” she said quickly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I do want to make love with you, very much; so much so that when you said you were going to read instead I thought—well, never mind what I thought. It’s just I want you to hold me, you yourself, not some disembodied force. There’s a sort of communion that doesn’t happen when one partner is on the other side of the room. Besides, it gives me a chance to reciprocate.” Her words made his face flush, and he gripped the sides of the tub, straining to keep his promise.

Rhapsody laughed as she watched his knuckles turn white. “I do admire your forbearance,” she said, and leaned forward. She gave him a warm, wet kiss and as she did she unbound the tie of his bathrobe. “Consider this your invitation,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and she moved back to the far end of the tub to allow him room.

Ashe dropped his robe and stepped into the tub. He knelt down and took hold of the edges of the tub and, holding his own body suspended over her, he leaned forward and gently kissed her.

She returned his kiss warmly, running her hands up his arms, feeling their strength. Her fingers traced the lines in his back, stroking the corded muscles as they held him hovering above her. As her tongue flickered into his mouth she wrapped her arms around him and pulled to draw him nearer. She rose out of the tub as unexpectedly he held his grip; he chuckled at the look of surprise that flashed across her face as her upper body and back were suddenly exposed to the colder air of the room.

“Show-off,” she scolded in mock annoyance. “Very well, have it your way. Stay out here and freeze when it’s lovely and warm in the water.”

“I’m just enjoying the pleasant effect the brisk air is having on you,” he said with a wicked smile, glancing at her chest. He laughed as her body grew suddenly rosier under his gaze, following the reddening glow up her abdomen as it crept into her face.

“Why, Rhapsody; you’re blushing!”

“Don’t tell anyone; you’ll ruin my hard-bitten reputation,” she answered, laughing with him. She gave him another impatient pull.

Ashe’s lips brushed her cheek, moving up the line of her face until they were just above her ear.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he whispered. Then his hands released their hold.

Rhapsody let loose a little cry as together they started to fall, but the water caught them as if it were a cushion, and her yelp turned into a laugh. Then Ashe felt the temperature of the water begin to rise until he was surrounded in a blissful heat. A silky leg brushed the back of his thigh and wound itself sensuously around his own, causing his skin to prickle into the same gooseflesh he was admiring on her a moment before.

Despite the warmth of the bath Ashe began to shiver and as he did, swirling waves swelled from the tub floor beneath Rhapsody and spun around her until they broke over her shoulders and toes, the few remaining areas of her outside the water. Ashe’s hands followed the rhythm of the waves and flowed over her body, gliding upward from her back until they encircled her waist. Her own hands matched his movements, running up his back and over the broad shoulders to his strong neck, where they parted and came together again, cradling his face.

Ashe looked deep into her eyes, wordlessly communicating the depth of the love he felt for her that was rising now into a passion almost beyond his control. Then his own eyes closed and his lips sought hers, crushing them with an intensity that made her tremble beneath him.

Their kiss grew deeper as his hands followed the tremors down her body, enjoying the smoothness of her skin, his palms and fingertips taking in the sensation of the pleasure his touch was giving her and making him tremble in response. One of his hands slid around her back and drew her to him in a strong embrace as the other continued its downward path, tracing the contour of her breast, her side and waist, down the line of her hip and her upper leg, turning artlessly inward. The water surged forward, from her toes, past her knee and met his hand as it moved to the sensitive areas of her inner thigh and upward.

Their lips parted and Rhapsody began to gasp at his touch and the simultaneous pulsing of the water, her back arching as her hands grasped his shoulders again. Ashe’s mouth moved to the hollow of her throat, caressing with fondness the area he had first come to desire when they met, tracing up the long slender neck until his lips touched her ear. In ancient languages he whispered his deepest feelings to her as his hands sought her pleasure, blending carnal delight with the expression of a passionate love the depth of which he could not measure. His own excitement grew as he watched her face transform into radiant happiness at the combination of his efforts to please her. “I love you,” he whispered.

She echoed his words between broken breaths that grew shallower as his hands intensified their motions, his touch gently increasing in perfect rhythm with her desires. His lips returned to the hollow of her throat and then moved lower, lovingly caressing her breasts as they crested the water, warm with longing and arousal. Tiny whirlpools were left behind, tickling where his lips had been moments before as Ashe descended, brushing her slender abdomen with appreciative kisses.

His head disappeared beneath the waves that Rhapsody’s trembling body was causing in the tub, tracing a careful line as he moved to the top of her thigh, then lower still. The soft musical sounds she was making became airy whimpers, and the water began gradually to warm, becoming almost too hot to bear. She gripped the edges of the tub, eyes closed, waiting for him to come up for air, but he did not stop his efforts until she cried out in delight, shivering beneath his hands that had closed around her waist again.

Warm, peaceful sensations began to take over her body as she languidly ran a hand over his hair, his head resting on her abdomen. Her eyes remained closed as he sat up slowly in the tub and positioned himself above her again, the warmth of his grin perceptible even without being seen.

At last his lips pressed gently against hers in a final loving kiss, and she opened her eyes. An inquisitive smile was on his face; his eyes, with their strange vertical slits, sparkled warmly in a way she was beginning to treasure. She returned his smile as she ran a lazy hand over his hair again. It was barely damp. He slipped his hand behind her and eased next to her in the wide tub, pulling her into his arms. She snuggled against his chest and sighed, feeling totally happy.

“Now, was that more of what you had in mind?” he asked playfully.

In response, Rhapsody caught him off guard, pulling him over on top of her, aware that his needs were still unmet.

“Actually, no,” she said, mischief making her eyes darken and flash like an emerald catching the light. “But if you’d like, I’d be happy to show you what I meant.”

Rhapsody parted her legs, and as she wrapped them about her lover, Ashe let loose a deep sigh of pleasure. As always he was amazed at the depths of desire she stirred in him, and at the intensity of longing her touch brought forth. He closed his eyes and began to shiver uncontrollably as she drew him within her; when her warmth closed around him he clung to her, pleading with her softly not to let him fall too fast into the blissful oblivion that threatened to overtake him.

Her answers were tender, reassuring; she comforted him even as she pushed his excitement forward to new heights, assuring him of her love. Then she set about manifesting it physically, and Ashe felt her fire filling him, starting from where they were joined and flowing into the furthest reaches of his soul.

They rolled briefly beneath the surface of the water, Ashe turning in ways she found implausible, so that when they surfaced she lay astride and above him. The ribbon in her hair had been swept away, and as she broke the surface it fell like a golden waterfall around her shoulders. The sight of her reminded him of the legends he had heard long ago when sailing with the Sea Mages, of merrows and mermaids, and of sea nymphs, whose songs could enchant a man into losing his heart forever. He thought for a moment that perhaps this was what she was.

Ashe watched her face in awe, the feelings she was experiencing showing openly, changing like a kaleidoscope as the pleasure grew, transforming her beautiful countenance into something indescribable. She was lost in the joy of a man who loved her, and that man was able to see, clearly and without question, what it meant to her. And his thankfulness for that meaning was immeasurable.

With each caress, each motion, each touch of a wave, Rhapsody felt them moving together toward a dual ecstasy, one that would wildly satisfy their physical desires while, in a deeper, more profound way, comfort their wounded souls with the healing salve of trusting love that neither had believed in for many years. The heady, daredevil feeling of risk she felt in their earliest moments of exploration had given way as each barrier disappeared, and the sickening reminders of how far she had gone past the point of no return were fading away. Even the knowledge of the temporary nature of their relationship, the danger of what was coming, the lack of future in it all no longer dampened the happiness they were discovering, layer by layer, together.

And in that moment, as he made love to her with his body, and his soul, and his words, and even the water around them, Rhapsody lost forever her fear of that part of his nature that was alien to her, the strange dragonesque part, and the power it held over the elements. It was just another piece of him to be cherished, along with the rest. The dragon in him was no different than the music in her; it was something powerful that made him special. And as she sought to please the man she loved, she wanted to make that part of him happy as well.

She took his hands in her own and guided them through her hair, knowing how that excited the dragon, and as she drew them over her body she let him envelop her, wrapping herself up in him. Ashe began to tremble violently; she knew she was reaching both parts of his nature, and the knowledge mixed with the sweet excitement that his efforts were causing in her, pushing their lovemaking toward a culmination that threatened to consume them both.

Rhapsody closed her eyes as the waters of the tub surged around them, caressing her back. She could feel a tingling warmth that started in her fingers and toes begin to move inward, building in intensity; she knew when it reached her center there would be an explosion. She clung to Ashe, who was in the midst of his own battle for dominion over the moment; he was losing. She opened her eyes and studied his face. It was enthralled but pensive, in the struggle to maintain control.

“You’re holding back,” she scolded gently between breaths. “Let go.”

His eyes closed in response, and he shook his head slightly.

Rhapsody was at the edge of a realm she had no desire to enter alone. She slowed the delicious rocking slightly, and Ashe’s hands gripped her waist tighter. “Please,” she whispered. “I’m not going without you. Let go.”

He did. The waves began to churn with vibrancy like a raging river, rapids tumbling over themselves as the rhythm of their movements increased. The water roared white with the force of their passion, sloshing over the edges of the tub and flooding the floor. The currents in the tub, responding to his rapture, crashed over Rhapsody like waves against the rocks on a shoreline. Even the air of Elysian took on an electric hum, and in the distance she was vaguely aware that the musical sounds of the waterfall had been replaced by a raging torrent. The fire on the hearth in the next room leapt and roared in response.

She had no idea how long the pleasure actually lasted, but it seemed almost long enough to erase a lifetime of sorrow. Finally fire and water melded in ecstatic release, and they cried out together as the waves broke over them, submerging them in froth.

After a moment Rhapsody broke the surface again, and put her head down on Ashe’s chest as it rose from the water. She gasped for breath, and caressed his shoulder as he held her tightly in his arms. The waters, still hot but now calm, had drenched the floor, and through her weary delight Rhapsody was glad for the marble tiles.

They lay in the tub for a long time without speaking until the water finally grew tepid. Ashe kissed her forehead and looked down at her, his heart in his eyes.

“You all right? Didn’t breathe in any water, did you?”

A long sigh escaped her, and she turned to look at him, smiling. Her eyes shone up at him like starlight reflected on the water. Ashe felt his throat tighten.

“Amariel,” he said softly to her, in the language of her childhood. “Merei Aria. Evet hira, Rhapsody.” Star of the Sea; I have found my guiding star. It is you, Rhapsody. Her eyes twinkled; his idiomatic usage was perfect. “What a romantic thing to say.”

He smiled at her. “I guess you’ve made me a romantic. What a feat.” Rhapsody laughed and leaned up to kiss him. “A romantic dragon. Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

“Yes.” His face began to shine. “Do you love me anyway?”

She looked seriously at him and spoke, using her ability as a Namer for declaring the truth. “Always.”

He drew her closer, kissing the top of her head. “Aria,” he whispered again.

And from that moment on Aria became his special name for her, the name he used in the most intimate moments and as an expression of a love that no other language or image could approximate.

Grunthor waited impatiently in the afternoon sun at the edge of Kraldurge’s guardian rocks, listening to the howl of the wind as it whined through the fanglike formations. He had come in answer to Rhapsody’s call, and was growing more frantic by the moment, wondering where she was. The message she had sent him on the wind had contained no hint of fear or panic, just a simple request, amplified out through the gazebo, to meet her in the meadow above Elysian.

At last he could see her coming out of the shadows, wrapped in her familiar cloak, despite the sweltering summer heat.

“About time you checked in, Duchess,” Grunthor groused as she approached. “If one more day ’ad passed, Oi would have been down there with my entire elite regiment.” He swept her into his arms and held her tightly, feeling the panic and annoyance drain out of him like water through gravel. “Ya all right?”

“I’m fine, Grunthor,” Rhapsody answered, laughing as he put her down again. “In fact, I’m better than fine.”

Grunthor eyed her suspiciously. “And why is that, exactly?” he demanded, noting her glowing countenance and gleaming hair, unbound from its ever-present black ribbon. Before she could answer, he held up a massive hand. “Ah. Never mind. Please don’t say it, miss.”

The light in her face diminished a little. “Why?”

“Just don’t, please,” said the sergeant simply. He sighed deeply. What she intended to say was as clear as glass to him. What he feared would happen had come to pass. A dragon had taken her as its treasure, just not the one he had believed would.

He thought about how Achmed would react, and shuddered. Grunthor looked away from her face, now wreathed in a puzzled frown, and off into the sunlit crags of the Teeth, their rocky trails green in the fervent bloom of high summer. “You’re not in any trouble then, or need any ’elp, do ya?” he asked finally.

“No, of course not,” Rhapsody said falteringly. “I would have called for you right away had that been the case.” She tried to swallow the knot in her throat that his reaction had formed. She reached up and touched his broad face, turning it gently back toward her. When the amber eyes met hers there was great sadness in them, but his face was set in his standard mask of nonchalance.

“I thought you wanted me to be happy, Grunthor,” she said softly.

Grunthor looked down at her thoughtfully. “Oi do, miss. More than any-thin’.”

“Then can’t you be happy for me?”

The giant turned away again and stared off into the tallest crags. Once they had seemed insurmountable; now the Bolg scaled them regularly, maintaining the ancient ventilation systems, rebuilding the Cymrian observatory. Everything that had once seemed so distant now seemed within easy reach. The irony tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Oi’ll do my level best, miss,” he said at last. “Now, if that was all, I need to be on my way. I’m off on a scouting mission to the deep Realms. If you need me, Oi’ll be back in a fortnight or so.”

“Wait,” Rhapsody said, fumbling inside her cloak. “There is something you can do for me, if you’re willing.” She drew forth a folded piece of parchment, carefully sealed, and handed it to him. “This is for Jo. I wanted to explain—what has come to pass, and give her a chance to adjust to the situation.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “Jo has—a fondness for Ashe, and I want to be sensitive to her feelings,” she added awkwardly. “Will you make sure she gets it, please, Grunthor? Before you go, if possible? I want to give her as much time as possible.” The giant Sergeant nodded, tucking the letter inside his doublet. “And let Achmed know as well?”

Grunthor nodded again, stone-faced. It was clear by the lightness of her tone, and her consideration of the task as an afterthought, that she had no idea of the difficulty of what she was asking. For the first time since he had known the Firbolg king, he would have to struggle to find words. “When ya comin’ round again?”

“I thought I’d wait for a few weeks, give Jo a little time,” she said. “I’ll try and coordinate my return with yours. Then I want to sit down with you and Achmed and talk about going after the Rakshas.”

Grunthor ran a finger under the neck of his jerkin. “All right, miss. Now, I need to be off.” He patted her head clumsily with his enormous hand, then pulled her close in an unwieldy embrace.

“Are you all right, Grunthor? You look tired, haggard.”

“Not been sleepin’ too well at that,” the giant answered. “Nightmares; somethin’ comin’ out o’ the darkness. Can’t put a face on it yet. Now Oi got an idea what you’ve been sufferin’ all this time, miss.” He sighed deeply, and gave her a final squeeze. “You be careful, eh? And let our misty friend know if Vs not a gentleman, ’e’ll be answerin’ to me.”

Rhapsody smiled within the depths of his armor. “I’ll do that,” she said, then pulled back and kissed the giant’s hidelike cheek. “Give my love to the others, and to my grandchildren.”

Grunthor squeezed her shoulder, then turned and left the windy meadow, now blooming in bright colors of heartsease, flowers Rhapsody had planted there at winter’s end. Blossoms of condolence, often given to mourners or planted on graves and battlefields, they did little to gladden either of the hearts that had stood for a moment within their glorious panorama.

The ring of the Patriarchy came into its power on the night of Summer’s midpoint. It was a night of great significance in both of their traditions, so Rhapsody and Ashe were glad to be able to observe it together. They had camped out on the heath, Ashe waiting to perform the rites of the religion his father led, Rhapsody observing the ceremonies that the Lirin held sacred. Afterward they lay in a patch of sweet woodruff and watched the night sky, her head on his shoulder, wordlessly. A shower of shooting stars passed overhead, and a moment later Rhapsody could feel the muscles in Ashe’s chest stiffen beneath her. She sat up and looked down at him.

“What’s the matter?”

He was staring at his hand, a strange look coming over his face. “Fascinating,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Well, I was just thinking about a Gwadd chemist, First Generation, an apothecary by the name of Quigley, reputed to know the secret to every medicinal tonic and potion ever mixed, primarily because he invented most of them. I know his history, and the story of his trip with the First Fleet—Gwadd are not generally seafarers and the voyage was terrifying to him. In spite of that, he developed an herbal remedy for seasickness from dried seaweed in the course of the journey. I was thinking what a marvelous person that would be for you to meet.” Rhapsody nodded. “Then I realized I have no idea how I know any of this.”

“How very strange.”

“Yes, but not as strange as the thoughts I was having about the Mountain Knives. They are a band of stout, strong men, Nain, I suppose, who are so gifted with their blades that they can eviscerate an entire army before the soldiers even know it. One legion of their victims kept traveling for a mile before they felt apart, literally. They are pig-headed and merry, and when they are victorious they celebrate with a war dance and ear-splitting, hooting cries, even if they are still in imminent danger. Also First Generation; also a thought I had never had until a moment ago.”

“And you think it has something to do with the ring?” Her comment became moot a moment later when the white stone in the center began to gleam, and a broad smile crept over Ashe’s face.

“I know it does. Rhapsody, this is marvelous. I suddenly have knowledge of all die living First Generationers, where they are, what they are like, even whether they are loyal to the Cymrian cause or not. There are some marvelous people still alive, Singers, healers, nobles and peasants, priests and pirates, and I know of them all. I wonder if the Patriarch had this knowledge, too.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “He told me it was a ring of wisdom, and it gave him die knowledge to perform die duties of his office well. I imagine it is telling you these things because the office you will hold is that of Lord Cymrian, and it is giving you information you might need in that capacity. It must believe you’re die best candidate.”

“How disappointing.”

“Stop that; you’re insulting my liege lord.” She bent and kissed him. Then a thought occurred to her. “What about leadership? Does it give you any inkling as to who would be a good set of counselors, or who would make a good Viceroy?” He nodded.

“It’s as though, for those reasons only, I can judge any of their worthiness, not as people, but as leaders.” Rhapsody drew her knees to her chest and grew quiet. Ashe noticed. “What, Aria? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered, looking at die ground. “What about potential candidates for the Lady Cymrian? Any First Generationers alive that qualify?”

Ashe looked at her seriously, and turned his attention to her question. “Well, as a matter of fact, there are several.”

Rhapsody looked up at him and smiled slightly. “Well, that’s good, anyway. It gives you a group to choose from, so you should have no trouble picking someone you’ll be happy with.”

“Not really,” Ashe answered. “There is only one obvious choice, someone of a nobility that would be unquestioned among the Cymrians. She’s also someone of great wisdom and accomplishment; both the Cymrians and I would be lucky to have her as our Lady.”

“Well, that sounds promising,” Rhapsody said, smiling. “I’m glad to know you will be happy in your choice of wife.”

“First of all, die Lady Cymrian doesn’t have to be my wife. And even if it makes sense to do it that way, just because I choose her, and ask her, doesn’t mean she’ll have me, Rhapsody. Cymrians are strange like that. She may be reluctant; in fact, I know she is. If she had wanted to, she could have taken the title on her own. She’s had the power at her disposal to do so for some time.”

Rhapsody leaned over and kissed him. “I have no doubt that she will accept you, Ashe. You said she was someone of great wisdom. Anyone who would turn you down would have to be a fool.”

“I hope you’re right.” He felt her grow colder beside him, as if her internal fire was burning down a little, and he drew her back into his arms to warm her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “But I’m cold; who would have believed it on Midsummer’s Night? Can we go in now?”

“Of course,” Ashe said. He stood as she did and offered her his hand. “There’s a fireplace waiting for us back in Elysian that holds a special place in my heart. Since this is a night of reflection and remembrance, why don’t we go relive the first memory we made there?”

She nodded and took his hand, and together they made their way back underground to Elysian in the dark.