Chapter 38 Non
Non
It was good to see the Western encampment back to its old self again. Or as put back together as it could be, considering the devastation that took place only a few days prior.
As I made my way towards the fairway, I saw very little evidence of the attack by Gwaun and his underlings. The Western Coven had been working hard to get back to normal.
How Cadoc could say the things he had about these people was beyond me. He'd seen, just like everyone else at Llwyn Onn, what Gwaun had sent to do his bidding. There was no way they'd ever bow to a heretic like the Orddu willingly.
It had taken me approximately two hours of arguing with myself to decide I was going to visit Dylan today.
When I'd woken, I was angry. But after detangling my thoughts and feelings in a steaming bath, I decided my anger towards him was misplaced.
I shouldn't have treated him and Jazz the way I had.
When I emerged from my bath, wrinkled and in a better mood, Jazz was gone.
So, I'd decided a visit to the Western encampment was in order.
There had been a brief moment of panic when I wondered if Granny or Aeron would know if I'd visited. But from the conversation Granny and I had prior to the whole mind-fucking Aeron had ordered, it didn't seem like they had a clue about this summoning circle.
Following the flow of the crowd clockwise, I made my way towards Dylan's midnight blue pabell.
His tent doors were closed, so I lifted my fist. But this was a tent, not a building.
I tucked my hand into my pocket, hoping no one had seen me do that.
It didn't look like his tent had a doorbell or anything to alert its inhabitants that someone was outside.
So, I resorted to good old-fashioned shouting.
The sound of tools clattering to the floor came first, then Dylan pulled back the flap.
“You can just let yourself in, you know,” he said, wiping his damp brow with the back of his hand.
Over his usual black shirt and skirt, he wore a leather apron. I assumed he was in the middle of making a weapon, seeing as he was the Forge Master for the Witches of Llyr.
“The last thing I want to do is walk in on you doing something sordid with someone.”
Dylan grinned, his teeth gleaming bright against the smudges of dirt on his face. “You're the only one I would be doing anything sordid with, cariad.”
His voice wrapped around the final word like a promise, and heat rushed up my neck. I tucked my head to my chin, hiding behind my hair. I prayed he couldn't see just how easily his words had lit a fire within me.
“What if you were doing something sordid with your hand then?”
He stepped closer, catching my chin with his knuckle and lifting my face to meet his.
“Then I would without a doubt want you to be the one who walks in on that,” he said slowly.
Shamelessly, I let out a whimper as his other hand landed on my hip. He leaned in closer, and the scent of steel and the sea breeze filled my senses. He chuckled when my body shuddered as his lips brushed the shell of my ear.
“Before we get to work, I have a surprise for you.”
I cocked a brow at his insinuation.
“Not that kind of surprise, unfortunately, but you just say the word, and that can be arranged.”
I pushed past him, desperate to see the surprise and put some space between us before my temperature reached boiling point. When I stepped into the workshop part of his pabell, I was met with a disaster.
Tools of every shape and size were spread out over the worktable. A skull of what looked like a giant serpent hung from the ceiling on a hook.
“Is that the surprise?” I asked, nodding to the skull.
“Kind of.”
I grimaced, but Dylan was too busy rummaging through the clutter on his table. When he found what he was looking for, he passed it to me.
I took it out of his hand and studied it.
“And this is?”
Dylan's smile reached his ears as he snatched the small white object back and held it up to the candlelight for a better view.
I reached out, running my finger over the intricate patterns carved into the object's face. In the light, it vaguely resembled the shape of a spoon.
The top of the handle was carved into the same fivefold symbol I'd worn the night of the Anoethau celebration, the same symbol that my late grandfather seemed to revere.
Underneath was a crashing wave that intertwined with tendrils of black shadows.
At the base were two crossed daggers, Carnwennan and Cynddaredd.
“You carved this for me,” I croaked.
Dylan nodded towards the skull hanging from the ceiling. “I wanted to make you something out of that.”
My eyes widened. “A skull?”
“It's the skull of the Afanc you defeated, to be exact.”
My mouth hung open. The concept of anything made from bone was kind of gross. But the more I rubbed my thumb over the shapes, each representing a part of my story since joining this world, the stronger I felt somehow.
“What exactly am I supposed to use this spoon for? Soup?”
Dylan rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like smartarse.
“You've never heard of a love spoon?”
I had a vague idea of the tradition. “I thought these were given to people on their wedding day?”
Dylan nodded. “They can be. But to put it simply, it's an act of devotion given from one person to another. Often, the spoon is carved with personal things that represent the person you are gifting it to.”
A knot formed in the centre of my chest at the thought of what this meant.
“It's also my way of apologising for yesterday.” Dylan moved to lean against the worktable, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked off into the darkness.
“There's nothing to apologise for. Aeron is a sick fuck.”
The look in Dylan's eyes when he met mine again was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. A storm of emotions could be seen in his azure eyes. Fury, determination, even a little regret. I found myself scrambling for something to say to try and focus his mind elsewhere.
“You've been so kind making all these things for me.”
Dylan's lips tipped up into their usual playful grin. “It keeps my hands busy.”
Once he'd showered and changed into a shirt and pleated skirt, which was identical to what he usually wore, we made our way to the training ring.
To my surprise, we weren't alone this time. At the centre of the ring stood a small crowd of Dylan's friends.
When Mercy noticed us, she bounded across the ring and pulled us both into a tight embrace.
“There's my favourite winner and my favourite second place!”
I gave Dylan a questioning look. “Seems like the Cyngor Blaen was impressed with my decision to put Guto out of his misery. I was the only one commended for my bravery during the trial.”
Mercy led us towards the rest of the group, but the images of Guto clutching his insides while still alive flashed through my mind.
Dylan seemed to know what I was wincing about and dropped his voice low when he next spoke.
“He didn't suffer enough for putting his hands on you. The fact that there are those still walking around who have done the same is unforgivable.” His eyes dropped to my wrists, where the welts from the restraints had been only a few hours before.
Zenn came over next, the flickering torches that lined the ring glinting off the stiletto knives strapped to his waist. “We have a crowd for training this evening?” I asked, biting my bottom lip.
Zenn cleared his throat. “I promise no one here will be judging you.
Dyl thought it was a good idea to have a mix of different people attending whose power all differ.
What works for one of us when it comes to controlling our power might not work for the other.
It's good for you to try different techniques.”
The jury was still out on whether everyone here would refrain from making comments about my less-than-average skills.
Lleucu was the first person who came to mind; she stood deep in conversation with the only person in the ring I didn't recognise.
A striking female with pale lavender hair and eyes almost as silver as my one eye.
The teenage boy I'd recognised as the one asking all the questions to the storyteller the night of the Anoethau celebration was introduced as Efydd.
Turns out, he was Mercy's younger brother and barely sixteen.
He was years off competing in his own Anoethau trials, having only just passed his Cychwyniad.
Efydd made a beeline for Dylan and interrogated him about the Arf he was working on, now that he'd passed his Cychwyniad.
“What about a mace?” he pleaded with Dylan.
“The damned thing would weigh more than you. Think of something a little less…bulky.”
Efydd's scowl deepened at Dylan's rejection. “Okay, what about a flail?”
Dylan ran a hand down his face. I got the feeling this wasn't the first time Efydd had cornered Dylan for this conversation. “I'll think about it.”
“Maybe you could add extra balls at the end, so a three-headed flail that has retractable spikes for—”
“Uffern dan, Efydd, I said I'd think about it.”
Efydd muttered a string of profanity under his breath as he skulked to the edge of the ring.
Letting out a frustrated breath, Dylan turned to me. “Ready to try and control your power?”
I shrugged. “If it even shows itself. I've not felt it since the attack the other night.”
Dylan looked confused. “Then what did you do under the water with the Afanc? One minute you were stuck under its claw, the next you were falling from a black rip in the sky.”
Shit, this was a conversation I'd been avoiding.
“Where did you go when you were swallowed by your own shadows?” Dylan pressed.
To the most magical place, I wanted to reply.
To somewhere where there were creatures flying in the sky and winged fairies fluttering from flower to flower.
Where castles stood so tall, they disappeared above the clouds.
Somewhere where the sea was so blue it reminded me of your eyes.