Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
It was dawn when I stirred.
I was naked on a bed of cool moss. Galehaut dozed by my side, curled up like a silkworm. Pale light slanted through the trees.
My mind was pleasantly empty, my vision sharp.
I propped myself up on my elbows, taking in the verdant grove, vacant now save for the liquid trills of a skylark.
I had read of Bacchanalia and the Dionysian mysteries, but there had been no ancient rites, no unhinged throes of ecstasy, no excesses of wine or infusions of ergot.
There were only people, clear-eyed and uninhibited, finding each other in the moonlight.
The night came back to me in warm layers.
My hands against a tree, Galehaut kissing my neck, the forest air rushing between my legs.
I craved for him to enter me. The bright pain soon gave way to a light-struck pleasure, the kind of which I had never experienced.
I could hear Galehaut moaning, and there were others around us, also engaged in similar romantic acts, including Brisen and Elaine, who were leaning against the same tree.
I cast my seed into Galehaut’s hand, and Brisen slicked her fingers in Galehaut’s palm and dipped them into Elaine, who sighed with delight.
We did not touch Elaine or Brisen, and other than this small act, they did not touch us.
But the joy of our dual desires, separate but approximate, echoed beneath the tree’s low branches, connecting us.
Any shame we had around our bodies or their natural drives had vanished, leaving only the polished stone clarity of our desire.
At our boat, Elaine and Brisen kissed our cheeks. “I feel like this visit was meant to be,” Elaine said. “And I hope our paths cross again.”
As we waved goodbye a strange sorrow overcame me. This, I realized, was the parting of friends.
Back in our boat, the euphoria of Beltane gave way to a familiar dread. After a few hours on calm seas, the Isle of Women swept into view. We were approaching from the north and the mermen rocks lay to the southeast. Viviana awaited us on shore.
“Did he make it?” I called to her as we docked. “Is Lirius all right?”
Exhaustion ringed her eyes. I hated that she had returned to this disaster after a long time away. She wore her hair in a braid and the wind licked at the loose strands. Her mouth was clamped very tight.
“He was severely injured. Demigods like him are not immortal.”
So he had died. After everything, he had succumbed to my stabbing. My legs wobbled; the sky began to spin. Whatever consequences I might face would be far worse than banishment. I had to answer to the gods themselves.
“What happens now?” I said. “Where do they take me?”
“Who?” she asked.
“The mermen. The gods.”
“Oh.” Viviana grabbed my arm. “No. Lirius is recovering. The ointment worked.”
I nearly fell over. Galehaut let out a massive sigh of relief.
“Naturally he is upset. No one enjoys being stabbed.” Then, behind her hand, she added, “But he brought this upon himself with the nasty way he treated you. It goes without saying that your aquatic training has concluded.”
I studied Viviana’s cryptic expression. I was eager to get back to the cottage and put this whole ordeal behind me, but I sensed there was something she was not telling me.
“How was Benoic?” I ventured.
Something was wrong. I knew it. Viviana went stone-faced. “Galehaut, could you give us a moment?”
“Whatever it is, you can say it in front of him.”
Galehaut shot me a fearful look.
“Very well. You recall that your mother had one sibling, a sister, Evaine? She was killed in a siege, shortly before your parents died.”
On my first visit to the lake, I’d seen my mother and her sister sitting side by side, presiding over a great feast. They had married brothers. Both kings. All of them were dead now.
“Evaine had two sons,” Viviana continued. “Bors and Lionel.”
I could picture them too, little boys, running around the great hall, hiding between the long silk drapes.
“We thought they were killed by King Claudas’s army, along with their parents.”
In the vision, I could feel the love my mother had for these boys, her nephews. The older one had dark hair like our fathers. The younger one looked quite like me.
“But they were not killed,” she said. “They were taken prisoner by King Claudas and have been in his castle all this time, serving at the beck and call of his son, Dorin.”
I was too shocked to speak. Too shocked to move.
While I had been carrying buckets of well water, those boys had been trapped in the castle of the man who killed our parents.
“Your cousins.” Viviana’s eyes filled with tears. “They are here now. On the isle.”