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Owein lifted his bucket out of the creek. The other men had long since taken their pails back to sit on a fire. “It’ll be ugly in there. Naked men scrubbing their clothes on washboards. Hanging them up to dry overnight and sleeping with nothing but woolen blankets to cushion their hides against the scratchy straw.”
While crouching in the grass, I swirled my fingers in a pail full of water, watching the bubbles surface as I waited for Owein. He was teasing me again, as usual. I didn’t need or want those disturbing images in my head. I picked up the bucket and followed Owein back to the barn. He veered toward the campfire to join his bucket with the others’.
The group was already jovial, having drunk too much. Clearly ale affected mortals differently. I might receive a slight euphoric grandeur, but none of the bumbling these men displayed.
I grabbed Owein’s arm, passing him my pail. “Here, take your bath in peace before the rest of the group joins you in the barn. If you leave your clothes outside the door, I’d be glad to clean them for you.”
“You don’t have to…” He glanced down at the pail I handed him. Steam rose from the water. “How?”
“Go, before I change my mind. I don’t do laundry for just anyone.” I took his bucket of cold water and shoved him through the barn door.
I waited while I hoped he stripped his garments off. The door creaked open, and a pile of clothing dropped into the dust. I scooped them up and slipped away.
Laundry was a relatively uninvolved chore for an emrys. With my fingertips and a bit of heat from my light, I boiled water in the bucket I took from Owein. I dipped his shirt and pants and plunged my hands in, squeezing and ringing and scrubbing the material with lye. My skin didn’t burn. The agitating didn’t tire my hands. The mortals didn’t know what extraordinary capabilities they were missing.
You don’t think Owein will be suspicious? His clothes will be ready in minutes, Seren said.
How do you suppose he thinks I heated the water? He’s making a lot of guesses about immortals. This one shouldn’t surprise him.
Satisfied that his outfit was clean, I pulled it from the bucket and wrung it out. I snapped his linen shirt with a flick of my wrists and a flash of heat. His shirt dried instantly. I shook it until it softened and then folded it. I proceeded with his pants and his stockings. Completing the ensemble, I finished with his cloak. Owein would be the cleanest man at the festival.
I scurried back to the barn. The men were still around the fire. Some shirtless and others asleep. So much for baths. They deserved a night of indulgence, I supposed. I knocked on the barn door. I didn’t want to leave Owein’s clothing outside in the dirt, so I closed my eyes to search with my light’s power but, at the same time, wondered if I was strong enough to pick up the weak internal light of any mortals who might be inside.
The door cracked. Owein stuck his head around the edge. “I thought that might be you. No one else would just knock. Back so soon?”
His eyes lingered on the bundle in my hands. “Are those my clothes? Cleaned? You’re incredible. First hot water and then laundry service. I should marry you.”
Heat crept over my face, and I coughed. Another one of Owein’s peculiar phrases. I was sure. “Good night,” I muttered and raced into the night.
NINE
I can’t wait for the festival tomorrow. Owein says we should arrive about midday. After laying out clean garments by the creek side, I stripped off my dirty clothes. I had met Seren farther upstream in a wooded section, away from the prying eyes at the inn and campfire.
I wish I could go with you. Cowering in the forest is not fun.
I know. I’m sorry. Give me time. Owein and I came up with a plan. Because of my magnetism, he believed I’d charm the king. Being under the king’s protection would give Seren the opportunity she desired for a coming out. Whatever that meant. Owein assured me it had to do with maidens being introduced into society, so why not a dragon? Once I meet the king, I’ll convince him you’re harmless. From what Owein says, he’s a kind man. Generous to his subjects and open-minded. I stepped midthigh into the creek.
Seren plunked down, creating a damming effect, and within seconds, the water flowed up to my rib cage. That’s what we want. A noble man like our Lord Ithel.
I sighed at the mention of Catrin and Aneirin’s parents. Lord Ithel was our emrys leader and beloved spouse of the High Emrys, Meinwen, our spiritual leader. I wondered what they said about my skipping out of Gorlassar. Having grown up with Catrin, I was close to the family and practically lived in the palace. Her parents understood my rebellious spirit, whereas my father had not, although Mother was somewhat more forgiving than Father.
Seren raised her wings, making a secluded capsule while I bathed. Not that I was expecting anyone, but her wings contained the heat that radiated from my light-filled body to warm the air. I sank into the water up to my neck and sighed as the frigid liquid slipped past my hot muscles. The feeling was impossible to describe. A toasty body dipped into cold water had a tempering effect, neutralizing my broken interior while hardening my exterior. I liked to think it added resilience to my soul as I contemplated life in the water’s cradle.
My unrest began roughly thirty-three years ago, even prior to my infatuation over Aneirin. I shouldn’t have blamed him for blemishing my heart. Away from his captivating presence, I realized he was more of a distraction.
But that didn’t lessen the pain.
I still loved him. But had he returned my affections, would I have been truly happy?
Life in Gorlassar was delightful—the seasons a constant fluctuation of summer to spring and back again. Snow didn’t fall as it did on the ledge outside the portal. The leaves never fell from the trees. Some said the realm was this way because of the dragons’ magic. If they ever left Gorlassar, its paradise would fade.
I couldn’t be the only one questioning why there was a passage between two worlds—one a flawless existence and another an impure mistake. If the emrys believed such a notion as corruption from the mortals, then why the blasted gateway? The Creator of our world wished us separate because a great evil crept over the mortal land.
Well, that was all fine, but the emrys weren’t as perfect as they thought they were. Perfect people wouldn’t snub their noses at another plane of life. Perfect people wouldn’t believe they were better than another species. I pondered the stories from my youth. The mortals died because they were evil. They killed because a darkness hid inside them. They envied because they set themselves above one another.
I didn’t see a difference in the last one. The emrys set themselves on a pedestal. Immortals created in our master’s image. Almost faultless. Righteous guardians. We could do no wrong.
Then I read Siana’s story—a story the elders tried to hide about an emrys, Urien and Anwen’s daughter, granddaughter of the High Emrys. Siana left Gorlassar over two thousand five hundred years before I was born. She’d felt the unrest. She had questioned as I had. The immortals’ indifference burdened her. The emrys species had been young, without the extravagances I was used to, but even after fourteen hundred and ninety-nine years, Siana saw how almost a couple of hundred immortals were not like the Creator, how uncaring they were and too regal to fight for any worthy cause.
