Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (38 page)

Devin held out a black velvet box to Tristan. He opened it and removed a beautiful neckpiece of silver and gold, embedded with black onyx and opal. He placed it around Aislin’s neck, talking as he did so.

“This is the Amulet of Kaden, offered by Sylvan chieftains for millennia to those women deemed worthy to be their mates. I now offer it freely to you, my love.”

Tristan then got to his knees and took her hand in his.

“Princess Aislin of Arianrhod, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“What about helping with the cleanup here, and the regency? Don’t you need me here?” She looked around at all of them.

“I’ve released you from all of your obligations, Aunt Aislin. I was crowned King of Arianrhod this morning, with grandmother’s and Uncle Stanis’s approval. Roderic has been appointed my advisor until I’m eighteen. With everyone’s help, we’ll make sure Arianrhod continues to prosper.” Bryce smiled warmly at her. “You’ve sacrificed eleven years for us. It’s time for you to live your life. Go and be happy.”

Tristan was still on his knees, and she looked down at him. She’d carried the responsibility of Arianrhod for so long that it was part of her. She’d done her duty, and done it well. They were giving her permission to be free of it all.

Time stood still. There was only this woman and this elf, and the question that hung between them.

Aislin reached out and touched Tristan’s face, pushing a stray lock of midnight hair out of his eyes. They had found something in each other, and she wasn’t going to let him get away again. There would be obstacles, but they would get over them one by one. Together.

“Yes. Yes, Tristan, I
will
marry you,” Aislin said clearly, never more sure of anything in her life.

Tristan stood up, pulled her hard into his arms, and whispered an excited “Thank you!” into her ear.

Colven stepped forward, a smile of pure joy on his face, and cupped her face with both hands. His smile quickly melted away.

“Colven?” asked Tristan. “What is it?”

Forehead wrinkled in thought, Colven studied Aislin’s face, looking directly into her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Colven?” Aislin asked.

“Well, it appears...it appears that somehow... I don’t know how this could be, but...yes, I’m sure of it now. Aislin has Eternium in her blood.”

“What?” gasped Tristan. “How is this possible?”

“She carries your baby. It must have transferred its Eternium to her somehow. I can feel it through her skin. Look at her eyes!”

Aislin looked up at Tristan and saw shock reflected back at her.

“Your eyes are...are turning...
green
,” Tristan said, blinking at her in astonishment. “They’re still mostly amber, but there are flecks and shards of bright green...like the eyes of a Sylvan.”

“What does this mean?” asked Aislin, as she turned to Colven.

Colven threw his hands into the air, a bright smile on his face. “For one thing, it means I can wish you both a long and happy life together. There is now no reason she shouldn’t live as long as you do, Tristan. It also means that essentially, she’s now a Sylvan! Our people should have no issues with her.”

Tristan picked her up and whirled her around, a happy smile on his face. “Will you come back to Oakenbourne with me, my love?”

She looked hesitantly at her family, but they were all smiling at her.

“The choice is yours, but you’re free to go. We aren’t that far away, and you’re welcome here anytime,” Emara said. “If you’ll both have me, I’ll come after the baby is born and stay with you for awhile.”

“I’ll come with her, Aunt Aislin,” said Maeve. “I want to see my new baby cousin!” Aislin ruffled the girl’s hair and kissed her on the top of the head.

All of their smiling faces...she would miss them so much. But she was going to Oakenbourne to be with the love of her life.

They were married the next day, first by King Bryce and then in Sylvan tradition by Colven. Maeve sprinkled flowers out ahead of the couple as they walked into the throne room. Afterward, they held a celebration in the dining hall, and the whole kingdom rejoiced to see their beloved Aislin happily married.

Aislin stood in the dining hall and watched Gwen and Roderic enter, arm in arm, laughing. She smiled to herself as he pulled Gwen’s chair out for her and sat down next to her. They seemed oblivious to everyone around them.

Later, as the celebration was winding down, Emara gave Tristan a heartfelt apology, which he accepted graciously.

“Take care of my little girl,” Emara said, her eyes wet with tears. She stepped forward and hugged Tristan to her. He looked over at Aislin, clearly startled, his arms suspended in midair as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. And then he wrapped his arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“I promise you, I will cherish her forever,” he whispered back.

Chapter Forty Four

“I
F YOU DON’T MIND, TRISTAN, I have one last thing I’d like to do. It’s important, and I must do it alone.”

Tristan didn’t argue or insist that they were in a hurry to be off to Oakenbourne. He just kissed Aislin on the forehead.

“Do whatever you must, love. I’ll get our things ready. Meet me out front when you have finished your task.”

She nodded, and left him. Making her way into the courtyard, she retraced the steps she’d taken months ago, when Jariath was hard on her heels, and all she had was a heart full of determination to fight back any way she could.

She pushed the gates at the end of the courtyard open and slipped into the cemetery. She had fought for her life here as the stones stood silent sentry. She stood quietly for a moment, surveying the grounds as the morning sun spilled over the wall and crept across the grass.

She was different now. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones. The terror and pain she’d endured here had been absorbed into her soul. The woman that had been forged from that pain was stronger than she’d ever thought possible.

Plucking a pink rose from one of the bushes nearby, she carried it with her as she walked. Her bare feet skimmed the grass, the hem of the muslin dress she wore rippled along softly as she slowly made her way to the row of gravestones in the left hand corner of the cemetery.

Slowly, reverently, she walked past the stones, memories of grandparents and aunts and uncles filling her thoughts. Each one of the engraved names had been a life once: living, loving, making mistakes, fighting, and forgiving. As she mused over them, she thought it unfair that warm forces of nature could be reduced to cold words on a stone.

In reality, all of the names here had been
larger
than life at one time. They’d shaped the world around them, fought for the things that mattered to them, and enjoyed peace and times of plenty. Then they’d handed it all off to the next generation in the hope that they had taught them well, secure in the knowledge that the kingdom was in safe hands.

We truly do stand on the shoulders of giants
, she thought.

She stopped and knelt before a large pillar that rose above all the others. Dark gray granite gleamed under her fingertips as she traced the letters.

Our Most Beloved King Midhir “Hal”

Sovereign of Arianrhod

1612-1672

“I found him, Daddy. You said I would. You told me someday I’d meet someone I couldn’t live without. I should’ve known you’d never lie to your little girl. Thank you for everything. I love you so much.” She pressed her fingers softly to her lips and then to her father’s name on the stone, bidding him farewell.

A little farther down the row, she dropped again to her knees in front of a grand white marble obelisk, and placed the rose on the ground in front of it.

Our Most Beloved King Fionn

Sovereign of Arianrhod

1645-1681

She’d steeled herself not to cry, but the tears came hard. She didn’t try to stop them. She leaned forward, her hands splayed against the words, her forehead against the stone, and wept as though there would be no tomorrow.

She let it all out—eleven years of grief and rage for the life that had been stolen from all of them. When she had no more tears to cry, she composed herself and sat back.

“We did it, Fionn. Bryce is now the King of Arianrhod. You have the most wonderful children, and I am so sorry you aren’t here to see them. Your son is the very image of you, and Maeve is going to be breaking hearts in every kingdom of Àlainnshire when she grows up. Roderic seems to be smitten with Gwen, and she with him, but I know that wouldn’t bother you one bit. Life goes on here, but it will never be the same without you.”

She dropped her head and was thoughtful for a moment. She was unable to keep the smile from her lips when she continued.

“I married an elf yesterday, and I know how thoroughly that would amuse you. I can hear you laughing, teasing me about normal human men not being good enough for the Princess Aislin. I know I’d laugh right back at you and agree. I don’t know what to say about him. He’s brave and strong, and he loves me more than I ever thought possible. He stole my heart right out from under me when I wasn’t looking. I wish you could know him.”

Aislin pushed to her feet.

“I just wanted you to know how grateful I am that you were my brother. I have the most amazing memories of you, and I intend to share them with anyone who will listen. You will never die as long as I live. I love you, Fionn. Be at peace.”

Pressing a kiss to the cold stone, she turned away and headed toward her new life.

Aislin rode back to Oakenbourne on the same horse as Tristan, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek resting against his back, smiling with contentment as she felt their baby move within her for the first time.

Epilogue

May 28, 1693

Blackthorne Forest

Village of Oakenbourne

“I
’M SO GLAD YOU CAME, Maeve,” Colven said. “I haven’t played a decent game of Cribbetts since you went back to Arianrhod.”

Maeve laughed, and in one fell swoop, captured eight of his men from the Cribbetts board. Colven rolled his eyes, groaned, and smacked himself in the forehead dramatically, making Maeve and Emara giggle.

They all looked up in concern when they heard a prolonged moan from behind the door of Tristan’s bedroom.

Emara didn’t think she could stand one more minute of listening to her daughter cry out in pain. She jumped up from the chair she was sitting in and poured herself a large glass of Colven’s wine. “She’s been laboring for hours. When is this going to be over?”

Colven looked up at her calmly. “These things take time, as you know, Milady. Dora is an excellent Sylvan midwife. Aislin will be fine.”

They finally heard the muffled sound of a baby crying. Emara’s anxious gaze caught Colven’s across the room. He smiled, his green eyes kind. “Congratulations, grandma. I believe we have a baby.”

After several tense minutes, the door to Tristan’s bedroom swung open, and he strolled out. He was sweating, disheveled, but he had a wide grin on his face. All eyes focused on the small bundle in his arms.

“Aislin has given me a son!”

Emara’s breath exploded out in relief. She pulled the blanket back and peered into the face of her grandson.

Tiny, bright red from crying, she saw that his ears were pointed like Tristan’s, but his hair was a blend of shiny black and golden brown, tufted on his small round head. It was too soon to tell what color his skin would be, but he appeared to be a perfect blend of both of his parents.

Colven couldn’t have looked more delighted. He clapped his hands together and said loudly, “Congratulations to all of us! A fine boy, and an heir for Oakenbourne!”

“What’s his name?” asked Maeve.

“Adric Colven, after my grandfather and another elf who has shown me the way many times when I was lost.”

Colven blushed. “Thank you, Tristan. I will not take this honor lightly, I assure you.”

“May we go in to Aislin?” Emara asked.

“Of course,” replied Tristan. “Dora is just making her comfortable.”

Aislin was sitting propped up on too many pillows, surrounded by layers of fluffy softness, as Dora fussed over her and tucked her in. She was exhausted, but she had a profound sense of accomplishment. She had just given birth to the next Sylvan chieftain.

Adric would grow up knowing that he was half human-half elf, but she doubted he would ever fully appreciate how truly monumental he was. A new era had begun at Oakenbourne.

Delighted to see her mother and Maeve, she kissed them both and asked, “Well? Did you see him? What do you think?”