The Princess and the Draoidh

Chapter Two - Part One

Only the slow, measured rise and fall of his chest, for three days and nights, proved that Rhyslin still lived.  Nor was he alone, for the goddess, Allanagh, and the others stopped by to check on him when they found time. 

During one of those visits, Flur was sitting at his bedside.  She had just finished brushing a cold rag across his forehead and was deftly twisting the dirty water into the waste bucket when she sensed a presence approaching in the shadows.  Her ears twitched as she fought the fear spiking through her body.  Feigning a calm she didn't feel, Flur dipped the towel into the water bowl and carefully placed it on his forehead.  She was about to say something when two women stepped out of the shadows.

The first woman who stepped out looked so much like Allanagh that Flur had to look at her twice.  The woman was perhaps an inch or two shorter than the queen, with dark brown skin, chestnut brown hair, and green eyes.  Instead of her mother's favored light green and brown colors, the two women wore light tan blouses, knee-length turquoise skirts, and knee-length black moccasins.  The green-eyed woman looked to be a decade or so younger than Allanagh.  Her dark-haired companion looked far younger, and Flur would have guessed she was sixteen.

“Aunt Ilyriatri?”  She inquired tentatively.

“Good noon, Flur,” The older woman acknowledged.  She seemed to skim across the floor as she moved to Flur's side, the younger woman trailing behind her as quietly as a mouse.  “Is this the one?”  Ilyriatri inquired as she gazed at the unconscious draoidh. 

The young woman halted at her mother's side.  “Yes, Mathair, he's the one.” She asserted, “Can you not feel it?”

“Odd, he doesn't look like a reason for us to be summoned,” Ilyriatri commented softly. 

Flur looked up, “Mathair Astinmah invited you and Aunt Mayana.”

The fhasiach queen merely arched a brow.  “Would you see us bound to him and his people?”  Why am I so drawn to him?    She folded her arms under her breasts.  “Would the Mathair have us give up our freedom to join this …Saor-shealbhan nan Raointean Mòra^[1]?”  She looked pensive. 

“Nobody is asking anyone to give up their freedom.” Flur reached out to her aunt.  “Mathair Astinmah is offering us free travel through their land and the freedom to live and work among them.” 

Ilyriatri pursed her lips as she considered Flur's words and what she'd spent three days reading.  “It appears that I might have let my mistrust shade what I was reading,” she conceded. “I read something that confused me,” she tilted her head towards Flur.  “Something about choosing a clan member to be a tribute.”

Flur chuckled softly, drawing her aunt's attention from the younger woman examining Rhyslin's face.  “Why do you find that so amusing?"  She raised a brow.

The golden-haired princess brushed her fingertips across his forehead, almost as if staking a claim.  "Because I am the tribute spoken of in the treaty,” Flur whispered as she calmly gazed at the man. 

Ilyriatri blinked, not sure of what she had heard.  “I don't understand.”

“What's not to understand?” Flur matched her aunt's raised brow.  “I am going to offer myself to be the tribute.”

“Why?” Ilyriatri couldn't wrap her mind around what she was hearing.  “Why did Allanagh agree to it?”

“I asked her to do it,” Flur explained.  “Look at him, Aunt Ilyriatri, really look at him.”  She couldn't resist the urge to curl a ring of his white hair around her forefinger. “He's not a leanabh Teine^[2].  He's powerful, can't you feel it?”

Ilyriatri didn't want to believe what she was hearing, but as she gazed at Rhyslin, she couldn't deny that she felt something.  It was the younger woman who answered.  “I can,” she affirmed, her right hand resting next to Flur's.  “His prana is so calming.”

“Vuuroena, what are you doing?” Ilyriatri looked at her youngest daughter in shock.

The teenager looked at her mother.  “Even though he's not awake, I can sense his thoughts.”  Her eyes drifted closed, and she sighed softly.  “He's as calm as a deep lake.”  Opening her eyes, she gazed at her older cousin.  “Are you going to bond with him, Flur?”

The golden-haired princess nodded, “If he'll have me."“  She looked at her aunt.  “He's a draoidh, and he's the beloved son of Mathair Coille.  I want to learn from him.”  She took a deep, calming breath.  “Do you understand now, Aunt Ilyriatri?” 

Am I such a coward?  Ilyriatri wondered as she slowly reached out with her senses and shivered as she felt his prana.  By Mathair, he is powerful.  Much more powerful than Garion.

When she failed to answer, Vuuroena did, “I understand, Cousin.  I would bond with him in a heartbeat,” she admitted. 

“No, you will not!” Ilyriatri almost screamed.  “You are far too young to consider bonding with a man.”

“You're right, Mathair, it's not my time yet.”  She watched her mother.  What would she do if she knew of Despoina's prophecy?  She wondered.  Will I have the strength to survive what is to come? 

Vuuroena leaned down and whispered, “Please help me when I call.”  Drawing a deep breath, she brushed her fingers across his forehead and then turned to her mother.  “Thank you for letting me see the draoidh, Mathair.”  She turned and extended her hand to Flur.  “Farewell, cousin.  I wish you happiness.”

What was that all about?  Flur wondered as the two walked out of the room.

“Mixcoatl's Suilean,” Marcus muttered as the door flew open and the two desert-dwelling Ciad-Ghin walked out.  Wonder what seillean crawled up their cnap?  Slipping back into the shadows, he watched the two women disappear down the hallway.  After a moment or two, he peeked into the room and saw Flur staring at Rhyslin's face as she lifted the towel off his forehead.

“How is Rhyslin doing today, Princess Flur?”  He inquired as he stepped into the room.

Flur looked up in surprise and, seeing who it was, managed to half-hide the blush on her cheeks.  “Um, still asleep.  I was hoping he would awaken today.”

Marcus examined his friend closely.  “I didn't realize he held so much power when interrogating that Ogren.”  Shaking his head, he changed the subject.  “The Dawn Breaker should be back in the morning.  Will you be ready to leave?”  He inquired as he watched Rhyslin's breathing change.

Flur smiled brightly, “I just need to finish packing.”  She rose to her feet and again brushed her fingers across Rhyslin's forehead.  “Do you think he will be mad when he sees me on his ship?”

“No, I don't think anger will be what he feels,” the ranger commented.  Confusion, concern, and betrayal that's what he'll feel.  Marcus watched as Flur excitedly left the room.  Especially when I tell him that Mathair Coille is here and has cooked something up, he thought, stepping back and leaning against the wall, blending into the shadows while waiting for Rhyslin to wake up.  He was rewarded for his patience when his friend drew a deep breath several hours later and let out a slow groan of pain.

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^[1] Freeholds of the Great Plains.

^[2] Child of the Fire (Human,)

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