Telyn woke from foul dreams with a start, sitting straight up and looking about her in panic, unable to remember where she was. The failing light in the room still illuminated enough detail to show her the familiar chamber, and she exhaled a shaky breath.
She rose from the bed where she had collapsed in exhaustion on top of the coverlets. Going to the fire grate to light a taper, she touched it to the wicks of the candles in the room, feeling pangs of nostalgia as she looked about the chamber with a wistful smile. Telyn had always loved this room. As a young girl barely out of childhood, it had made her feel like a princess with its drapery-hung bed and the balcony.
She slipped through the curtain that led outside, leaning tentatively on the stone ledge of the balcony. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the warm southern breeze, letting it cleanse her of the last cobwebs of sleep. The wind tugged at her hair, lifting the wilted garland of flowers and sending it spiraling down to the ground even as Telyn reached to catch it.
She sighed, leaning cautiously over the balcony to watch it land in the rocky soil at the shadowed base of the keep, a blue and gold fairy ring of blossoms in a desert landscape. Telyn had been reluctant to remove it. Tradition among the feudal villages said that a young man crowned his chosen love with flowers on the eve of spring. Old wives’ tales held that the blossoms should be kept and dried if the maiden wished to assure that her suitor continued to court her throughout the year.
Moving back from the dizzying thirty-foot drop, Telyn turned and went inside. She doubted that Mithrais knew the significance of his innocent act, but she had allowed herself a foolish moment of fancy, caught up in the excitement of the day.
As a true bard, Telyn had more liberty than other young women, but Taliesin had discouraged her from forming any romantic attachments during her training. She had put aside her loneliness in the pursuit of her art, which was the source of her freedom, and the desire to earn the approval of the powerful and intimidating Taliesin.
Then, the violent assault in Belthil had left her confidence as bruised as her flesh, and had caused her to shy away from any hint of physical intimacy since leaving court-–until today. Her attraction to Mithrais was so strong that Telyn found it unsettling. Something about him called to her blood, and the sharing of Mithrais’ mind had both aroused and alarmed Telyn with its intensity. That his response to her had been the same was thrilling and a little disconcerting—perhaps, because she was unafraid. Her longing for that closeness was dangerously near the surface, and with a chill, Telyn thought of the last May Eve night in Belthil. She could not afford to be so distracted.
Telyn pushed away those thoughts and slipped back through the curtain, pausing with hands on hips to stare balefully at the white gown that hung on the back of the door.
Tradition called for a true bard to lead the spring rites when one was present at a celebration, but most bards happened to be male. Young women vied for the honor to portray the Maiden if they knew the bard to be handsome, for the ceremony ended in a kiss. Emrys Harpmaster had in the past been the subject of many such competitions in Rothvori. Whomever he had paired her with, Telyn was determined that the kiss would be no more than ceremonial.
She shook her head in resigned annoyance, removing her shoes and tugging at the laces of her bright jerkin before turning to the waiting basin of water.
She had just slipped the white gown over her head and smoothed the drifts of silk and velvet—frowning again, wondering how she would be able to wear her dagger—when there was a knock on the door. Telyn jumped in spite of her confidence in the security of Riordan’s keep.
“Yes?” she called tersely.
“I was sent to assist you, Lady Bard,” a female voice informed her. Telyn groaned softly. In the moment after Rand had escorted her to her room, when she was thinking of nothing but sleep, she had absently agreed to his offer of a maid to dress her hair for the feast. She opened the door reluctantly to allow the woman to enter.
Telyn considered the combs, pins, and potions of the hairdresser’s trade to be nothing short of instruments of torture, and sure enough, the maid had a basket full of them. She forced herself to smile pleasantly, and sat in the small chair before the dressing table.
A remarkably short time later compared to Telyn’s previous engagements with the weapons of beauty, the woman made a small noise of satisfaction and held up a silvered glass for Telyn to approve her handiwork.
Telyn looked critically at her reflection, wondering what Mithrais would see. Her hair was light brown, and had a honey-colored sheen to it that gave it a warm glow in the candlelight. Her cheekbones were high and her mouth full and well-shaped, but her tawny hazel eyes had shadows beneath them, and a line of tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence between her eyebrows. She traced the darker hollows with her fingertips and gave a small sigh.
The maid noticed her wistful expression, and said softly, “My lady, I do have something that will help with that if you wish.”
Telyn considered the ramifications of succumbing to vanity carefully, studying her reflection a moment more before nodding.
“Yes, please. I need all the help you can offer.”
* * * *
Mithrais felt slightly ridiculous in the green velvet jerkin, its fluttering silk leaves sparkling in the light of the candles that illuminated the hallway. The crown of ivy and the mask were in his hands as he waited outside Telyn’s door to escort her to the feast. He had also belted his own slender dagger over the costume, reluctant to go completely unarmed.
Several other guests had already made their way down the long hallway; from his vantage point at the farthest end of the corridor, Mithrais had already seen an antlered stag and his doe, a peacock with a full tail, and a peahen. He was relieved that his own costume was quite plain in comparison, but slightly apprehensive about what his role as the Green Man might mean. If the bawdy displays of affection he had seen during the dances were any indication, the rite itself might be nothing short of sensual. He did not want to jeopardize Telyn’s trust in him with the undefined expectations of this ceremony.
A female voice from the opposite side of Telyn’s door alerted him that someone was moving toward the hallway. A maid peered out into the passageway, and smiled at Mithrais as she noted his costume. She called back into the room, “The Green Man is here, Lady Telyn. Shall I let him in?”
“Yes. Thank you for all you’ve done, Grainne,” Telyn’s voice replied. The maid dropped a small curtsy to Mithrais as she opened the door wide, and he acknowledged it with a small bow of his own as she collected her basket and exited the room.
Telyn was standing with her back to the door, looking out the glazed window at the sunset’s final blaze of color, and she turned to greet her escort. The look of astonishment and relief on Telyn’s face made Mithrais realize she hadn’t known that he would be the Green Man, but he was rendered speechless.
She was breathtaking, lovelier than anyone Mithrais had ever seen. The white gown sparkled with silver embroidery on the velvet bodice and sleeves, and the neckline dipped gracefully to expose Telyn’s throat and shoulders. Her hair was swept into a knot that escaped in soft curls on either side of her face and down the back of her neck. Mithrais could see the blush rising in her cheeks as Telyn realized the effect her appearance was having on him. He shook his head in wonder, and Telyn gave a delighted laugh.
“So you are the Green Man! I know that Riordan couldn’t have planned that in advance, despite his jokes.”
“Perhaps he could have. The man is frighteningly accurate in his perceptions. Is he an enchanter?” Mithrais was unable to take his gaze from her.
Telyn grinned. “Not to my knowledge, unless the future is revealed in the bottom of his wine cups.”
“I fear that I’ve usurped someone else’s role, then. They are going to be sorely disappointed.”
Telyn’s answering smile was hesitant, and she moved away from the window to pick up the mask on the dressing table.
“I was rather put out with Riordan for making me lead the spring rites, but now, I think that he is back in my good graces.” Telyn shrugged, pretending great interest in the mask. “However, he’s all but engineered a woods marriage between us. Perhaps I should still be angry at him.” Her tone was playful, and Mithrais replied in kind as he deposited his own mask and the ivy crown upon the table,
“I must admit that I’m concerned about the requirements of this rite. At home it would be a matter of gravest ceremony, but here, I suspect things are a bit more...enthusiastic.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be shamed in front of Riordan’s guests,” Telyn laughed, her fingers toying with the ribbons of her mask and betraying her nervousness. “All that is required is a kiss.”
Mithrais could feel the pull between them like the moon and the tide, but he held his ground, letting Telyn close the distance between them unhurriedly. They stood face to face, not touching, and he saw the pulse in her throat fluttering rapidly as she looked up at him, something akin to doubt in her gold-flecked eyes.
“You’re certain that there were no misunderstandings this morning?” she queried.
“With heartspeakers, the truth is always at the surface, whether we intend it or not. I regret that I might have given you reason to feel threatened.”
Telyn looked surprised. “No, it isn’t that at all, Mithrais. I don’t know why I pulled away, and I don’t fear you—I know you saw what I felt before.” That lovely blush was rising in her cheeks again, and she turned away, embarrassed.
“I’ve found it difficult to think of anything but you from the time we met, Telyn.” His confession caused her to turn back to Mithrais, an expression of delighted wonder in those tawny eyes. “But I’ve promised Lord Riordan that I will see you safely to Cerisild.”
Her expression changed, and Mithrais knew he had affronted her.
“I’m not defenseless, Mithrais.” Telyn stalked away to stare moodily into the fire, the silk of the gown swirling around her.
“I know. Last night, we could hear the swords striking long before we could see you, and to have held off three enemies as long as you did is no small feat.” Mithrais moved to stand behind her. “You have the courage of a warrior, Telyn, but what follows you now deals in torture and death, not combat.”
Telyn hugged herself. “I have heard rumors about The Dragon. Everyone in Belthil has.”
“Believe them. I’ve seen his work.” Mithrais put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to look at him. “He is very close, Telyn, if he’s not already here. We’ll have to be very careful until we reach Cerisild.”
“Do you really think that he won’t follow us into the Wood?” Telyn’s face showed that it was less a question than a mild accusation of folly.
“No. I expect that he will. However, I think that once in the Wood, he will find more than he bargained for. I can alert Aric and the Tauron that The Dragon may enter illegally. They can come to our aid if need be.”
“A message would be too slow...” Telyn began to argue, but stopped, confusion on her face as Mithrais held up his hand, palm forward, with a meaningful look. She glanced at him sharply as comprehension dawned.
“You mean heartspeaking?” She narrowed her eyes. “You can speak to them from a distance?”
“Yes, in a manner.”
A thousand questions were written in Telyn’s eyes, but the faraway sound of a horn somewhere in the keep made her jump. “The feast! I had almost forgotten.”
“Are we late?”
“No, that was the first warning. Riordan usually requires three before he arrives. We won’t be late.”
They simply looked at each other for a moment. “I feel slightly foolish,” Telyn finally admitted, the edges of her mouth lifting in an embarrassed grin. “I am a bard, after all. I shouldn’t let myself be carried away by the rites of springtime like a giddy, common wench, especially with a bounty hunter at my heels.
“Come, let’s go to the great hall quickly, or I may not be able to concentrate on my music at all. It would be unfortunate if I caused a scene at the feast. Some of the guests might not appreciate concluding the rites early and in public.”
Mithrais, after a moment of shock, laughed heartily. “Lord Riordan told me that you once spelled an entire room to sleep by mistake.”
“Oh, it was no mistake.” Telyn’s eyes twinkled at him through the pearly fabric of the mask as she tied the ribbons. “I was nine years old. It was far too beautiful an afternoon to be cooped up indoors, and the lord and Emrys were wasting time after dinner discussing politics, to my mind. Once they were asleep, I went swimming!”
Mithrais donned the mask and crown of ivy, and bowed formally. “May the Green Man escort the Maiden to the great hall?”
“He may.” Telyn curtsied in response, and linked her arm through his as they exited the chambers. As they walked down the corridor, Telyn stared incredulously at the sight of a costumed rooster and hen walking several paces before them.
“Oh, my...” She glanced up at Mithrais, her fingers tightening on his arm as she stifled her laughter. “I’m suddenly relieved that we’re expected to lead the rites.”