A Christmas Reunion: Christmas Wishes, #2

By Rebecca Lovell

On the shores of Llyn Ffynnon Las under the winter moon, a wish is made...

Carys verch Leyton doesn't much care for the man her father has arranged for her to marry, but as she is already twenty with no prospects she has little choice in the matter. She dreams of adventure and excitement, traveling a little further away from her village with each trip in the hopes she will one day get the courage to leave for good.

In the forest near Mount Snowden she meets Emrys, a young man who seems to have lost his memory, and she feels a connection with him like nothing she's ever known. When he appears in her village a few days later, Carys' dreams of leading her own life seem closer than ever. Unfortunately, her fiance has other plans, and as Emrys' secrets slowly come to light she has to make a choice between love and duty that will change both of their lives for eternity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frozen Flame Press
• Release date: Nov 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386012993

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A Christmas Reunion (Christmas Wishes, #2)

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Llyn Ffynnon Las, 1522

The air was crisp and chilled when the creature crawled from the lake, as it always did at this time of year. It was easily the size of a horse, with sleek dark fur that covered its body and helped it blend in with the shadows. Though there was no one to see it, the past was still as fresh in its mind as the day it was dragged to the lake between the mountains and it was taking no chances. The month of Tachwedd was often bitterly cold but this day was more so, as if it shared the creature’s sadness. It turned its great face to the moon and was reminded once more of the maiden that had gotten him in this mess.

Surely she lives not, he thought as he traced the ridges of the moon with his eyes. ‘Tis some four hundred years now since her voice brought me to this place.

Even now, he was certain that she hadn’t bore him any ill will. Although some might call her luring him out of the River Conwy a betrayal, the creature had long since forgiven her. He couldn’t feel differently about her; it simply wasn’t in his nature. Such was the price of love.

If only I could see her once more, the creature said aloud, though there was no one to hear. Were it not for dear Bethan I’d not be trapped in this place, but I would give anything that I might see her sweet face again.

Is that what your heart desires? The voice that came from behind him startled the creature. He hadn’t seen a human in centuries, much less been spoken to by one. The creature turned to see who had braved the cold and mountains to visit him and knew immediately that this was no human. It had the shape of a woman wearing a white gown, with a long braid of silver hair lying over her shoulder. Silvery eyes caught the moonlight that seemed drawn to her, and her skin gave off a soft, pleasant glow. The creature felt calmer just looking at her and knew there was nothing to fear. This must be the goddess of the moon, he thought. How lovely she is.

Arianrhod, is it you? He didn’t truly need to ask. No human woman would have towered over him the way she did, making him seem the size of a dog in comparison.

The very same, she said, a gentle smile softening her features. I heard your wish to be reunited with Bethan and I could feel how she consumes you still.

’Tis just so, the creature said with a nod. Though I can’t imagine you can return the dead to life after such a long time. She’ll be naught but dust now. The thought made him even sadder and it shook its head. No, ‘tis far too late.

Would you truly be willing to give anything? Even your immortality?

Yes, the creature said. It isn’t doing me any good stuck here. I’ve neither friends nor family to call my own, and no one but the moon to watch over me. He looked curiously at Arianrhod. You can’t truly bring back the dead, can you?

Not even I have such power, Arianrhod said with a shake of her head, her luminous hair made her look as if she had a halo, and the creature doubted her words. She looked as if nothing was beyond her abilities. However, I can offer you a choice instead.

How so?

You can meet Bethan, in a way, she replied, holding up a finger, but on the condition that you must make her fall in love with you before Christmas Day.

What is ‘Christmas Day?’ I know not what you speak of. The words were strange on the creature’s tongue but he spoke them deftly, as befit a being so long lived.

It is what the people refer to as a ‘holy day.’ The 25th of December. The creature supposed he must have still looked confused because she smiled kindly at him. ’Tis a different way of saying Rhagfyr.

Ah, I see.

By that blessed day she must proclaim her love aloud, and there must be no doubt that she is truly yours. If you find yourself alone when Christmas Day dawns, you shall return to this valley and these waters, never to set foot on land again. Arianrhod leaned down and put her hand beneath the creature’s chin. The choice is yours.

The creature considered her words carefully but it was impossible for him to do so without the image of Bethan’s long golden hair or her deep brown eyes at the front of his mind. It had been his weakness for beautiful women that had caused the villagers to use her, but it had been her voice that had lured him out of the water and it was in her eyes that he had lost his heart.

Yes, the creature said, his voice strong. I choose to see her again. Even if I should fail, seeing her once more will be worth the consequences.

Very well. Arianrhod nodded. Understand also that I cannot give you any help other than this, she said. When you wake again, you will be on your own until Bethan proclaims her love or you return to this pool. Now, close your eyes.

The creature did as she asked, and the sounds of the valley became richer and more intense. He could hear night birds singing their ghostly songs, the splash of a fish on the water that would have likely become his supper, and the rustling of the wind through the trees that sounded like a heavy rain. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened to it so far as it knew, and it opened one eye to look at Arianrhod. The goddess was ablaze with light, growing brighter by the moment and the creature opened both eyes in surprise.

A fountain of light burst from her raised hands, stretching up until it reached the moon and her eyes were coals of fire in her burning face. She turned her attention back to the creature on the bank and his body began to sparkle as a warmth crept over him that was like sinking into a hot spring. Before the creature had time to do more than wonder what was happening, darkness washed over him like a wave and he collapsed to the ground.

One

The heat of the fire burning in the hearth had made Carys’ room quite cozy in comparison to the cold wind blowing outside the house’s walls, and she’d started drowsing soon after she opened her book. It hung precariously between her fingers as she dozed but somehow managed to stay in place until the door to her room flew open with a bang, waking Carys with a start. The book fell from her fingers and hit the floor as she was pulled from her dream of swordfights and tried to remember where she was.

Do you live to madden me, girl? Leyson ap Ieuan’s face was red with anger as he looked at his daughter and even in her still-groggy state she knew exactly why he was upset.

He was twice my age and a bore, she said, folding her arms over her chest and turning away from him. I’ll not marry a man simply because he shows a hint of interest. Besides that, he was hardly literate.

I never should have listened to your mamm and let her school you, Leyson said. You’ve become more trouble than you’re worth. His eye fell on the cover of the book Carys had dropped. What’s this?

Scholars call them books, I believe. Before he could start shouting, she cut her eyes toward him. Mamm would be proud of me.

Aye, she would. All the more reason for a headache. He looked at the cover of the book, on which the title Women Warriors of the Sea was stamped in gold. Carys reached for it but her father’s arms were longer and he snatched it from the ground before she could. Where did you get this?

Just a shop in town, Carys said evasively. I can’t say I remember which, but it’s not such an unusual thing.

This is the sort of nonsense that fills your head with these wild ideas about what it is to be a woman! He thumbed through the book and Carys could see the illustrations of women in breeches and boots from where she stood, caught in the act of swinging a sword to defend their ship. Women aren’t meant to do battle, you’re meant to raise a family.

Perhaps I should want to raise a family if I found a man worthy of my affections, Carys said petulantly, standing from her chair. There’s no one of the like in the men I’ve met.

You’ll not have to worry about that for much longer, Leyson replied. Since you’ve rejected to a man all the suitors who’ll have you, I’ve taken things into my own hands. I found someone willing to marry a woman possessed of your lack of charms. He’ll be along in a few days and I expect you to be welcoming to him.

Absolutely not! I shan’t marry a man I don’t love! Carys took a step toward her father and he shook his head.

You’ll do as you’re told, daughter, or you’ll be out on your backside. As you don’t have any skills to speak of, you’re ill-suited to make your own way in the world. He held up the book and shook it at his daughter. No more of this, not in my home. As Carys watched in horror, her father threw her book into the fire. The flames rose eagerly around the leather and paper and began to devour them at once.

Tad, no! Carys fell to her knees in front of the hearth and grabbed the poker from its rack. Her father stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him as Carys tried her best to fish her book out of the fire. She pulled it within reach and picked it out of the fire with her fingertips, then put her burned fingers in her mouth while she held the edge of the book with the least damage in her other hand so she could beat it against the floor.

Once the fire was extinguished, she sat back on her heels and tried to thumb through the book to see if there was any hope of saving it. The pages that weren’t wholly burnt were stuck together with the melted glue from the binding and Carys’ eyes filled with tears, not just for the loss of her book but her freedom as well. Tears ran down her face and dripped onto the thick brocade skirt of her winter gown, looking for all the world like little raindrops on the fabric.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get married, she’d had more than her share of daydreams of a wedding. Even though it had seemed unlikely, she’d held out hope that she’d find a man who shared her love of excitement and valued her intelligence as her mother had. She’d never been able to see his face, not even in dreams, but she knew he was out there somewhere. Fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she mourned the loss of him before she’d even gotten the chance to meet him.

A small scratching sound at the door made her look up and she went to open it, brushing at them with one flowing sleeve as she did. She clutched her ruined book to her chest, unwilling to let it go just yet as she opened the latch. A dark brown and white dog with short legs and big ears trotted into the room, its fox-brush tail wagging happily. It seemed completely unaware that its mistress was distressed, and Carys couldn’t help smiling through her tears.

Ah Brock, she said, kneeling to stroke his head. How do you always know when I need your counsel? The corgi licked her hand, finally making her smile. He was growing older, as small animals were prone to doing, and with each year that died her connection to the mother who had passed away some ten years prior grew thinner. It wouldn’t be long before all she’d have left was her mother’s golden hair and memories of the way she’d laughed.

The thought made Carys’ heart ache and she stood up quickly before more tears could fall. Not ready for her to stop paying attention to him, Brock stood on his hind legs and planted his feet on her knees. Carys rubbed his head, almost absently. She couldn’t bear to let her father see how upset he had made her, but if she didn’t get out of the house she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. She leaned down quickly to kiss Brock’s head, then pulled off her oversleeves with little care toward the buttons that held them to her gown, took down her woolen cloak and put it around her shoulders as she walked out of her room. Her father was downstairs in the hall when she stalked toward the front door, and the sight of him replaced her sadness with anger.

Where do you think you’re going?

Rather than replying, Carys pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to block him out. She flung open the door amidst more shouting and dire proclamations from her father and hurried across the yard with her gown and cloak balled in her fist to keep them from trailing the ground. There was a quality stable near their house and the stable hand was just getting ready to take her father’s horse to it to be unsaddled when she walked in. Carys supposed that he had come from talking to whomever he’d found to marry her, though she hadn’t seen his coat when he’d barged into her room.

You shan’t bother, she said, pushing past him. Her father’s horse was quite a bit taller than the elderly one she had inherited from her mother, but her anger pushed her off the ground and into the saddle quite effectively. Riding astride was the very height of unladylike behavior but she didn’t care. The only thing she cared about at that moment was getting as far away from her father as possible, and she knew he wouldn’t stoop to riding her horse to follow her.

Carys was rarely content to stay at home, preferring to walk around Conwy and visit the shops or talk to friends whenever possible, so as she rode briskly toward the gates of the town a number of people bid her good day. She returned their greetings only perfunctorily and didn’t fully relax until