CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Confession

He awoke to the sensation of Sinia kissing his eyelids. He felt as exhausted as if he’d swum around the world. His head was in her lap, and he was stretched out on the beads of glass, soaking in the warmth of the sun and feeling quite drowsy and content.

Energy began to fill him as well as the magic of the Fountain. He had been drained completely, but he felt her sharing her reserves, uniting their magic together. To his amazement, he was quickly restored to his full strength, though hers was hardly diminished.

He blinked his eyes open, seeing the wind teasing golden strands of hair across her face. She brushed them aside and looked down at him with so much love and tenderness he felt unequal to it.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, reaching up and touching her lips. She kissed his fingertip.

“I’ve always loved you, Owen Kiskaddon,” she confessed. “I saw this moment so many times in my visions. You loving me, truly loving me. When you first came to Ploemeur, I’ll admit it was a disappointment.” She smiled wryly at him. “But it was worth waiting for.”

Owen smiled. He had rarely felt so languid and relaxed, and he utterly enjoyed being cradled against her. He lifted himself slowly and then pressed his ear to her bosom, listening against the sound of the surf for her heartbeat. There it was. She looked shyly at him, smiling, and then nodded.

“I am mortal now,” she said. “Not every Ondine gets her wish. Few do, actually. But I’m one of the fortunate.” She smoothed his hair over his ear.

Owen sat up higher and kissed her again, taking it slowly, enjoying it much more than their rushed, awkward kiss at the betrothal. He started to pull away, and he felt flush with pleasure when he realized she didn’t want him to. “I’m embarrassed by my memory of our first kiss at St. Penryn. My apologies for not being more practiced.”

She smiled knowingly. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

Owen grinned. “I can imagine it was different for you as well,” he added with a chuckle. “This was our true first kiss—the one you saw in your visions. That must have been very confusing for you, to know what would happen but not always how. Or when.”

She nodded in agreement. “I fell in love with the possibility of you, Owen. How many men would jump into a river to save a child about to be pulled over the falls? How many men would forsake their first love?” Her eyes were suddenly wise and tender. She touched the side of his face. “It was painful to watch you go through it, Owen. Please know that.”

He nodded and took her fingers and kissed her knuckles. “You’ve been quite aware of my pain, Sinia. In a way, you’ve borne it alongside me.” He rubbed his thumb across her fingers. “I’m heartbroken still. Not because I chose you, but because I’m sorry for Evie.” He sighed. “This will be so painful for her. She’s still my friend, and I want her to be happy, but it didn’t feel right. I knew it was my choice to make.” He looked in her eyes. “I chose you.”

Sinia threw her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. They held each other for a long while, and it was soothing to Owen’s heart and his wounds to be close to her. There were tears on her lashes when she released him. An encroaching wave came near but not near enough to soak them.

“You’re not immune to the water anymore, should we move farther up?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “No, I love the feel of it. I want to take a long, warm bath. I want to swim in a river. Now that you’ve made me complete, I can enjoy the things that have been denied me for too long.” She smoothed some hair behind her ear. “I have something else to confess, my love. If you’ll let me.”

“Of course,” Owen said, looking into her eyes.

“We learn much through suffering,” she said. “But I think what we learn most is who we really are. I’ve known the true you for some time, Owen. But you were like a chick struggling to escape its shell. Now you’re free to grow and become what the Fountain intended you to become. You may have thought what the Fountain forced you to endure was unpleasant, even cruel. But now you know yourself. Now you know what you would have chosen without any foreknowledge of the consequences. That’s why I couldn’t tell you, Owen. I knew what would happen when you intervened in the Wizr game. I knew it would trigger the events leading to Iago’s shipwreck.” She looked almost apologetic. “But I had to let it happen so that you would know yourself. And the other outcomes would have been much worse. But the story isn’t over.” She looked down at her lap, and Owen felt a little uneasiness creep over him.

“What?” he pressed.

She looked up at him. “I saw the shipwreck in my vision. All the crew were killed. Only Iago survived. In the vision, he was wearing a brooch on his cloak. A brooch with the raven symbol. It was a sign to me that I needed to give it to him. And so I did, ere he departed. He did not drown, Owen. The brooch is a talisman against it. He was washed up on shore days later and discovered by a fisherman and his wife. They’re tending his injuries, for he was buffeted against the rocks. He can’t remember his name right now, but he will. And then he will return to Edonburick, and he will find his wife and children waiting for him.”

Owen stared at her, his eyes widening. His first reaction was shock, followed by an all-encompassing sense of relief. “Thank the Fountain!” He could not fathom how he would have felt if he’d gone to Evie right away. He clenched his fist and pressed it against his mouth, feeling as if he had narrowly escaped a horrible fate. For both of them.

Sinia stroked his hair. “You can’t tell her,” she whispered. “She will find out in due course.”

“And you’ve always known?” he gasped out.

She nodded, and the heaviness of the gesture revealed the burden of the secret.

“I’m so grateful I chose as I did,” Owen said.

“Not more grateful than I am,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Owen, I’ve seen her reunion with Iago. I’ve seen her joy when she learns the news. I wouldn’t rob her of that moment for all the world.” She paused, and a small smile tipped up her lips. “I’ve seen friendship between our families too. Between our children and theirs. But I cannot reveal all that I’ve seen. There are troubles ahead as well as behind.”

“I hate to think of how she’s suffering. She lost her father when she was Genevieve’s age.” He looked at her. “As you did yourself. I will trust in your judgment, in your gifts. If you feel it is better that she learns the truth in its due time.”

Sinia sighed. “I do. Her influence will be strongly felt in Ceredigion for generations. The past has a way of coming back, you know.” She smiled at him lovingly and smoothed his hair. Then she ran her finger along his smooth cheek. “Thank you for shaving before you came to me.”

Owen shrugged. “That’s another thing about you I figured out on my own without you telling me,” he said. “I can be quick to observe when I put my mind to it.”

She nodded and kissed the edge of his jaw. “I like it much better this way.”

“If my lady wishes it,” he replied gallantly. “But I do have a question for you, Sinia. One that I cannot figure out on my own. I think I’m right. I am right every now and then.”

“Indeed,” she replied, putting her hands in her lap. “What would you ask me?”

He leaned back on his elbows, feeling them sink a little into the glass beads, and crossed his boots. “It has to do with the Wizr Myrddin.”

“Very well, what would you ask me?”

“According to the legends, he fell in love with a Lady of the Fountain. She did not requite his love. He taught her all his tricks, the words of power, and then she imprisoned him in a cave of stone. It was after that that King Andrew was defeated and the Wizr set went missing.”

“What is your question?” she asked, tilting her head and giving him an encouraging smile.

“Well, my question is whether Myrddin is still alive. I think he’s trapped in the grove in the forest, with the silver dish that makes it rain. Now that King Andrew has returned, does it not coincide that Myrddin must return as well?”

Sinia seemed to have anticipated his question. She did not look surprised by it at all. “He is trapped beneath the stones. Some of my father’s ancestors tried to move the stones, but no team of horses was strong enough. The boulders are too massive. Even the Fountain’s magic is not strong enough to lift them.”

Owen looked at her with a smirk of self-confidence.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“You mean you cannot read my mind?” he teased.

She shook her head. “I’ve never had that talent.”

“I think I know a way it can be opened,” he replied. “It’s one of the reasons I brought the king with me to Ploemeur. Have you had any visions that say we shouldn’t release Myrddin?”

She looked curious and interested. “None at all.”

Owen sat up. “Do you think he’ll be angry for being imprisoned so long? If he’s even alive?”

“Oh, I know he’s alive,” Sinia said. “He’s trapped between the mortal world and the Deep Fathoms. He does not age where he lives. If we succeed in saving him, he could bring back knowledge that was lost long ago.”

Owen had been considering it. “I’m hoping he would be grateful to those who freed him.”

“Wizrs have been known to be generous,” Sinia said.

He took her hand in his and helped her to her feet. They stood at the edge of the beach, staring at the crashing waves, hand in hand.

“Shall we?” he asked eagerly, nodding toward the rush of waves.

Sinia’s smile was all the coaxing he needed.