Rhiannon did her best to keep her expression reassuring. “I should be okay. But what about you? Are you really going after that wyvern tonight?” And though she didn’t say it, she certainly thought it: And by yourself?
“He’ll be fine. Taliesin’s got lots of tricks up his sleeve.” Tabitha giggled. “Lots and lots.”
“What she means to say,” Taliesin said, shooting her a look that momentarily sobered the witch, “is that lesser dragons communicate through music. I can probably convince it to leave, and if I can’t charm it, I can scare it off.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” added the witch. “Make a violin screech loud enough and they’ll run away. Usually. If they don’t, you gotta muscle them into submission.”
Taliesin sent her another look. “Don’t go worrying Sofia unnecessarily.” He turned back to Rhiannon and took her hands in his to give them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m good at handling wyverns. Honestly, I’m more worried about leaving you here with her.”
“Isn’t he a sweetie?” cooed Tabitha, giggling. “Such a gentleman~”
“Just don’t take her too seriously,” warned Taliesin. “She babbles a lot when she’s in her cups. She doesn’t know half of what she’s saying.”
“That’s what you think,” murmured the witch before yawning loudly. “Get a move on already, Taliesin. You don’t want to be out all night, do you?”
Having said his piece, he didn’t need more prompting. He brushed his thumbs along the back of Rhiannon’s hands and let them drop. Taking the broom from where he’d leaned it against the doorframe, he called, “I’ll be back soon. Behave yourself, Tabitha.”
“We’ll be fine. Just get going already!”
The door closed behind him and locked of its own accord. Rhiannon glanced around the dimly lit sitting room. While not messy, it also wasn’t entirely free from clutter, as the many rooms of the castle had been. Though it was a little dark...
As if sensing her thought, the chandelier above their heads sputtered and gradually glowed brighter.
“Merlin,” whined the witch, “why must you be so cruel?”
Rhiannon caught sight of a light in a side room. She followed it to a kitchen packed with every ingredient imaginable. “Did you name your house Merlin?” she asked as she scanned the untidy space.
A small broom sprang to life and swept a collection of empty bottles and boxes from the stovetop. Firewood clunked itself into the grate and burst into flame without need of match nor assistance. A kettle shook free of the paper parcels leaned haphazardly against it to drop into the sink with a clang. Water splashed from the pump of its own accord, and once the kettle had its fill, it sloshed itself to the stove to boil.
“A good house needs a name,” replied the witch from her sofa. “Isn’t that right, Merlin?” The lights flickered in a way Rhiannon took for agreement.
A cabinet creaked open, and Rhiannon found it well stocked with dozens of canisters. One scooted out from among the rest, and inside Rhiannon smelled mint and chamomile. Also in the cabinet was a tea set and tray, which she handled with care. A few of the cups were already chipped—no need to add to the casualties.
The kettle whistled sooner than she expected. Rhiannon carefully swished some boiling water in the teapot before discarding it. The second time she filled it, she included the leaves. A matching tiny pitcher of cream settled among the pair of cups and saucers, as did a jar of honey. Smiling to herself, Rhiannon picked up the tray and headed back to the parlor.
Tabitha startled at the quiet chink of porcelain touching down lightly on the table. She stifled a yawn and sat up. “Mmm, smells divine,” she murmured sleepily as she took the cup Rhiannon poured for her. Tabitha sipped it and hummed contentedly. “I would have thought a well-bred young lady like you wouldn’t know the first thing about brewing tea.”
“I guess you could say it’s a hobby of mine,” Rhiannon replied. She poured a cup for herself and perched on the wingback chair that slid itself closer for the purpose.
“I’m surprised a princess would have such a simple hobby.”
Rhiannon nearly choked on her first sip. Spluttering, she asked, “What did you just say?”
“Oh, you might be able to pull the wool over Taliesin’s eyes, but the Seeing Witch cannot be so easily fooled!” She gave a prideful laugh and swayed dangerously. The sofa’s wooden arm unfurled to steady her cup. “You’re the Princess Rhiannon, aren’t you? The one promised to the dragon of Storm Bearer’s Peak.”
Shaking, Rhiannon set her cup down before she spilled anything. “Please don’t tell Taliesin.”
Tabitha grinned. “Oh, your secret’s safe with me. Just like Taliesin’s.” She guffawed, much to Rhiannon’s puzzlement. The handsome bard had already proven to have so many talents. What more could he be hiding? “Oh, this will be so much fun. I wish I could see his face when he realizes just who your fiancé is.” The laughter dissolved into a giggling fit. “Won’t he be surprised.”
Rhiannon cast about for a safer subject. “Miss Tabitha, might I ask how you know Taliesin?”
“I’ve known him since he was born. I’m his godmother, you see. Gertrude, his mother, was my best friend growing up.” She slurped down some tea. “When he was little, he was always getting underfoot while I was doing magic. He’s grown so much.”
“Is that why he can speak the fairy language?”
“Oh no, that’s because he’s a parrot,” she replied with an affectionate smile. “That boy hears a tune one time and can play it perfectly from memory. Same with languages. He’s always been like that.”
That satisfied one bit of Rhiannon’s curiosity. She picked up her teacup again and sipped. The strong herbal taste warmed her to the core.
“Still, it surprises me to see him with you,” continued the witch, abruptly changing gears. “It’s not often he has a traveling companion. He’s usually such a loner.”
“Oh? But he seems to get along with people wonderfully.”
“That’s his bard persona,” Tabitha said dismissively. “He’s friendly and likes to help where he can, but when he’s not performing? He would much rather be holed up on his own somewhere with that violin of his. He certainly doesn’t invite pretty, young women to tag along on adventures. You, my dear, must be special.”
Rhiannon shook her head. “It’s nothing like that. He saved me and just wanted to help, like you said.”
“He could have simply put you on a carriage and let you be on your way,” she pointed out. “He didn’t have to personally escort you.”
Heat flooded Rhiannon’s cheeks. She took a sip to hide behind her cup.
The witch watched in amusement. “He’s also not much for touching people, but he’s held your hand plenty.”
“He’s being nice,” Rhiannon protested. “I’m sure he does that for a lot of people.”
“Nope. Taliesin hasn’t shown a lick of interest in anyone before you.” Her lips curved upward. “I think he might just have a crush on you.”
“He couldn’t possibly!” He’d only been rescuing a damsel in distress when they met. The kiss had merely been a ruse to throw the guard off her trail. Rhiannon’s cheeks reddened further with the memory.
Tabitha smirked. Teasing was quickly proving to be too much fun. “The way you’re acting, I bet you have a little crush on our Taliesin too. How precious.”
Rhiannon set her cup and saucer down. “It’s not like that. He just... We just...”
“He kissed you, I bet,” continued the witch, smirk growing. “How is he at that? Any good?”
“I... What?” spluttered poor Rhiannon.
The witch giggled. “All right, all right, that was over the line. I’ll stop picking on you for the evening.” She yawned and set aside her teacup. “Don’t know about you, but I’m rather peckish. Merlin, do you have anything for us?”
Cabinets rattled, and a tin of cookies flew into the sitting room, landing squarely on the table between them. Tabitha pried the lid off and plucked a few buttery tea biscuits from the stack. “Want one?” To be polite, Rhiannon accepted the offer.
Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour. Rhiannon startled at the sound, nearly dropping her cookie. “Is it that late already?”
Tabitha hummed around her snack. “It is getting rather late, isn’t it? Well, I’m sure Merlin can get a room together for you.”
“What about Taliesin?”
Tabitha consulted what appeared to be a watch in her pocket. “He’ll be a while yet. Wyverns aren’t too much trouble when you know what you’re about, but they still take time to deal with. Merlin will let him in once he gets back.” She stifled another yawn and led Rhiannon to the back of her humble home, one that seemed far larger than it should have been from the outside.
“He will be okay, won’t he?”
“Like I said, wyverns aren’t a problem for Taliesin. He’ll be back before you know it.” Tabitha unlocked a door Rhiannon could have sworn hadn’t been there a moment before. Beyond the threshold was a cozy bedroom. A round window looked out over an impossible ocean lit by glittering stars. Tucked beneath it was a bed piled high with quilts and feather pillows. A wardrobe stood beside one wall, while a dresser cluttered with vases of fresh-cut flowers rested against the opposite. “Make yourself comfy. I’ll be down the hall if you need me for anything.” She stifled a rather long, final yawn and shuffled down the way to the room she had indicated.
Lovely as the room was, it still took a long time for Rhiannon to find herself dozing off. Worries about Taliesin swirled with the notion that a wyvern might attract Brodrick even with a far more impressive quarry to dispose of—a quarry that would leave Rhiannon at his mercy should he succeed. When at last she managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, her waking anxieties followed her into her dreams.
Brodrick chased her down on his horse, a dark expression on his face. Below her feet, the mud sucked her down to the ankles. She fought for each step. His steed had no such struggle, and as the horse closed in, Rhiannon tripped and smashed into the muck. Terror seized her heart. Her limbs froze. She couldn’t escape. He would catch up one way or another. Tears. Sobs. Trembling...
Someone traced gentle fingers through her hair. From somewhere far away, she thought she heard whispered reassurances. Slowly, the fear lessened, and with a wordless song gently wrapping around her, nightmares gave way to pleasanter dreams.