Solid warmth before her, scaley blue webbing above, a fluffy blanket cocooning her against the subtle rise and fall of a bare scarred chest. Rhiannon’s eyes fluttered shut again. She stretched, her legs tangling with his. Strong arms squeezed her lightly. Rhiannon whined softly and pushed against him.
“Bathroom,” she mumbled sleepily. The wing protecting her lifted. Rhiannon stumbled from Taliesin’s bed and awkwardly groped for where she’d discarded her dressing gown. Three weeks they’d been doing this. Summer was right around the corner, and with it, the end of mating season was fast approaching. She still wasn’t entirely accustomed to waking up at Taliesin’s side. The rest she’d gotten used to in a disconcertingly short time, but maybe it was due to his eagerness to please. Her cheeks warmed as she tied her robe tightly around her. Taliesin just made it so easy.
The sun had just topped the mountain wall surrounding Taliesin’s cottage, casting watery shadows in the valley. The only remaining morning person lately was Bellflower, what with Rhiannon’s sleeping in having infected Taliesin as well. Or maybe that was the late nights they often shared these days. The crimson creeped down her neck and up to her ears. Though she never thought twice about their trysts in the moonlight, it would be a while yet before she stopped feeling awkward in the light of day.
After concluding her business and washing up for the day, Rhiannon poked her head into her old dressing room. As usual, Bellflower waited with a dress and accessories already laid out. The silkie helped her change and brushed her hair, something Rhiannon had come to understand the woman delighted in. From what Taliesin had said, the fairy saw readying Rhiannon for the day the same way an indulgent older sister might feel about a younger sibling. And Rhiannon served the purpose far better than he did.
A letter waited for them when Rhiannon and a sleepy-eyed Taliesin finally made it to the dining room for breakfast. Taliesin popped the seal and shook out the fancy folded paper. “It looks like an invitation,” Rhiannon commented while he scanned the neat lines.
“That’s because it is. Arthur’s Naming Ceremony has been set, and he’d like us to come celebrate.”
Rhiannon paused in spreading clotted cream on her scone. “Naming Ceremony?”
“When witches and warlocks reach the end of their apprenticeships and move up to journeymen, they get a Witch’s name. Like how I’m the Warlock Bard or my mother is the Dragon Witch. Looks like they set it for next week.” His brow creased as he kept reading. “Well, that’s inconvenient...”
“What is?” She peered down at the folded parchment. Runes decorated the page. Maybe that was the invitation itself? It could be the only explanation, considering nothing on the page stood out that she could make sense of.
“Arthur asked me to come up with the name,” he said with a sigh, “so I’ll have to be there to bestow it upon him.”
“He didn’t ask Lady Gertrude?”
Taliesin snorted. “Most people don’t ask her to name them after what happened with the Seaweed Witch.”
“The Seaweed Witch?”
“Mother came up with the name at the last minute and poor Matilda had to petition the council to get it changed to just Sea Witch. Honestly, my birth name is probably the only good one she’s come up with.”
Interesting. Rhiannon took a bite of her scone. “I wouldn’t mind coming along,” she said, “if they’ll have me.”
“I’m sure my mother and Arthur would love to have you,” he assured her, “and in fact, I’m certain that they, like me, wouldn’t want you by yourself here with that knight still out there.”
All the warmth seemed to escape the room. Rhiannon sat rigidly in her chair, fear seizing her heart. Tucked away in their cozy mountaintop abode, the constant sense of danger had finally drifted from her mind.
Taliesin slipped out of his chair and rounded the table. Tugging her into a hug, he promised, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You are safe.” He stroked her hair until he felt her begin to relax.
To help distract her, he changed the subject back to the Naming Ceremony. “There’s always a huge party after the Naming. You won’t be able to attend the ceremony itself as it’s just for witches, but that only takes an hour or so.” He called over to the kitchen, “Did you hear that, Bells?” The silkie poked her head out and nodded. “Think you could pack a few things for us to head out in a couple of days?” The silkie curtsied her reply.
And so three days later, Rhiannon stepped out of the cottage to find the blue dragon crouched, waiting for Bellflower to tie a trunk to his back. Taliesin bowed his head to Rhiannon and nuzzled her affectionately. “We’ll get there much faster if we fly,” he said. “Are you comfortable sitting on my back? Or would you prefer I carry you?”
Bellflower handed Rhiannon Taliesin’s pair of goggles. “I think I’d feel silly riding you,” she admitted.
Laughter rumbled deep in his chest and sent vibrations through the ground. “I could be your dashing steed for an afternoon,” he said. “But if you’d rather, I can carry you. It might be more comfortable that way.” She agreed, and after carefully settling in his talons, which he cradled to his chest, they took to the air.
Daylight agreed with her more than the twilight of her previous flight had. Below, she could see the forests and sparkling lakes as they zipped past. From their height, houses and farms looked more like oversized children’s toys than real buildings. No one so much as glanced up at them as they passed. Rhiannon suspected this was due to magic, and she had confirmation when her shouted question made Taliesin chortle an affirmative.
Flying proved so much faster than horseback. What took them nearly a week in one direction turned into a mere half a day’s flight. By evening, Taliesin glided low over the fields surrounding the Witch City of Magia. Here he needn’t glamour themselves as a large cloud, and so he shed it in favor of continuing to tiredly pump his wings.
“Are you okay?” Rhiannon called up to him. Her eyes darted to the thin, uneven line bisecting his scales, afraid that the healed wound bothered him.
“I haven’t flown like this in a long time,” he admitted. His wings slowed, they drifted lower, and he had to redouble his effort to keep aloft.
“For this long or in this form?” When he’d gone to gather information and play the simple bard, she’d seen him always in his hybrid form: human but for wings, tail, and horns.
He swung his long neck back and forth, seeking a good spot to land. “Both.” Spying the perfect place, he snapped his wings out wide to glide for a safe, if less than graceful, landing.
His back feet touched down, and awkwardly flapping his wings to keep his balance, he stumbled a few steps. Rhiannon clung to his thumb curled above her, jarred by the motion. A few more steps, and he both regained his balance and came to a stop. Taliesin carefully set his princess on the ground and their luggage beside her. Moments later, his scales bubbled, and his body shrank. In a few seconds, Taliesin the bard stood before her—naked as the day he was born. Rhiannon’s face burned as she hurried to unlatch the trunk to give him something to wear.