Naming Ceremonies took a lot of work, and Rhiannon was glad to help. She might not be able to attend Arthur’s Naming herself, but after receiving his new title there would be a giant feast, which needed all hands on deck to prepare for. Being one of the few adults in the entire city not attending, Rhiannon was made second-in-command to the not-the-least-bit-magical wife of one of the council witches. Together, they’d been placed in charge of a gaggle of apprentices and children, the handful of other mundane humans, and a perplexed dragon that had once again squished himself into a humanlike shape to assist. However, how much the latter helped was up to debate. So far, the only thing he could be trusted with was hanging the lanterns.
While the children cheered on the flying lizardman, Rhiannon cubed an assortment of vegetables for the colorful skewers traditional at such functions. Mushrooms, peppers, various summer squashes, purple onions, something resembling a sweet potato that the others swore would cook just as quickly as the rest, and a few more besides that she did not know the names of... All went into their own separate bowls for the kids to skewer. But no matter how many bell peppers she cut, that bowl remained mysteriously low compared to the others. Rhiannon reached for another only to find the bin she pulled from empty.
“Did we run out of peppers?” called the woman in charge from where she was fanning the charcoal to life.
“I don’t know how.” Rhiannon could have sworn she chopped just as many of those as the rest. A few small voices sniggered. Correction: Now she did know, but she didn’t mind. Kids eating their vegetables was never a thing to complain about. Picking up the bin, Rhiannon called over her shoulder, “I’ll go get some more from Lady Gertrude’s. I’m sure I saw a bunch in the pantry.”
The woman breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
Rhiannon headed up a few blocks, past musicians tuning their instruments and stalls setting up for selling toys and games, toward Gertrude’s home. She took a shortcut down the alley, which took her straight out of the festival atmosphere and into quiet solitude. Even here away from the hustle and bustle, strings of jars holding artificial fairy lights glimmered to light the way. The entrances to little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, normally open wide to lure in customers with delicious smells and chaos of conversation, were all shut tight with signs apologizing for any inconvenience...as if someone might wish to eat there instead of at the massive party in the square.
Ahead, something clunked as it fell, startling Rhiannon from her cheery stroll. Heart in her throat, she inched forward, half expecting something to leap out at her. Something did, but nothing threatening. A cat meowed its complaint at a disturbed nap, and Rhiannon relaxed. What was she expecting anyway? In a city full of witches, it wasn’t like a monster was waiting to leap out of nowhere to attack—
A powerful, gloved hand caught her wrist and wrenched her into the shadow of an empty storefront. Another clapped over her mouth before the shriek could escape her throat. Hot breath steamed against her cheek. Wide eyes met cool ones black as pitch—ones she knew well. Her heart plunged into her twisting stomach. Brodrick. What was he doing here?
“To think I’d find you here of all places.” He sneered. “I intended to bring His Majesty’s orders to the council to force some witch to forge a dragon-killing blade, but you’re an even better prize. Once I bring you back home, I’ll have all the time in the world to exterminate that beast.”
Her pulse stuttered, her knees grew weak, and if not for Brodrick holding her up, she’d have collapsed. Rhiannon tried to pull away to beg him to leave Taliesin out of this. He must have thought she was trying to escape, for his grip tightened until she whimpered in pain—not that Brodrick cared. If anything, he seemed to delight in her discomfort. It meant he controlled her now.
To be safe, he tore the scarf she’d tied around her waist and gagged her with the blue silk. Certain now that she couldn’t call for help, he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Rhiannon kicked and squirmed, but all it bought her was a bruise to her temple when Brodrick swung his fist, knocking her senseless for the rest of his dash to freedom. Her large basket crunched under his foot in his hasty retreat. He stuck to the backstreets, and any time they needed to cross a main thoroughfare, he cautiously checked his surroundings before slipping back into the cover of shadowed alleys.
His horse waited impatiently for his master’s return at an inn far from the hullabaloo of the celebration. Sensing the urgency, the stallion snorted and stomped. The beast kicked at the stall door, eager to gallop as fast as the knight would allow.
Brodrick dumped Rhiannon against the stacks of hay to gather his tack. While he saddled up his steed, she struggled to get her bearings. Even if she had known the city well and been more than half conscious, Rhiannon wasn’t sure she could find her way back to the others after so many twists and turns. Circumstances being what they were, if she could rally enough to run for it, maybe she could find help. But from whom? Everyone was at the Naming, and if they weren’t at the Naming, they were readying the celebration for after. She couldn’t outrun him—at her fastest she could never beat him in a footrace. Without the advantage of terrain and with a mild concussion, she didn’t stand a chance.
Before she could make a decision, Brodrick scooped her up and tossed her over the front of his saddle so that the pommel dug painfully into her side. He lashed her hands behind her back and the rest of her to the saddle so she couldn’t roll off—not without the risk of injury by dragging or trampling, at any rate. He mounted behind her, and with a sharp kick, the horse sprang into action.
Hooves clattered against cobblestone, leaving sparks and the gentle, magical glow caused by stepping on stones in their wake. Rhiannon could only pray someone would see and follow. She squeezed her eyes shut, and with a desperate fervor, she repeated one name over and over, as if that alone could summon him to her side: Taliesin.