Chapter 7
Grønn Riddari believed he may have found the person for whom his queen had him searching. After observing an unusual conversation in which an older man spoke about a prophecy, he’d disguised himself in an attempt to confirm his suspicions. The man called Trystan had given him just what he needed. Confirmation that Myrddin was his protector.
Grønn had tracked Trystan and the Regent Prince to a lonely cottage in the Vilsir countryside. He’d observed throughout the day, noting he’d seen only three men, one much older than the other two.
He waited into the night and a couple hours before dawn, he crept into the house. He found the older man asleep in a chair by the hearth, snoring. Not wanting to risk the man intervening, Grønn touched two fingers to the man’s temple and focused his mind.
“Let nothing wake you,” Grønn whispered. “Sleep until dawn.”
Grønn pulled his fingers away, and the man continued snoring. He slinked through the cottage to the only closed door. He slowly and carefully opened the door and slipped into the dark room, closing and locking the door behind him.
He tiptoed over to the bed in which the two men slept, unaware of his presence, and opened his hand to reveal a single winter rose blossom. If he could get Trystan to inhale some of the pollen from the deadly flower, it would put him into a deeper sleep, allowing him to carry him off in the night without a struggle. First, however, he needed to ensure the Prince would not be a problem.
Grønn held the flower near the Prince’s nose and rubbed the stigma gently, releasing some of the pollen. Unbeknownst, Marc inhaled the flower’s debilitating powder.
Grønn crept around to the other side of the bed and hovered over Trystan. The man stirred, the linens shifting to reveal his bare chest. Grønn froze. Trystan opened his eyes for a moment, looked at Grønn, and closed them again as if going back to sleep. Grønn let out a quiet breath, but as he started to move again, Trystan’s eyes flew open.
Quickly, Trystan rolled off the bed and on to the floor, grabbing a dagger from the nearby chest.
“Marc!” Trystan yelled, keeping his eyes on the stranger. In the dim light of the dying fire, he could only make out his thin silhouette. “Who are you? And what do you want?”
Grønn said nothing and crept toward him slowly.
Coming around the corner of the bed, Grønn darted toward him, but Trystan was quick to move, climbing across the bed and over Marc to the other side. He shoved at his mate, trying to wake him up.
“What have you done to him?” Trystan asked.
“I did what was necessary,” Grønn said, rushing across the bed after him. He backed Trystan into the corner. “Come now. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be.”
Grønn lunged at him and grabbed an arm as he brought the dagger up toward Trystan’s face. He caught Trystan’s other arm and squeezed his wrist so tight that he dropped the knife. The intruder twisted him around so that his back was to him and wrapped his arms around Trystan, restraining him. With his arms pinned to his sides, Trystan lifted his feet and pushed against the desk chair in the corner, trying to force him backward. His efforts only knocked over the chair and bumped the desk, causing a few candles to tip and roll to the floor.
“Let go of me! Marc!” He elbowed and kicked, struggling against him, but the sinister man bested him with his overpowering strength.
“Yell all you want, but neither the old man nor your mate will hear you,” Grønn snarled into his ear. Continuing to squeeze him with only one arm, Grønn lifted his other hand to Trystan’s face.
As Grønn opened his hand, Trystan saw the beautiful blossom in his hand and tried to pull away, but his captor held strong.
“It has a lovely scent,” Grønn crooned as he rubbed the rose gently in his fingers, squeezing Trystan tighter to hold him still. “Breathe.”
Trystan held his breath. Certainly, he must have used this on Marc, and now him, perchance even his father. Desperate, he fought to free himself, but he couldn’t get away.
His body begging for air, Trystan gave in and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the flower. As the effects of the pollen fogged his brain, Trystan looked at Marc, angry tears in his eyes. Trystan’s lungs burned and his heart ached as the darkness closed in around him.
With the man subdued, Grønn quietly opened the door and peered into the hall. Nothing. Not a sound. To his delight. He went back to where Trystan had collapsed on the dirt floor and thought for a moment. He needed something to hide him. Looking around, he grabbed the wool blanket from the bed. He wrapped it around the naked man, picked him up, and carried him out of the room over his shoulder.
Cautiously, he sneaked back out of the cottage and made his way to cluster of trees where he’d left his horse. Securing the man, he mounted and rode off into the dark.
***
Dread came over Emrys the moment he crested the hill just before dawn and looked upon the Caillot cottage. He could not sense Trystan’s presence. Emrys’ heart hammered as he urged his horse into a fast gallop, fear gnawing at his insides.
The horse slid to an abrupt halt as Emrys pulled on the reins. His feet hit the ground before the horse had steadied itself. He ran inside.
By the fireplace, Noah slept soundly in his chair.
“Trystan!”
No answer.
