Thankful for the chance to get off his feet, Trystan found a soft patch of dirt and sat down. Marc leaned against one of the towering trees next to him. Emrys paced nervously. Trystan wondered why he was so tense. After everything else Emrys had told him, what was different about the answer to the question he’d just asked?
Emrys sat down, facing him.
“Do you remember my telling you about your father falling in love with Guinevere?”
“Yes,” Trystan replied.
“Well,” he paused. “He was not the first one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew Guinevere before Arthur did. Not for long, but long enough—” His voice faltered, softened. “—to know I loved her.”
“I thought you—” Marc caught himself before he said anything. Trystan wasn’t supposed to know how Emrys felt. Not yet. Marc had promised to keep his secret.
Emrys shot Marc a look as he took a deep breath and continued.
“I knew she loved me also. Then I had a vision. I saw a future in which Guinevere fell in love and married Arthur. I knew it was a future that needed to occur. So I left her and sent Arthur to her in my place.” He paused a moment. “As he rose to become king, I knew one day, I would be needed. Arthur didn’t know of my past with Guinevere. I couldn’t risk her seeing me again. So I disguised myself and avoided her as much as possible. I needed her to be faithful to Arthur. I needed to ensure…”
“Needed to ensure what?” Trystan asked.
“Nothing. It isn’t important right now.”
Tears welled up in Trystan’s eyes. He sensed the deep pain in Emrys’ heart as he spoke. It hurt to know he had kept this a secret all this time. It must have been terrible to live with that and know you can’t talk to anyone about it. Even guardians had weaknesses.
“Yes, we do,” Emrys said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Do what?” Trystan asked, knitting his brow.
“Have weaknesses.”
Marc looked on, somewhat confused by the turn in the conversation.
“Youcanhear my thoughts,” Trystan said in disbelief.
Emrys sighed. “Only sometimes,” he responded. He gazed into Trystan’s eyes.
“In the garden the other morning, I heard your voice.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“There is a connection between us that will always exist. When I put you under the slumber spell, it wasn’t just the years of my life I had to sacrifice.” He paused again. “It was much more than that. The spell linked our spirits and minds. As long as we live, it will always be there.”
Remnants of a dream flickered in Trystan’s mind. Heated passion. Flushed skin. And green eyes. “Is that why I feel so drawn to you at times?”
“It could be,” he replied. A sense of longing filled him, and he wanted to reach out and touch Trystan. He wanted to grab him and whisk him away from Marc. The desire to bond with Trystan burned deep inside him, coiled and ready to strike, but Emrys needed to be strong. Even fate had a natural order, and until he understood why his inner spirit demanded he claim Trystan centuries before he was meant to, he couldn’t jeopardize the prophecy going unfulfilled. Besides, Trystan had chosen and already bonded with Marc.
“But there is more.”
Emrys held Trystan’s understanding, gorgeous blue gaze. “Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Fate is a delicate balance. Right now, I must ensure your protection and guide you until the prophecy is fulfilled. The future of this world is at stake.” Pause. “One day, Trystan, I will tell you.”
Yes, one day. One day, Emrys would tell Trystan how much he loved him. Perchance he would even restore the memories he’d stolen from Trystan. Memories that tortured Emrys’ heart and soul because there was nothing he could do to make himself forget Trystan’s silent, unintended declaration of love. The exquisite joy of Trystan in his arms, and the gut wrenching pain of letting him go. Even the kiss they’d shared still lingered on his lips.
