The Dark Thorn - By Shawn Speakman Page 0,84

Loved to joke. She saw the brighter side of living life. When we met we both just knew. We were married and I moved out of the bookstore apartment to share one with her in Pioneer Square.

“I was already a knight when we met, watching over the Seattle portal and keeping the worst of Annwn from coming into our city. Back then I was only several years older than you are now, cocksure of myself but unsure of my place in the world. She came into my life and it forever changed. She gave me more meaning than anyone ever had before her and since.”

A wildcat growled ferociously nearby, interrupting the tale, followed by a frightened squeal cut short by whatever prey the cat had killed.

“Did she know you were a knight?”

“Leaving in the middle of the night with no explanation leads any spouse to become suspicious,” Richard said tightly. “I can still remember the night I told her—about Annwn, the fey of both Courts, King Arthur, and how I possessed a power few in history had ever known and fewer yet had carried. She laughed when I told her the identity of Merle—laughed until I called Arondight. She spent the next several months reading all she could about Celtic mythology, the history of Europe and the Vatican—as well as my place in all of it. The questions were endless for days and days.”

“If I told anyone about this, I think they’d have me committed,” Bran said.

“When Merle first told me, I considered it myself.”

“And John Lewis Hugo knew of her, used her against you.”

“He knew all of it. Somehow,” Richard said, darkening. “As Merle suspected in Seattle, Philip has one of the relic mirrors. It’s the only explanation.”

“How did she die?”

“A korrigan, a shapeshifter and illusionist of sorts, came through the portal,” Richard said quietly. “I did not stop it in time.”

Bran nodded. The knight appeared haunted, an inner hatred—a manic self-loathing—having entered his eyes.

“When she died, you changed.”

“I did,” Richard agreed. “My role led to her death. Yes, I had power, power to prevent it. But sometimes that is not enough. I was young and foolish and believed that power gave me right to live and enjoy life as I saw fit.” Richard paused. “I tell you this now not to share my pain—nothing else pains me more than speaking of Elizabeth—but to prevent your own pain. I do not wish on you what I’ve gone through. You still have a choice.”

“So do you,” Bran replied.

Richard laughed darkly. “No. This is all I am now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Once I lorded over the portal because I enjoyed how special it made me feel in the much larger scheme of the world,” Richard added. “I was humbled in the worst way, by a God I know exists and yet does not care for me. Now I stand guard against Annwn, hoping to prevent other people from having to experience the pain I’ve lived with for years and years now.”

“God has nothing to do with this,” Bran asserted.

“Doesn’t He?” Richard growled back.

Long minutes passed. Both men stared into the night.

“The bodach,” Bran said finally. “It won’t stop.”

“It won’t,” the knight said. “Once set upon prey, it will never give up.”

“And what if you aren’t there to protect me?” Bran asked. “Or Deirdre? Or Lugh?”

“If we rejoin the Seelie Court and it helps pull down the very stones of Caer Llion, your safety will not be an issue,” Richard said. “You will be free of harm.”

“Free until something else comes after me.”

The dying fire snapped, sending a coal shooting like a star into the night.

“That could happen to anyone,” Richard said. “You still have a choice.”

“And was Kegan’s son given a choice?”

“People die, Bran,” Richard said coldly. “The world is not all light and airy. Connal’s death is sad. But it does not make it your fault.”

Bran squeezed the Paladr box. “If I had the means to stop it, then I am at fault.”

“Bran, don’t be ridicu—”

“No!” Bran hissed, a fountain of repressed rage bursting forth. “Kegan holds silent vigil tonight over Connal’s grave because his son fought to protect me—to protect a stranger not even from his world! And he’s not the only one. How many died saving us from John Lewis Hugo and his minions?” Bran burned with conviction. “Saving me? And you?”

Richard stared hard at Bran. Seconds turned into minutes.

“You know, I’ve seen the way you look at her,” the knight said.

Bran knew exactly what Richard meant. Deirdre slept

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