"Not yet. We still have--"
"The clock has struck twelve. It's the day. You agreed--"
"One last time. Before we're wed. I won't be long. It just . . ." She looked out at the forest. "It calls to me."
"It will always call to you. Here calls to you. There calls to you. I call to you. He calls to you."
She glanced back. "Arawn is a friend. Mine and yours. Nothing more. Never more. I've never been unfaithful, not in word or deed, not in heart or head."
"There's more than heart and head, Matilda." He stepped forward, and I swore I could feel the warmth of him, more delicious than any fire. "You had to choose. I realize that's not fair. It's choosing between two halves of your soul. But that is what had to be. Mallt-y-Dydd. Mallt-y-Nos. That is your choice. Your fate. If you believe you chose wrong . . ."
"Never."
She stepped into his arms, and as they wrapped around her, heat enveloped me, his lips coming to hers as his kiss consumed her, burned away every shred of doubt.
This is the right choice. It has always been the right choice.
His hands moved down to her waist, heat burning like wildfire in their wake.
"Let me make you my wife," he said. "Now."
"The ceremony--"
"No one will know."
She wanted that, as she'd wanted nothing else in her life. Lust and desire and need. And love. She wanted to be with him for now and forever, and nothing else--
A hound bayed. She turned to follow the sound. She looked out and saw nothing, but she knew they were there, in the darkness. The hounds and the riders. The Cwn Annwn. Calling her back for one last ride. One last hunt. One last goodbye.
"Tonight," she said as she pulled away. "I will be yours tonight. As soon as I return."
He tried to grab her, but she was already out of reach. She ran. She heard him behind her, running after her, begging her not to do this.
"You made a vow," he shouted, his voice growing dimmer as she raced through the castle. "The day has come. You cannot break your vow. If you do--"
The baying of hounds and the stomping of steeds drowned him out. She ran into the courtyard. They were there. The riders. The hounds. And Arawn. He smiled and reached down to t
ake her hand, pulling her effortlessly onto the back of his mount.
She held him tight, arms and legs wrapped around him. He reached back, his hand on her thigh, but she pushed it off.
That is not the choice I'm making. I just want this last night, this last hunt.
As we rode, a boom sounded over the thunder of the hooves. Matilda turned to look back at the castle, and she instinctively shaded her eyes, knowing it would shine blindingly bright. Her castle. The palace of the Tylwyth Teg, where she would dance on her wedding night and--
There was no glowing castle. Only darkness, lit by a single spot of light. A single sunbeam.
She scrambled off the horse, falling behind its hooves, one striking her in the thigh. Arawn cried out, circling back, but she was already on her feet, running.
The castle was gone. No sign of it. Only that ray of light. Still she ran, somehow faster than the horses, hot on her heels. Arawn called for her, told her it was gone, forever gone, and that was the choice she had made, the right choice, and she would never regret it.
No! I made my choice. Gwynn. The Tylwyth Teg. It was just one last hunt, before our wedding night. One last night, before endless day.
But now it was night, all around her, closing in, and she didn't feel the pull of it, the seduction of it. It was dark, and it was cold. Yet one ray remained. One last ray. One way to touch him.
To say I was wrong. I was young. I was foolish.
"Matilda! No!"