“Come back into my arms and dance with me,” he said lightly. To avoid choking up with the emotion that was swelling in his heart he swept her back into his embrace, cradling her head against his shoulder. “We should practice, since the next time I will see you we’ll be meeting clandestinely at the royal wedding in Bethany. If we’re trying to dance and still remain unnoticed, it wouldn’t do at all for me to step on your toes.”
Rhapsody drew back with a suddenness that jolted him. Her face drained before his eyes of its rosy glow, leaving her alabaster-pale. Her eyes searched his face, filling with an old sadness that she shook away a moment later.
“It’s getting late,” she said apprehensively. “We should talk, then get to your renaming ceremony.”
Ashe nodded, feeling bereft. The dance would have given him a chance to hold her one more moment, to feel the happiness within her sustained for just a little bit longer. “Are you ready?” he asked, pointing to the gazebo. It was where they had agreed he would reveal his secrets, then take the memory of this night from her. Her eyes dropped and he could feel her nervousness rise as she shook her head.
“Not yet,” she said, and turned toward a small bench in a secluded part of the garden. “Can we sit there for a moment? I have something to say to you, and I want to remember having said it.”
“Certainly.” Ashe helped her step over the small rock wall, and together they strolled to the bench, hand in hand. She settled her skirts as he sat down beside her and waited to hear what she had to say.
“Before you take away the memory of the rest of this night, I just want to let you know that you were right,” she said, her dark green eyes twinkling at him in the darkness.
“Rhapsody, you are unbelievable,” Ashe said, jokingly. “Just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you have come up with yet another way to excite me sexually. Will you say that again, please?”
“You were right,” she repeated, returning his grin. “Do I have to take my clothes off now?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he said, wondering whether this was a ploy to keep from going into the gazebo. He knew that she was not happy with what was about to happen, and though she trusted him, her willingness to follow through was limited at best. “I’m sorry; now, what were you saying?”
Her face grew serious, and her eyes darkened in the half-light cast by the paper lanterns he had strung throughout the garden. “I want you to know that everything you said to me when you first came to Elysian was right, even though I didn’t know it at the time.” She stared at her hands for a moment, then lifted her head and looked into his eyes; her own were glistening, whether from deeply held feeling or tears.
“I want you to know that I’ve treasured this time with you, and that it was worth having, as you said, for as long as it lasted. I’m—I’m glad we were lovers. And you were right; it was enough.” Ashe watched as a luminescent tear spilled over her lashes and rolled slowly down her face.
“I was at ease with you long before any of this, though; I think the reason we made good lovers is that first we made good friends. And since in the end that is what will be left to us, I want to still be at ease with you, if circumstances permit. I have never interfered between a man and his wife, and I’m not about to start now. So if it won’t cause problems for you and—well, and the Lady Cymrian, please know that if you ever need me I’m here for you—to help, I mean.” Her words ground awkwardly to a halt, and she looked over at the gazebo for a moment.
Ashe’s heart ached for her. He reached out and caught the tear as it reached her chin, then gently rested his hand on her face. She placed her own hand over it, then took his and curled it into a fist inside her own.
“I love you, Gwydion ap Llauron ap Gwylliam and so on, and I always will,” she said when she looked back at him. “But it is a love that will never threaten your happiness; it is there to support you in any way that it can. Thank you for giving me this time and this opportunity. It has meant more to me than you ever could know.”
Ashe couldn’t stand it anymore. He took her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her, trying to extend to her whatever wordless comfort he could. Her lips were warm but they did not respond to him; she gently took his hands and removed them from her face, giving them a friendly squeeze.
“Are you ready now?” he asked, nodding toward the gazebo.
Rhapsody sighed. “Yes, I guess so,” she said, rising to a stand. “Just let me get my harp; I’ll need it for the naming ceremony.”
“It can wait,” Ashe said. “First, we’ll talk. Then we’ll do the naming ceremony. I have something I need to tell you, and something I need to ask of you.”
“Very well,” she answered. “Interestingly enough, so have I.”
The gazebo had been positioned to provide the most breathtaking view in all of Elysian, and from its cold marble benches Rhapsody could see the whole of her gardens, preparing for the long sleep of the fast-approaching winter, the cottage, with its climbing ivy fading from verdant green to a somber brown; and in the distance the rushing waterfall, growing in strength as the late autumn rains fed the streams above it, churning the water of the lake that circled the island she loved as if in an embrace.
For the first time this year Rhapsody felt a chill in the air; winter was coming. Soon the gardens would be silent, and the flock of birds that had found their way underground to nest in her trees would be gone. The hidden paradise would lose its color, settling into hibernation. She wondered how much of the loss of warmth in the land and air around them was attributable to annual climate changes, and how much to the diminution of the fires of her own soul as she felt their love dying. Elysian would soon go dormant, settling into subsistence where there had once been glory. Just like her.
“Rhapsody?” Ashe’s voice brought her back to reality.
She looked up from her reverie. “Yes? Oh, sorry. What do I have to do?”
Ashe sat down beside her on the stone bench and held out his hand. In it was an enormous pearl, watery-white as milk with an opalescent black circumscribing it. “This is an ancient artifact from the land of your birth, now beneath the waves,” he said, his voice reverent. “It has held the secrets of the sea, and but one other trusted to it on the land. Name it, Rhapsody, and will it to hold the memory of this night for you until it is safe for you to take it back.”
Rhapsody took the pearl in her hands. Though it looked porous she could feel its strength, impenetrable, layer upon layer of solid tears from the ocean. She closed her eyes and began the song of naming, matching her tune to the vibrations emanating from the pearl until they were in perfect unison.
She opened her eyes again. The pearl had begun to glow with a light that filled the gazebo. It was translucent, and the most intense point of illumination was discernible in the core, shining through the layers made visible by its brilliance. Into the song she wove the command he had asked of her: that the memory of the rest of this night be contained within it.
When the song ended Rhapsody handed the glowing pearl back to Ashe. He rose from the bench and walked to the empty golden cage, placing the pearl inside it. Then he returned and sat down beside her again, taking her hands, but before he could speak she stopped him.
“Tarry a moment, please, Ashe,” Rhapsody said. “Before you tell me anything, I want to just look at you one last time.” Her eyes studied him intently, taking in the look of his own eyes, and the line of his face, the color of his hair, and the way he looked in the handsome mariner’s uniform and cape. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to capture his scent and the way he shaped the air around him, painting a picture for herself that would have to last a lifetime. Finally she lowered her gaze.