golden light and warmed their shoulders. At first they said little. Then at last they reached the pond. It seemed to Pwyll that there was no source for the pond's water, and yet it was filled full with liquid so crystal clear, he could see its sandy bottom and the little fishes swimming in it. He could not remember ever having been in this particular part of the forest before.
'Are we in my world or yours, lady?' he asked her half fearfully. He knew, as did any sane man, that the portals separating different worlds were ofttimes invisible. Had this magical creature led him astray? Had Bronwyn been right?
'My lord,' Rhiannon said quietly, 'it is all one world in which we live. It is merely a matter of seeing not simply with one's eyes, but with one's heart as well. Often we do not see the most obvious things because we are either too busy or think we are. Or, and this I think a great sin, we do not want to acknowledge that which is before us, for it may be a more complex solution than we can willingly admit. How much easier to accept the obvious.'
He did not fully understand her, but he felt somehow reassured. 'Where do you live?' he asked. 'Is it a near place, or in some distant spot?'
'My father's castle is here in this forest,' Rhiannon replied.
'That cannot be!' Pwyll cried. 'I know this forest! I have hunted in it since I was old enough to sit on a horse. It is mostly a wild and impenetrable place.'
'Have you ever seen this pond before?' she asked him.
'Nay, I have not,' he answered her.
'And yet this pond has been here all along,' she told him with calm logic. 'You do not know this forest at all, my lord. You have never before seen this pond because you have not looked carefully enough. So it is with my father's castle. You have not seen it because you have not looked for it. I will show it to you one day, Pwyll.'
'On the day you come to claim me for your bride, Pwyll of Dyfed,' came the startling reply.
'Do you not wish me for your wife?' Rhiannon asked him in all innocence. 'I have watched you for some time now, and as I have, my love for you has grown,' she continued. 'We of the Fair Folk do not believe in being coy. That is a trait of Cymri women. We are open, and time is precious to us. To waste time is to us the greatest sin. I love you, Pwyll of Dyfed. I would be with you forever. I would be your wife.'
His head reeled. This was a king's daughter. And not just any king. Dylan of the Fair Folk's daughter! She wanted
It was an incredible honor being offered him, but he found himself a little afraid. There had been stories of men and women of the Cymri beloved of the Fair Folk. Few of those tales had ended happily, he recalled nervously. Rhiannon was so very beautiful. Far more beautiful than any maiden of the Cymri, and with that beauty came a sweetness that would surely disarm his own people, easing any fears they might have of this exquisite magical maiden. Pwyll suddenly realized that he had loved her at first sight. He did indeed want Rhiannon for his wife. No other would do, and yet…
Rhiannon sensed his concern. 'You think of the others from our two different races who have loved. None were husband and wife as we will be,' she told him.
'Why were they not wed?' he asked.
'Because those of my race would never give up their ways for the Cymri that they loved.
'Nay, Rhiannon, there is nought to think about!' he cried passionately. 'For love of you, my dearling, I could conquer the world!'
'If I have your love and your trust, Pwyll, I have the only world I desire,' Rhiannon told him seriously, and then she laughed happily. 'If we are agreed, my handsome Cymri prince, then I must go. In one year's time you will come for me at the same grassy mound where we first met. On that day I will take you to my father's court and we will be wed. Then I will return home with you to Dyfed forevermore.'
He caught her hands in his, touching her for the first time, and was surprised at how vibrantly she pulsed with life. 'If time is so precious to you, Rhiannon,' he begged her earnestly, 'why must we wait a year to wed?' She was so fragile and delicate a creature that he could feel the life force pumping through her very fingertips.
She drew him near and, looking into his eyes, said, 'Time among the Cymri is different than it is for the Fair Folk, my love. Alas, there are other considerations to our marriage. It is the custom of my people that a woman has the absolute right to choose her own mate. So I have chosen you, but I will have to overcome the objections of my family and my people. You see, Pwyll, I am not merely a king's daughter. I was chosen by my people to be my father's successor one day, for we Fair Folk fade from the earth eventually, even as do the Cymri. When I wed with you, I must give up my rights as a member of my kind.
'There will be much distress and unhappiness at my decision. My people will need time to decide upon another heir to my father's place. I believe my younger sister, Angharad, is far better qualified to be the next reigning queen of the Fair Folk than even I. I must work to convince my people of it. They in turn, as is their right, will seek to prevent my going. That is why you must be certain, Pwyll of Dyfed, that you are capable of giving me your complete love and your complete trust no matter what happens in our lives. To wed you, oh prince, I must give up my heritage. I do it gladly for my love of you! Is your heart as brave and can it be true?'
He was stunned by her revelation, and humbled too. This incredibly beautiful maiden, chosen by destiny to be a queen, was willing, nay she was eager, to give up everything she knew and held dear simply to be his wife. 'Ahh, dearling,' he sighed sadly, 'I fear I am not worthy of you.'
'Do you love me, Pwyll of Dyfed?' she asked him quietly.
'Aye, Rhiannon,' he answered without hesitation, and knew in his heart that he spoke the truth.
'Then surely,' she told him, 'there is nothing that can prevent our marriage or destroy our happiness.'
And at that moment a little breeze blew through the clearing, ruffling the golden leaves of the beech trees even as Pwyll drew her into the deep comfort of his arms. He bent only slightly, for she was practically his own height, for all her delicacy. He touched her lips with his in a gentle, reverent kiss; but Rhiannon's soft mouth kissed him back with a fierce passion that both startled and pleasured him, and bespoke other delights to come.
He held her against him, an arm about her supple waist, his other hand caressing her silvery-gold hair which felt like thistledown beneath his roughened fingers. Her kisses tasted like strawberries to him, and he could not remember a time in his life when he had felt so happy, so fulfilled, so at peace with himself and the world about him. And everything he felt and sensed, Rhiannon felt and sensed too.