Free Gambit of the Glass Crowns: Vol. I of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy by Ethan Risso Page A

slowed significantly. There was a span of nearly two centuries when they did not appear to age much at all past adulthood. It was during this two hundred year span that child bearing was practiced. The later part of their life saw a resurgence of the aging process. In their three hundredth year, they once again began to age.
    Their average lifespan, said Ceridwen, was five centuries. Some lived longer. Once, when he asked her what the cause of Meïnir death was, she simply replied, “Boredom.” He was still unsure if it had been an answer in jest, but did not question her more. In truth, he did not wish to think of a time that Ceridwen would leave this world. Although, it was far more likely that she would still look relatively the same when he was a wizened, old man.
    “And this boy?” said Rhiannon, eyeing Connor. “He is one of your charges, is he not?”
    “Yes, Mother.” Ceridwen stood behind him, at the edge of the clearing. “He is the younger nephew of the high king,Connor.”
    Rhiannon smiled at Connor. “Ah, yes. Your parents were most noble friends of Arlais. They are missed.”
    “Th‌—‌thank you, Lady.” It was beyond his wildest dreams to be in the presence of the Lady of Arlais, let alone able to speak with her.
    “Connor?”
    His vision grew hazy. The trees were swallowed by darkness. He knelt forward and touched the cool grass on the mound, but could not grasp it. The forest faded away, and he recognized his bedroom in Castle Cærwyn. As his vision cleared, he tried to move, but a sharp pain caught him.
    “Thanks be to Her,” Ceridwen whispered. She sat next to him with tears in her red eyes.
    “Ceridwen…” Connor let out a hoarse cough.
    “Hush now, do not speak.” She poured water into a copper cup and lifted his head so he could drink.
    He greedily guzzled the water and did not bother to stop for breath until he quenched his thirst. “What has happened? Why am I here?”
    “Tell me, do you remember anything?” Ceridwen offered him more water.
    “The tourney‌—‌my chest hurt and I returned to my quarters.”
    “And what of matters after?”
    Connor coughed and took another sip of water. “I think…‌I think the Lady Rhiannon was there.”
    “Rhiannon?”
    “And trees. There was a forest. I remember the scent of dew and the sound of willow trees swaying in the wind.”
    “Trees? And you say the Lady Rhiannon was there?”
    “She was in front of a large tree, and you were behind me and then…‌nothing.” He took another sip of water before collapsing back onto the pillow.
    “Connor, there are matters which I must discuss with you.”
    He looked to her, but could not muster the energy to speak.
    “Something has happened‌—‌something terrible. Dark times have fallen upon us and…” She cleared her throat to stifle her tears.
    “My uncle?” Connor tried to sit up, but could not manage in his weakened state. “What has happened?”
    Ceridwen shook her head. “Your uncle fares well. Connor, your condition is worsening.”
    “What?”
    “You know it was no ordinary arrow.” Ceridwen cleared her throat once more. She looked away from Connor and took a deep breath.
    “I do not feel as though I am cursed.” Connor noticed how parched his mouth had grown. “Could you be wrong?”
    “I am so sorry. I am not mistaken.” Ceridwen held back tears as she rubbed his cheek. “The poison from the arrow already courses through your veins.”
    “Then…‌I will…‌I mean, I must…”
    His denial quickly crumbled, and hot tears ran down his face. He clung to Ceridwen as she embraced him. He wept loudly and openly and felt fire rip to the core of his wound.
    As he cried, Ceridwen softly sang. It was a song from his childhood‌—‌a prayer from Arlais. It was the only Arlais prayer she ever uttered in his presence. When he was a child, he had woken in the night in a fit of uncontrollable tears. Ceridwen came into his room, swept him up in her arms and