Dani Harper - Storm Bound

Morgan served lunch on the porch as Rhys told his story and how the spell that bound him had eventually been broken. Brooke was utterly astounded by it all. Her friend, Morgan, had never said a single word about Rhys’s true origins—but then, how could she?

Of greater concern was that the Fair Ones, as Rhys called them, had been increasingly active on this side of the waters, despite their kingdom being located under the Black Mountains of Wales. How long had this been going on, Brooke wondered. To hold the Gift is to protect the balance in all things and to restore harmony… How much harmony had been disrupted already by faeries meddling in the affairs of human beings? The problem was so much bigger than Aidan alone. She needed to learn all that she could and discuss the situation with her mentor and friend, Olivia.

Neither Morgan nor Rhys seemed offended when George and Felicia were still missing in action at the end of the meal. “It’s no big surprise. Really, I’ve never seen that guy with the same girl twice,” said Morgan. “In fact, at our wedding, he didn’t even leave with the same girl he came with! It’s just typical George to be crazy in infatuation with a new woman. By next week, he’ll have moved on to somebody new.”

“I thought he’d be over that by now. You know, mature or something,” said Brooke.

“Yeah, me too.” Morgan shook her head. “Growing up takes longer for some than others, I guess, but George is a really great guy and I love him to bits. Late bloomer maybe?”

Rhys and Aidan had headed off to the newly built forge the moment lunch was finished. Brooke wondered what kind of conversation they were having. Both were from Wales but from completely different time periods. Aidan had been born a thousand years ago. And Rhys? Two thousand. One a medieval smith, and the other a Celtic warrior. They might as well be from different countries after all. All they truly had in common was imprisonment at the hands of the fae.

At least they seem to be getting along…

With the big brindle mastiff at her heels, Morgan showed Brooke some of the horses they’d acquired since the last time she’d visited. A big dapple-gray mare hung her enormous head over the corral’s fence to greet them. “Of course, you remember Lucy, here. She’s our original. Rhys adores her, and she’s his personal mount in any and all events. Fred and Lucy have become close friends too—they play together.”

“The dog and the horse?” As if in answer, Fred touched noses with the big mare, his tail wagging. She snorted and blew grass all over him, which made Morgan laugh.

“Eeewww!” said Brooke. “Your brindle dog is green now!”

Morgan chuckled. “As a vet I can testify that there’s always a lot of eeewww around animals, but they’re worth it. He’ll shake it off or jump in one of the ponds. Anyway, horses like company and they tend to pick their friends. Dogs too. These two hit it off as soon as they met. Kind of like love at first sight.”

Brooke thought of Aidan. Had that happened to her? Did that explain the depth of feelings she had for him when she’d barely even met him? Not realizing her friend wasn’t paying attention, Morgan continued talking. Brooke tuned back in in time to hear—

“And those black ones over in the far pasture are purebred Friesians, and we have some Andalusians and Percherons as well.”

“You’re raising all these big horses for Renaissance fairs?”

“And training them too. That’s the most important part. Medieval sporting events have become very popular, and yes, people buy trained horses to use in tournaments.”

“So, are you talking about jousting? Knights in armor and all that?”

“Absolutely. It’s a real spectacle, and it requires a skilled horse as well as a skilled rider. The weapons aspect has really taken off as well. Rhys is a gifted warrior—hell, he grew up with a sword in his hand—so now he teaches classes here. Broadsword, archery—you name it. That’s one of the reasons we have the forge. Two of our friends work in metal. They’re wonderful craftsmen and they’re re-creating swords from various time periods—or at least that’s their goal. Although their work is beautiful, they haven’t produced a blade that Rhys approves of yet. I have to keep reminding him that it’s pretty much a lost art.”

Brooke couldn’t help but wonder if making weaponry was one of Aidan’s skills. If so, his work could be in demand, and he could find a niche for himself in the modern world, without having to leave the old one completely behind. That was exactly what Rhys appeared to have done. As they walked, Morgan pointed out the innumerable horseshoes and iron nails that decorated everything from the rooflines of each building to the top of every fence post that surrounded the two-hundred-acre farm. “Some of these were mounted by Rhys for protection against the fae before the Wild Hunt came. Since then, we put up more all the time. If you look closely, there are little copper wires and bells and all sorts of strange little gizmos attached to a lot of them. My favorite is a horseshoe out by the machine shed, which has a silver fork and spoon dangling from it. It looks like some strange art form, but actually, it’s a kind of magic. All of the iron you see has had protective charms added to it by our friend, Ranyon. He’s an ellyl from the faery realm, and kind of a refugee.”

“An ellyl? What’s that? I didn’t even know that faeries were real until Aidan showed up.”

“The term faery takes in a lot of different creatures. Ranyon is a little guy between two and three feet tall, all covered in brown leaves. He’s got the brightest blue eyes, and a great sense of humor. The Tylwyth Teg destroyed his clan and enslaved him—that is, until Rhys got hold of him.”

The strange name was familiar. Aidan had said that Celynnen was of Tylwyth Teg. “Is this Ranyon here on the farm?”

Morgan shook her head. “I really wish you could meet him but he lives with our friend, Leo, and the two of them are in Toronto right now at a Blue Jays game.”

“A faery wanted to go to a ball game?”

“Not just any baseball game. Ranyon’s crazy for the Jays. And he loves Leo too—they’ve been good for each other.” Morgan ran her finger around an exceptionally large horseshoe wrapped in copper wire and tiny bells. “Except for Ranyon, Queen Gwenhidw declared our farm off limits to the fae, but even though she’s my friend and I trust her, Rhys and I don’t take chances. There are too many factions working against her, and they don’t care what she decrees.”

“Hold it right there. The queen herself is your friend ?”

“I’m still not used to it myself,” laughed Morgan. “But yes, it’s true. She was best friends with some ancestor of mine, I guess, and we happened to hit it off when I visited Wales. Plus Nainie—my grandma—gave me some kind of mojo, to be able to see and know a few things, so the fae can’t hide from me very easily. It made a real difference the night of the battle here.” She laughed again and put her hands on her hips. “But it’s nothing compared to what you can do, lady! I thought you ran some sort of cute little New Age shop, and now I find out that you’re a powerful practicing witch! I mean, holy crap , that is so awesome!”

“Do you remember when we had to write that paragraph for grad about what we thought our futures would bring?” asked Brooke.

Morgan snorted. “I planned to be a veterinarian, and that certainly worked out fine. But the rest of my life? Or Rhys? Never saw it coming. You too, huh? How serious are you and Aidan?”