Page 8 of Awakening

“Perchance.” The young prince dropped his gaze to Trystan’s face. “He is pretty, and I like him.” Marc looked up at Emrys once more. “Protect him for me.”

The memory faded. Emrys blinked.

“I remember,” Trystan whispered.

“He’s your one.” Emrys’ subdued tone held an air of surprise and sudden awareness. “Your cymara.”

Brows pinched, Trystan stared at Emrys, his mouth falling open a little. “Cymara? As in the person with whom I share an innate bond of unconditional love that can only be awoken by a kiss?”

“Yes.”

“I thought such a bond was nothing more than an ancient myth.”

“No. They are very real, but exceedingly rare. There is only one other type of bond that is said to be stronger, but such a bond is no longer possible.”

“What bond is that?”

“That between an angel and their chosen counterpart.”

“Why is it not possible? Are angels not real?”

Emrys’ green eyes fixed on Trystan’s, a heavy sorrow behind them Trystan didn’t understand. “They were, until they all died in a war thousands of years ago.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t matter now. What’s important is you reuniting with your mate.”

Trystan’s forehead wrinkled. “And you’re certain Prince Marc is the one?”

“Yes.”

“I—” Trystan shook his head. “I barely recall meeting him. And a prince, Emrys? Wouldn’t I remember? Wouldn’t I have known?”

“You both would have been too young to recognize the bond. Marc felt it, but he didn’t understand what it was. You blacked out, and when you came to, you couldn’t remember what had happened.”

“But all this time, did you know?”

“That Prince Marc is your cymara? I did not.”

A small commotion drew their attention. The heavy oak door of the great hall opened with a loud clack. A very pregnant Queen Endelyn and a few of her attendants exited the castle. With poise and grace, they proceeded through the center of the courtyard. As the Queen approached Emrys and Trystan, both men stood and bowed.

Queen Endelyn, brilliantly dressed in a red gown trimmed in gold, was just as Emrys had always described. Light rosy cheeks and golden brown eyes complimented her flawless pale complexion. Her ginger colored hair only dared to peak out from beneath her gable hood, and the friendly, welcoming expression on her face affirmed her kind and approachable demeanor.

The queen’s guard followed alongside and behind her. The two young women at her sides wore matching gowns of pale ivory damask while the other women and one man wore leather armor with short swords sheathed at their hips.

“Lord Emrys Wyllt, is that you?” the Queen asked, pausing in front of them. She rested a hand on her round belly.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“After all these years, it’s so nice to see you again. This must be the young man you told me about in your letter. The same one that I met so many years ago,” Queen Endelyn said with a grateful smile.The one who changed my fate.

“Yes, Your Grace. May I present to you Trystan Caillot.”

“Trystan, you are most welcome here.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” Trystan said.

“I expect you do not recall the first time we met. I believe you were only about eight years old at the time.” The Queen glanced at Emrys for confirmation.