"It is the custom of my people," Rhiannon now said, "that a man or a woman unhappy in their marriage union may dissolve that union by merely releasing their partner from his or her vows. So I release you of the vows we made together in my father's court those six long years ago, Pwyll of Dyfed. I am no longer your wife. You are no longer my husband."

Pwyll nodded wordlessly, his shoulders slumping in a final defeat. "Our son, Anwyl, will have his inheritance of me nonetheless, Rhiannon," he promised her.

"What of my children?" hissed Bronwyn furiously. "Are they to have nothing so this half-breed may have everything?"

A monstrous clap of thunder shook the hall menacingly. A cloud of violet-blue mist sprang up directly in the center of the room and, with gasps of sheer fright, most of the court stepped back. The cloud dispersed as magically as it had appeared and a regal young woman whose golden hair was plaited into seven braids, each of which was woven with glittering jewels, and whose gown shimmered with light, stood before them.

Rhiannon could not help the faint smile that touched her own lips as her younger sister, now Queen of the Fair Folk, made a most dramatic entrance. Her heart swelled with joy to see her sibling once again, for she had never believed that she would.

"I am Angharad, Queen of the Fair Folk of the Forest and the Lake," Angharad announced in stentorian tones. Her cool gaze swept the room, softening as they passed over her nephew and his guardians; hardening as they encountered Bronwyn of the White Breast, who had the temerity to have attempted to take her sister's place. "You speak of your children, Bronwyn of the White Breast, but you will have none by any man, Pwyll of Dyfed or another. Your womb shrivels even now within you. You will be barren in this life, for to allow such evil blood to be passed on would be a crime against nature. This is the judgment the Fair Folk place upon you for your part in this matter of my nephew.”

Bronwyn glared defiantly at Angharad, but the queen of the Fair Folk was through with her and looked to Cynbel of Teifi.

"For your secret crime, lord of Teifi, you are cursed, and all those of your blood who follow you for a thousand generations to come."

Cynbel of Teifi seemed to wither before their very eyes, and Rhiannon felt it incumbent to communicate with her sister. It was not necessary for her to speak aloud for Angharad to hear her. Be merciful, sister.

I might have had they showed you any mercy.

There are some who were thoughtful of me in my distress.

I know them, and they shall not feel my wrath, Angharad promised her sister as she fixed her gaze once more upon the court of Dyfed. "To those of you known or unknown who aided my sister by thought or deed, I disburse unequaled good fortune for you, and for your descendants for a thousand generations to come. We of the Fair Folk are not really so different from you of the Cymri. We live and we die. We love, and sometimes, though we try hard to control such negativity, we yet hate."

Angharad now turned to take in Pwyll. Poor Pwyll, she thought for a brief moment, and then she remembered the misery that this man had caused her sister.

You can take no more from him, Rhiannon silently told her sister.

But I can, came the hard reply.

Did you not promise me you would not interfere? Rhiannon gently scolded Angharad.

No, I did not, Angharad told her disbelieving sister. Think back, sister. You asked me to make that promise, but I did not. Still, I stayed free of this controversy until Anwyl was found and your innocence proven beyond a doubt. I allowed you to endure terrible suffering that the name of our people not be further besmirched.

Pwyll sat slumped in his seat of office, his head within his hands. He knew whatever fate Angharad of the Fair Folk pronounced upon him, he was more than deserving of it. Feeling her demand, he looked up at her.

All anger was gone from Angharad's voice now, and only a deep sadness remained as she sternly said, "Pwyll of Dyfed, when you came on your marriage day to wed with my sister, Rhiannon, she asked but two things of you. She asked that you give her your complete love and your complete trust. It was so little in the face of the sacrifices she made in order to become your wife. But you were unable to keep faith with my sister, Pwyll. You betrayed her on both accounts. You ceased to trust her in the face of your people's false condemnations of her, simply because she was not of the Cymri race. Therefore, her credence was to be instantly doubted; but even that the Fair Folk might have forgiven you had you remained true in your heart to her, but you have not. You lay with Bronwyn of the White Breast, and your love for Rhiannon wavered as surely as your faith in her wavered. Did you ever once in all these years remember the great concessions my sister made for you, Pwyll of Dyfed? You left her helpless. You left her unable to defend herself. You left her caught between two worlds, and for that, Pwyll of Dyfed, you will be punished!

"Our people have watched agonized as Rhiannon was made to suffer because of you and your people. Even you, O foolish Cymri, cannot know the depths of her suffering! You were too busy wallowing in your own self-pity. It has been agreed by the high council of all the Fair Folk that Rhiannon be restored to her own kind. Though she has tried hard, she can never be one of you. To leave her caught between two worlds as you did was cruel. We are not by nature a cruel people. This, however, could not be done until the natural balance of things was corrected. With the restoration of my nephew, Anwyl, to his rightful place, it is. Rhiannon is once again one of us, and I have come to take her home."

"My powers…?" Rhiannon whispered softly.

"Restored, dearest sister," replied Angharad. "It is as it was once before. You will never again be helpless before anyone!"

Her heart hammering joyously, Rhiannon smiled the first smile of genuine happiness that anyone had seen her smile in years. Kissing her son, she told him, "Go now with Teirnyon and Elaine. I will see you soon."

Anwyl put his arms about his mother's neck and hugged her hard as he placed another kiss upon her cheek. He did not protest as Rhiannon placed him back into Elaine's welcoming arms.

"I will keep him safe," Elaine promised Rhiannon, her warm and loving gaze meeting the violet eyes of her foster son's mother.

"Let us go home, Angharad," Rhiannon said simply.

"Rhiannon!" Pwyll's anguished voice tore through the hall. "Rhiannon, you must forgive me! I love you! 1 do!"

Angharad reached out and placed warning fingers over her elder sibling's lips. "That, Pwyll," she said stonily and with great satisfaction, "is your punishment! For incarnations to come, though the paths your two souls may take will meet and cross, you will remember this moment in time, although Rhi-annon's soul will not. You will know no deliverance from the guilt you now bear for your faithlessness against Rhiannon. You will remain frozen in time spiritually life after life after lifetime until another moment in time, somewhere in the future, when, if the soul now inhabiting my sister's body remembers this time and this place, and if she can find it in her heart to truly forgive you; then Pwyll, and only then, will you be given deliverance and fully exonerated of your crimes against Rhiannon. She must remember on her own, Pwyll. You cannot tell her. Until then, Pwyll of Dyfed, your own sad soul will suffer in unrequited anguish, even as you have allowed my sweet sister to suffer these past four years. And now, farewell!"

And before the astonished eyes of the assembled court of Dyfed, Angharad, queen of the Fair Folk, and her elder sister Rhiannon disappeared in another puff of silvery smoke and a thunderclap. Bronwyn whimpered, frightened, and clutched at Pwyll's arm once more, but he angrily shook her off.

"Rhiannon!" he cried after his wife. "Rhi-an-non! Rhi-an-non!"

The mauve mists. She was once again surrounded by the mauve mists, swirling about her furiously, even as the weightlessness overcame her once more, and she felt as if she were floating. Floating. Floating. No! Not floating. She was falling. Falling through time and through space at such a rapid rate that she feared she would be smashed down and totally destroyed. With a surprised gasp, Wynne of Gwernach opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Madoc's handsome face before her.

Chapter 9

"YOU KNOW NOW," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

She nodded slowly. "How long have I slept, my lord?"

"Two full days and three nights, dearling. This is the third morning."

"How long have you been here, Madoc?" she gently asked him.

"Since Megan brought me your message. You dreamed?"

"I have known the legend of Pwyll and Rhiannon since I was a child at Gwernach; but the story always ended with Rhiannon forgiving Pwyll, and their living happily ever after," Wynne replied thoughtfully.

"A Christian ending to a Celtic tale," he said bitterly. "Our people were less forgiving in those far distant times, Wynne, than they have been since the coming of the priests."