Rhiannon fell slowly to her knees, sobbing. "I called you Anwyl," she said. "Anwyl, my beloved son!" And Rhiannon hugged the little boy who slipped so easily into her embrace and kissed her lovingly upon her wet cheeks.

Teirnyon bent and took the fallen brocade up once more. Handing it to Pwyll, he asked, "Do you recognize it, my lord? Is this indeed the cloth in which your son was wrapped on the night he disappeared?"

Pwyll took the cloth, fingering it with wonder. He nodded mutely, unable to believe his sudden good fortune. By some marvelous miracle his only son and heir had just been restored to him. "How can I thank you?" he asked the lord of Gwent thickly, his voice sticking in his throat.

"You cannot," Teirnyon told him bluntly. "By returning your son to you, I lose mine and I break my dear wife's heart. She has loved Cant and raised him with tenderness since the night he came to us. How can I compensate her for such a loss? There is no way, my lord. Elaine and I, however, learning the truth of our son's birth and seeing the stamp of both Dyfed and the Fair Folk upon his brow, could not in honor keep him from you, nor allow his sweet mother's name to be further besmirched."

"I indeed owe you a great debt of gratitude, Teirnyon, and my friends Taran of the Hundred Battles and Evan ap Rhys as well. Where are they?"

"We are here, my lord," came Taran's voice as he and Evan stepped forward from among the clustering crowd of courtiers.

"Whatever you want," Pwyll told them. "It is yours for what you have done for me and for Dyfed!"

"We did not do it for you, or for Dyfed, my lord," Evan ap Rhys said harshly. "We did it for the lady Rhiannon whom we love and honor."

Rhiannon now stood, lifting her son up into her arms as she did so. Seeing them together thusly left no doubt among those in the hall that they were mother and son. "Thank you, my friends," she told them quietly, and then she said, "Will you go with my son back to Gwent, Taran of the Hundred Battles and Evan ap Rhys? Will you teach him of his heritage and guard him until he comes of his manhood?"

"We will, lady, and right gladly," the two warriors chorused in unison.

Rhiannon then looked to Teirnyon and Elaine. "There is no need for you to lose your son, our son, Anwyl whom you call Cant. It is the custom among the Cymri, is it not, to foster out a prince's children? It is also a mother's right among the Cymri to choose the place for her child's fostering. My son now knows the truth of his birth. Taran and Evan will teach him all he needs to know of Dyfed. I return him to Gwent with you both until he is a man. You, Teirnyon, teach my son all he needs to know about ruling that he may one day rule in Dyfed with honor, having learned honor from an honorable man." Her meaning was brutally clear.

Both Teirnyon and Elaine were overjoyed, but they were curious as well. The lady of Gwent spoke softly to Rhiannon. "Having found your son, you would let him go again, oh princess?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Anwyl has never known any other parents but you two. I want my child to be happy, and I tell you that having lived six years among the suspicion and intolerance of this court, I know for certain that Anywl's happiness, and indeed his very safety, are not to be found here in Dyfed. Here I will have no control over my son's fate. They would take him from me and seek to erase from his memory that half-heritage which comes to him through me. You surely knew by the very look of him that he was not entirely of the Cymri race, and yet you have both loved him without reservation."

It was then the child spoke. His little voice was high and piping. "I have but only found you, my other mother. I do not wish to lose you again."

"You will not lose me, Anwyl, my fair son. I will come to see you often in Gwent. Perhaps your father will come too one day."

"Then I will return to Gwent as you wish," the little boy said sweetly, and kissed her cheek again.

Outside Pwyll's castle thunder rumbled with an approaching storm. Lightning flashed beyond the windows of the Great Hall.

Pwyll arose from his place at the high board and looked directly at Rhiannon. "Rhiannon," he said, "will you return to me?"

Before she might answer, however, Bronwyn of the White Breast leapt to her feet as if she had been stung. Grasping at Pwyll's arm with talonlike fingers, she cried out, "No! You cannot do this to me, my lord! Send her away! She has only caused you misery, this woman of the Fair Folk. How can you really be certain that this boy is your son? This is some sort of enchantment of the Fair Folk against us! Surely you must see that!"

Pwyll shook Bronwyn's hand off. "Leave me be!" he told her angrily. "Your shrewish babbling confuses me."

"Leave you be?" she shrieked, her face pinched in her anger. "Leave you be? What is this you say to me, Pwyll? What of last night? What of the many nights before that when we lay together, two lovers? What of the promise you made to me this very day that you would at last divorce this creature and put her aside that you might finally wed with me? Dyfed needs an heir! A legitimate Cymri heir!" Bronwyn was flushed and almost ugly in her fury at being thwarted.

For a brief moment the old Pwyll reappeared from the shell of the man that now existed. "Dyfed has an heir, lady," he said strongly. "He is before us now!" His hand shot out and, grasping Bronwyn of the White Breast by her thick brown braids, he forcibly directed her head in the direction of Rhiannon and the child she still held within the shelter of her arms. "Look upon my son, Bronwyn! He may have his mother's fair coloring, but his face is mine. His face is Dyfed's! I have no doubts!" Pwyll's gaze swung toward his council and his court. "Are there any among you who have doubts as to the paternity of this boy?" he demanded fiercely.

"What of you, Cynbel?" Pwyll growled threateningly.

"The child is Prince Anwyl without question, my good lord," Cynbel of Teifi said silkily. "Dyfed's heir has most assuredly been restored to us, but I question the wisdom of allowing him to return to Gwent."

"Why is that, my lord Cynbel?" Rhiannon asked coldly. "Do you feel perhaps that my son would be safest in your gentle daughter's tender care, as opposed to the care given him by Elaine and Teirnyon?" There were snickers from those gathered, and sly looks were directed at Bronwyn as Rhiannon continued. "Your daughter may have Pwyll of Dyfed to husband if that is what they both choose, but she will never have care of my child. He returns to Gwent!"

"Where," Teirnyon told them all, "he will be zealously guarded and kept safe from all harm until the day comes that he inherits Dyfed from his father." The lord of Gwent smiled toothily at Cynbel and his daughter.

"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."