Eloa shook her hand, and the feel of magick flowed through her fingertips. She’d never touched another magickal being before. The sensation of power and familiarity struck a deep chord inside Eloa. Her gaze connected with Zelle’s, who gave a quiet, knowing smile, making the hairs on Eloa’s neck stand up.
“I… I’m Eloa.” She pulled her hand away, unsure of what to say. Was Zelle Fae?
“It’s very nice to meet you.” Zelle’s voice remained low and soft. “And I’m sure you know Scarlet.”
Scarlet pushed the baby pram out of the way and shook Eloa’s hand as well. “I think I’ve seen you about town on occasion.” She looked Eloa up and down. “Though I could swear the last time I saw you, you were no more than ten.” Her brows furrowed.
Eloa gave a light titter of laughter. “I believe Gerall said the same thing.”
Zelle continued to look at her. “Some blossom early and some late.”
Scarlet nodded. “I suppose you’re right. With everything that’s happened in the past couple of years, it all seems a blur.”
Zelle nodded. “Indeed.”
Flint called for everyone to quiet themselves and then began a speech about the origins of the well and Festivus itself. He wore quite curious red glasses. Beneath them, Eloa had noticed scarring around his eyes. She wondered if some terrible accident had befallen him, like her father.
Father. She looked toward the bakery. She should check on him and make sure he was all right. When she’d left him, he’d told her to enjoy the day, but she’d not been away for more than an hour at a time since his accident. And now with Trent’s threats…
“Belle!” Scarlet called.
Eloa turned to find Belle and her daughter Chloe moving through the crowd toward them her belly large and heavy with pregnancy. She wore a beautiful silken gown and Chloe sported satin ribbons in her hair. Eloa had never seen them look so elegant.
“Hello.” Belle hugged Scarlet and nodded to Zelle. “I didn’t know if we would make it today or not for the ceremony. Dax didn’t want me to travel with me so far gone.”
“I’m going to have a brother,” Chloe announced. She looked at Scarlet’s belly. “And you’re going to have a girl.”
Belle pulled the Chloe close to her side and whispered in her ear. Chloe looked at Eloa and then back to Scarlet.
“I mean, it would be nice if you had a girl.”
Scarlet smiled. “That’s what we are hoping for.”
“Belle, do you know Eloa? She owns the bakery now. Her delicacies are quite delightful,” said Zelle.
Belle nodded. “Are you the one who makes the little pies with blueberries and lemon?”
“Guilty.”
“Ooohhh mama, I love those ones.” Chloe waved at Eloa.
“They’re quite a treat,” said Belle. “Perhaps you could save one for Chloe today?”
“She’s sold out of everything,” said Scarlet. “Gerall helped her this morning and before noon, every last item sold.”
Chloe’s expression fell.
“Are you not going to be here tomorrow?” Eloa asked. “I could set some aside for you.”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Belle.
“Maybe if Klaus comes into town, he can pick them up for you.”
Eloa knew Klaus all too well. On several occasions, he’d come into her shop with little Chloe to buy her a treat of some sort. He’d always given Eloa the shivers. The way he stared at her and the sexual overtones of his words.
“Uh… no.” Belle glanced around the ground.
“Belle is married to Prince Dax of the Draaklands,” said Zelle. “Klaus is no longer around, I’m afraid.”
“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”
The women looked at each other awkwardly.
Clapping sounded from all around as Flint finished his speech. Gerall called all the children forward toward the well, and then the brothers proceeded to hand a coin to each child to toss in.
“Flint seems to be doing well,” Belle said.
“He struggles,” replied Zelle. “Especially in public. But he’s getting better each day.”
“Uncle Flint’s the strong one,” said Chloe. “When he fights—”
“Chloe honey.” Belle looked around the group nervously and then back at her little girl. “Why don’t we go and get you a coin to make a wish with.”
Fights?
Belle gave Zelle and Scarlet an apologetic glance and then headed off with Chloe. Eloa looked on as Belle approached Jamen and they embraced before he handed Chloe a coin. Chloe said something that made Jamen laugh, and then the two walked to the well. Hass and Ian smiled and joked with the children, seeing who could throw the kids higher in the air.
“Did you make a wish?” Gerall whispered in her ear, making her jump. She grabbed his arm and a spark of magick jolted from her fingers.
Eloa pulled away quickly. “I… I’m so sorry.”
Gerall rubbed his arm where she’d grabbed him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She gave him a nervous laugh. “You didn’t.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Maybe just a little. You’re very light on your feet. I didn’t even hear you approach.”
“I’ll have to learn to walk louder in the future.” He gave her a large, crooked smile that made her heart dance. “You have a mean grip, you know that?”
She gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that.”
“So? Did you?” he asked. “Make a wish?”
“Did you?”
He shook his purse. “All out of coins.”
She lifted his palm and pressed a haypence into it.
“How about if we throw it together?” he offered.
“I don’t think it works that way.”
He placed the coin back in her palm and wrapped his hand around hers, sending goosebumps over her skin.
“It does today.”
Eloa allowed his hands to warm hers for a moment. Heavens, she liked the sight of his handsome face. She fought the urge to push his glasses back up his nose.
He offered her his arm, and they headed to the well. The bright white well had been covered in stalks of fluffy wheatburn from the latest harvest. As well as cranberry and tangerine wildflowers.
She held up the coin. “Do you know what you’re going to wish for?”
He nodded. “Yes. You?”
She thought for a minute. If she could have anything in the world, what would she want? The answer came to her in a flash. She opened her eyes and nodded.
Together they tossed the coin in the well. She reached up on her tiptoes and leaned over the side, watching the coin disappear into the darkness below, just like she had as a child.
“What did you wish for?” he asked.
She dropped back on her feet and wiped off her hands. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “Everyone knows that.”
Over his shoulder, a figure caught her eyes. Charlie waved at her, sending a chill through her.
“Is something wrong?” Gerall followed her gaze.
“I just… I remembered I need to get my cart back to the shop and start baking for tomorrow.”
“Is that man bothering you?”
“No. He’s nothing. But I really must go.” She needed to check on her father. She’d been gone too long, and she did need to start baking. She couldn’t leave it to the last minute, or she’d be too weak to attend the festival tomorrow.
“If he’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
“Thank you for the lovely day.” She turned and pushed through the crowd.
“Eloa? Wait. Let me help you.” Gerall caught up with her.
“Lord Gwyn, you’ve done quite more than I could have asked for today. I can do this on my own.” She hitched up her skirt and headed off again, Trent’s words echoing in her ears. ‘I’ll slit his throat from ear-to-ear.’ The thought of Gerall being hurt mad
e her ears twitch.
“Eloa? Will you come back for the dance tonight?” he called.
She wanted to stop and turn and see his smiling face once more. She wanted to say yes. She imagined herself in his arms while the other young maidens looked on in envy for once. But she couldn’t.
She pushed through the townsfolk and headed for the green.
Gerall watched Eloa rush away and then he turned to find the men behind him watching her as well. He refused to allow them to upset her so.
He pushed through the crowd toward them, but as soon as they spotted Gerall, they ducked the other way.
“Gerall?” called Hass.
“Where ya goin’?” asked Ian.
Paying his younger brothers no mind, he continued on his path, following the men who now headed toward the butcher shop. As he came within earshot of them, they turned down an alley.
“Gerall?” Hass caught up to him, and his hand landed on Gerall’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to the two men who just entered that alley.” He pressed forward.
“Is there gonna be a fight?” asked Ian. “I could use a good fight.”
Gerall crossed the dirt road to the butcher shop and looked down the alleyway. The men had disappeared.
“Slow down,” said Hass.
“Let us help,” said Ian.
Gerall stared down the alleyway. The hairs on his neck prickled as they had before. Something wasn’t right. The way they made Eloa uneasy made him want to rip their arms off and beat them to death. A gentle, sweet creature such as her didn’t deserve to be hassled by two thugs.
Jamen and Erik had learned the year previous that someone in Westfall had determined to put an end to their rule of the countryside. But those at the top of the list had to have bottom feeders doing their bidding. And Gerall had a good idea those two men might be the key to finding out what was going on in Westfall.
“You gonna tell us what’s going on?” Hass finally asked.
“I don’t know,” Gerall admitted. He shook his head and turned from the alley. “They’ve been watching Eloa and her shop. Every time she sees them, she gets nervous.”
“Are you sure that’s not just you being over-protective?” asked Hass.
Gerall pushed up his glasses and gave his brother a pointed look. “No. It isn’t me just trying to protect her. Something is unsavory about them.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it right now,” said Ian.
“Come on.” Hass clapped Gerall on the shoulder. “Let’s head back to the festival. Ian and I will be sure to keep an eye out for them.”
“And if we see them,” said Ian. “We’ll be sure to invite them to tea.”
“Maybe we could knock them out by throwing Scarlet’s biscuits at them.” Hass laughed.
“At least they’d be good for something.”
Gerall glanced down the alleyway again ignoring his brothers’ banter. “The last thing we need in Westfall is ruffians running roughshod over the townsfolk. It’s very well possible that in our absence, others have taken it into their hands to try and position themselves as the authorities in town.”
Hass cracked his knuckles. “Well if that’s true, then we’ll just have to make sure they’re knocked down a peg.”
Gerall shook his head. “No. Nothing gets rough unless we have to. We’ve been out of touch for too long. The last thing we want is everyone thinking we’re trying to become dictators.”
“See. That’s why I love you, big brother,” said Ian. “You’re always thinking with your head and not your fists.”
Gerall smiled, and as he turned toward the festivities, he spotted Eloa pulling her cart up toward her bakery. He stepped in her direction, but then stopped. A woman as strong as she wouldn’t appreciate been viewed as weak. He needed to wait. To give her space. They had time.
Eloa made dozens of goods over the rest of the afternoon and evening, using up almost all of her supplies. She’d need to go to the grocer to stock up if she wanted any chance of continuing.
She stared at the cakes, pies, pastries and other items she’d made. Simple ingredients no better than anyone else’s. The difference between her goods and theirs was simple. She was half-fae.
She made sure to lock the front door and close the curtains to the back room before rolling up her sleeves and waving her hands over the sundries. Magick sprinkled onto the food, turning everything various bright shades of sungold and cherry. Deep cream for vanilla. Luscious brown for cinnamon and nutmeg. Purple, blue, green, and more depending on flavor. The items puffed even more abundant than they otherwise would have been. The rough spots or ill-formed shapes smoothed out to perfection to tantalize any taste bud.
When she’d finished, she leaned against the counter and sucked in a deep breath. The pull on her magick tired her quicker than she’d expected, but she had used it much that day. A gnawing, guilty sensation churned in her gut. Was it cheating to use magick to make money?
“Other people use their talents and gifts to make their wares, why should I be any different?”
“Because it can get you banished or worse, imprisoned.”
She spun to find her father leaning on the counter. “Papa, you should be resting.”
“No. I should be leaving.”
“Nonsense. We’ve talked about this. You aren’t going anywhere.” She picked up a plate and set several items on it and then crossed to him. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”
He nodded sadly, and she helped him to the small wooden table in the middle of their hut.
“I know that not being able to work is hard for you Papa, but we’ll figure this out. We’ll get you healed and find out who did this to you, and—”
He stared at his bandaged hands. “I know who did this.” His voice came out so low she almost thought she’d heard him wrong.
She set the food on the table. “You know who did this?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Who did this? I’ll see that they pay.”
He looked up at her with a sad, fearful expression. “It will only bring more attention to you. They think I’m dead and that’s all that matters.”
She studied him for a minute. “It was Trent and Charlie, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t deny it. “Leave it alone, child.”
“Trent came by my table today. He told me he knew about you and me. He offered to keep quiet if I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “He said he’d be by the end of the week to collect a gold piece.”
“A gold piece?” said her father.
“How much did they try to get from you?” she asked.
Her father’s cheeks deepened.
“I know they used to shake you down. And from the looks of all the other shopkeepers today, we aren’t the only ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone has been paying them.” A memory of Trent’s words floated through her mind. “They threatened to tell the Magistrate about me. Surely someone would have gone to either him or the Gwyns if only Trent and Charlie were involved with the blackmail.”
“Which means they aren’t afraid,” said her father. “They’re protected.”
“Mayhaps they are cutting the magistrate in for a piece of what they take.”
Her father stared off for several minutes. “Mayhaps. But I doubt that man could be behind all of this. He doesn’t have the brains.” He looked at her. “You should tell your new friend, Gerall.”
Eloa shook her head vehemently. “They threatened to kill him. I would see no harm done to him because of my plight.”
“But it isn’t just your plight. If what you say is true, then everyone in Westfall may be affected.”
She licked her lips.
“You should tell him.”
If she told Gerall, then she’d have to tell him what Trent and Charlie had over her as well and then she’d be banished. She closed her eyes and blew out a deep breath. What were she and Gerall playing? Yes, she’d ha
d a girlhood crush on him for years, but once he found out she was half-fae, it would all be over. His attention and looking after her. His sweet smiles and gentle manner. For years she’d dreamed of no one but him, and now that he’d finally noticed her, she had to let him go because of her heritage. Or maybe not… She remembered Flint’s wife, Zelle.
“Father. I might know someone I can turn to.”
“Who?”
“Rapunzelle Gwyn. I think she’s fae.”
Chapter Six
Eloa hadn’t shown up to the dance the night before. And silly as it sounded, Gerall had woken up with the same disappointed feeling he’d gone to bed with. Gerall barely knew the girl and yet, he wanted to know her, and so her absence had affected him more than he’d expected it to.
He’d enjoyed both the music and the company of his brothers, Hass and Ian. At one point, they’d dragged him out onto the dance square and forced him to dance with a pretty maiden, but all Gerall could see of the girl was that she wasn’t Eloa. Afraid of leaving his riotous brothers alone, he’d waited until they’d worn themselves out with dancing and mead before getting them back on their horses and listening to their terrible singing the whole way home. Watching them revel in the celebration had lifted his spirits. The two never seemed to let anything weigh them down. He envied that about them.
The following morning, Gerall tended to several animals owned by their farmer tenants. He didn’t want to be an animal doctor, but it was a place to start until he felt comfortable working with humans.
Months back, Erik had said that since their hunter services were hardly needed, he should look to the future like Flint and Jamen. And even though he sometimes took over duties for Erik temporarily, Gerall wasn’t going to be Lord of Gwyn Manor. Erik and Flint had never made him feel lesser than they were, but the Lordship moved from father to eldest son, and unless something happened to both his older brothers, he wouldn’t be Lord of the Manor. And Gerall didn’t mind that at all. He preferred a simpler life at home with his family, studying and helping people more than he ever would meetings and taxes and being forced to attend engagements with people he had no desire to spend time with.
Gerall's Festivus Bride Page 5
