~Big Book of Fairyland, “Rules of Magic”
We arrived in darkness.
Which just figured because I’d really wanted a good look at the Castle of the Dark Gods, my new home for...perhaps indefinitely. Not a pleasing thought as I had no good memories of the place. Last time I’d arrived and left unconscious—and in between the windows had all looked out on a formless shimmering gray mist. Not something I could live with.
There were good reasons I’d taken a job in sunny Wyoming and not, say, Seattle.
The Liralen landed on a drawbridge studded with blazing torches. The windows of the castle gleamed in the night. From the spill of light, the castle walls seemed to be black, glittering like mica. But from there it merged into the night and I couldn’t make out any more detail than that.
“You will have many days to study my castle.” Rogue sounded tired. I’d forgotten how recently he’d been so depleted he couldn’t zap the flying monkeys. And now he’d been carrying me for hours. He always seemed so powerful and in control, I’d been inconsiderate of him.
“I can walk,” I insisted. Though I wasn’t sure I could. Weakness pulled at me, at my core strength. I felt drained in an ominous way, as if I could feel my life force ebbing.
“Not a chance,” Rogue said, answering either my words or my thoughts, leaping down from the Liralen, carrying both me and Darling Hercules Goliath, who still lay across me, paws dangling. I couldn’t feel my hands at all.
I told him to jump down—less weight for Rogue to bear—but he stubbornly refused.
“This won’t take long.” Rogue turned to face the Liralen, indescribably lovely with the graceful curve of her white neck and her eyes clear as the moon. His magic gathered, shaped into a bubble, gloss black spiked with deep blue lightning. It floated clear of him, and Darling Hercules tracked it with bright, interested eyes.
His arms holding me weakened as it detached with a sub-audible pop and I made a strangled cry of protest as the Liralen snatched it from the air, like a sweetmeat. Her glow intensified and she nodded her sleek head in acknowledgment. Then took off for the night sky, wings trailing like pennants.
A tremor ran through Rogue.
“What did you give her?” I demanded.
“Exactly what you thought.”‘
“I didn’t want you to—”
“It wasn’t your choice. I asked her for the favor, I paid the price. Believe me, it was worth it to me.” Rogue strode with enviable long-legged speed across the drawbridge, which was manned at even intervals with more of the cyborg soldiers. It spanned a moat the size of a major river, judging by the length of time it took us to cross. The inky lines on the left side of Rogue’s face seemed to coil like a living thing—a sign of his deep distress.
“My,” I said, to lighten the moment, “what a large moat you have.”
Clearly my insinuation came through. It was sometimes difficult to joke when we mainly understood each other through the telepathic translation. A killer on wordplay. But in this case, his eyes glittered and his mouth curved in a sensual smile. “All the better to please my lady.”
We passed through some sort of archway, lined with a circular toothy sort of portcullis. More of the soldiers waited there, inhumanly still and malevolent. The inner courtyard loomed empty and full of shadows. Though something seemed to stir in the corners, something both animal and magical. The sense of sandpaper grated over my skin, the fever putting me more on edge.
Weakness seemed to pull at me, a lethal undertow.
People swirled around us, Rogue giving orders and various fae scurrying to comply. We climbed a winding staircase, one I hadn’t been on during my previous visit. Windows studded the wall periodically, showing only dense night beyond. It seemed the moon should have been up by now. Even if it rose an hour later each night as it had in my world. Come to think of it, it seemed the moon had been full or nearly so for weeks. I should stop trying to make sense of it.
“Indeed,” Rogue commented. “One would think dire illness would be enough to slow your restless mind for a while.”
I wanted to retort but couldn’t think of anything. Instead I rubbed my cheek against his chest, inhaling his scent, like Stargazer lilies and mace mixed.
We reached the top of the tower and stepped outside into the night sky. No, into a glass dome, so transparent it was nearly invisible. Above, the dense star fields of Faerie spun in silent splendor. The familiar constellations I’d seen all my life, arranged in their usual patterns, shone with the startling clarity and brilliant carousel colors of everything here.
Rogue carried me to a bed I recognized from the dreams he’d plagued me with early on in his relentless seduction. Massive with carved wood, the four-poster was draped in deeply colored velvets and mounded with pillows in shades of dark ruby and midnight emerald. He laid me on the downy mattress, and through the frame of the slats connecting the four posts, I looked up into the depths of the universe.
“This is your bedroom, I take it?” I asked, feeling dreamy. Darling Hercules Goliath licked my forearm and it occurred to me that he’d been feeding me more magical anesthesia, in anticipation of my upcoming surgery, no doubt.
“Our bedroom.” Rogue brushed my hair back from my forehead. “Do you like it? I’d thought to bring you here for the first time under better circumstances.”
“I do. I always wanted a room like this. I even drew a picture of it when I was a little girl.”
“I know. I saw it in your mind once. That’s why I built it.”
Impossibly moved, I stared up into his intent midnight gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
Probably not. I would have viewed it as another attempt to manipulate me, by making the prison as delightful as possible. “It makes a difference now.” I only hoped I’d live long enough to enjoy it.
He smiled, wistful and concerned. “Lady Healer is on her way. You’ll be fine.”
“Just don’t let her lay claim to the baby in payment.” I tried to make it a joke—not funny—but he cupped my face in his hands, fierce and determined.
“Never.”
“Lord Rogue,” an imperious and familiar voice said from the doorway, “am I to work in the dark?”
His magic moved out and candles all around the room burst into flame. They drowned out the stars but illuminated the lovely furnishings—including a workbench much like the one I’d made for myself. As I watched, a maidservant bustled in and laid my grimoire on it with gentle reverence.
At least I could read it.
With a sigh I turned my head to face Lady Healer. She wore layers of green, her chestnut brown hair rippling down her back to the floor. Surprisingly, she curtseyed to me. “Lady Sorceress Gwynn,” she said in a deferential tone, “how may I serve you?”
Apparently I’d come up in the world sufficiently that she might regret having once called me an undisciplined peasant wretch and a whore of a magical dilettante.
Not that I held a grudge or anything.
Oh, and guess what? I wasn’t bound by silver anymore. Under the serene surface of her public mind, wariness and fear bubbled beneath. That would teach her to kick at someone when they were down. I might be injured and probably in danger of dying, but I could still do her damage if I wanted to.
Maybe it made me a small and vengeful person, but I liked knowing that.
“Her hands,” Rogue informed her and stood, then paced over to the transparent dome and stared out, hands clasped behind his back.
Darling Hercules Goliath purred and made a cheerful mrowing sound at Healer as she sat carefully next to me. She rubbed his ears. “Hello, Darling.”
“He’s changed to Goliath,” I told her. Darling had been her Familiar first, until he jumped ship to throw in his fortunes with me. “And Hercules most recently. I’m mostly calling him Darling Hercules Goliath—which is a mouthful.”
Healer smiled with affection. “You always did want a battl
e name,” she said to him.
“Unfortunately he keeps escalating.”
“Good for him. Now let me see what we’re dealing with here.”
Obligingly he moved, stretching out along my side, purring and maintaining that anesthetic connection. I stared up at the glass dome while she examined my hands, asking me to bend my wrists and fingers.
“Well?” Rogue demanded, having returned to the bed to observe.
“You let it go long,” she replied.
I laughed a little, remembering her saying that to him before, and she gave me a slow nod of acknowledgment. Ah. Letting me know she wouldn’t pretend not to recall on what terms we’d parted. Fair enough.
“You’re wasting time.” Rogue clenched his jaw. Not at all amused. He began pacing, the measured tread of his bootsteps on the stone floor making a comforting rhythm.
But she wasn’t. Her magic had been flowing into me since she’d touched me. Sweet and green, like the cool undersides of leaves in summer. I hadn’t known enough before to sense it—and then I’d been put out altogether.
“You’re not worried about me losing control this time?” I asked her.
Her hazel eyes flicked up from her intent gaze on my injuries. “No. You’ve admirable control now.” She started to say something more and stopped. She knew, then, what it cost me to get it. And had enough sense not to say more. “Your human physiology is interesting,” she said instead. “Is your elevated body temperature meant to make your body inhospitable to the invading microbes?”
I really wished I knew what idea she articulated that my mind translated as “microbes.” Fascinating that she had the concept. “Yes, actually. Though it’s destructive if it goes on too long.”
“So I sense.” She nodded crisply. “The infection is cleansed from your body and your flesh knitted. Therefore I’m restoring a healthier temperature. Darling—ah, Goliath, that is—you may cease your efforts, so we can check that she’s truly pain-free.”
With an elaborate yawn, Darling Hercules Goliath stood, stretched and leaped off the bed, ambling over to gaze out the dome.
Like an airplane touching down, the fever tangibly dissipated and leveled out, leaving me clearheaded, feeling good and amazingly full of energy. Born of relief that the fix had been so relatively easy, no doubt. I raised my hands to see and must have made some kind of sound because Rogue stopped his pacing and appeared again at the bedside.
My hands were perfectly smooth and glowing with health—with three-inch feline claws extending beyond the second knuckle.
“You can’t eliminate the claws?” Rogue framed it as a neutral question, but it was clear to me that he wasn’t surprised. He’d expected this and hadn’t wanted to say so.
Healer looked somewhat surprised, glancing back at me from him. “You don’t want to keep them?”
“No.” My voice broke a little. “But you can’t fix them, can you?”
She took my hand again, examining it. Stalling, because the answer stood clearly in her mind for me to read. “I cannot,” she admitted aloud, letting go. “This is an outgrowth of your magic. Much the same as—” she threw a questioning look to Rogue, “—your syndrome.”
“The Sorceress is aware of it,” Rogue replied in a clipped tone. He barely controlled the massive Black Dog that drew life from his magic, and disliked being reminded of it.
Lady Healer had warned me not to think of the Black Dog here, on that first visit, seeming afraid of it. Now I had my own version, some sort of pale feline spirit created by my magic, struggling to break free of my flesh. A vine twisting in your soul, Rogue had called it.
“Same situation,” she continued. “That sort of transformation belongs to another realm. I can no more affect it than I could defeat either of you in a duel.”
“Then what can I do?”
She gave me the look that doctors of all sorts developed when delivering news to irascible patients. “You can learn to live with it or you can retract them yourself.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Can’t you teach her?” she asked Rogue.
“Not this, no.” His gaze rested on me, while his thoughts ran deep and private.
“Then you’ll have to figure it out for yourself, Lady Sorceress.” She dusted off her hands.
“Wait.” I stopped her before she stood. “Can you tell me—I’m pregnant. How fares the embryo after all this?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled in truth. “I sensed that but wasn’t sure if that was common knowledge or not.” Nice that she observed the fae version of privacy laws. “May I?”
When I nodded, she placed her hands over my abdomen. Rogue drew near, watching intently. Healer’s smile stayed serene. “The babe is well. Congratulations to you both. I assume there will be a wedding soon?” She frowned at Rogue. “She should at least be wearing a sign of your protection. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
He raised a supercilious eyebrow at her and she winced a little. “Lord Rogue,” she added.
“I don’t need protection,” I grumbled. “Or, for that matter, a—”
“Yes, there will be a wedding,” he confirmed, glaring at me not to argue, “and her jewelry is here.” He opened his hand, revealing my earrings on his palm. Shaped like inverted lilies, shading from lightest blue to indigo, they had been a gift from him. One not intended to come off. “Their loss was temporary.”
Because I’d figured out how to remove the magical things—I don’t much like having anything beyond my control—and then sent them to him in Titania’s castle as a message.
“Excellent.” Healer beamed at me, patting my belly. “Make sure he does right by you, Sorceress Gwynn. Even Lord Rogue cannot escape this particular leash.” She stood. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
“We need to discuss payment.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Rogue folded his arms, just to top off the continuing glare.
“Like hell,” I snapped back.
They both tilted their heads slightly, the simile failing to translate.
“Allow me to rephrase. No.”
“Are you refusing me, stubborn Gwynn?” Rogue asked softly, dangerously. Enough so to give me pause to sort through his phrasing. Clearly we needed to talk this through. I’d really thought the wedding nonsense was done with. The earrings declared me to be his concubine, which worked fine for me.
“I want to pay this debt myself,” I answered, keeping my intent simple and clear.
“You have dragon eggs, I hear,” Healer jumped in. “That would be a fair trade.”
Behind her, Rogue shook his head slightly.
“My caravan has not yet arrived,” I temporized, “and I really have no idea what state everything is in.”
“Fine.” She pouted a little. “We can negotiate when your servants arrive. Good evening to you both.”
“Take Lord Darling with you,” Rogue called over his shoulder, still staring at me with that intimidating look, “and inform everyone that we should not be disturbed. Indefinitely.”
With a murmur of agreement, she left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Chapter Four
In Which I Offer Two Things I Never Thought I Would
The social mores of Faerie are not easily sorted. On the one hand, there’s a level of licentiousness and openly sexual behavior that’s widely accepted. On the other, a strict code of proper behavior and an almost Victorian sense of propriety.
~Big Book of Fairyland, “Social Structure”
It took a bit of finagling, but I managed to straighten my fingers enough to use my hands to lever myself up without slicing my palms to ribbons, and scooted over to the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Rogue asked, still in that ominous tone.
“If we’re going to have a big fight, I don’t want to be lying in bed.”
He blew out an exasperated breath and sat next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder to stay me. “We’re not going to have a b
ig fight. We only need to talk.”
“Ah ah ah!” I wagged a finger at him, the effect rather spoiled by the long, razor-sharp claw. “Anti-flirtation, remember? The ‘death of romance,’ you called it.”
“We are no longer flirting,” he ground out, looking ever more annoyed. I was pretty sure this counted as fighting, but decided not to point that out. “You carry our child. That part is over with, along with all of the associated, limiting agreements.” Even though he was mad, his eyes gleamed with sensual intent, reminding me that nothing now stopped him from using every trick at his disposal to seduce me completely. Though he didn’t really need to, the seed having been sown and all.
“So, all that remains is for you to seal the deal? A wedding and I belong to you forever, bought and paid for?”
“You always look at things in the worst possible light. We would belong to each other.”
“But you would pay for everything.”
“What is so terrible about that?” He seemed genuinely bewildered. “Healer serves me and I pay her accordingly already.”
“I had to pay her before.”
“You weren’t mine then.”
I decided repeating that I wasn’t his now either would be a waste of breath. Instead I searched for the right way to explain. “Take this for example. When you gave me the magic chamber pot, I gave you something in exchange, so I wouldn’t owe you anything.”
“A kiss,” he reminded me, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “An excellent one.”
Don’t get distracted. “So what happens if you, say, give me another magic chamber pot?” Far less expensive than healing, I felt sure.
He shrugged. “As my wife, you would owe me nothing.”
“But I would. That’s the rub. I’d feel like I owed you, for example, more kisses.”
“Is that a problem?” His tone had gone icy. Dark emotions churned in him, coming closer to the surface.
“Rogue...” I started to scrub my scalp and had to stop myself. “We barely know each other and you want to commit us together for a lifetime?” At least for mine, right? Though we’d never discussed the implications of my mortal aging on our relationship. Something that came of not being sure you’d survive into the next week, most likely. “It seems beyond the pale to commit to being bound together by an irrevocable vow for all eternity. With the rules you people have on vows and bargains, you can’t tell me there’s a fae version of divorce. What if we grow to hate each other? Then we’re trapped.”
Rogue's Paradise Page 4
