Rogue's Paradise

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Did you fall asleep?” I asked, meaning to tease.

  But puzzlement entered his gaze. “I may have. I’m not sure.”

  “That was extraordinary. We’d have to expect unusual results.”

  “Would we, my Gwynn?” His mouth quirked in that smile and I felt the laugh behind it. He flexed his hips, moving in me. “Are you inviting me to experiment?”

  “Yes,” I answered, meaning it. “Though maybe not tonight.”

  “Yes,” he echoed. “Not tonight. We have an errand to run in the morning.”

  “An errand?”

  “I haven’t forgotten I promised to take you on a trip.”

  “Aren’t we under siege now?”

  A look of mischief crossed his face. “That will make it even more fun.”

  I had to laugh at his idea of fun—but I also couldn’t wait to see what he had to show me. This time tomorrow, I’d have the answer to how Rogue—and all the fae perhaps—were conceived and born.

  When I awoke to bright sunshine, Rogue was still with me. He was lying on his back and holding me cuddled against him with one arm, thoughts lazily dreaming. Feeling me waken, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  “Beauty awakes.”

  I laughed. “Hardly.” We were both smeared in blue and I could only imagine how my elaborate hairstyle looked now. Plus I had to pee, quite desperately. So much for romance. Yet, I hated to end the moment. “Did you stay with me all night?”

  “Yes.” He kissed my forehead again. “It’s restful. And I didn’t want to be away from you just yet.”

  “That’s...lovely.” I didn’t want to be away from him either. It might take time, getting used to the ways we’d commingled.

  “But you want to clean up,” he observed. “Go ready your bath and I’ll join you. No doubt Mistress Nancy has your special human food waiting.”

  “You make it sound like Purina People Chow or something.” But, relieved, I gave him a quick kiss and dashed naked for the bathing room and my new best friend, the magic chamber pot. I did look like the creature from the black lagoon, with my hair in astonishing disarray, but somehow still mostly still piled on my head—glittering with the pollen. Marie Antoinette yesterday, Marge Simpson today.

  And they said marriage didn’t change anything.

  I also looked amazingly—even radiantly—happy. Rogue’s regard remained wrapped around my heart, a warm blanket of love I carried with me. Where I’d felt alone before, marooned on an alien planet, I now had a deep and permanent connection.

  For better or worse, I would always have that.

  An unlooked-for gift.

  I managed to wrestle my hair down and brush it out by the time Rogue joined me, setting a breakfast tray on the vanity. He stood behind me, surveying my reflection in the mirror, splaying a hand over the hard round of my belly. I almost superstitiously expected him not to appear—though I knew him to be as physically present as anyone.

  “Growing bigger every day,” I remarked.

  “Yes.” He pressed a kiss to my left temple, saying nothing more. Really, we’d already said it all.

  “Turn around,” I told him and he obliged me. I unbraided his hair, setting aside the ribbons and miniature lilies that remained magically uncrushed. He smiled at my determination to do tasks like this physically, but waited patiently while I finger-combed the silky length of it, the kinks from the braid making it glint in the light.

  When I finished, he pointed me at the tray. “Eat. I don’t want Mistress Nancy upbraiding me again. She was most put out that you only ate the sandwich yesterday.” He went to soak in the bathtub to wait for me.

  “You talked to her? Did she say how Starling is?”

  Rogue ostentatiously pressed his lips together and pointed at the tray.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered, though I didn’t need much prompting to devour what looked like a full Scottish breakfast, complete with fish, sausages, browned potatoes and onions, English muffins with lemon curd, oatmeal and three glasses of juice and two of milk. Surveying the empty platter, I groaned at how much I’d eaten.

  “I shall become as big as one of the dragons, only shorter.”

  “That shall be entertaining,” Rogue replied, holding my hand to steady me as I stepped in the tub. “Starling is recovering. You’ll no doubt want to visit her before we go.”

  “Definitely. Any sign of Blackbird and Fergus? Or Nasty Tinker Bell?”

  He frowned, ever so slightly, pulled me to lie back against him and began soaping me. “None of any of them. Perhaps Starling mistook the message and Blackbird and Fergus are still on the Endless Sea—out of range.”

  “No—I saw them, riding this way.” At his mute surprise, I showed him the image in my mind. “When I used the scepter, before you had your tantrum.”

  “Hmm.” He diplomatically did not say anything to that. “And Lady Incandescence,” he emphasized her title, “is likely hiding.”

  “From us?”

  “From you,” he corrected.

  “Am I after her for something?”

  “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

  Hmm. “I looked out the windows and I don’t see a besieging army.”

  “They seem to be hanging back. She’s playing some game with us.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Indeed. Now dunk your head, so I can wash your hair. You don’t want to be leaving a trail of fairy dust where we’re going.”

  I giggled, then double-checked the image in his head. Fairy dust, indeed.

  * * *

  Starling had a lovely set of rooms in the next tower over. Nothing as spectacular as mine, but spacious and elegant. She was propped up in bed, looking wan but much better. Walter was keeping her company.

  “Gwynn!” Starling burst out when she saw me, then started to get out of bed when she spotted Rogue behind me. “Lord Rogue, forgive me, I’m—”

  “Under orders to stay in bed,” Rogue replied in a smooth tone that nevertheless contained stern command. She shivered and obeyed. I sympathized with that reaction.

  She turned sad eyes to me. “Oh, Lady Gwynn—your beautiful wedding—ruined. I take full responsibility.”

  “Really?” I raised my eyebrows and sat on the side of the bed, a spot Walt vacated for me with a little nod. “You mean, you had a master plan to defeat the Queen Bitch and you failed to use it? I am annoyed with you then.”

  She laughed a little. “Well, when you put it that way...”

  “Exactly. Could you guys give us a little privacy?”

  “Oh sure!” Walt jumped, stricken, and took off without another word. I’d have to be careful what I said around him.

  Rogue smoothed a hand over my still-drying hair and picked up my hand to kiss it. “Don’t be long, my ravishing Gwynn. I’ll wait for you outside the door.”

  “No eavesdropping, either,” I warned and he flashed me a devastatingly wicked grin.

  “You look radiant, Gwynn,” Starling said after Rogue left the room. “I hoped you would be happier, once all was said and done.”

  “Yes, well, I wanted you to know I’m sorry I was such a bitch these last few days.”

  “The course to true love never did run smooth,” she replied. Shakespeare? Surely not. Must be my own brain supplying that. All Puck’s fault.

  “However we got here, things are good. Aside from being under siege and all that.”

  “And Mother and Father going missing.” She looked sad and fearful.

  I supposed it had been unreasonable to think she wouldn’t have noticed they’d never arrived. “That too. But I’ll look for them.”

  “Not with that scepter, you won’t,” she replied tartly. “Athena told me what happened, since you didn’t see fit to.”

  I sighed. “You two can’t get along except to snitch on me.”

  Starling beamed. “It’s one thing we agree on—that you need looking after and we’re the ones to do it.”

  “Lucky me.�
� I tried to make it sarcastic, but really I was touched that they cared so much. “So...Walter? Escorting you to the wedding, staying by your side, night and day?”

  “Oh, pish!” She said it airily, but her fierce blush gave her away. “He arrived just moments before you did. I think he’s quite changed for the better, don’t you?” She looked at me searchingly, brown eyes hopeful, seeking my approval. I’d really screwed that up before.

  I patted her hand, still a little cool to the touch. “I think he’s come a long way. And I’m glad he’s keeping you company while you rest.”

  “I should be looking after the castle and all the guests,” she fretted.

  “Delegate, darling. My best advice. I’m off for a bit—I just wanted to check on you. I’ll send Walt back in.”

  “Where are you going?” She knit her brow in suspicion.

  “Not far. I’ll be back soon.” At least I thought so. And look at me, sounding as evasive as Rogue ever was.

  Walter waited in the sitting room, staring out the window. In a loose brown shirt and pants, he looked both nondescript but also far better than he had in the stained and disheveled wizard’s robes he’d worn when I first met him. No silver that I could see.

  “Still off your leash?” I asked.

  He turned and gave me a wry smile. “So far, yes. I feel both freed and terrified.”

  “Yeah.” I searched for more words than that, but ended up not needing them. Our shared understanding of those experiences filled in the gaps. He didn’t seem nearly as broken as I’d felt, but then maybe it didn’t show on the outside. And maybe he’d been better at bending than I had been. He’d certainly been more willing.

  “If I can do anything...” he trailed off, sounding uncertain. “At any rate, I know it’s not the thing to say in these parts, but I owe you, Gwynn. I know it. I’d like to make amends.”

  “Healing Starling and the others you helped went a long way. Keeping doing that and we’re fine. Don’t fuck up, okay?”

  He grinned. “It’s kind of nice to hear that in English again.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Um,” he started. Then stopped. “So, Starling...”

  “Is her own person,” I filled in. “She’s a big girl.”

  “I could maybe find her folks, if I had the scepter again,” he ventured.

  No.

  Of course Rogue was eavesdropping.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I told Walt, mentally sticking my tongue out at Rogue. “Meanwhile, keep your nose clean.”

  “Yeah. Um, Gwynnie...” He fidgeted. Glanced toward the window and back to me.

  I raised my eyebrows, reminding myself to be gentle with him.

  “I know that you...saw some stuff, when you looked in on me—nice of you, by the way. And I figure, well, Starling knows what you went through, to some extent, but...” He trailed off again, swallowing down the rest of the words.

  “I’m not going to gossip about the details, if that’s what you’re asking.” The very thought made me vaguely headachy. “It’s private shit. It stays that way as far as I’m concerned.”

  His relief colored the air. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

  “Yes, I do.” I managed a cheeky smile. “And now you really owe me.”

  As promised, Rogue waited for me in the hallway, leaning against the wall in an indolent pose that didn’t fool me for a second.

  “I know you didn’t destroy the scepter,” I said, by way of greeting. “So don’t bother to pretend you did.”

  “Were you spying on me then?” He took my hand and started walking, sounding amused by the idea that I might have.

  “I didn’t have to. I can feel the thing, in the back of my mind.”

  “I’m not well pleased to hear that, my precious Gwynn. It has an unnatural hold on you.”

  “I agree. That’s why I’m mentioning it. Spirit of teamwork, honesty, all that.”

  He made a snorting sound, but didn’t comment further.

  “Maybe, if you don’t trust me with it, Walt could have it again. It’s a powerful tool,” I continued.

  “Oh yes. I’d love to hand a dangerous magical weapon I don’t understand to a human wizard who tried to kill you. Brilliant idea.”

  “Did you just admit that there’s something you don’t understand?”

  “Many things,” he replied in a dry tone. “Including you, my delightful lady.”

  “After all that swimming around in my head? Seems like I’d have no secrets left.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “What surprises me is that we’re going back to our rooms. Aren’t we going on the field trip?”

  “Yes. You’ll see.”

  I’d been privately betting on some form of astral travel, but once in the rooms, he guided me to the magic elevator. The bathing chamber? Sure enough, down we went to the warm, humid rooms, with the black pool of water that seemed to go on forever.

  “We could have bathed here.” I mentally sighed for my hair, which would need to be combed and let dry again. Maybe I should start taking the magical shortcuts on that.

  Rogue gave me a mysterious smile and took my hands. “Do you trust me?”

  Jeez. Every day was going to be an exercise in that. “More walking on water?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me in playful menace and didn’t reply.

  “Yes, I trust you.”

  “Hold still.”

  His magic traveled over me, a miasma that flowed over my skin, then sank inside my body, enveloping me in a cloud of black with blue lightning flashes. The sensation reminded me of the sparking buzz of his hands when he chose to touch me that way, and my desire roused to it. But the buzzing faded as it went deeper. I could have resisted it, but through dint of will, I let it infiltrate through me, Rogue’s appreciation for my trust brushing through me with a surge of tenderness.

  He tugged me toward the water and I went, not objecting that we both remained fully dressed. We stepped in, the water rising to envelop us as we advanced, but not wetly. It felt almost more like a slightly thicker, warm cushion of air. It closed over my head and I panicked, just a little, as the stuff flowed in my nose.

  Then I breathed through it. Miraculous. The water buoyed me up and we swam through it now, breathing it in as a fish might. I grinned at Rogue in pure delight and he smiled back, looking as he had running on that beach as a boy.

  We swam onward, never hitting any wall. Exactly as I’d imagined—or somehow intuited—the pool had no far barrier. Gradually, the clear black lightened to deep ocean-blue, then to lighter marine colors. The water became shallower, the floor below a bed of white sand with remarkable shapes that could be the Faerie version of coral.

  Fish appeared, large and small, all of them bizarre to my eye—some tumbling in tangles of iridescent tentacles, others nearly transparent, except for the shimmer of inherent magic. One creature, reminiscent of a shark but covered in unearthly violet feathers, swished past, baring scarlet teeth at me.

  I expected we’d eventually surface onto some shore and go from there. Instead, Rogue led me to a great reef, with tunnels here and there. We passed through a narrow underwater channel, a magical barrier briefly prickling my skin, and then we emerged into an enclosure made by curved walls. Above the surface, the cavern arched into shadow. Beneath, it shimmered with rose light, like the inside of a heart. Or a womb. The walls glittered with refracted light, possibly crystalline.

  But no, as we drifted closer, it became clearer that the crystals were bubbles. Thousands of bubbles, great and small, clinging to the walls, immersed in the blood-warm water.

  Not bubbles. Egg sacs.

  Moving as close as I dared to one, I peered at it. I half expected Rogue to stop or caution me, but he simply followed behind, interested in my acute curiosity. A thick translucent shell anchored deeply in the wall encased some sort of clear amniotic fluid, and a small shape floated within, its heartbeat flickering at hummingbird spe
ed. Close to fully developed, the inhabitant of this one very much resembled a fairy of Athena’s ilk.

  The fae didn’t fruit on the vine, they hatched from eggs.

  Though it wasn’t my field, I’d seen this sort of thing before, at an aquarium I visited for a reception at a professional conference. One of the exhibits had the collagen-shelled shark eggs attached to the viewing window, so visitors could see the developing occupant. These looked much the same.

  But instead of staying an amphibious or aquatic creature, the fae that hatched from these eggs ended up on land.

  I’d thought it before—ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. Somehow the developmental cycle of the fae carried them along in a greater arc than the creatures of my world experienced. In my paradigm, a creature born to a particular species would recapitulate phylogeny to a certain point. A fish then might start as a single cell and grow more complex until it fit the definition of Osteichthyes and hatched. Likewise a human fetus started as a single cell, grew more complex, for a time resembled a fish, but matched Homo erectus, more or less, by birth.

  If the theory I was rapidly assembling was correct, the fae continued to develop well after hatching. And possibly throughout their life spans.

  It wasn’t unprecedented for a species to continue to change after birth. A human infant required an extensive juvenile period before becoming a sexually mature individual. Many of the more complex mammals did.

  Somehow, in Faerie—and true to type—the fae, especially the immortal variety, continued to evolve into different species even after reaching maturity. Or was that the key? Perhaps younger fae nobles were essentially juveniles for hundreds of years or longer, and only later matured into being capable of mammalian-style reproduction. After all, the reproductive organs of a fish were not so different from a mammal’s—a few developmental tweaks could get you there, with the proper stimulating agent.

  Magic definitely could serve that purpose.

  Rogue paced me, a steady presence in the back of my mind, as I studied the groupings of the egg clusters, able to identify some species of fae, while others remained a mystery. I itched to draw them, to take notes. More, I longed for the textbooks that would provide me with the references I needed. Not that they would have this in them, but how long had it been since I read D’Arcy Thompson’s On Growth and Form? Grad school, easily.