Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

  She smiled into the darkness where he couldn’t see. Here in the darkness, the tears could fall and there was no one to notice.

  The pain in her voice told Morgan the truth of it. It wrenched at him, to hear both the deep love and the terrible heartache in her voice. A sense of it echoed through him.

  It still didn’t make sense.

  Now the words flowed out of her as if a dam had broken.

  “You were wearing yourself out, exhausted, trying to be everywhere at once. Trying to protect the Kingdom, keep Oryan safe, get the Marshals and the rebellion organized, even sending your Marshals to help my people. Trying, always trying to be everywhere at once. You were making mistakes you never would have made. It seemed as if you were always tired. Do you remember?”

  He did, some of it and, faintly, moments of quiet peace and joy, contentment, warmth…

  “I was part of that strain on you. Myself and my people, stretching you to your limits and beyond. It was too much.” She sighed. “So, I made you forget. And for a time afterward, it seemed to work. Then Jacob betrayed you, you disappeared and it all fell apart.”

  None of this made any sense.

  “Kyri,” he said, taking her arm and stopping her. “Tell me.”

  “Morgan,” she said, struggling within and without. “Before Jacob, you were succeeding in holding back Haerold, yes?”

  “Yes,” he said, thinking back. “I think so.”

  “So does everyone else,” Kyri said. “But once you were gone, everything fell apart. Not even Oryan could hold it together, because he needed someone like you to be out in the field. And you were all that we had.”

  “Are you saying you did this for the Kingdom?” he said.

  She smiled sadly. “Yours and mine. I could say it and it would be a truth, but not all the truth. As I could say that I did it for my people and that would be a part of the truth, too. I wish that it were, because that would be nobler, but the truth is that I did it because I couldn’t bear to watch you killing yourself. And you were. Do you remember the days before my people left?”

  “They’re a bit of a blur,” Morgan said, trying to take it in, “We were a little busy then.”

  “Less busy, though, after, when you stopped needing to protect the Fairy, too,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said slowly.

  “Some of those memories are blurry because you were so tired, then,” she said, “so busy. Do you remember the visit to Jacob, the fight at the gates of Remagne when they recognized you?”

  “It was sloppy,” he said frowning.

  “You’re not sloppy,” she said. “You never were. But you were that night. You were tired. A sword got by you, scored your ribs,” she said. “You, who fought Hunters, getting marked by a gate guard...”

  “How did you know…?” He frowned as it came to him. “You were there.”

  Kyri nodded. “I Healed you and learned how exhausted you really were.”

  With a gentle tug she pulled away from him.

  “I knew how close we were to losing you to something you were too tired think about. It terrified me, knowing how exhausted you were.” Kyri fought tears. “Oryan’s Kingdom needed you, yes. Oryan needed you. Even my people needed you, fighting Haerold, because if the Kingdom fell to him completely, he would have turned on us next and he wouldn’t have been kind.”

  She laughed a little. “I wish I could say that those were the reasons I did it and they were part of it, but the truth is I couldn’t bear to watch you die. And I was afraid that I would.”

  Frowning, Morgan didn’t know what to feel, what to think….

  “I want them back,” Morgan said. “I want those memories back.”

  “Morgan…” Kyri said, softly, helplessly… “Forgive me.”

  His jaw tightened. “I want them back.”

  She took a breath.

  “All right,” she said and walked slowly back to him.

  Reaching up, she slid her fingers into his hair as she’d done a thousand times before.

  Standing so close she was aware of the warmth of him, she caught the scent of his skin. Her body brushed his.

  It was sweet torture.

  “Forgive me, please, and Remember,” she whispered in his ear.

  Magic, Kyri’s magic, warm and sweet, washed through him lightly.

  And then she kissed him gently on the mouth, her lips soft, before releasing him to walk away into the darkness.

  Leaving him with fluttering memories of her, like a thousand wings, from that first night when the Queen of the Fairy had dropped down onto the parapet in her thin, torn shift to help them escape. Her laughter ringing in the night… The first time they made love, her body slender, white and so lovely. Her odd wry way of finding the right thing to say to lighten things… A thousand memories… All of the things he’d loved about her poured through his mind. Her wings, opening to catch the light as his hand caressed the arch of one, the feathers as soft as silk beneath his hand…

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Morning dawned with Morgan still standing on the porch, listening to the sounds of those in the house awakening. He wasn’t sure where Kyri was, or what to say to her. The memories were his but he still didn’t quite know what to feel or what to think. He’d loved her deeply and passionately and he knew some part of him had and always would. He’d loved Joanna quietly and if he’d missed the passion, the effervescent joy of Kyri, it hadn’t lessened his feelings for Joanna.

  His feelings for Kyri, though… They were another matter. She’d been his first love.

  Angela came running excitedly from out of the barn where she’d been milking the cows.

  “Look, look,” she said, excitedly, pointing up and Morgan looked.

  His heart caught and then his breath.

  Kyri danced in the sky, soaring on the thermals, flying high and alone in the early morning light with only the larks for company. The soft morning light glowed through her wings and shone on her golden hair as it swirled around her. Graceful, beautiful, her body arched as she swooped and turned in the air. So lovely.

  He’d seen her fly for pleasure before, but this was different… She looked alone.

  Queen of the Fairy. She was Queen and so she was alone, isolated. Untouched. She’d always been, the responsibility for her people a weight on her slender shoulders of which she’d never spoken, but borne, as was her duty.

  If she’d taken herself from him then she’d also taken him from her. What had it cost her to do what she’d done, for him, for them, for their Kingdom, his and Oryan’s?

  She’d loved him so much she’d let him go to save him…

  And gone on alone.

  Morgan watched her, her wings glowing in the soft golden light.

  His breath caught, again.

  Looking down, Kyri only saw young Angela in the yard, the girl clapping her hands in delight. It made her smile. She needed that, something to lighten her heart. As she’d needed this time, this escape, this moment to be simply Kyri and fly.

  With wings spread, she dropped down to earth again.

  For the first time since she’d found him Morgan saw Kyri once again in one of the little shifts he’d loved so well, the skirt fluttering around her smoothly muscled thighs and all sorts of parts of him reacted as if she’d never been gone.

  This was the Kyri he remembered, so beautiful, her golden hair rippling, gleaming, smiling warmly at the little girl as she settled lightly to the earth.

  His breath caught, looking at her, watching her, seeing that soft smile, all her attention focused on the child.

  The breeze tousled her golden curls, fluttered the little skirt around those shapely legs. He remembered suddenly the feel of her slender ankle in his hand, so small his hand had wrapped all the way around it. She’d looked down at him and laughed and then she’d been in his lap, her eyes sparkling.

  “What are you doing up?” Kyri asked, alighting near the girl.

  “I have to milk the cows, it’s m
y turn,” Angela said solemnly, but her eyes were shining as she reached up toward Kyri’s gleaming wings. “Then I saw you flying.”

  Hearing the lowing from the barn, Kyri asked, “Are you finished milking the cows?”

  The little girl looked contrite. “No.”

  “Tell you what, if you finish milking the cows and your father says it’s okay,” Kyri said, “I’ll show you what it’s like to fly.”

  Angela’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  Smiling, Kyri nodded. “Really. Promise.”

  The little girl ran back to the barn.

  Kyri smiled.

  If only it all could be so simple….

  Straightening, her smile faded a little and her head bowed before she took a deep breath and turned – to find Morgan standing there on the veranda, watching.

  As always her heart caught, seeing him, looking at him, looking at his crystal blue eyes, his handsome face, tall, broad-shouldered, her heart lifting…and then came the pain – she missed him so much – but she pushed that away because he didn’t need to see that.

  The smile came first, brilliant as always and then it faltered a little. In that moment Morgan saw what it cost her to do what she’d done. For him.

  At her smile, his heart lifted and he knew, his heart twisting when it faltered.

  “Kyri,” he began.

  Colton opened the door and poked his head out. “There you are, Morgan, Kyri. Come on in, Breakfast is ready.”

  He held the door open.

  Later, they would talk later, Morgan promised himself.

  “Arthur is coming this morning,” Colton said as Morgan gestured Kyri before him, “to see you off.”

  That was good, they couldn’t stay much longer before the damn scrying glass betrayed them again and Morgan would rather talk to Kyri with fewer people about.

  Caleb, Gordon and Gawain were in the kitchen with Colton and his son Brion.

  “Brion,” Colton said, “Why don’t you help your sister with the chores?”

  Rolling his eyes, Brion said, “But it’s her turn…”

  “More hands mean shorter work,” Colton said, firmly.

  Gordon said, “Gawain, why don’t you go help them, give them a hand, there’s a lad.”

  “But….” Gawain protested...

  It was in his eyes, the knowledge of his title, Kyri and Morgan both saw it, sharing a quick smile as they once always had, the smiles as quickly hidden so Gawain wouldn’t see them. But their eyes held for a moment longer, the warmth and deep love still there, in these, the simplest moments.

  Kyri’s heart caught, unsure of what she’d seen...

  Morgan reached to take her hand, to draw her back against him.

  For a moment, Kyri lowered her head, a bright shimmer in her eyes, but she smiled. Then she leaned her head back against his shoulder as she’d always done. Morgan kissed her forehead, love washing through him once again, a balm and a benison.

  A single tear escaped…

  Watching, Caleb smiled and nodded. That was better. That was how it should be.

  “You know, Gawain,” Kyri said, “Among my folk it’s said that no one of us is better than the least. Even the Queen or King takes a turn at the meanest jobs, so they know truly who it is they lead and how they live their lives.”

  “In that vein, can we give you a hand with that?” Morgan asked Colton, with a significant glance at Gawain.

  “You could get the plates from the cupboard,” Colton suggested. “Set the table.”

  Sighing, Gawain went, following at Brion’s heels.

  He’d thought he was done with barn chores.

  Opening the cupboards, Morgan fetched the plates while Kyri went to help with the bowls, carrying everything into the main room.

  Everyone heard the horse riding into the yard.

  “That’ll be Arthur, here to see you off,” Colton said, going to the door.

  He opened the door, smiling.

  It was Arthur, but he wasn’t alone…

  Chapter Forty Nine

  The door slammed back as Hunters leaped past Arthur in the doorway, a wizard behind him, to take Colton down and drive him to the floor, with more bounding past, aiming for Morgan and the others, as doors and windows crashed open around them.

  Morgan reached for his sword. It was his worst nightmare come to life again.

  Desperately, instinctively, Kyri reached for energy, for magic…Wind…it was their only chance….if she could get the wizard…

  Suddenly she was slammed back against the wall with staggering force and pinned there, stunned by the impact.

  Three Hunters leaped for Morgan, taking him down even as Kyri flew backward, smashing against the wall.

  Colton was on the floor, three Hunters holding him there as he thrashed and fought like a wild man, as did Morgan, seeing what was happening to Kyri. More had Caleb and Gordon pinned to another wall.

  Dazed, Kyri found herself flying forward, to dangle loosely in the air in front of the wizard, her toes inches from the ground. Her wings were useless to her. She shook her head in a frantic effort to clear it.

  “High Marshal Morgan and the Fairy,” Arthur said, smiling, “delivered as promised.”

  Tossing him a bag of coins without even a backward glance, the wizard looked at Kyri, drawing her closer, breathing her in like a fine wine, slowly.

  “Did you think to use magic against me, little Fairy?” he asked.

  Warily, Kyri stayed silent, waiting, alarm screaming through her, although she showed none of it on her face. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart pounded.

  The wizard gestured, a small glyph suddenly appearing in the air, to glow above her heart.

  Pain shot through her and she gasped involuntarily.

  Morgan went cold with a sharp sense of horror, remembering Jacob’s warning.

  “Kyri,” he said and threw himself against the Hunters, fighting to free himself…

  Feet dangling, helpless, Kyri couldn’t struggle or fight… She could only watch...

  Pain speared through her chest like a hammer driving a tap deep into her breast. It was shockingly painful, but Morgan and the others watched. She locked the cry of pain, outrage and violation behind her teeth.

  This was deliberate, another form of torture, for her, but also for those who were forced to watch.

  The wizard smiled, leaning forward to breathe her in more deeply. He gestured.

  It was a sensation like nothing Kyri had ever known before, a tearing within, an opening. It was as if something were drawn out of her. Her body jerked in response, quivering as crystal-clear light was pulled out of her, first in a thin thread at her breast, then as a glowing stream that flowed from her to the wizard.

  He took it in, breathing it, drinking it, basking in it, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

  Now she understood what it was poor Philip suffered.

  It was agony, her body shook with it, as hard as she fought to stop it and to stop from showing the pain – for the wizard was clearly enjoying the show as much as he enjoyed what he took from her.

  Morgan fought desperately.

  “No, Morgan, stop,” she cried, but her voice was shockingly weak even to her own ears.

  The wizard gestured and she bent like a bow. Her throat locked, going blind with pain, as the flow gushed and became a river. It felt as if he turned her inside out…

  She cried out….

  Nearly berserk, Morgan fought to throw the Hunters off as Kyri shuddered violently, her small slender body trembling like a leaf in the wind, her eyelids fluttering, every muscle taut. Her back arched impossibly, shaking and then the violent quivering weakened…slowed to twitches…and she went limp.

  The glowing light faded…

  Curiously, the wizard looked at her, hanging limp like a rag doll in mid-air.

  “She still breathes,” he said curiously. “It seems our theory is true. We’ll see.”

  Carelessly, with a gesture he tossed her aside s
o she fell at Morgan’s feet in a crumpled heap.

  It took a moment for the wizard’s words to penetrate Morgan’s fury and despair.

  Kyri was still alive.

  Morgan opened his eyes, looking down at her, his heart wrenching.

  To find her looking back at him, her beautiful eyes hazed with pain, but clearing.

  Morgan swore, throwing himself furiously against the hold of the Hunters.

  “Find the boy,” the wizard said.

  Dazed, Kyri found herself lying on the floor.

  It was as if she’d been emptied, scoured inside until she bled. Every muscle and bone ached.

  Morgan. There was blood on him, bruises. It wrenched her.

  Their eyes met, held...

  Keeping still, letting her breathing even out, Kyri looked around quickly, moving only her eyes.

  She was the only one free at the moment, despite the sickening weakness inside her.

  Gordon, Caleb and Colton were all held, but none of them, not even Morgan, had been disarmed yet.

  Neither had she.

  Her sword belt was twisted against her hip, her belt knife pressed uncomfortably against her stomach, inches from the hand that was trapped beneath her. She worked her fingers toward it.

  Her gaze returned to Morgan.

  Only two Hunters now held him, as one disappeared to help in the search for Gawain.

  She blinked.

  Gawain. The children.

  Fear shot through her at the thought.

  Morgan looked at Kyri, as their eyes met and this time there was a spark of something in hers. She had something in mind.

  She was so weak, though.

  Carefully, Kyri drew power from the earth, from the living things around her, the grass and the trees, a trickle to gain strength.

  “Disarm them,” the wizard said negligently, before turning his gaze. “High Marshal Morgan.” The man eyed Morgan. “You don’t seem so impressive now. Haerold is looking forward to having you back. This time he’s going to execute you. Publicly, so everyone knows for certain that this time you’re dead. You will be flogged, hanged, drawn and quartered in the square before all.”