Aurelie: A Faerie Tale

by Heather Tomlinson

  A stir by the stairs, and Captain Inglis strode onto the roof immaculate in a gold jacket and crimson skirts. "You require?" she said, light eyes bright with victory. "Climbing a slippery rope, aren't you, little missy? And here's our lost Woolie, Helm," she called over her shoulder. "No use hiding behind a Jok's glass skirts, Deschutes."

  Garin didn't respond to the taunt.

  Burgida followed a silent Hui Inglis up the stairs and into their midst. As usual, the Fae's expression was solemn under her crown of red hair. An unhealthy green tinge colored the First's skin. His hand twitched, and his knife gleamed.

  Aurelie refrained from suggesting he put the thing away before he cut himself. "We're all assembled," she said instead, ignoring the weakness in her legs. The stool was next to her, but she wouldn't sit while her enemy stood. "Suppose you tell us what you want, Jacinthe Inglis."

  The mocking eyes surveyed the state of the princess's gown. Fish guts slimed the mirrors and the white fabric was creased and spotted, but Aurelie wouldn't have traded it for Inglis's red and gold.

  "Aurelie, dearest," the captain said, her fawning tone more insulting than a slap. "A little courtesy, please, to your future mother."

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  Garin swore viciously under his breath. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but Aurelie felt the color drain from her face. She'd probably turned the same color as Hui. If they married, the Skoerans would claim Jocondagne's throne. So the raiders had planned only to kidnap Aurelie. Capturing the city was simply an unexpected bonus.

  "No fool Jok's more predictable than a royal one," Captain Inglis sneered. "With your precious traditions, your white eagles, your other pretty monstrosities." She sent a venomous look skyward, where Netta and Loic circled out of reach. "Never trust them. Seven years of my life, lost to that horror."

  Aurelie hated to let this woman see how frightened she was. She spoke as coolly as she could. "And the next seven? You don't seem to have done so badly for yourself."

  "Clever girl." She simpered in a parody of admiration before her face closed. "You remember what we discussed, son?"

  "Yes, Ma." Hui Inglis was sweating. He took a step away from his mother, closer to Helm Burgida. Aurelie didn't blame him. She didn't like the sudden hard set of the captain's features, as if now was the moment on which all else depended.

  From under the gold jacket, the Skoeran woman tugged a fist-sized bag on a leather cord. The faceted jewel she withdrew from the bag gathered in the last remaining sunlight and shone like a small star.

  "My Luck!" Burgida started forward, then stopped, crying out in pain.

  "My Luck at present," Captain Inglis said.

  At first, Aurelie didn't understand what had happened. Blinking

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  away the jewel's dazzling afterimage, she saw Hui's hand twisting Burgida's arm behind her back. His knife rested across her throat.

  "Don't move," he said hoarsely.

  "Not as calm as he pretends," Garin murmured in Aurelie's ear. "His hand's shaking."

  She nodded, watching the Fae. Without her Luck, a vouivre was supposed to be as fragile as any human woman. But Burgida's voice sounded disdainful when she spoke. "Are all mortals' promises so false? You accepted my service in exchange for my Luck's return on Longest Day."

  "You'll have it," the captain assured her. "But before it's worthless to me, there's one more transaction I'd like to complete."

  "What's that?" Aurelie asked, when it became clear the vouivre wouldn't.

  "Why, we'll trade the creature herself." The shining jewel lit the captain's cold smile. "I believe Burgida's mother will pay handsomely for her return in one piece, rather than several. Yes, this is turning into quite the profitable venture, although the details were somewhat complex to arrange. Do hold still, Helm. Hui's knife is sharp enough to cut mortal skin."

  "Her mother?" Garin said. "No, don't, she's a--"

  "Gargouille!" Jacinthe Inglis shouted.

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  Chapter 23 Aurelie

  CRACK!

  The ice beneath the bridge splintered, shaking the tower and spilling iceboats and crew into the frigid water. Men screamed and struggled to reach the banks. Along its length, the River Sicaun shrugged, a giant snake shedding its icy skin. From the dark water, a streak of orange fire ascended, trailing clouds of steam.

  Fireworks, was Aurelie's first incoherent thought. Would the rocket explode over their heads or on them? Then she saw two great metallic wings unfold and smelled the sandalwood and spice wind of the Fae world. Worse than fireworks, far worse. As she feared, the namesake iceboat had attracted the gargouille to the mortal world, close enough to answer Inglis's call.

  "What? What is that?" Hui gasped. The others couldn't see the dragon, Aurelie realized. They could hear it and smell it, but the gargouille's fearsome beauty was invisible to them.

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  Too bad. If Hui knew what his mother had summoned, he might have dropped the knife. Instead he held it closer to Burgida's throat, as likely to cut her by accident as intent. Aurelie's neck tingled in sympathy, which gave her the idea. Why not try a diversion?

  Without time to explain, Aurelie found Garin's hand and squeezed. He squeezed back and let go. She could feel him shifting his weight, ready for whatever move she made.

  "Excuse me, First Inglis." She pitched her voice purposely low, to draw his attention from the furious clamor in the sky.

  "What?" He swiveled toward her. Burgida made a distressed sound, but Aurelie focused on catching and holding the First's gaze.

  "You know they spread disease," she said, meaningfully, as if it was a code the two of them shared. Then she glanced down at her collar and brushed at it the way Elise had in Dorisen, to tell him about the spider.

  He recognized the words or the gesture. Reflexively, his knife hand flew up, almost slicing his ear. The other hand let go of his hostage to slap at his coat. In the instant before the First realized he'd been tricked, Garin dove for Burgida's legs. The vouivre went limp, and the two of them rolled away from Hui Inglis and through the snow to end up against the parapet.

  Aurelie dragged Dalfi after them. Captain Inglis screamed abuse at her son, but by the time Hui recovered his balance, the princess and Garin shielded the Fae and the falcon keeper with their own bodies.

  The other Skoerans had backed away from the walls, staring in fear at the snow, which swirled upward in the drafts from the dragon's wing beats. The giant creature swooped and hovered, so close to I he

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  tower that her hot breath lit the torches in their wall brackets. "Who summons Gargouille?"

  Whether from terror at the ring of torches flaring simultaneously or the sonorous, disembodied voice, two of the Skoeran riggers broke. "She did," they shouted. Pointing at their leader, they fell face-first into the snow.

  At the same moment, an eagle screamed in challenge. A white streak cut across the smoking torches. Aurelie recognized Loic, flying straight at Captain Inglis with his talons open. Like her son, the woman couldn't help her first reaction. Both hands went up to protect her face from the immediate threat.

  Screaming at full voice, Loic passed her with a wingspan to spare. In a tricky bit of flying, eagle Netta plummeted at the same instant and plucked the Luck from Inglis's fingers. Aurelie held her breath, fearing that the speed of her friend's descent might slam her into the roof. A mighty flapping, followed by a couple of hops, enabled Netta to drop the jewel in Aurelie's outstretched palm. She closed her gloved fingers around the Luck.

  The white feathers blurred, and Netta tumbled out of eagle shape to land next to Dalfi. "Mademoiselle Netta," he said, and fainted.

  Without a word, Captain Inglis bolted down the stairs, abandoning her son, her men, and the grand scheme that had unraveled when her Luck finally went sour.

  Dragon sight, however, was even sharper than an eagle's. With a thundering, brassy bugle, like a drum and horn combined, the gargouille stretched her serpent like neck and belched flame
at the base of the tower.

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  "Mai" Hui screamed. "No, Ma!"

  One of the riggers pulled the distraught First away from the parapet. Aurelie turned her face into Garin's coat, shuddering. He held her tightly.

  "Shall I roast these others, too, daughter?" the gargouille's inhuman voice purred with predatory satisfaction. It was softer than before but still loud enough to hurt Aurelie's ears.

  "No, Mother. I'd rather you didn't," Burgida called. Blood trickled in a dark line down her neck and over her red jersey as she left the shelter of the wall. "May I please have my Luck back, Your Highness?"

  Aurelie could feel the warmth of the jewel through the leather gauntlet. She faced the Fae. "I remember I owe you a favor," she said slowly. "But Netta recovered it. She should have a say."

  "You dare, mortal?" The gargouille's roar singed the hem of Aurelie's festival gown.

  The remaining Skoerans scrabbled away from the fire and fled down the stairs, leaving the dazed Hui behind. Garin relieved him of his knife.

  Netta shook her head. "Burgida helped you and Garin escape from Skoe," she said, her voice husky. "I owe her, too, for your safe return. If she's blind to her true home without her Luck--well, I know what that's like. She should have it."

  Aurelie looked at Garin, who nodded, unsmiling. "We don't need it."

  Aurelie agreed. But a princess thought first of her people, and the Luck was a powerful bargaining chip. "Helm Burgida, would your mother mind very much retiring again from Jocondagne?"

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  "For another hundred years, perhaps?" the vouivre said dryly.

  "I've killed your enemy, eh, so I can shove off? Leave my cave and treasure for that upstart drac?" The gargouille's voice blared annoy ance. "Careful, girl."

  Aurelie's cold toes curled in her boots. Who was she to negotiate with a dragon on behalf of her country? Puny against the immortal's power, splattered with fish guts, and wet from melting snow, she didn't cut an impressive figure. But who else could do it? Not her father, not Count Sicard. Garin and Netta had already said what they thought. The choice rested with her.

  Aurelie realized that, thanks to her friendship with Loic, she did know a few things about the Fae. They respected courtesy more than a show of force, for one thing. It was worth the risk, if it succeeded. And really, did she want to follow Inglis's example?

  "Not at all, madame," Aurelie said. She made herself hand the Luck to Burgida without any conditions attached. "Your presence does us too much honor."

  "Hah!" The dragon's laugh clanged, a bronze bell. Fire licked the night sky.

  "Suck-breath."

  "Don't be difficult, Mother. Let's leave them in peace." Burgida kissed the jewel and put it to her forehead, where it blazed, then dimmed. Like a fruit rind splitting, the human form peeled away from the vouivre's true shape. Bat wings unfurled from a long, sinuous body. The jewel flashed between two dark eyes, sad no longer. "Thank you, Princess. Good-bye, friends." The smaller dragon leaped into the air, her voice ringing with joy. It had the same metallic echo as the gargouille's. "Fare you well."

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  "Good-bye." Three voices answered her.

  No, four, Aurelie realized. Loic stood next to Netta, tall and proud in his drac shape. The fin on his back glimmered in the torchlight.

  With another blast of spice and fruit and sulfur, the Fae vanished. Aurelie swayed in exhausted relief, and Garin wrapped his arms around her waist.

  "Well flown, my heart," Loic. complimented Netta. The drac directed his violet gaze at Garin. "I didn't happen to notice your contribution to the evening's success, friend, but I'm sure it was equally valuable."

  Garin snorted. "Now who's a suck-breath?"

  Netta giggled. Loic turned to Aurelie. "Most delicately handled, Princess. I couldn't have charmed old bronze-face better myself."

  "We were lucky," Aurelie said, and leaned into Garin's embrace.

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  Chapter 24 Aurelie

  In the park behind the cathedral, snowflakes sifted through the chestnut tree's bare branches and powdered an evergreen's skirts. Sitting with her back to an old oak, Jocondagne's Heir lifted her flute to her lips. A mountain round whistled out in lively counterpoint to the gray afternoon. Drawn by the music, lutins and farfadets stole closer. And not only Fae folk. Children gathered as well. Two boys and a girl, Aurelie thought, from the hissing whispers behind her. She'd glimpsed the school satchels dangling from mittened hands as the three of them dashed from tree to tree.

  The snow thickened. It muffled all sound but Aurelie's music, until the icy flakes collecting on the flute convinced her to finish with a Skoeran song Garin had taught her, about sailing the sweet salt sea.

  As he'd done, so recently, and would again in a month or two, if all went well. She knew from the letter he'd sent. The first Skoeran

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  trader in two years had brought his letter to Lumielle, along with a welcome cargo of cocoa, cloth, and spices.

  Aurelie had unfolded and refolded the letter so many times that the paper was soft, the inked line of kiss marks smudged into a long embrace. Garin missed her, he wrote. He'd thought of her every night aboard the flagship escorting the remains of the Skoeran fleet back to Dorisen. With Captain Inglis dead, Hui disgraced, and his family owing reparations, King Raimond had appointed Garin to explain to the council in Dorisen why the invasion had failed. He'd return to Lumielle soon, Garin promised, with a new delegation, to work out the peace. Until then, he hoped she'd remember him, over the sweet salt sea.

  The last notes hung in the air as Aurelie wiped her flute dry with a cloth and returned it to the case. She knelt by the granite marker to pat the eagle and goat. "Until soon, Mama," she said. Jumping to her feet, she winked at a nearby lutine. The Fae peered through her braids, alarmed at first by the acknowledgment. Then, shyly, she grinned back.

  Aurelie put on her gloves and brushed the snow from her coat. Walking briskly, she set off for the cathedral where Elise was waiting. Another banquet to attend tonight, this one in honor of the surviving Jocondagnan defenders, but first Aurelie had decided to steal a few moments for herself.

  A snowball lofted past her and splattered against a chestnut tree. Aurelie reacted, sidestepping a bush and dropping to her knees behind a pine tree. She scooped loose snow into her glove, waited until she heard giggling, then let fly.

  "Hitl He's hit!" a shrill voice cried. "That's one for the girls!"

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  Snow exploded, cold and wet, against Aurelie's back. "And one for the boys!" another voice crowed.

  Aurelie waved at the lutine who'd followed her through the park. They both picked up handfuls of snow and crept around an oak, one on each side, to give snowball earmuffs to an unsuspecting boy. "Girls!" Aurelie called, and ran.

  The battle raged through the park, attracting lutins and farfadets and other children who'd heard their friends taking sides. Two black dogs joined in, their wagging tails knocking snow on boys, girls, and Fae alike. Nobody seemed to mind, and when Aurelie emerged from the trees, flushed and laughing, Elise only shook her head.

  "I suppose we'll be paying the sausage vendor again tomorrow. The chestnut man and the soup lady brought their carts as well."

  "They did?" Aurelie traded her flute case for a towel and dried her hair, smiling behind the white linen.

  "As if you hadn't invited them yourself, Your Highness," Elise said tartly. "By the next storm, you'll have all the food carts in the city lined up outside the park to feed the Heir's snowball warriors."

  "If I'm hungry, the children must be, too," Aurelie said. Not to speak of Loic, who could eat his weight in sausages. She sniffed. "How about some roasted chestnuts, Elise?"

  "Banquet," her maid reminded her.

  "You're right," Aurelie sighed. "Another time." She took her flute case and saluted the park, which still echoed with shouts and laughter. This was how a city should sound, she thought, walking toward the p
alace. With Netta's help, and Loic's, and Garin's, Lumielle would thrive. Aurelie turned her face to the sky, tasting snow and spices and the smoke from roasting chestnuts. It was the flavor, she thought, of happiness.

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