“This is Rune. I brought you here for your own protection.”
Again she licked her lips. “Thank you. It’s er, awfully bright, isn’t it?” Then, she tried once more to sit up. Again failing, she swallowed. “Where are Kayo and TM? I know you said they were safe, but…”
“I brought them with us. Don’t worry.”
“Good,” she managed. Thirsty, so thirsty.
An instant later – or was it a few minutes – someone handed Alrick a goblet. Moving closer, Alrick held it to her mouth. “Drink.”
Gratefully she did. Cold and sweet, the citrus juice soothed her parched throat. She drained the goblet greedily, unable to identify the fruit. “What was that? Not orange, not tangerine. Whatever it was, it’s wonderful.” Even her voice felt restored. She pushed herself up on her elbows, feeling a bit of her strength returning. “So, I’m in Rune.”
“Safe.”
“What about the Warlord?”
“He killed your pickup. And TM’s horse trailer. He was attempting to finish you off when I brought you and the animals here.”
She looked away, trying to force her mind to digest his words. “You say he’s trying to kill me, and I believe you. But in the process it seems like he’s trying very hard to make sure I’m penniless. He’s burned my barn, ruined my home, and now he’s blown up my truck and trailer. What next?” Drained from such a long speech, she allowed herself to sink back into the pillow.
“At least you’re safe.”
“True. Rune, huh?” She looked around again.
He nodded.
“Damn. You really are a… Faerie.”
“Fae.”
“And you really are a prince too?”
He looked injured. “You didn’t believe me?”
“Not really.” She studied him. “You’re what, like that guy in Lord of the Rings.”
“Lord of the what?”
“It’s a book. And a movie.” When his frown didn’t clear, she touched the back of his hand. “Never mind. So you’re a Fae Prince.”
“Yep.”
“I’ll be. Then I have a question.”
“Go ahead, I’ll do my best to answer.”
“Why send a Prince? Wouldn’t any Fae warrior do? I
mean, you all have magic, right?”
“The Mage came here from the future and requested help. My father sent me, as a test.”
She studied him. The way the light reflected off the crystal walls hurt her eyes and made her head ache even worse. “Why test you?”
“Cenrick and I are twins. He could name either one of us heir, though I was born first and am the eldest. He claims he’s testing me to make certain I’m worthy.”
Bitterness and bewilderment rang in his tone.
Before Carly could reply, a wizened old man peered around Alrick to look at her. “Your strength returns,” he said. His voice sounded surprisingly strong for a guy who looked to be around ninety years old.
“The Mage of the future Rune,” Alrick said.
Ah, that mage. The one who’d started all this with his predictions and tales.
The old man stepped closer, his light-colored gaze intent. He grabbed her fingers and lifted them to his mouth, where he blew a papery-thin kiss before releasing her.
“I am glad to see you recovering, young lady. Your health is very important to our future. Do you like your accommodations?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Narrow-eyed, she studied the room. Rather than ice as she had first supposed, the walls, floor, and ceiling all appeared to have been hewn from multi-faceted crystal. The effect was steal-your-breath-away beautiful, all the glitter of a fairy tale. Carly found it cold and uninviting. “Are all your rooms made of this crystal or whatever it is?”
The Mage chuckled. “The entire palace is hewed from one precious stone. The actual construction took centuries, even with magic.”
“Nice,” she said, aware her voice lacked enthusiasm. Finished with checking out the unusual room, she let her gaze travel back to the mage and Alrick. And blinked.
Now two Alricks stood at her bedside. The mage was nowhere in sight.
She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Still two Alricks. “What kind of medication am I on?” she wondered out loud.
Both Alrick’s laughed. Carly could have sworn she heard two distinct, masculine laughs.
Suddenly exhausted again, she rested on her soft pillow and let her eyes drift closed. When she opened them once more, both Alricks had gone and she was alone. Just the way she’d always liked it.
Chapter Six
WHEN NEXT she became aware of her surroundings, Carly felt stronger. Hungrier too. The wrinkled old man was back, seated in a chair at her bedside, watching her intently through eyes the same opaque colorlessness as the walls.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
What had Alrick called him? The Mage? No, that had been his title, not his name. Fine, she’d start out by re-introducing herself.
“Good morning. I’m Carly Roberts.” She held out her hand. When he took it and raised her fingers to his mouth to kiss, she frowned, suddenly remembering. “We’ve done this once already, haven’t we? Introduced ourselves, I mean.”
He looked pleased. “Yes we have. You remember?”
“Sort of. But I can’t remember your name.”
“Most call me the Mage of Rune.”
“No.” Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “That’s your title. What’s your name?”
Bless his heart; he appeared touched by her question. His thin lips curling in a smile, he beamed at her. “You really are the special one. I’m glad we found you.”
“Special one?” She snorted. “Not hardly. I still am not entirely sure I entirely buy into this story you guys have cooked up.”
He reared back, his nostrils flaring. “Story? Cooked up? How can it be that you’re not aware of the prophecy? Especially since it concerns you?”
“I don’t believe in fairy-tales.” When he would have argued the point, she held up her hand. “Now come on, at least tell me your name.”
“I…” With a mulish expression, he shook his head. “I’d rather not say. You may call me Mage, like everyone else.”
“No.” She smiled to take some of the sting out of her bluntness. “You know my name. Everyone seems to. It’s only fair I know yours.”
He glared at her down the length of his impressive nose and said nothing.
Carly sighed. “What, did your mother give you some awful name, like Harold Snaggletooth or Willie Wanker Snodgrass?”
She’d startled him into a smile. When she smiled back, his smile became a grin. Odd how such a simple thing erased years from his face.
“No, that’s not why I hesitate. I jest not. For decades I have been called the Mage of Rune, or Mage for short. I barely remember my given name.”
She wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “No one forgets their own name. Come on, what is it?”
“You won’t let this go?”
“No.”
“Very well.” He sighed. “As a boy I was called Mort.”
“Mort.” She tested it on her tongue. “As in Mortimer?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I was always called simply Mort. Until I began to study magic. Once magic recognized me, I was called the Mage.”
“Once magic recognized you?”
“Yes. While there are many who can cast simple spells, few of us commune with the magic. I am one of those. Alrick is another.”
“Alrick?”
“Were he not crown prince, he could take the title of Mage if he wished it.”
“Then he’d be called Mage too? Not Alrick?”
“That would be his decision to make.”
“Kind of sad, not to have your own name.” Thoughtful, she studied him. “Have you ever though of combining the two? Mort the Mage. I like it – it has a nice ring.”
“The Mage is fine. I’m used to it.”
There was no s
ense in arguing with some people. At least she knew his real name. “Fine. Have it your way. But I’m probably going to call you Mort.” Her stomach growled, reminding her of her hunger.
Mort heard too. “Do you wish to break your fast?”
“I’d love to. I could really go for a big juicy hamburger, though some fried chicken would be fine. Heck, even some baked or grilled chicken would hit the spot.” At Mort’s horrified look she broke off. “What?”
“For a moment I’d forgotten you were human.”
“So?”
“I am Fae.”
“What’s me being human got to do with my wanting lunch? Or breakfast?” Then she realized. “Faeries don’t eat meat.”
He grimaced. “No.”
Goodbye hamburger. “No fried chicken for me then. Okay, that means I have to eat… what?”
“Fruits and vegetables are plentiful here, as is the nectar you tried yesterday. We have a bountiful feast with which you may break your fast, whenever you’re ready.”
“What about protein?”
“Legumes.”
“Beans.” She made a face. “No eggs? Technically, I know they’re meat, but…”
This time he didn’t even bother to answer.
“I guess that means fish are out too. Vegans. Fruit, huh?” She sighed. “How about pastries? Like donuts.”
Looking relieved, Mort nodded. “We have breads and preserves of many types. And honey.”
Her mouth watered at the thought. “Sounds good.” She looked around for her clothes. “Um, where are my—?”
“You have none.” Mort sounded so matter-of-fact, she didn’t know what to think.
“I have none? What do you mean? I was wearing clothes when I got here, wasn’t I?”
“Yes.” He made a grimace of distaste. “I burned those.”
“Burned tho— Why on earth would you burn my clothes?”
Hands steepled in front of his lined face, he simply stared back. “They were torn and filthy, stained with blood. Even if I could have cleaned them and sent them off to attempt repair, they would not have been serviceable.”
“So I have no clothes.” Raising herself up to a sitting position, she wrapped the sheet around her nakedness – oh God, had Alrick seen her like this? “What am I going to wear?”
Instead of answering, Mort rose and went to a silver chest at the foot of her bed. The latch clicked with a touch of his finger. He withdrew a shimmering gown of a pale, moss green and held it up for her inspection. “Will this do?”
“A dress?” It was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, like something from a fashion show. Grumpily, she resisted the urge to reach out and feel the soft material. Ironically, the thought of wearing a dress made her feel sad. “Do you know when I last wore a dress?”
“No, when?”
For the first time since he’d died, thinking about it didn’t bring tears to her eyes. “My husband’s funeral. Over a year ago. The last time I wore a dress, it was black.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy in his voice and face. Still, he held the impossibly frothy dress out to her.
She resisted. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“No.” Then, the ultimate incentive. “Alrick will be here soon. You wish to be dressed to greet him, yes?”
“Fine.” Gingerly she took the gown. “Where can I change?”
He pointed to a door she hadn’t even noticed in the glittering wall. The handle appeared to be made of the same crystal – or diamonds. “In there.”
Wrapping the sheet around her like a robe, Carly slipped out of bed and stood on wobbly legs. Then, doing the best she could to stalk to the door, which wasn’t easy without her full strength or clothing, she slipped inside and closed the thick door behind her.
The thing fit. Surprisingly well. Though she couldn’t find a mirror to see how it looked on her, the dress clung to her shape like a second skin. A gossamer, filmy, utterly transparent second skin. Carly frowned. Hopefully the layered cloth in the long skirt would hide enough. She owned one slip – and it was back in her dresser drawer in her ant covered home.
Not that any of this mattered – she had no choice. Either wear the dress or appear naked. Easy decision.
She stepped from the closet – or whatever the small room was – with her head held high. At least if she looked hideously foolish, she wouldn’t know. Alrick was too much of a gentleman to tell her. Unless – she frowned – it showed in his face when he saw her.
But Alrick was already waiting for her as she emerged from the room. When he saw her, he smiled. His amber eyes began to glow. Warmth suffused her. The hand she’d lifted to wave at him, she let fall to her side. Even though it had been a long time, Carly recognized male appreciation when she saw it. For a moment she let herself enjoy the feeling. Then, feeling absurdly guilty, she gave Alrick her blackest scowl. “What? Don’t look at me like you’ve never seen a woman in a dress before.”
“I’ve never seen you in a dress before, Carly Roberts.” His deep voice sounded almost like a growl. “You look beautiful.”
“Gorgeous,” a second male voice said. Then Alrick number two stepped around the corner.
Looking from one to the other, Carly gaped. “I didn’t imagine you?”
They both laughed.
“Now I see why you’re so possessive of her, brother,” the second Alrick said.
Brother? As his words registered, Carly looked to Alrick number one for confirmation.
“Twins,” he said. “Remember? Carly meet Cenrick, my brother.”
Instinctively she held out her hand to him, meaning to shake his. Instead, exactly as Mort the Mage had done, Cenrick lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
Carly snatched her hand back, but not before she felt a shiver all the way to her toes. “Cenrick.”
“Carly.” He spoke her name like a caress.
She looked from him to Alrick. “Something’s different…”
Alrick narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
“That’s it. The eyes. You, Alrick have brown eyes. And you have… purple?”
“Lavender.” Alrick’s tone was cutting. “Most of his ladies call them lavender.”
“Or violet, or plum…” Cenrick put in helpfully, smirking at his brother.
Alrick glowered.
“Ahem.” The mage cleared his throat.
“You!” Carly jabbed her finger at the mage’s chest, ignoring the older man’s wince. “Why didn’t you tell me Alrick had a twin?”
“It wasn’t important.”
“Not important?” Cenrick chortled. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but unimportant was never one of them.”
The mage ignored him. “Are you ready to eat?” He held out his arm to Carly.
Food. Damn. She’d somehow managed to forget all about food, despite her hunger. Her stomach growled again, loud enough that she thought everyone might have heard it.
“Yes. I am,” she searched for the word, “famished.”
Long sleeves trailing behind her, she placed her fingers on Mort’s arm and swept past Alrick and Cenrick. She felt like an extra in a movie like Camelot. “Bye guys.”
Open-mouthed, they both stared after her. She was glad they didn’t immediately follow; in her overdressed frou-frou, there was no way she’d feel comfortable stuffing her face with them looking on.
Mort led her to an empty room, empty except for unbelievable mountains of bright-colored food. The spread reminded her of a fancy banquet she’d attended once in Austin. One side of the room had a long table piled high with bread. Rolls and pastries of every conceivable kind were heaped on sparkling platters. There were also pots of various soups, which smelled heavenly. Carly took a step closer and read the labels – split pea soup, black bean soup, cream of potato, cream of lettuce, and cream of tomato soup. Her mouth watered just at the scent of them.
What else? No meats, but a chocolate fountain ran continuously on one corner. Underneath w
ere the most succulent looking strawberries, kiwi slices, pineapple, grapes, and other assorted fruits she had ever seen. And marshmallows! Giant, plump, marshmallows, perfect for dipping in the chocolate.
“Goodbye diet,” Carly muttered. Chocolate was her particular weakness – one of the reasons she refused to keep the stuff in the house. Not that she could afford it, even if she wanted to.
“Dig in,” Mort ordered. She needed no second urging.
Loading down her plate, she noticed gratefully when Mort did the same.
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
He shook his head, managing to look mournful and mischievous all at the same time. “I broke my fast long ago. This will serve as a mid-day snack. One of the benefits of age.”
“What about Alrick and his brother?”
Mort shrugged. “If they’re hungry, they’ll eat. Do you require their company?” The old man sounded so serious, he made Carly nervous. If she said she did, would he magically summon them and make them sit and stare at her while she wolfed down her food?
“No thanks.” Eying her heaping plate, she decided she’d go back for chocolate and fruit when she’d finished. She grabbed a crystal goblet of some sort of juice and took a seat at one of the long, banquet style tables. Like her room, everything here appeared formed from the same icy material. Yet no fingerprints marred the sparkling tables.
“How do you keep it so clean?” she blurted, right before popping a honey-coated pastry in her mouth.
Mort laughed. “Magic, how do you think?” He wiggled his silver eyebrows, nearly making her choke on her food.
When she had eaten her fill – going back for seconds and then thirds, while noting gratefully how Mort too had made short work of cleaning his plate, she leaned back in her chair and licked the last bit of chocolate from her fingers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.” Mort inclined his head. A small bit of chocolate that clung to the edge of his goatee marred his mage-like expression.
“You’ve…” Carly made a swiping motion with her napkin (at least she hoped that was what the gauzy squares were for). Catching on, Mort dabbed the spot away.
“Better?”
“Yes.” She eyed him speculatively. He seemed a harmless elderly man, but according to Alrick, he had all the answers. And answers were what she needed most of all.
Lone Star Magic Page 8
