“I suspect there’s much more to the book than meets the eye, but I have yet to discover what that may be,” continued O’Deldar.
“What is Oldwilde?” Finn asked.
“The continent on which we live. Oldwilde was part of the First Earth, before the Elder race cracked it into pieces and shifted the land masses to different parts of the world.”
“Is there a Middle-earth too?” Fate asked.
“No.”
She fell silent and fidgeted under his solemn gaze.
“So what you’re saying is that the Book of Fables is telling stories about real people here in Oldwilde?” Finn said, a frown of concern on his face.
Fate gulped. “And us trying to escape the book is changing all those lives?”
O’Deldar raised his dark brows and nodded. “Yes, in essence that’s exactly right.”
His answer sat like a boulder in her stomach.
“Not to worry, young ones. You have no other choice. Wodrid saw to that when he spelled the book with the curse to trap unwary readers and force them to change the endings into their mirror opposites as their only means of escape. Ever since that fork-tongued sorcerer got his hands on the book and took it into your world, Oldwilde’s destiny has been swayed by the ignorance of many unfortunate readers. It’s why I failed to see Moria’s entrance into Asgar eighteen years ago. The future is less clear when a reader from the Book of Fables is involved. And since the last reader came through and changed our once glorious days into what you see now, we’ve been living in the gloom of unending misfortune.”
“Well, the Book of Fables is here now,” Finn said. “We could destroy it.”
O’Deldar shook his head. “It is a ghost image of the book that’s here in Oldwilde. The actual book still resides in your world, and nothing there can harm it. It must be returned to Oldwilde if it is to be destroyed.”
“How can we bring it here if the book’s the only way in?” Fate asked.
“There are other ways to cross the divide between our worlds. If you know how to find them,” he said intently, as if speaking only to her. “But that is another concern for another time.” He rose and beckoned them toward the bowl on the pedestal. “Come, let us attend to more pressing matters and see if we might devise a plan to put an end to the misery here in Asgar.” He then passed his hand over the water’s glassy surface, stirring up a thick mist that took on the shape of the castle and the busy movements of the people in and around it.
Having seen the merriment earlier, and now the festivities taking place in miniature inside the magic bowl, Fate found it hard to believe anyone in Asgar was miserable. But she’d read the fable. Everyone in the kingdom was in for a very rude awakening. That in and of itself was bad enough, but to be told that her actions could either make or break countless numbers of innocent lives made everything that much worse. The burden of responsibility had fallen squarely on her shoulders, and she found it heavy.
Chapter 20
NO ONE NOTICED when Fate and Finn returned to the festival like glimmering wraiths appearing out of nowhere. Distractions of every sort took place among the throng of high-spirited celebrants. Jostled at every turn, they moved through the lively crowd in the direction of the caravan to inform Sithias of O’Deldar’s plan to defeat Moria. But there was no getting near his stage. Too many people surrounded him as he recited one of his plays and strummed his harp.
Fate waved to get his attention. He grinned and nodded, but she could tell he had no intention of halting his performance any time soon.
“Leave him be,” Finn said, his voice tight. Their meeting with O’Deldar had obviously left him in a dark mood.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her past a group of musicians and jovial dancers. She followed, avoiding the frolicking as best she could until two girls her age bumped into him. As they blushed and giggled, a grin chased away the troubled lines of his face. Then one of them whispered in his ear and left him with a sprig of heather.
As the girls skipped off, Fate tried to act nonchalant. “What’d she say?”
He twirled the sprig between his finger and thumb. “She invited me to dance around the Maytree.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you going to?”
He tucked the heather into his vest pocket. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said, his expression withdrawn again.
Her pulse quickened. Was he thinking of Tove and wishing he could entangle his ribbon with hers? She pushed the thought away. Her girlish insecurities didn’t count right now. They had more important matters to worry about, the main one being the poison.
Finn zeroed in on a pavilion serving ale and pulled her inside its dim interior where the thick haze of pipe smoke hung in the air. She waited near the entrance while he walked up to the barkeep. A few minutes later he returned with two foaming mugs. Handing her one of them, he downed his ale, gulping loudly. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he wiped the foam from his lips.
“That should take the sting off things a bit,” he said with a half-hearted grin.
Fate stared at him, horrified. “What’s with you? Do you want to end up like your dad?”
His smile vanished, his gaze guarded and suspicious. “How do you know about my da?”
Heat rushed to her face. She needed to be more careful. Revealing too much about his life story would prompt unwelcome questions like before. “Uh…well, you complained about his drinking a lot before you were poisoned and forgot you knew me and, of course, everything we talked about.”
He studied her face, looking only partially convinced. “Well…my da’s circumstances were different than mine. He couldn’t cope after he lost my mum.” His lids drooped as he gave her a sleepy wink, a sign he was already feeling the alcohol. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve been known to tip a few back a time or two with Granda. It was harmless and we had a great old time together.”
His brooding yet cavalier attitude was beginning to get on her nerves. “Listen, we should really talk about what O’Deldar said––about the poison––”
“I don’t want to talk about it now,” he said, his tone gruff. “This is a day of celebration, and celebrate is exactly what I intend to do. At least until tonight when we have to deal with Moria. Lucky for us that’s hours from now.”
“You’ve really changed,” she muttered.
“So you keep saying. But if our history together is as short as you’ve led me to believe, there’s no way you could’ve known me all that well. So maybe I haven’t changed all that much.” He shrugged. “I feel pretty much the same.”
Fate remained silent. There was nothing she could say. Not unless she was ready to tell him how she knew him down to the tiniest detail. Explaining that he was a figment of her imagination come to life, on top of what O’Deldar had told him, was the worst thing she could do right now. Besides the nasty reaction he would have all over again, there’d be the added complication of the drinking, his frightening strength and speed, and the brutality he’d shown toward those robbers. No way. She wasn’t saying a word.
“Are you going to drink that?” he asked, reaching for her untouched ale without waiting for an answer.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gulped back every drop. Slamming the empty mug down on a nearby table and startling the happy drunk sitting there, he gave her a lazy, intoxicated smile. “Tell me, why were those big browns haunting my dreams night after night?” His eyes lit up as his gaze drifted down to her mouth. “And those lips. It drove me crazy not knowing who you were, but needing you the way a man lost in the desert thirsts for water.”
This wholly unexpected confession shot a blazing, hopeful thrill through her. But then her mind raced back to what she’d witnessed between him and Tove, and confusion set in. Had she misinterpreted their relationship to one another? She narrowed her eyes. No, there was no mistaking the intimacy she’d seen them share.
“If Sithias hadn’t told me you’d never been kissed, I would’ve thought you and I had exactly that ki
nd of connection.”
“No, not like that,” she said, unable to meet his intense gaze. The air between them seemed to warm to an unbearable level. She could feel the sweat beading on her brow.
At last he lifted her chin with his finger. “We were…close?”
“In a way, but––”
He cut her off by touching his finger to her lips. “Then we’re meant to be close again.”
•
They spent the next few hours watching a few plays, some archery contests and a jousting tournament. Finn stayed near Fate, keeping his hand on her waist. Touching her even in this small way satisfied his increasing thirst to be close to her. During the jousting, while she covered her eyes with her hands right before the inevitable unhorsing of each loser, he took the opportunity to really look at her in the hopes of coaxing into the forefront of his mind his lost memories of their brief time together. But it was no use. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t retrieve a single detail of their past encounter. Only the strong sense of knowing that he belonged with her persisted.
Later, when the sun reached its peak, the sweltering heat drove them to find some shade. On the way, a group of teenaged girls grabbed Fate and pulled her toward the Maytree, saying they needed one more dancer. She glanced back at Finn, her eyes round and imploring. Smiling, he ducked out of sight behind a horse and rider trotting by. Keeping an eye on her from afar, he watched the girls as they coaxed her with good humor while braiding flowers in her hair.
Holding hands, the girls herded Fate into a half circle around the tree while six boys in their early to late teens moved in to complete the circle. Finn tapped one of them on the shoulder. “Hey, mate. Some bonnie lass was asking after you over by––”
“Was it the Baron’s daughter?” the teen asked eagerly, turning an excited gaze to the crowd surrounding them.
“Sure was. You’re a lucky man,” Finn said as the boy broke into a run, leaving his place in the line up for grabs.
Finn stepped into the circle, winking at Fate, who stood opposite him with ribbon in hand and panic in her eyes. Glaring at him, she mouthed some sort of silent plea, which he ignored.
As he picked up the ribbon lying near his feet, the music started, a rich medley of fiddles, flutes and tambourines. He followed along as the other dancers moved in one direction and then the other. Chuckling softly, he watched as Fate fell in step with legs of wood.
At first it seemed as though they were merely going back and forth, until the girls weaved past him and the other boys, brushing by as soft as feathers. The beat of the music increased, as did their pace. All the girls, except Fate, laughed with careless abandon. The boys stared back at them, the gleam of desire plain in their eyes.
Finn watched Fate. She was biting her bottom lip in concentration, her gaze fixed intently on the movements of the other dancers. When he circled round, his shoulder grazed hers. He felt a bolt of electricity pass between them. She must have felt it too, because her head shot up and she locked eyes with him. The instant blush of color in her cheeks stirred something primal in him. He thought she’d look away, as she so often did, but her lips curved into a playful smile. His heart hammered in his chest. She twirled out of reach, circling the tree until they met on the other side. This time he leaned close to her upturned face, feeling the heat of her breath and the touch of her lips against his cheek as she whisked past him.
The intertwining dance continued on this way, building the chase between each young man and woman while ribbons laced together. The heady scent of lavender, roses and lilac filled the air, as did the music’s earthy rhythms. Finn only had eyes for Fate as she lost herself in the dance, swaying to the beat and staring back at him with a passion that burned as hot as his own.
At last the music hit a final crescendo and ebbed just as the dance turned in the opposite direction. Once again, the girls wended their way between the boys, slowly unraveling their ribbons from their initial entanglement until they were all going in one direction––though now the order was mixed, male and female standing side by side.
When the motion around the tree came to a standstill, Finn could no longer keep a lid on his emotions and crushed Fate against his chest, twirling her around. “You are miraculously breathtaking when you let your hair down.”
She laughed as he set her down gently, keeping her in his arms. Her smile was mischievous when she looked up at him. “Does this mean we’ve tied the knot?”
He lifted one of her curls to his nose, inhaling the perfume of the flowers woven into her hair. “Technically, it’s not official unless the ceremony’s consummated before next Beltane. Until then, we’re bound by an unspoken promise to be truly wed.”
Uneasy excitement played over her features as she looked at him, her eyes wide and searching. A mixture of emotions sparked off her like the burning embers of a campfire, singeing him first with hope and passion, then all of a sudden scorching him with distrust. This increasing connection he had with her––experiencing her feelings as if they were his own––didn’t do anything to help him know what she was thinking. Frustration set in as her tension grew more pronounced.
Guessing he must’ve said the wrong thing, he loosened his hold, trying to get her to face him. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d never expect that from you.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Because of Tove? You’d rather she was here instead of me?”
He let his hands slip from her waist as his heart tore in two. “Tove and I shared something I can’t begin to describe. We were as close as any two people can get––but she’s not you.”
She stepped back, putting a painful chasm between them. “But you love her, don’t you?”
“Is that the reason you tried to leave me behind in the last fable?”
“Oh, you noticed that?” she muttered.
“I guess you were being considerate, but you have to trust me when I say that what I share with you outshines everything else. It’s as if you’re part of me…or I’m a part of you.”
He thought his honest confession would please her. Instead, her eyes welled with tears.
He sucked in a deep breath. The tightening in his chest hurt. Maybe it was best she remain unhappy with him. He shouldn’t have given into his feelings in the first place. Not when the poison was changing him in ways she found frightening. Looking back, he had to admit inflicting justice on those robbers was probably much more satisfying than it should’ve been.
He needed to be more self-disciplined around her. Of course that was easier said than done. His overpowering desire to be with her had turned him into something needful and greedy. “I’m sorry,” he said, defeat weighing him down. “I’ve been selfish. I don’t know what I was thinking declaring my feelings like I’ve every right to. I’m doomed and a danger to you.”
Fate’s watery stare rounded with concern. He sensed her defenses coming down.
She stretched out her hand. “No, don’t go thinking that way. We’ll find a way to stop the poison before it’s too late. I promise.”
The conviction in her voice gave him hope. He reached across the space between them, taking the hand she offered. “Hearing you say that makes me believe I might actually have a chance.”
She stepped close, timidly, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. Surprised, he stopped breathing, afraid to move lest he scare her away. He wished he could freeze this moment. Make it last forever. Carefully, he circled his arms around her, turning his face into the softness of her neck.
They stayed that way for one fleeting moment of bliss, while the multitudes of rollicking people flowed past them like the rapid currents of a river flowing around a tiny island.
Chapter 21
FATE STARED AT HER REFLECTION in disbelief. She’d been fitted in a gown of rich brown taffeta. She ran her fingers over the intricately beaded bodice. It hugged her curves nicely. A fairy godmother couldn’t have done a better job, though she would’ve preferred a quick
wave of the wand to having a group of strange women plop her in a steaming bath, scrub her skin, slather her hair with oils and even towel her off and dress her in layers of unnecessary undergarments. Yet she’d endured it all––even the cinching of the rib-crushing corset–– without protest to ensure that O’Deldar’s generosity would not be held under scrutiny. Their plan involved an evening at the masqued ball so they could get close to Moria.
Hiding a pleased smile, she looked over her bare shoulder to check out the backside of the dress.
“Hold still please, miss,” one of the handmaids scolded as she added the final touches. Two tortoise shell combs crowned the cascade of curls framing her face. A twinkling amber necklace graced the elegant neckline of her gown, and matching earrings mirrored the color of her eyes.
Thanking her helpers for the miracle they’d managed to pull off, Fate slipped on the long velvet gloves they handed her.
A knock on the door of her suite had one of the maids scurrying to open it.
In walked Finn. He was dressed in a white linen shirt, a gold and black brocade overcoat, and suede breeches tucked inside black boots trimmed with gold buttons. He looked so devastatingly striking, Fate’s heart climbed into her throat, rendering her speechless.
He stared back, his eyes wide and mouth open. She couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or not and the longer he stood in silence, the more uncomfortable she became. She wasn’t one to obsess about her looks but at this very moment her appearance meant everything. So much so, her anxiety turned into the heckling voice of the late Blackwell––she thinks she’s a princess but she’s really the Duchess of Dowdy.
“You’re beautiful, beyond words,” he said finally, his voice cracking.
“You too,” she said as the maids drew back with tearful smiles.
Flustered and unable to stop the Kamikaze butterflies crashing in her stomach, she reached for her beaded mask to hide her nervousness. “Shall we?”
Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales Page 21
