Cupids Enchantment

by Cupid's Enchantment(lit)

  CUPID’S ENCHANTMENT

  By

  Michelle M. Pillow

  © copyright February 2005, Michelle M. Pillow

  Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright February 2005

  ISBN 1-58608-267-1

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Dedication:

  To all those who don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day--a Cupid you can love.

  Prologue

  Cupid was livid. No, he was outraged. He was beyond furious.

  Make fun of him, would he? Make the whole court at Lycaon think he was a joke--an incompetent clod that couldn’t make two pigs fall in love! Call him a fairy, would he? Call him a rosy-faced cherub? He accidentally hit a man instead of a goat with a love dart, causing one couple to fall in love four hundred years ago, and he got branded a matchmaker for life.

  Bah! Ach!

  It was time for the jests to end! Cupid would show them what this squat little cherub could do. He’d have the last laugh. He’d prove to them that not only could he make the whole Lycaon court fall in love--he’d make them fall in love with the same woman!

  Oh, and this was his favorite part! He’d not get just any woman. He’d bring one from the mortal realm--the ugliest woman he could find! See how the wolves liked panting after a human--their ancient hunters, the whole reason the realms of mortal and magic were separated in the first place.

  His short legs pumped along the dusty abandoned path coming from his cave home. He angrily kicked at little daisies that dared to grow along the side, ruining the look of his taller weeds. He hated flowers! He hated lycans! And he most definitely hated to watch people fall in love!

  Cupid paused in his tirade to look at the vial of bright pink philter in his gnarled troll hand. A wide grin spread over his thick, long lips, dipping under his oversized nose. His small black eyes lit with greedy pleasure. This potion was the old magic. No simple blow dart would do this time. Once he doused the mortal woman with this pheromone, the entire Lycan Guard would be brought howling to their knees.

  He’d find a woman for them, all right. Then that overbearing Lord Ilar would never doubt his magic again!

  Chapter One

  Wales, Realm of Mortals, 1406 AD

  Lady Rhiannon of Weilshire looked out over the dismal courtyard of her castle home. The narrow slit in the thick wall made it hard to see, not that she’d been able to see anything from the height of the tall tower anyway. It had been raining for what seemed like weeks, never letting up once as the gray skies consumed the day hours with their dark foreboding. The ground had turned into a bottomless pit of sticky black mud, marred by the heavy tracking of horses and carts. It made for a very bleak view.

  Rhiannon had been banished, once again, to spend the day away from her father’s guests. Pressing her cheek tightly to the slotted opening, she reached her hand through the thick wall to feel the outside of the castle. She was barely rewarded with a sprinkling of freezing water on her fingertips.

  Her father, Lord Orrell, was a Welsh Earl who hadn’t been blessed with sons. Rhiannon was the younger of two daughters. Agrona, the eldest sister, would marry his heir. It was a very serious business, Agrona’s marriage, and Lord Orrell didn’t want the fairer sibling--again--ruining his chance at a proper alliance.

  Rhiannon frowned. She’d offer to cut off her own nose if they’d agree to let her come down from the tower. It wasn’t her fault that every one of Agrona’s suitors turned to her instead. It’s not like she encouraged them, or wanted them. Unwed noblemen were a rarity at the moment and Lord Orrell couldn’t afford to bind Rhiannon to one without first insuring Agrona’s future. Rhiannon didn’t have any desire to marry and was quite comfortable running around her father’s keep--when she was allowed to run around.

  With a sigh, she brought her hand back inside. Pressing her nose into the crevice, she sniffed. The cold air hit against her face, stinging her cheeks to a sharp red. She knew she shouldn’t stay away from the fire too long, lest she catch her death in the evening wind. But, as an exceptionally strong draft found its way to her, she smiled, and couldn’t quite force herself to move away.

  * * * *

  Cupid’s beady eyes narrowed in black mischief as he crawled his way over the lively main hall floor. Magic kept him partially hidden, but he didn’t want to ruffle the tapestries and make his presence known. Damned humans spooked too easily. If it had been any other time, he would’ve gladly stirred up a mischievous wind just to watch them run away.

  Ah! Help! The devil approaches anon! he mimicked. He heard the cackling of his own pleasure in his head as he thought of the mortal cries. He almost chuckled aloud in his good humor. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in the mortal realm, but damned if it wasn’t just too much fun! Then, shaking his head, he thought, Bah! Foolish humans. Anything unexplained was the devil.

  Pressing his long lips together, he searched the hall for the most horrendous of the mortal women. As he eyed the head table, his heart about stopped. A dreamy smile came to the troll’s crinkled lips and he smacked them together.

  Now, there’s a tasty little treat, he thought, as he stared at the large Goddess at the high table. She was wrapped in yards of clashing yellow silk. A touch of drool spilled over the side of his mouth, dripping to the floor like thick tree sap.

  A torch burned brightly behind the woman’s head, making the frizzy strands of her most beautiful hair stick out like a banshee. Her nose hooked at the end in the most delectable way and the large mole on her chin had a glorious three hairs growing out of it. Three! The luckiest of numbers when it came to hairs and moles!

  Cupid sighed dreamily, loving the pull of her one eyebrow dipping over her narrow eyes. Musicians played a lively tune, but Cupid couldn’t hear them over the frantic beating of his pea-sized heart. She was perhaps the most enchanting mortal he’d ever seen. Ah, but the fair temptress wouldn’t be going with him this night. She was too beautiful and he was in search of an ugly maiden--the most repugnant female he could find.

  "Aye, he keeps ’er locked away in the tower," Cupid heard a burly man whisper. The troll stopped, changing his route to near a table of knights.

  The soldier who spoke tore a chunk of meat off a bone and then threw the scrap over his shoulder. It landed on the floor at Cupid’s feet. The little troll smacked his lips, took the bone up, and gnawed at it in pleasure. These men might be mortals, but they sure knew how to live right.

  Cupid perked his tiny ears up as he crept closer to listen, the bone hanging halfway out of his lips. He sat beneath the large soldier’s bench seat, surrounded by the satisfying perfume of sweaty feet. He continued to gnaw. The mortal court was much better than Lycaon’s cleanly ways. Whoever heard of a law stating you must come to the table clean?

  Bah! Cupid thought with a repulsed shiver. He’d been kicked out of Lycaon more than once for not bathing.

  "Lord Orrell is afraid she’ll turn away Lady Agrona’s suitors," the knight continued. The men all looked at the high table where Cupid’s temptress sat. Her thick lips chewed greedily on a hunk of meat. When she pulled the bite away, the lower half of her face was covered in grease. The men grimaced slightly as they watched the lady.

  Cupid sighed. It must be a terrible woman indeed to frighten a suitor away from such a lovely vision of womanly perfection. And to make grown soldiers shiver at the very thought of her!

  Slowly, a smile formed on his wrinkled face. A woman so hideous that she had to be
locked away in a tower? A maiden like that was exactly what Cupid needed to avenge himself against Lord Ilar, Commander of the Lycans! Let his whole wolfen army go mad with lust for an unsightly woman. Let Ilar himself fall so madly in love that he would blindly mate with her!

  Aye, Cupid mused with enthusiasm. Let him degrade himself by choosing an ugly mortal for a lifemate! That will teach him to tease a troll!

  * * * *

  "Ach! She’s unbearable! Too skinny!" came the muttering of a voice.

  Rhiannon gasped, pulling her face away from the window. Her heart sped slightly, as she paused to listen. Her nose was frozen red and her eyes watered from the nip of the cold wind. She blinked to clear her eyes and looked around the tower bedroom. When all was silent, she let loose her captured breath and laughed at her nervousness. She’d definitely been held captive too long. She was starting to hear voices.

  Rhiannon stepped toward the fire to warm her chilled face. She curled her bare feet into the soft fur rug. The thick pelt was already warmed by the fire’s heat and felt wonderful against her toes. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth overcome her and tried to still her nervous heart.

  "Ach! And she smells so clean!"

  Rhiannon nearly screamed. She spun around on her heels to glance about the chamber. Her bed was empty, completely smoothed. Her trunk was untouched. Other than the chair by the window, there was nothing else.

  "What sorcery is this? Who’s there?" she asked, her voice trembling. She wound her hand into the blue skirt of her long tunic dress, twisting it up in her floor-length sleeves. Suddenly, her bodice felt a little too tight. She gasped in an effort to slow her breath and tried to ease her speeding heart. She licked her lips to stop their trembling. "Show yourself to me at once."

  Rhiannon bent over to peek beneath the bed. Nothing.

  "Oh! The grating voice!"

  She shot back up.

  "Who are you?" she demanded. She twisted her hands hysterically, nearly ripping the material of her gown. She couldn’t tell where the voice came from. It sounded hollow, as if coming from all directions of the circular tower. She glanced around for a weapon. There was nothing. "What do you want with me?"

  She backed up until the heat of the fire tingled so badly she thought her hair might catch aflame. The voice didn’t sound like a man, but a rasping monster. For a long moment there was silence, except for the raggedness of her hastened breath as her constricted lungs tried to gulp for air.

  "Oh," she whimpered softly to herself, hoping to draw some measure of comfort from hearing her own voice. Her heart beat so violently it nearly choked her. "Methinks I’m going mad in this seclusion. There’s no one here. The chamber is empty. There’s no one here...."

  "Ah! And she’s weak--scared and weak and trembling. Perfect, perfect! The lycans don’t like weak." The voice was beside itself in giddy pleasure.

  This time Rhiannon did scream as she darted for the door, convinced the castle was beset with spirits. The alderman had warned her that unrested souls could walk on such dreary nights as these. She hadn’t believed him at the time.

  The door was locked. She wrapped her stiff fingers around the circular handle, pulling viciously at it, shaking her entire body in an effort to break through the thick oak barrier. It didn’t budge, not even to jar with noise. Tears ran down her cheeks, spilling from her frightened eyes. She called for help, pounded hard at the thick wood. There was no answer. She was too high from the hall and her father’s men couldn’t hear her cries.

  Suddenly, a pink vial flew from behind her. Rhiannon didn’t see it as it materialized out of thin air. With a thud it hit her on the back of her skull, breaking into miniscule pieces of glass that disappeared like the lost glow of falling ash. The impact of the blow sent her forehead crashing into the door. A soft moan of surprise left her lips as she was instantly knocked unconscious.

  Rhiannon’s frail body dropped to the castle floor like a stone, unmoving as she lay twisted and curled at odd angles. The pink potion from the vial spread over her flesh and soaked into her skin, gliding into her mouth, her eyes, her nose. It didn’t stop until every last drop vanished as if it had never been there.

  Cupid dropped the cloak of magic that hid him from the human world. He ambled forward on his short legs to study his captive, grimacing to see that her skin was soft and rosy and too smooth. He knew her eyes were a disgusting blue beneath her lids and could only be glad that they were closed. Her hair was a curly mass of blonde that reflected the orange of the firelight. If he’d been a younger troll, he might have heaved his supper upon her face.

  Too bad, he thought in disgust. ’Twould be a vast improvement.

  Picking his overlarge nose, he shivered in contemplation. If he was going to have to travel to the realm of the immortals with her as a companion, he needed to do something to hide her hideousness from his view. Hearing the rain, he grinned. Plucking his finger out of his nose, he grabbed the human lady beneath her armpits.

  Slowly taking one step back in the tower bedchamber, he dragged her with him. Cupid felt the rain hit upon his hunched shoulders. Another step and he felt the squish of mud beneath his feet. The woman didn’t move as he hauled her from the tower bedchamber into the cold storm. With a plop, he dropped her shoulders and she fell into the muck. The tower bedchamber faded completely from view.

  Cupid looked up at the narrow slit of the tower window high above them and smiled. Ah, he loved magic. There was no need to lug this heavy load down all those stairs. Looking back at the woman, he frowned anew. The sooner he was done with this task the better. Taking revenge had never been so unpleasant a chore.

  Rolling the woman over, he covered her motionless body in mud. He slapped it on her face and forced it into her hair, drowning out the disgusting blonde hue. When he’d finished, he smiled. That was much, much better.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon took a deep breath, feeling her mind ease from the shadowed darkness of dreams. The images really had been more like nightmares. Dark, shapeless figures hunted her. She thought them to be men, but for their long beastlike howls. She’d tried to run from them, but they’d been so fast, moving as if they were part of the night itself.

  Rhiannon frowned, taking another breath. The air was sweet--too sweet for the dismal tower bedchamber. It smelled like the forest. Her limbs still quivered faintly from the remnant memories of the nightmares. Her mouth was glued shut, her skin tight. Even her eyes didn’t want to open from the darkness, no matter how hard she tried to blink.

  "Umm," she groaned, sitting up. The sound was muffled by her closed mouth. She felt dizzy, as she lifted her fingers to feel her eyes. Her face was covered in dried mud.

  Rhiannon dug and wiped at her face until she got to the point she could see. Looking around, she did her best to ignore the grating of dust beneath her eyelids. She was in a forest, though the trees didn’t look like her father’s land. They were too tall, too wide of base, and their bark too red.

  She narrowed her eyes in confusion. Where was she? She couldn’t remember a thing. Where was the hunting party? Certainly, she hunted if she was in the forest. She felt around on the ground. Where was her bow if she hunted? Was she attacked? Did she lose her seat on her mount and fall? It would explain her dizzy head.

  No, she thought with pride. She was much too fine of a rider for that and, though it ached, her body wasn’t terribly bruised.

  Hearing water nearby, she struggled to her hands and knees. Disoriented, Rhiannon crawled her way to what blurrily looked like a stream. Kneeling by the shore, she cupped water into her stiff fingers and washed her face, scrubbing away the mud. It was clumped thick and tight. It seemed like an eternity passed before she could get her features clear of it.

  Blinking, she looked up at the sky. The purple appeared a little off color for such a fine day. Wait. Hadn’t it been raining? That could explain the color. But, what of the ground? It was dry, almost cracked where the stream didn’t touch it.

  Rhiannon
felt her stomach churn, growling viciously at her for food. She leaned back over to cup more water, drinking before splashing more onto her face. As she rinsed her hands, she sighed. She heard another growl. Abruptly, she stopped. It wasn’t her stomach making the noise.

  Her eyes wide, she gradually looked around her, careful not to move too quickly. She had no weapon and wouldn’t be able to fight off whatever wild beast was nearby. She curled her fingers, retracting from the chill of the water as they bound into fists.

  Behind her the forest was dense--too dense to see through. She noticed the leaves were large and pale. The clear stream curled through the trees, making its own clearing. Along the shores were wide paths. The dirt floor was covered with the littering of leaves and twigs. Sunlight shone in from the break in the trees, glistening like liquid crystals on the top of the glassy water. A log fell over the stream at a shallow point to make a natural bridge between the two shores.

  Rhiannon slowly got to her feet, slipping slightly on moss that grew along the water’s stony edge. Her feet were bare, and her toes cold and numb. She was stiff and stabs of pain radiated up her legs. Her gown was covered in mud and it weighed her down as she tried to move. She continued to slip, but she intended on making the bridge and didn’t stop to look for better footing.

  Whatever growled had been on this side of the stream. She had every intention of getting herself to the other side before it found her. Inching along, she saw a branch and lifted it before her like a broadsword.

  "Rrrrrr."

  Rhiannon stiffened at the low rumble. Whatever it was, it was to her left and it definitely wasn’t human. She continued to inch as quietly as possible. Angling the branch in the creature’s direction, she backed away.

  "Rrrrrr."

  Oh, no! she thought in terror. That growl was to the right. She froze, tears of apprehension coming to her scratchy eyes as she awaited another sound.