The Gift of Love

by Lori Foster

  Although she dreamed of him when the moon was full, hearing his voice call her name and feeling the mist of his breath against her cheek, she kept her tears tucked far away where no one would ever see them.

  Not that she would sleep a wink tonight. She would go over every second of their meeting, replay it, savor it, and make up endings where happily ever after was more than a pixie’s tale, and crippled fairies still found love with the one they’d always wanted.

  She sighed, remembering the feel of his arms around her and the scent of him where it drifted across her senses. Then she went inside and closed the door behind her, shutting out the sparkling light and the world atop the trees.

  two

  Several days later a terrified Honeysuckle stood in Summer’s doorway, one thumb tucked into her mouth and a thread-bare gossamer blanket tucked under her other arm.

  Her wings were gone, a thick layer of bandages covering the last of her rapidly healing wounds.

  “Hello,” Summer greeted her, opening the door and poking her head outside. “Are your parents still here?”

  When Honeysuckle shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, Summer felt her anger rise. The least Stag-fern and his wife could do was see their daughter safely to the ground, she thought, grinding her teeth in frustration. How dare they leave the child to face the transition on her own.

  “U-uncle Wolfy wantsss to s-see you.” The little princess popped her thumb out of her mouth and reached for Summer’s hand. “B-But his w-w-wings won’t—” Her tears came in earnest now as Honeysuckle realized this was a completely different world than the one she was used to.

  “I know. My door is so small his wings won’t fit. I planned it like that. Really. This is a special place where wings aren’t allowed.”

  Gathering up her courage, she took Honeysuckle’s hand and walked outside, a smile plastered into place as she faced the waiting fairy king … whose wings had been bound with spider-silk, tucked close to his body and completely useless.

  “What on a swallow’s tail are you doing?” Summer gaped at him, wondering if she should be furious or grateful.

  “Her parents would have come, but I’m the only one who could carry her down the stairs.” His eyes glittered with a mixture of pride and pain, the swirl of emotion enough to make Summer’s chest clench tight.

  “You carried her all the way down?”

  “Uh-huh.” Honeysuckle nodded vigorously. “I never knew he was so good at walking.”

  “Neither did I.” Now what? Did he expect her to invite him in for tea and cakes?

  Summer eyed his trussed-up wings. If he could duck low enough, he would probably fit through the door, and her chambers were much larger on the inside. Plus, it would be wonderful for Honeysuckle to explore her new surroundings with a family member by her side.

  His next words, however, nearly did her in. “I promised Honey I would stay for a few days. See her settled. Practice my legwork.” He shook one foot in the air, grimacing as he made a huge pretense of trying to get it stilled and back on the ground once more.

  Honeysuckle giggled, her cheeks flushing with healthy color. “Silly. Your shoes are torn already.”

  He frowned at the flimsy scraps of material before glancing pointedly at Summer’s sturdy leather boots. “Where can my Honey girl and I get some of those?”

  Finding her tongue proved difficult because Summer’s mind was still trying to grasp the fact that Wolf was planning to stay ground-side for a few days. Did he mean to stay with her? And could she manage to be in his company for so long without her heart shattering in desperation for his love?

  “You don’t seem happy.” His shoulders drooped, his wings trembling against their bonds. Summer knew his muscles must be cramping, his shoulders unused to being pulled down by the full weight of his wings. That he was willing to go through so much for his niece spoke volumes about the man he had become—and king, she realized when he spoke again.

  “I should have come down years ago,” he admitted. “These are my people, too, and I have been neglectful in my duty.”

  “No, you haven’t. Everyone knows how hard you have worked fixing things above.”

  “Then could you invite me in? I really need to sit down, my legs are about to give out.” A smile teased one corner of his mouth, turning to a grimace as his wings trembled once more. Summer could see he was tired, but when Honeysuckle’s knees buckled, Wolf swept her into his arms without a second thought.

  “Give her to me.” Summer held out her arms. “You will have to bend very low to make it through the door,” she added when he opened his mouth to refuse, moving aside so he could see the tiny opening.

  “Done.” He handed Honeysuckle carefully into Summer’s arms. “I was hoping you might not have an extra room,” he whispered wickedly against her ear, “and that I would have to sleep with you.”

  WOLF didn’t know what he was thinking, tying up his wings and trying to see what it would feel like to live on the ground.

  He told himself it was to ease his niece’s transition, but his brother could have just as easily brought Honeysuckle to her new home and got her settled in.

  The plain truth was he missed Summer. He’d jumped at the chance to be with her for a while, however slim the excuse he made up and however foolish he might look to anyone smart enough to see through his ruse.

  Although it had taken him too blighted long to get around to it. Carving the stairs into their tree and fitting balconies on all of the public chambers in the upper kingdom had been more difficult tasks than he’d anticipated.

  The fickle fairies of the world above vacillated in their support of the project with every passing moon. First they staged protests that lasted for days. Then they changed heart and tried to help, getting in the way of the craftsmen and woodworkers, which slowed the process even more than the protests.

  But they were seeing the end of their labors at last, and Wolf fervently hoped that when the improvements were completed, their people could form a more integrated society where worth wasn’t based on how high you could fly.

  He’d always been intrigued by the ground-side of the world, fascinated by the way the fae had dug themselves in around the tree’s massive roots, shops and houses peeking out from every nook and cranny, with gardens planted on every extra expanse of earth.

  It was a calm and pleasant place, far removed from the constant flit and whirl of wings that never ceased above.

  He ducked to follow Summer through her doorway, nearly having to crawl to get his wings below the jamb. Although he feared he’d feel cramped and suffocated by the smallness of the space inside, the room opened up to a large and comfortable area, with a row of windows high on one wall that let in a glimmer of sunshine and a breath of the fresh late-summer air.

  It was cool and dry, with a hardwood floor covered in furs, the walls lined with pitch to keep water out and hung with bright silk tapestries.

  Summer sat Honeysuckle on a couch made of pussy willow, and the little girl smiled when she ran her hands across the tufts.

  “Blister,” Summer called, “our guest has arrived.”

  The little brownie ran in from the kitchen and prostrated himself on the floor when he saw Wolf looking around the chamber. “M-my k-king,” Blister stammered, his nose still pressed to the floor. “You didn’t tell me the king was coming,” he added to Summer in a peeved whisper, turning his head to glare up at her, dust bunnies clinging to his cheeks. “The house is a mess.”

  “The house is fine, good friend,” Wolf assured. “I am certain my niece will be most happy here.”

  “His niece? The king’s niece is our new lodger?” Blister’s voice soared, and he grew even more agitated, crawling on his knees to stare at the wingless child. “I don’t think the bed is soft enough, and I shall have to gather more milk thistle to stuff into her pillows. Such a pretty princess should have all the comforts of home,” he added, standing to give the girl a surprisingly graceful bow. “But I mad
e her my special lavender cakes, sprinkled with spun honey”

  Honeysuckle’s eyes grew round. “I love lavender cakes. However did you know?”

  The brownie winked. “I also know you love hot milk and cinnamon. I have had some simmering on the stove all day.” He started to bustle out the door before whirling around wildly when he realized he’d missed something. “Your Majesty, what can I bring for your pleasure?”

  What Wolf wanted wasn’t on Blister’s menu, but he wasn’t about to say so. “Lavender cakes and milk with cinnamon will be just fme—if you have enough?” He glanced questioningly at Summer. He hadn’t considered his presence might place a burden on her stores.

  “Prince Stag-fern and Princess Tiger-lily have been most generous. We have plenty to go around.” Her smile said she appreciated the sentiment, despite the lateness of his offer.

  “Would you have any mead to flavor the milk?” He gave her a chagrined look. “My feet hurt, and my wings are killing me.”

  Now Summer frowned. “Blister, why don’t you let me serve our guests while you call the cobbler. You can gather some extra milk thistle as you go, and I will save you at least a cake or two.”

  “Excellent.” The brownie counted out the list on his fingers. “Cobbler, milk thistle. Anything else?”

  “Some extra furs would be most welcome. The king will be staying with us a few days.”

  Blister’s nut-brown face paled. “H-His majesty will be staying here? Oh, dear, oh, dear. I haven’t nearly enough butter or acorn flour … or rose water or—” He continued to mutter a list of foodstuffs as he bowed before hurrying out to complete his tasks.

  “What should I do?” Wolf asked in the ensuing silence. He glowered at the small door that led into the kitchen. “I seriously doubt I’ll make it through there.”

  He turned to look for another way in, his wings knocking a row of plates off a cabinet. He knocked off a vase of fresh-cut flowers when he turned the other way to see what he’d done before. Honeysuckle giggled as his face turned red, his embarrassment giving way to grateful affection.

  “I will replace everything I break,” he promised, noting Summer’s sly wink.

  “Wings can be such a bother,” she said, shaking her finger for emphasis. “See, Honeysuckle, how easy it is without them?”

  She spun around in circles, her arms spread wide and her hair whirling around her like a cloud, every bit as graceful in her dance as any woman he’d ever seen.

  And the way his niece looked at her with such hope and admiration threatened to rip his heart from his chest.

  Summer was special. A rare and priceless jewel, and he’d let her slip away, obeying like a good little king when his family and advisers had told him to let her go.

  Was it too late to try to win her back? She was clearly successful and contented in the life she’d made for herself. What right did he have to coax her into returning top-side? There she would be fodder for every envious tongue that waggled and hurled insults under the guise of politely proper conversation.

  Besides, she’d given no sign that she cared for him in any way at all. Was he dreaming, wishing for things he could never have, a simple life without the obligations and expectations of a king?

  Or could he claim some small private victory, finding a way to blend duty with desire?

  Summer brushed her hand down his niece’s cheek, the gesture gentle and reassuring. “I’ll be right back.”

  She would make a great mother. Strong, determined, but wise enough to teach their children there was more to life than the color of one’s wings.

  Honeysuckle stood and took his hand, leading him away from any more breakables to sit beside her at the table. After a bit of arranging, Wolf managed to fit comfortably in the chair.

  “I like Summer,” the princess stated.

  “So do I. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay, but my shoulders still hurt a little bit.”

  “Some willow-bark tea will take care of that.” Summer said as she returned, setting a silver tray before them, filled with cakes and other goodies.

  Honeysuckle grimaced. “I hate willow-bark tea.”

  “Everybody hates willow-bark tea.” Wolf grabbed a lavender cake and put it on Honeysuckle’s plate. “Do what your father and I used to do—hold your nose and drink it down fast.”

  “Really fast,” Summer agreed, adding a dollop of butter to the girl’s cake.

  “Really, really fast,” Wolf continued with a grin.

  “Really, really, really fast,” Honeysuckle piped in, picking up her pastry. “And then I can wash it down with another bite of cake.”

  “Done.” Summer went back to the kitchen and returned with a cup of the loathsome brew. “Ready?”

  Honeysuckle nodded. Wolf held his nose right along with her as she quickly swallowed. “Finished,” she announced proudly after the required bite of cake.

  three

  They spent the next few minutes feasting on sugary cakes and cinnamon milk until the cobbler arrived, busting into the room with a whistle.

  “Good day, Your Majesty,” he said without blinking an eye, “and good day to you, too, young princess.” He knelt by Honeysuckle’s chair, his expression kindly. “I am told you need a pair of the finest boots in the land, ones that will make you as graceful as a deer when you walk through the forest, and fast enough to outrun the swiftest of rabbits.”

  “You can do that?” The fairy child gaped at him in fascination. “Make magical shoes?”

  “Of the most practical sort.” The cobbler opened his pouch and pulled out a thick sheet of aspen bark. “Just place your foot here and let me draw your size.”

  Honeysuckle held out her silk-clad foot, giggling when he pulled off the flimsy shoe and set her foot on the bark, tracing around it with a charcoal stick. “That tickles.”

  The cobbler grinned and stuck her shoe back on. “Now give me the other one.”

  After he had repeated the process, he took out another piece of bark and knelt before Wolf. “Your turn, my king.”

  Wolf obliged, watching the cobbler with interest. “Do I know you?”

  “Yes, sir. Name’s Buckthorn. Fought with your father that spring the toads threatened to eat us all. Lost my wings in combat.” He traced both of Wolf’s feet and put his tools away. “The stairs carved around the trees have really helped my business, Your Majesty. I go up twice a week to take orders and make deliveries. I’ve even found me a wife with the loveliest set of—” He coughed and turned an embarrassed shade of red. “At any rate, we plan to marry in the fall, when her chambers are fully balconied. I thank you for that.”

  Buckthorn stood and brushed the dust from his breeches. “I’ll have these done by morning. They might not be as sturdy as some, but they’ll get you through a few days until I can make the princess a proper pair.”

  “Excellent.” Wolf’s eyes beamed. “I cannot wait to go exploring. And Honeysuckle has challenged me to a race.”

  “Has she now?” He gave the princess another broad smile. “Then I shall have to make your boots too small to make certain she always wins … uh, my king,” he added with a bow.

  Summer thought they’d made a great beginning as she led the cobbler to the door. “Thank you. I didn’t know the king was coming or I would have warned you sooner.”

  “I’ve got a new apprentice who needs to learn how to work all night.” Buckthorn narrowed his eyes at the fading evening light, frowning at the dark shapes that swooped jerkily in the sky above. “Bats tonight. Pray our kin stay safe up top.”

  Summer also frowned as she caught sight of the erratic flight of the animals. Bats mistook fairies for a food source with alarming regularity, and while they didn’t actually eat her people, they could break off wings and send the fae spiraling down to their deaths. There had been more than one occasion when the body of a fairy had been found broken on the ground, a terrible and grisly reminder that danger was an ever-present shadow.

  Blister’s re
turn broke the somber trail of her thoughts. “Milk thistle and furs, milk thistle and furs,” he chanted, his voice muffled beneath the burden of the extra bedding.

  Summer grabbed a handful of furs and the brownie gave her a grateful look. “Did the princess like her cakes and milk?”

  “She ate three, and she practically had to snatch them off the plate before the king beat her to them.”

  Blister glowed at the praise. “I plan scones with blueberry jam for breakfast. Oh, dear.” Without warning he prostrated himself on the floor, milk thistle flying everywhere. “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise, Blister.” Wolf’s grin was both apologetic and amused at the brownie’s insistence on protocol. “Ah, I see we have to make some changes in policy.’

  “You think?” Summer threw the furs in a corner and chased a few rogue strands of the silky plant.

  “Blister, I hereby give you royal permission to treat me like any other fairy whenever I am here on the ground.” Wolf intoned the words in a commanding voice. “Stand up.”

  The brownie blinked and turned wide eyes to Summer before slowly clambering to his feet. “I am not worthy.”

  “Oh, please.” Summer patted Blister on the shoulder. “You are the best housekeeper ever, and I couldn’t manage a day without you, my friend.”

  The brownie ducked his head at the praise, only to snap it to attention a second later. “Got to make the princess’s bed.” He grabbed a fistful of pussy-willow down. “Softer than spider-silk, I promise.” He ran to finish his chore.

  Honeysuckle rushed after him, the last cake held in her hand. “Don’t forget your lavender cake. Saved it special.”

  “Oh, dear, oh, dear,” they heard Blister complain, “crumbs everywhere. Thank you, mistress. If you’ll let me finish my work—”

  By the time Blister had Honeysuckle’s bed as perfect as he could make it, the little fairy had already fallen asleep on the couch. Summer studied the dark circles beneath the child’s eyes, and the lingering pallor of her cheeks.

  The surgery was never easy; however, the princess had braved her way through it. Summer unwound the swath of bandages and looked at the rapidly fading wounds, assuring herself there was no sign of infection or any evidence at all that the blight had spread beyond the child’s wings.