by Lucy Fear
CHAPTER 13
It was lucky, she thought as she climbed the narrow stairs, that Professor Archwood was a relatively young man with no close family, so he still lived in residence at Dee College, the particular school of Oxford that encompassed all things magical.
Still, she hoped he was home and not out because, even with the occasionally unpredictable way time flowed between the Otherworld and the mortal realm, the situation was rather urgent. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
There was a few lengthy moments of silence, and then the door opened. Rowan was a bit shocked at the Professor’s appearance, but not half as much as he was by hers. “Miss Ravencroft?! What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said, trying not to stare at his half-open shirt, mussed hair, or bare feet. “I know this is sudden, but I badly need your help.”
He ran his hand through his hair, evidently debating with himself, and then nodded. “Very well. You and your friend may come in,” he said, opening the door wider. “I’ll make tea.” The two women made their way into his rooms which were cluttered with books and mismatched furniture in a way, Rowan reflected, that only a man living alone would do. The professor cleaned off two battered chairs from them to sit on before retreating to the hearth and stoking the fire.
“I assume your Father doesn’t know you’re here,” he said as he filled the teapot and fished out a few mugs from a cabinet.
“No, as he’s in a meeting with the Privy Council. But it’s not as if he forbids me to come here,” she said, frowning at him.
“I’m surprised,” Professor Archwood replied. “I suppose he imagined the thought would never cross your mind. But didn’t I hear a rumor that you’d been engaged to a Prince on the continent?”
“Well, that’s about as believable as the truth,” she said, shrugging. “Why on earth would he care whether I spoke to you or not?”
“Your father and I used to be best friends,” he said. “I was there when you were born. I know that’s difficult to believe.” It was, for a myriad of reasons. Rowan didn’t think the professor looked old enough to have been friends with her father when she was born, but she didn’t see what reason he would have to lie.
“What happened?” Professor Archwood handed her a cup of tea, and then Fenella, who was looking at him with narrowed eyes.
Only possessing two chairs, he was obliged to lean against the wall with his tea, and he did so, his head tipped back toward the ceiling and eyes shut as if he was remembering something painful. Rowan wondered whether he would even deign to answer her.
Then, he lowered his head and sighed. “I suppose it was nearly eighteen years ago. It had been a cold winter, and you had accompanied your father to a gathering at a nearby estate where the children were all skating on a frozen pond. But the ice cracked, and you fell in. When he brought you here, you were lifeless and cold.
Not dead, but nearly. No healing spell that either of us possessed was having any effect, and I told Geoffrey that it was a lost cause. But he begged me to do something, anything. It had only been a year since your mother had died. I called the Triskel Gate and sent him to the Court of Heavens, where, it was rumored, lived the most powerful healer of the Fair Folk. He took you in, and, an hour later, you both came out again. You were laughing and smiling as if nothing had occurred.”
It made a sort of horrible sense. “So, that was the bargain he made. My life for his,” Rowan said, sighing.
Professor Archwood nodded. “At first, he truly believed it was worth it. For a bargain with Lord Kennet, it was surprisingly fair. But the closer the time came for your father to fulfil his end, the bitterer he became. He seemed to think I tricked him into it.”
“That explains why he hates the Fair Folk so much. I suppose all the research he does into other traditions was to seek a way out of his contract,” Fenella remarked, the first time she had bothered to speak.
“Of course,” Professor Archwood replied. “Geoffrey Ravencroft is a proud man. He doesn’t like to be told what to do. I was astounded that he allowed his daughter to study magic at all, and even more surprised that he didn’t try to get the college to throw me out when he heard I was teaching her about the Aos Si in an unbiased manner.” He set down his tea cup and fixed Rowan with a piercing stare.
“Now, it’s time for you to tell your story. What is so important that you need my help with it?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, in a way, it’s a continuation of what you did for me all those years ago.”
******************
A half hour later, Professor Archwood sighed. “There is a sort of cosmic irony to this whole situation. Geoffrey did everything he could to stay away from the Aos Si, and in the end, he will lose his daughter to them anyway.”
“So you will help me?” Rowan asked, leaning forward in eager surprise. She had expected it to take much more work to convince him.
He shrugged. “I suspect that if I do not help you, you will only try to do it on your own. You have neither the power nor the experience to control a planar gate, but if you burn yourself to a crisp, I’ll have to live with the guilt forever. Besides, it’s not as if your father and I could be on worse terms.” He pushed himself up from the wall and donned his cloak and boots. “There’s not enough room here to cast a circle. We will have to go to the roof.”
The roof of Dee College was wide and flat with battlements, rather like a medieval castle, meant to block the wind. Because the roof was meant for magic, the circles with their axes and central symbols laid out in silver poured hot into carved grooves in the stone.
Professor Archwood led them to a circle in the corner which was set up especially for portal spells. As they watched, he placed blue, gold, and green tapers into their alcoves, and then began to sketch symbols on the ground with a piece of chalk.
“I can’t believe he can inscribe the whole circle from memory,” Rowan said. “The Triskel Gate is an extremely complicated spell.”
“Are you certain you trust him?” Fenella whispered. “His aura is strange. I could swear I’ve met him before, but I can’t imagine where.”
“I don’t know him all that well, but I don’t see how it would benefit him to lie. We came to him, after all, and I didn’t even know about his relationship with my father.”
Fenella pursed her lips, obviously sceptical but unable to come up with an argument, and then the professor approached them, flushed from effort, but looking confident. “The portal is ready; it only needs to be powered.”
Rowan nodded. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask you before we go,” she said, pulling out one of her notebooks. “I’ve been working on this spell, and I’m afraid I may need it.”
CHAPTER 14
The portal spit them out in front of Aidan’s mountain estate. Home, home, Rowan’s heart chanted, but the rest of her was too busy reeling from vertigo to pay much mind. She lay on the ground for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard someone calling her name.
When she opened her eyes to find Fenella’s face swimming in front of her, she supressed the urge to vomit, and thankfully, it passed after a second or two. She sat up.
“Lady Rowan? Is that you?” said a new voice which she recognized as Teague’s. She turned in his direction, giving him the bravest smile she could manage. “I never thought I’d see you again,” the bard said, kneeling down by her side.” But I’m glad you’ve returned. The Prince hasn’t been right since you left.”
“I know. I’ve come to set things in order. Where is Aidan?” The vulpine man winced, shaking his head.
“He’s already gone to the duel in that awful arena that his brother runs.” Rowan remembered it from what may as well have been another life. Niall had said she wouldn’t be interested, but she knew the truth was that she would probably be horrified by anything he might have considered a sport.
“You can take me there,
can’t you?” she questioned, pushing herself to her feet. Teague searched her face and was apparently satisfied by what he found.
“I will. I hope you can help him, my Lady. Prince Aidan deserves better than this, and so does the Court.” Rowan turned to Fenella.
“I’d like you to stay here. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’d like to have someone I know I can trust waiting for me.” Perhaps for the first time in months, Fenella bowed deeply, and Rowan knew it was not mockery, but a true indicator of respect.
“As you wish, my Lady. Good luck.”
*****************
Rowan had been prepared to be upset by what she found when she arrived at the arena. But when she looked down into the hollow beneath the stands and saw Aidan there in dragon form, bleeding from more wounds than she could count, she felt such fury rise up within her that she gained a new understanding of what he had felt the day they had been attacked.
And Lord Kennet was just sitting in a throne at the top of the stands, watching. The arena was scarred by recent magic, flames and ice and who knew what else, but the Lord of the Heavens watched with a face that was as bored and impassive as if he’d been watching paint dry. She sent Teague back to the estate. Better for him not to be involved.
She felt no fear as she stormed up to the Lord, though it was interesting that he appeared unsurprised to see her. Either that or he was even better at concealing his emotions than she thought. “Are you just going to sit there and do nothing?!”
He raised an eyebrow. “This was agreed to by both parties. I am forbidden to interfere.”
“By whom? Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of this nonsense? Aidan has been poisoned, for goodness sake!” She resisted the impulse to stamp her foot like a frustrated child.
Lord Kennet frowned slightly. Perhaps he hadn’t known. “He could have called for an inquiry. The duel has begun. There’s nothing to be done.” Below, Aidan roared with pain as the pale blue dragon that was Niall bit down on his foreleg.
It was too much for Rowan to bear. “This is ridiculous. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and watch him die.” It was the first time in her life she’d ever cursed out loud, but she was past caring.
She recited the incantation that she had worked on for weeks, tracing the sigil in the air. She’d never drawn so much magic power intentionally, and it scorched her blood as it flooded through her, like drinking tea before it cooled. But the power was also intoxicating; it filled her and filled her until she felt she might burst, and she could feel herself changing, growing.
Wings burst from her back, and scales armored her skin; she was powerful and magnificent, and she roared loud enough to shake the foundations of the universe. Both of the males below looked up at her, stunned and awed. She glared down, feeling hatred burn in her heart as she looked upon the one with the white and cerulean scales.
How dare he think he could have her, a coward who couldn’t win except by cheating. She would show him what she thought of him. She would protect what she loved. With another roar, she dove down into the arena, slamming into the ground between the two males and showing her teeth to the pale dragon, the one she hated. Her fury was such that she could hardly remember his name.
He roared at her, raising his wings to intimidate, but she was not cowed. She slashed at him with her claws, which he clearly had not expected, since he didn’t even attempt to dodge. He screamed with pain and anger at the resulting wounds to his face and charged forward, snapping at her neck. They rolled together in the dirt, biting and clawing to little effect until she managed to get her hind claws tucked into his stomach, and she raked at him like an angry cat.
The male dragon leaped away before she could do him any true damage, but she could see that he was flagging. He had been fighting his brother for hours and was not only exhausted but completely out of magic. She was fresh and angry, and she shrieked a defiant challenge.
Behind her, the other dragon got to his feet, still darkly beautiful despite his wounds. He was the fire in her blood, the beat of her heart, and now they were together. His scent told her that he was weak, but that his injuries, though painful, were not life-threatening. They touched noses briefly in affection and affirmation, and then, as one, they turned to face their foe, wings mantling.
He knew the tide had turned against him, and with an angry roar, he shot into the sky. They watched him fly away for several minutes, until he was no longer visible even to their keen dragon sight. Then, she felt the unraveling of a great magic beside her, and from a cyclone of feathers emerged a man, small and fragile in her eyes.
“Rowan,” he said in a wavering voice, and she remembered that Rowan was her name. It anchored her back to who she was. Aidan was the man she loved, and now he needed her to come back to herself. It was like being folded up, like the paper crane her father had once brought back from the Orient. Wings and scales disappeared, and she was once again a human woman. She darted forward just in time to catch Aidan as he started to falter.
“I’m here,” she said, wrapping her arms around his back.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he murmured, “but I’m glad that you did. You were magnificent.”
“No amount of compliments is going to save you from me, sir,” she said, scowling at him. “How could you send me back home with no explanation?! I love you, Aidan, but I am not a parcel to be placed out of the way whenever it is convenient!”
His eyes widened; he looked like he was unsure whether to laugh or cry, but then he embraced her tightly and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, Rowan. I’ve been an idiot. I love you, so very much,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please forgive me.”
“I have some questions for you, and then we shall see what happens,” she said archly, but she held him close, returning his relieved kiss with one of her own, full of promises for later.
“This is all quite touching, I’m sure, but shouldn’t you two be going before Niall comes back with his own reinforcements?” Lord Kennet approached them with a smile on his face, but Rowan glared. Whatever his intentions might be, she wasn’t ready to forgive his inaction.
Aidan gave her a wan smile. “He is right. It would be foolish to stay here any longer.” He drew himself up, perhaps intending to build a portal himself, but Lord Kennet put a hand on his shoulder.
“I will cast the gate. It is the least I can do.” It didn’t seem like such a concession, Rowan reflected, when one could make such a complex spell with a snap of the fingers. But there it was, a glowing portal in the middle of the arena. “You’ll have a few days before the hounds start calling for blood. That’s all I can promise.”
“I understand,” Aidan said, and he put his arm around Rowan’s waist. “Let’s go home.”
*************
Fenella and Teague were waiting when they arrived in the main courtyard. They both tried not to be shocked by Aidan’s visible injuries. “Shall I send for a healer?” Teague asked, eyes wide.
“No. I’ll tend to him myself,” Rowan said firmly. Though some of the wounds were ugly, there was nothing she couldn’t heal, especially considering the magic available here. Teague looked a bit sceptical, but Aidan waved him away.
“It’s fine. I would rather have Rowan do it, and it looks much worse than it actually is,” he said. But she could tell he was exhausted. He leaned into her shoulder as they walked back to their room, and just the thought of their room made her heart feel full.
Fenella followed behind them, bringing clean towels and bandages, and then she left them alone. Rowan led Aidan to the bathroom. “Do you need help undressing?” she asked, her cheeks flushed despite the fact that she had nothing untoward in mind. At present.
“Please,” he said wearily. “You don’t know how disappointed I am that the first time you undress me, I won’t be in any shape to take advantage of it.”
Her face grew hotter, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Something to keep in mind for later,” she said playfully, wanting
to keep him distracted. The fabric was stuck to his wounds, so removing it would probably hurt. Unfortunately, she did not know the spell that would magic his clothes away, and he obviously did not have it in him to cast. She started unbuttoning his shirt, trying to keep her mind firmly anchored on the fact that he was injured and needed her help rather than the smooth expanse of his bared skin.
She looked up at him as she finished with the buttons and started to peel the shirt away. “Fenella told me she’s been working for you the whole time.” He drew in a sharp breath, and she wasn’t sure if that was due to his wounds or what she had just said. “I think you ought to tell me why you’ve been watching me most of my life.”
“I should have told you long ago,” he said hoarsely. “I wanted to believe that it didn’t matter anymore, but I owe you an explanation.” Rowan nodded, and his shirt fell to the floor. The number of wounds clotted with dried blood made her want to cry, but she took a deep breath and dipped a clean cloth into the warm water that filled the tub.
“I’m not angry, but I do want to know the truth. Sit down here. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, cleaning your wounds, and you keep talking.”
He nodded, swallowing thickly. She picked up the dark mass of his hair and tied it at the top of his head, and then started washing the dirt and blood away from his back.
“I was there when your father brought you to Lord Kennet, barely clinging to life. It was a good opportunity for him, buying the allegiance of a powerful mortal wizard, but he was hesitant. My father is not a healer, and to bring someone back who was already on the brink of the afterlife would be a significant use of power.
He was reluctant to weaken himself that way. I was young, not as young as you obviously,” he added with a small smile, “But I had only recently returned to my father’s side, and I was eager to be useful to him. Besides, I suppose I was moved by such a showing of parental love. Certainly, my father would never have sacrificed so much for me.”
