Bride of Fae (Tethers)

by Rigel, LK

  She liked her afterlife clothes, though. The elegant cloth soothed her skin, unlike the cheap polyester she could usually afford. And the tea! Peppermint perfection.

  The golden angel watched her, detached, as though he didn’t know her. As if he’d never saved her life. Maybe he was in trouble for not saving her this time. Maybe the cabinet where he perched was some kind of guardian angel penalty box.

  “I’m sorry I fell off the cliff,” she told him. “I don’t know how it happened. But thank you for saving me the other time.”

  “What do you mean?” His eyes glimmered quizzically, just as when he’d stared at her in the backseat of her dad’s Rambler.

  “When you pulled me from the wreck.”

  “Goldenrod?” The dark angel was not amused. “Do you know this human?”

  “Not in the least,” Goldenrod said. “But apparently you do.”

  Beverly’s cheeks burned.

  “Joking!” Goldenrod raised his hands defensively. “Dandelion, I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

  Goldenrod? Dandelion? They had to be kidding. “I saw you,” she said. “They said I was hallucinating. They said Lord Dumnos pulled us from the car. But I knew it was you. I’ve always known you were real.”

  “Car?” Goldenrod shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  “The accident on the Ring road four years ago,” Beverly said. “You rescued me and my little sister.”

  No comprehension on his face.

  “When I was a child I often saw you at a distance, watching over me.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you before today.”

  She wasn’t crazy. “But you’re my guardian angel.”

  Goldenrod turned red-faced, and Dandelion burst out laughing. “I’ve heard Goldy called many things. Never an angel.”

  Beverly glared at Goldenrod. Why was he lying?

  “Beverly,” Dandelion said. “We’re no angels, and you’re not dead. You’re alive.” His gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips and quickly shifted away to the fire. “Very much alive.”

  Every inch of her body agreed, but her mind couldn’t process the information. “If I’m not dead…if you’re not angels…”

  Sun and moon. Her hand shook, and the teacup clattered against its saucer.

  Goldenrod jumped off the chest. “May I present Prince Dandelion of the Dumnos fae, and I’m Goldenrod.” He made an exaggerated bow. “Call me Goldy.”

  A picture of the pub popped into Beverly’s head and Clyde telling his Mischief Night story. The best of all Mischief Night stories. She’d always joined in with those who claimed to believe him, but it was all for a laugh. A game.

  All of Dumnos pretended to believe in fairies and wyrding women and the high gods and the Dumnos ghosts and the spirit of Igdrasil. Many older or eccentric Dumnosians really did believe, but no one with any sense. Right?

  And yet…

  And yet she had experienced the mystery of Igdrasil. It was no less real just because she couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t explain her guardian angel, and here he was—claiming to be a fairy. Was a fairy any less comprehensible than an angel?

  “Prince.” She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And is this the royal palace?” A shadow passed over Dandelion’s face. She didn’t know why, but she regretted the tactless comment.

  “He’s banished from the faewood,” Goldy said. “We’re still fixing up the place.”

  The hut’s floor was dirt but the rugs were fabulous. The walls looked like dried mud, and she didn’t even want to think about the roots dangling from the ceiling, but the furnishings and embellishments were lovely without exception, made with first-rate craftsmanship from the best materials. Even little things like the teacup, or the small carved box on the table beside the fire.

  “Fairies. But you’re both so large and…manly.”

  “Yes.” Goldy’s chest swelled. “And your point?”

  “Aren’t fairies tiny and sparkly?”

  “That’s sprites and pixies.”

  “Sprites and pixies, of course. What was I thinking?” Beverly smiled inwardly. Marion would love this. “Why am I here? I mean how did I get here?”

  Dandelion said, “I thought Idris sent you to spy on Mudcastle, but I couldn’t figure out what kind of fae you were. You’re too pretty to be a goblin.”

  Too pretty to be a goblin. Not necessarily a compliment.

  “Not any kind of fae.” Goldy lifted her bra off the pile of her clothes and crossed his eyes. “No fae would endure this self-torture.” He dropped the bra on the pile.

  “Your clothes are made of material unknown to us, so at first I thought you might be from a different fae court,” Dandelion said. “But Goldy is right. No fae could endure those—”

  “I get it,” Beverly said. “Polyester is bad. Do you think anyone actually prefers that rubbish?” How great it must be to be a fairy and never have to think about what things cost.

  “Gone,” Goldy said, and the pile of clothes disappeared.

  “I'm back!” Another fairy flew in through the open door, of human height but quite delicate. She flitted and spun around the room and came so close to Beverly they almost touched noses. Her eyes were fairy green—as Beverly now thought of the color. A sense of joy radiated from her.

  “Whose new pet is this?” She settled and retracted her wings. “She’s lovely.” Without thinking, Beverly reached out to touch the fairy’s fine pale hair, but in a flash she’d moved on.

  “Morning Glory,” Goldenrod said. “Did you find Lord Tintagos to your liking?”

  “He gave me a present,” Morning Glory said nonchalantly, admired her fingernails.

  “What kind of present? You’re awfully pleased with yourself.” Goldy was at her side with his hand over her stomach. “A little faeling from his lordship?”

  “Don’t make fun of me.” Morning Glory spun away as quickly as a finger snap. “I’ve never had a child. I want one. Someone who’s all mine to love.”

  “What did you give him?” Goldy said. “Give a present, receive a present.”

  “A love potion,” Morning Glory said. “But I don’t think he’ll use it.”

  “Well done, Glory!” Goldy said.

  “No.” Prince Dandelion sighed. “Badly done, Glory.”

  “Why?” Goldy and Morning Glory said at once. Both seemed baffled.

  Morning Glory added, “You love children as much as anybody, Dandelion. Cissa will be thrilled.”

  Cissa? Beverly didn’t like the implication. Cissa was someone close to Dandelion. His girlfriend? Wife?

  “She will not be thrilled,” Dandelion said.

  There was love in his voice, love and affection. Beverly felt—not jealous. Terribly sad. Knowing his heart belonged to someone else made her own heart heavy.

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “When Idris finds out, he’ll take the child.”

  “Dandelion’s right,” Goldenrod said. “You never should have chosen Lord Tintagos.”

  “I like him.”

  “The future Earl of Dumnos.” Dandelion shook his head. “A faeling and a Bausiney. Idris won’t stop until he has the child in his possession. He’ll want to barter for the cup.”

  “Wait,” Beverly stood up from the rocking chair. This was wrong. “There is no Lord Tintagos. Lord Dumnos doesn’t have a son. He has no children at all.”

  “Dumnos has a son and two young daughters as well,” Dandelion said. “Donall. You saw him. When I first saw you, you were watching Lord Tintagos and his party at the lake.”

  “The actors?” Beverly lost her grip on the cup and saucer. They slipped from her hands, and Dandelion caught them as they fell. She thought of Clyde who’d been lost seven years. He always swore he’d been but a few hours in the fairylands. Panic clamped down on her chest. Marion. She sank into the chair, and her eyes met Dandelion’s. “Am I in the fairylands?”

  “No.” He touched her arm reassuringly. “We’re near a rift at the threshold betw
een the fae and human realms. Under the terms of my banishment, when I’m at Mudcastle it phases into the human realm.”

  On the threshold. Thresholds were tricky, netherplaces where different realities had intercourse and things crossed over…but that only happened in English lit classes.

  “When are we?” Her rushing blood pounded in her ears. “I mean what year is this?”

  “All is well.” Dandelion spoke gently. “You’re in Dumnos County on Faeview lands in what you humans call the year of your lord 1876.”

  Eighteen…

  “No. No, no, no.” She pulled her hands away.

  “In the human realm,” Dandelion rose, his voice steady, “Victoria is on the throne and Disreali is at Downing Street. In the fae realm, Graewolf is king in Edmos, Brienne is Queen in Sarumos, Idris is regent in Dumnos, and with the Tuatha Dé Danaan one never knows.”

  “Not possible.” Beverly backed away. “This is 1976. Nineteen. Elizabeth is on the throne and Harold Wilson is at Downing Street.” She pointed at Goldy. “Angel, fairy, or man from mars, you were there. In 1972. Four years ago. You saved me. You spoke to Lord Dumnos.”

  “I don’t know the current earl,” Goldenrod said. “I saw his son Lord Tintagos one disastrous night quite recently.” He glanced at Dandelion. “In 1876.”

  “I have it. I know the answer. I know what happened.” A smug smile spread over Morning Glory’s face. “Beverly, were you near Igdrasil recently—in your time?”

  “Igdrasil, yes.” What a relief to hear the familiar name. “That’s where I fell off the cliff.”

  “Ta-da!” Morning Glory made an elaborate bow.

  “Ta-da what, Glory?” Goldy said. “We’re a little slow here.”

  “Beverly didn’t fall off the cliff. It’s obvious. She fell into my portal.”

  “The three wishes charm,” Dandelion said. “If she made a wish when she was close to the portal…”

  “Exactly.” Morning Glory did a little dance. “Beverly, you wished yourself through time.”

  “Unlikely,” Goldy said.

  “Highly,” Dandelion said.

  “But not impossible.” Morning Glory glowed with pride.

  The three stared at Beverly. She was aware of the crackling fire. A sparrow’s song lilted in through the open door. Outside, the light was fading. Through her mind flitted the picture of Marion without an umbrella. Beverly’s stomach danced with panic. “This is crazy.”

  But she knew Morning Glory was right.

  I wish I were somewhere else. She had wished for that, and more. She looked at Dandelion. With my one true love, where or when he may be.

  Where or when. Her one true love was a fairy prince from a hundred years ago. Typical good luck, Bevs.

  But that couldn’t be right. Forget that she felt completely comfortable with him, as if they’d known each other forever. Forget that she already trusted him absolutely. Forget the time and species issues. Dandelion wasn’t free.

  He was attached to someone named Cissa. Beverly barely knew him. The sadness deepened. Earlier if Goldy hadn’t come in, she and Dandelion would have ended up in bed. But she didn’t have sex with married men. Or married fairies. She scoffed at the thought. Apparently they were as faithful as their human counterparts.

  She could love him. But he couldn’t be her true love, not if he was bound to another. Besides, Clyde had said that all fairies love pleasure, and sex is play to them. And another thing. They don’t fall in love. That would explain their utter lack of jealousy. And he did say they adore children. These three had already returned to the subject of Morning Glory’s baby.

  “Idris wanted Elyse for her wyrding ways, not her humanity,” Glory said. “Lily and I will be perfectly safe.”

  “Lily. A girl,” Goldy said. “Congratulations, mama.”

  “Yes, congratulations,” Dandelion said. “But be careful.”

  Morning Glory tossed her hair. “He won’t find out. I’ll leave the faewood first.”

  “This is too strange,” Beverly said. “I feel like Alice in Wonderland.”

  “Ha! That proves it,” Dandelion said. “You’re not from a hundred years in the future. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was published ten years ago.”

  “People are still reading it now.” Beverly said. “I mean in 1976. It’s a classic.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” The triumph evaporated from Dandelion’s face. “But not so glad to hear the other thing.”

  “Other thing?” Goldy said.

  “The curse,” Morning Glory said quietly. “She said Lord Dumnos of 1976 has no children.”

  “Great gods.” Goldy looked at Dandelion. “The cup.”

  “How did it happen?” Dandelion said. “Who destroyed the cup?”

  “The fairy cup?” Beverly said. “It’s fine. I mean, I’ve never seen it, but Lord Dumnos keeps it safe, like that actor said—only he wasn’t an actor, was he? He really was Lord Tintagos. The Lord Tintagos who found the fairy cup.”

  “Found!” Dandelion spat out the word, and the teacup shattered.

  Beverly stepped away from the chards of porcelain. “Bausiney’s Abundance, they call it. Left behind by drunken fairies one Mischief Night.”

  “It wasn’t left behind on purpose,” Morning Glory said. “It was an accident.”

  “It was sabotage,” Goldy said.

  “Bausiney’s Abundance.” Dandelion twirled his fingers over the shattered porcelain. The cup and saucer reformed and jumped into his hands. “Why do you call it that?”

  “Lord Tintagos’s wife named it,” Beverly said. “It has to do with a curse the fairy laid on it. If this cup does shatter or crack…”

  “Bausiney’s line will meet its lack.” All three fairies finished.

  “I guess as long as the cup is intact Bausiney’s abundance is assured?” Beverly said. “I never thought about it.”

  “And you say Lord Dumnos has no children,” Dandelion said. “The Bausiney line is broken.”

  “That’s because Lord Dumnos….” Beverly felt her face flush. “There are rumors. They say the earl doesn’t fancy women.”

  Goldy snorted. “That’s never before stopped a lord from getting an heir.”

  “I have to get the cup back,” Dandelion said. “Something is going to happen to it in Beverly’s time, I feel it. Brother Sun and Sister Moon must have sent her through the portal to warn me how little time I have to secure the cup.”

  “Little time?” Beverly said. “It’s a hundred years from now.”

  Everything hit her at once. She was a hundred years in the past. To her bones, she knew it was true. Everything inside screamed make it not be so!

  “I have to go. I need to go home.” She ran through the door, away from the hut, into the woods, stumbling on the undergrowth. She should be freezing cold, but her clothes kept her warm. Like magic.

  “Oh, ack!” She slammed into a tree. When did it get so dark? Great. Lost in these strange woods at night—and not alone. Something crept through the brush behind her. Maybe the fairy dress would protect her from wild animals as well as it kept her warm. Ha. A girl could hope.

  What had she done? She could only blame herself. She never should have run from Felicia and George like a coward. She should have faced them. Who cared what they thought of her life? There was nothing wrong with it. It was a great life managing a lovely inn in a nice coastal village and caring for her fantastic little sister. A life she’d resume as soon as she figured out how to get home.

  “I wish—”

  “Don’t do that.” Prince Dandelion grabbed her from behind and clamped his hand over her mouth. Again.

  He’d followed her from the hut. She tried to twist and pull out of his grasp, but he was so strong. “Ah nin noo nunning.”

  “You almost made a wish.” He let her go. “Not a good idea.”

  “I did no such thing.” She glared at him, but he didn’t seem at all bothered that she was bothered.

  He searched her ex
pression. “We’re close to the portal, and I don’t know how far the wishing charm extends. There are some dangerous places in the world, Beverly. Places where magic is real and wishes are granted.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Says she whose thoughtless wish sent her a hundred years into the past.”

  She had to get back to Marion, but… “When you put it like that…”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Wishes never go the way humans expect.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, into the center of her being. “You can let that wish go now. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Wish?” For the life of her, Beverly couldn’t remember what the wish was anyway. It was important, she knew that, but what was it? Dandelion touched her cheek. It didn’t matter. Everything was going to be all right.

  Fairies are real. The world seemed to tip sideways. Clyde was telling the truth. Beverly’s knees buckled.

  “I have you.” Dandelion slipped his arms around her waist and wrapped his wings around them both. “Everything is going to be all right,” he repeated like a mantra. He gave her a friendly, quick smack of a kiss on the back of her neck.

  Brother Sun and Sister Moon, I’m in your hands. The fairy prince extended his wings to their full span. It was terrifying but also reassuring. To her soul, she believed he was on her side. She relaxed into his strength. They soared up into the night, above the trees.

  “I want to show you something.” He climbed higher. His arms were strong and comforting. His self-confidence was more powerful than his magic.

  Let go, Bevs. Everything is going to be all right. “Where are we going?” Don’t try to make it make sense.

  “North.” He sounded different. Lighter. Happy. “I'm taking you sky surfing in the northern lights.”

  And Laughter Holding Both His Sides

  DANDELION HELD BEVERLY TO his chest and readied for another run. He flew to the top of the aurora and dove headlong into a swirling streak of green light, his wings wrapped around himself and the wingless human in his arms.