by Rigel, LK
Dandelion let her hand go. Her fingernails were covered with sparkly polish that made her think of sunlight dancing on the ocean. Through the window, faint pink contrasted with the dark silhouettes of treetops. Day was coming.
“Every year on troop night,” Dandelion said, “Aubrey tries to recreate his feelings for her.”
“He has a perverted way of looking for love,” Beverly said.
“He’s on a fool’s errand. If love rarely comes to us once, it never comes twice.”
She wanted to ask, Has love come to you? But she was a coward, afraid his answer would be no—and terrified it might be yes.
“Idris wanted to marry Elyse,” Dandelion said. “He thought he could harness her wyrding magic to his power. She rejected him, and now out of spite he won’t let Aubrey near her. She still lives at Glimmer Cottage.”
“But her mother was human,” Beverly said. “Wasn’t that hundreds of years ago?”
“A thousand. Elyse is faeling. When she visited the realm of fae, she awoke to her fairy nature. If she’d stayed, she would have become immortal. In the human realm she won’t live forever, but a millennium isn’t out of the question. Aubrey is frantic to get her back before she dies.”
“He should have allied with you,” Beverly said.
“He’s become too enamored of the dark. He thinks he can trade the cup to Idris for Elyse without returning to the light,” Dandelion said. “But Idris is crueler than they realize. He’ll never let Aubrey be happy.”
“What are you going to do about the cup?”
“Get it back,” Dandelion said. “I have no right to happiness until I make things right.”
“Will you be happy when I marry Lord Dumnos?” No, Beverly. Don’t go there. Don’t torture yourself.
He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Oh.” Sun and moon, wrong answer. She pressed his hand against her cheek.
“My darling girl, I can only hurt you.” His voice was like warm honey by a crackling fire and so gentle it broke her heart. “Idris knows about you now, and at Faeview you’ll be safe from him. The mansion is a cold iron fortress. That’s what matters.”
“I’ll never love the earl,” she said. “You know he can never love me.”
“I have to tell you something.” Dandelion took her hands in his. “I’ve given you a child. A son. You’ll give Dumnos his heir without having to try…to try more than once.”
If any other man had said those words, she would have laughed. “You can’t know that.”
“I can. I do.”
This was too weird. She backed away and leaned against the pillows. Not likely. She rested her hand on her belly. Not possible. But he was serious. And it could be wonderful.
“The fae are possessive—I’ll just put it that way—about faelings,” Dandelion said. “If anyone finds out about my son, they’ll want him.”
“Sun and moon, he’s my son too!”
They both laughed at the same time. She’d accepted his words as true. And he was right. She had to protect the child from Idris.
“He’s your son too. And everyone, human and fae, must believe he is Lord Dumnos’s child. Especially Lord Dumnos.”
“I don’t know.” It would be wrong to deceive the earl. “Even a marriage of convenience shouldn’t begin with a lie.”
“A marriage of convenience is a lie.” Dandelion squeezed her hands. “Told by both partners. Dumnos can’t know, so set aside any notions of false integrity. The earl would tell Goldy—and trust me, Goldenrod is the biggest gossip in the faewood.”
Beverly put her hand on her belly. “A fairy child…”
“Not fairy. Faeling. Only half fae. He’ll live a normal human life span, as long as he remains unaware of his fae nature.”
“But you love children. How will you bear to be without your own child?”
“He’s my gift to you, Beverly. You’ll love him for both of us, and I have no doubt Dumnos will be a good father.”
Dandelion held out his hand, and his small pouch appeared. He retrieved a dark box decorated with dandelions and opened it. His tether was inside. “If someday you decide he needs to know the truth, give him this—but until then, never let him touch the jewel.”
“I understand.” Beverly accepted the box, fingering its carved designs. “But how will you get back without your tether?”
“The old fashioned way,” he smiled. “There’s a portal in Hyde Park.”
“Ah, that’s why you were there,” Beverly said. She got out of bed and walked over to the corner window. The morning sun was up, and the city lights were twinkling off. “If not for me, you’d be in the fae realm right now.”
“I would.” Dandelion joined her at the window, and she leaned back against his chest.
“You’d still have the cup.”
He kissed the top of her head. “But we wouldn’t have had last night, or all the nights to come.”
The traffic going by on Park Lane looked so normal, yet everything had changed.
No. The world was as it had always been. She had changed. Something had touched her, opened her to her true nature. Her eternal self. For the first time she felt called by something beyond earning a living and mundane obligations to Marion. She had to know what it was.
She loved Dandelion and wanted to be with him, but for now that was impossible. He had to leave her, and she was fine with that. For now. He had to set things right in his realm, and then they would see.
Dandelion kissed her. “This isn’t over,” he said. “We aren’t over.” And he was gone.
Fairy Politics
DANDELION MISSED BEVERLY ALREADY, but he was relieved to be home. Smoke billowed from Mudcastle’s chimney. Cissa must have come to chew him out. He braced for a lecture on how impossible it was for him to be with a human.
Well, he wasn’t going to be with Beverly, was he? He’d done what he could to make her short life happy. As Countess Dumnos, she’d be secure. She’d have a child to love. When this was all over and the Dumnos fae were safe, he’d look in on her and the faeling.
There might be a flaw in that plan. Fae time was different to human time, and by then they could both be long dead. The thought made him sick with heartache. If this was love, love sucked worse than disco.
He didn’t need Cissa to tell him who he was. Last night had changed him. He’d begun by wanting to save Beverly from the fae in Hyde Park and ended with wanting to save the fae from themselves.
This was the purpose he’d intuited when he first held the cup. This was his destiny. Not to be king as a matter of privilege, deferred to and obeyed. But to be king as a matter of honor. A matter of service. To create a better world for all the Dumnos fae.
He wouldn’t let a human change that, and he wouldn’t hear lectures from Cissa on the subject either.
In this foul mood he opened the door to a cheerful fire and the aroma of brewing peppermint tea, but Cissa wasn’t there. Beside the teapot were hot scones laid out with clotted cream and strawberry jam. She meant to soften her scold with a lovely breakfast. She must be out picking winter roses or late rhodies for the table.
He fixed a scone, poured a cup, and sat down by the fire. He would erase thoughts of Beverly from his mind. He would.
He pushed against the grate to rock the chair. The fire crackled and popped, and the little treat Cissa had made for him was great. If he could, he’d trade every drop of his royal blood to stay here.
Unseelie. It was depressing just to think the word. To so many fairies it was now a lark to wreak havoc on the human world. They’d forgotten the pleasure of doing unexpected good for its own sake. What fun it was to spark a love affair in an otherwise miserable human heart. To inspire art. To replace a poor family’s crusts of bread with a savory feast.
In another life, where the Dumnos fae were light and Idris was a good leader, Dandelion could have been happy here at Mudcastle, solitary but for the occasional visits from Cissa and Goldy and Max. Glory
would be with them too. And there was plenty of room for Beverly and their faeling.
Who knows? She might have turned fae. It had happened before with humans. Her family name was Bratton, a name from the time of King Jowan. There was a real chance fae blood flowed through her veins. If she spent enough time in the faewood, she might turn fae. Immortal. He would never lose her.
The fire blurred, and he blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was dreaming now of the truly fantastical, of things that would never be.
He should get some rest, though he’d slept at the hotel. He lost his balance, though he was sitting in the chair. The room spun, and he tried to stand. The teacup shattered on the grate, and he pitched forward toward the floor.
His first awareness was of pain splitting his head. It was like an ax was buried in his skull. His hands flew to his throat. “Ach!” The sudden movement made the pain worse. He clawed at the collar, but it wouldn’t budge. It was metal. Cold iron, he could feel it. He was so weak.
He seemed to be in the back of a goblin’s pony cart. A blanket covered his entire body, so sheer he could see through it. He writhed in agony trying to get out from under it, but it would not let him go. Glimmermist.
He stopped struggling and tried to make sense of his surroundings. It was dark and there was the smell of clean damp earth. A goblin tunnel.
The cart rolled by a wall torch that illuminated his captor.
“Max?”
What in a thousand hells was going on?
“Be still, my prince.” The goblin sounded miserable. “The more you fight it, the more it will hurt.”
Great gods and low, he’d been drugged again. And by Max. This had to be a dream. A nightmare.
The cart rolled to a halt at a huge round door guarded by two goblins. Max stepped down and spoke in gentle tones to his pony then came around to the back of the cart. He hoisted Dandelion over his shoulder as if the weight were nothing.
“Keep quiet, if you know what’s good for you.”
The hatred in Max’s voice was like a knife in Dandelion’s gut. This wasn’t happening.
Max grunted at the two guards.
“It never ends, eh?” one said as he unlocked the door.
“It must end, Drang,” Max said. “Never is too long a time.”
Dandelion wanted to cry out for help, but Max pinched him. The door clanged shut with an echo, ominous and solid. “You might as well shut it,” Max said. “I’m the only one who can hear you through the glimmermist. Or see you.”
They moved deeper into the cavern. The pain intensified. Surely someone had buried razors in Dandelion’s internal organs. Max dropped him on the ground.
He wished he could pass out. Pain seared through his body. Maybe his blood had turned to liquid fire in his veins. He was inside a cage made from iron bars drilled into the ground in a circle.
“Why, Max?”
“Stop talking.” Max locked the cage door. He sat down on the ground on the other side of the bars and crossed his legs. “It’s cold iron. Your collar too, though I pounded it thin so you could breathe.”
“You’re such a friend.”
“The more you move, the more it will aggravate every nerve ending in your body.”
“You look awful, Max. Uglier than ever, if that’s possible.” It wasn’t just bravado on Dandelion’s part. The gob looked like hell. “Shorter.”
“Like you can tell, with your eyes covered.” Max grunted. “Even breathing will hurt, my prince. Do not move.”
“At least take away the glimmermist,” Dandelion said. Wait. Something was wrong about this. Max knew the glimmermist didn’t work on Dandelion. Why had he used it? “At least let me see where I am.” Max would know he could see through the material.
“I think not,” Max said. “Idris ordered it, and he’s right. You don’t need to know where you are.”
All right then. For some reason, Max had followed Idris’s orders to take him prisoner, but was he still on Dandelion’s side? “When will I get out of here? It hurts.”
Max ignored the question. “You weren’t wearing your tether at Mudcastle. Where is it?”
“Fuck you, gob. I lost it.”
A trace of a grin played over Max’s lips. He grunted yet again and rose to his feet. He really was shorter.
Dandelion tried to shift position so the pain lessened, but the goblin was right. Every movement intensified the agony. A tear rolled down his face and through the glimmermist.
Then, looking up from the ground, he saw them. Tether jewels in the ceiling. The entire cavern was under surveillance.
“You could try burrowing in the dirt.” Max said. “It might help your headache.” He turned on his heels and walked away, hunched forward, his gait slow.
“Why, Max?” Dandelion yelled at the goblin’s back. “What does Idris have on you?”
The cavern door echoed again as it shut and the bolts slid into place. Dandelion took in his surroundings, though every movement was another agony. So this was the famous Bower of Elyse.
Damn, he hated the wyrd.
When Max got back to the throne room, pixies and brownies were flitting about, frantically putting the place in order.
“They’re almost here,” Idris said. He plucked something out of the air and furtively slid it behind the throne. The glimmer glass, of course. It was courting danger to have it out like this, even invisible. The brownies wouldn’t notice or care, but the pixies were insanely curious.
Idris was becoming overconfident and sloppy. Good. Max could only hope Dandelion picked up the clues he’d dropped.
“Is all in order with your little project?” He smiled at Max almost sweetly, magnificent as always. The throne shone behind him. The blue-white light of the moonstick crown dazzled against his hair, the color of red rust and orange-yellow flames.
He must be completely devoid of fellow feeling that he could radiate such beauty at the same time he caused such suffering.
“I feel them,” he said. “They’re here.”
Aubrey popped in first, his feet inches from the ground, wings already retracted, the cup cradled like an infant in the crook of his arm. The fool. He should have put it in his hidey pouch, safe from accident.
Cissa popped in next, wings extended, her eyes wide, bright, and wild. She was furious. She flew circles around the throne room as Fen and Violet and the others followed in.
“This is an outrage!” She landed in front of Idris. She noticed Max and glared. With mortification, he realized he’d been grinning at her. He could be such a treesap.
Cissa shifted her attention back to Idris. She opened her mouth but he held his hand up before she could say anything.
“I see what you mean, princess.” Idris looked pointedly at the cup and then at Aubrey. “Can you explain?”
“Prince Dandelion has fallen in love,” Aubrey said. “With a human. He can’t be trusted with the cup.”
“That’s a serious charge,” Idris said.
“It’s a ridiculous charge,” Cissa said. “Even if it were true—and it isn’t—Dandelion is the rightful monarch.”
“The princess is correct, Aubrey.” Idris stepped down from the throne and took Cissa’s hand. It was the gesture of a champion, of a protector. Of someone who cared.
“My liege, I…” Poor Aubrey. The treesap looked confused. It hadn’t hit him yet that Idris had used him.
“I’m sure you were acting in the interests of the fae,” Idris said. “Anyone would be concerned about this…attraction on the prince’s part. Perhaps you only meant to ensure the cup’s safety, not understanding what was in Dandelion’s mind.”
“Exactly, my liege.” Aubrey presented the cup to Idris. “I only thought that you would know best what to do.”
Idris looked at the cup but didn’t touch it. He turned to Cissa. “And where is the prince? Didn’t he return with you?”
Cissa’s face went red.
“He left the park.” Aubrey smirked. “With the human.”<
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“Ah, that doesn’t look good.” Idris tapped his forehead as if he were thinking. “Let’s do this. We’ll leave the matter in abeyance until Prince Dandelion can have the opportunity to explain himself. Max will take the cup and keep it safe, somewhere only he knows about. Everyone will agree the gob’s integrity is beyond question.”
“Yes,” Cissa said instantly. “Max will take custody of the cup.”
Her trust warmed Max’s heart. He wanted to do bodily harm to Dandelion for the distress he’d caused. Well…more bodily harm. He grabbed the cup out of Aubrey’s hands and grumbled all the way out of the room.
At least some good would come of this. He could talk to Dandelion a little more. Try to plant a few more clues in the treesap’s head about how to escape.
After he locked up the cup, he’d head back to Mudcastle. Someone should be there or a solitary would move in and take over the place. He wouldn’t mind staying out of the faewood altogether for a while, if only he wasn’t worried what trouble the princess would get into.
He almost bumped into Idris waiting ahead in the tunnel yards from the bower.
“What do you want?” Max fairly growled the words, startled by the sudden appearance.
“I saw you earlier, gob, giving the prince advice on pain relief. Know this: Every measure of ease you afford that fairy will be heaped upon someone else. Ten-fold.”
Idris walked up tunnel and disappeared in the darkness.
The Language of Crows
1982, the human realm, Bausiney’s End
LADY DUMNOS STAYED IN HER room all morning as she was ordered oh-so-seriously by her five-year-old son. Every so often Cade’s little boy laughter erupted outside her door. Then he’d bound off down the hall as Marion and James yelled, “Don’t run on the stairs!”
It must be quite a great birthday surprise they were planning. She poured the last of the coffee from her breakfast and opened the antique secretary.
Since their marriage Lord Dumnos—James, she called him now—had given her many presents. The first was an old elaborate brass key.
