Meav cleared her throat nervously. “Perhaps she has learned her lesson, Gyla."
"She never learns her lesson,” Gyla said. “I have to spank her at least ten times in a day."
Meav gasped. “Surely no one can be that naughty?"
"Well she is,” Gyla replied, angrily pinching Titiana's raw backside.
"Stop, please!” Titiana screamed. “'Tis enough!"
"I agree, ‘tis enough,” Meav added.
Gyla looked up at Meav. “Perhaps you are right.” She threw Titiana off her lap. “That should hold her for at least an hour."
Titiana stood slowly, her wings drooping, tears streaming down her little cheeks. Quickly she scampered to the foot of the bed, and burrowed beneath the quilt folded there.
Meav stretched her neck to see her. “Do you think she is all right?"
Gyla waved her hand casually above her blonde curls. “She is fine, just embarrassed that you saw her getting a spanking.” She sighed, as though she had done a strenuous days work. “She always sulks after a punishment, pay her no mind."
Meav watched Gyla settle herself back down, her little legs spreading shamelessly apart, showing all she was about.
Meav reached over and gently pushed the tiny limbs together. “That really is not the most lady-like way to sit, especially without your clothes."
Gyla tilted her golden head sideways. “Pixies don't wear clothes."
Meav frowned. “Well you should. ‘Tis shameful for your little womanly parts to be showing for all to see."
Gyla pointed to Meav's chest. “Yours are showing, and they are much bigger and can be seen much better than mine."
Meav looked down at herself, and gasped. Quickly she brought the sheet up to cover her bare breasts. “What happened to me clothes?"
"Perhaps they are where you left your mind?” Gyla suggested.
Meav brought her hands over her eyes. “Ah, me,” she groaned.
* * * *
Wysteria sat on a rock, waiting for the pale, pink dress to dry in the gentle breeze. The delicate, white lace that framed the neckline had yellowed with age.
Wysteria grunted. “'Tis a wonder it has not rotted,” she whispered to herself.
The dress had been hers, the one she'd donned over a once shapely form. She had worn it while dancing to the music, the hem tickling her ankles with each step, and her handsome beau looking down into her eyes.
Wysteria smiled at the memories that flooded her thoughts; scenes of a love that had died before his time, the tears and years of her youth that had been stashed away for decades, like the dress. They had never been forgotten, just too sad to recall.
Her smile deepened. “Until now,” Wysteria said aloud.
"Until, now ... what?” a deep, male voice interrupted the serenity.
Wysteria turned to find Rule standing behind her, hands on hips, legs spread apart. His usual stance ... the one he used to intimidate all on the island; and it worked on all but her.
"Have you nothing better to do than sit upon this boulder and watch your clothes dry?” he bellowed.
Wysteria tucked a gray strand of hair behind her ear. “And have you no other octave to your voice than one laced with anger?"
Rule frowned and made his way to stand before her. Leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Was it not you, my dear nanny crone that taught me not to answer a question with a question?"
Wysteria arched a gray, bushy brow. “Yet you have."
Rule's jaw tightened. “And yet you still treat me as though I was in your charge."
Wysteria pointed a boney finger at Rule. “I can say this with honesty, lad, I liked you much better when I was cleaning your messy bottom and feeding you your meals.” She stood. “And it appears I coddled you way too much, gave you your own way to a fault.” Wysteria placed her hands on her hips. “I should have turned you over my knee more, made you feel the switch of consequence across your bare backside. Perhaps you would have respect for your elders, if I had."
Rule moved closer to the elderly woman. “You dare to talk to me of such things?"
Wysteria looked up into his amber eyes. His massive build towered over her slight frame, mouth curled into a sneer, his brows furrowed. She raised a defiant chin. “Aye.” Squaring her thin shoulders, Wysteria challenged him. “What will you do about it?"
"I will ... I will..."
Wysteria waved her hand casually in the air. “You will do nothing."
Rule roughly grabbed the elder by the shoulders. “Why do you continue to bate me, rile the very nerves from my body, old woman?"
Wysteria pulled away. “You have much to learn, Rule.” Again she admonished him with a wagging finger. “Just because you are heir to the throne..."
Rule quickly cut her off. “That is truly rich coming from your old lips.” He laughed sardonically. “Thanks to the spell your darling sister placed upon me, I am no longer considered the heir ... instead I am destined to forever roam these jungles; to leave my confines would mean certain death.” Hatred blazed in his eyes. “Maybe death would be better ... better than my man's form changing to that of a panther every time my stomach hungers.” His lips thinned. “I disgust myself, the way I have been made to hunt for food ... like a savage beast ... ripping apart my meal with animal fangs and large, clawed paws, blood dripping from my jowls, and forced to live in a cave. But for all my shame, at least I will be revered here in the jungle ... the last domain that sees me as ruler ... which I am ... I am Rule,” he snarled.
Wysteria's face saddened. “I am deeply sorry for what my sister has done to you. Devora's greed for riches and power has turned her to the dark side, and I have not forgotten the way she destroyed your family. ‘Tis etched in my memory, the way she had wheedled herself into the castle and deceived King Stefan; taking a position as nursemaid and devoted servant to his dying Queen."
Rule smirked. “When my mother finally succumbed to the illness that riddled her body, Devora was there to pick up the pieces, comforting my grieving father. But her intentions were not genuine."
Wysteria nodded in agreement. “'Tis the truth ... she wasted no time in mesmerizing Stefan with her exotic beauty and black magic to gain the seat of queen for herself. And her manipulation turned the king against you ... his own son. Devora persuaded Stefan to leave all to her in the event of his death ... which mysteriously happened within a few months time after the decree was signed."
"And when I challenged the document my father signed and the circumstances surrounding his death, Devora cast a spell on me."
A second time Wysteria apologized. “Again, I am sorry for all you have endured at the hands of my sister."
Rule's tone was thick with bitter sarcasm. “Forgive me if I do not accept your apology."
Wysteria turned and reached for the dress drying on a branch. “I did not expect you to.” She made her way up the path. “Now, if you will excuse me,” she called over her shoulder. “I have a very lovely young woman in my cottage that is in need of clothing."
"The dress ... ‘tis for her?” Rule questioned.
Wysteria stopped walking and turned to face him. Her tone held a tinge of amusement. “Aye ... certainly I can no longer wear it."
"Did she speak her name ... tell you from where she comes?” Rule probed.
"Nay, she still sleeps. Your slumber spell has relaxed her thoroughly.” Wysteria smiled. “Shall I come for you when she wakes?"
Rule nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis best to be cautious. She could be a spy, one of Devora's tricks."
Wysteria remembered the crescent shaped birth mark beneath the girl's right heel and quickly cast that notion from her mind. Meridith's child had returned and the Prophecy said she would undo all the evil that was done. But to tell Rule of what she knew would not be wise. “I suppose ‘tis best,” Wysteria agreed, turning to make her way back up the path to her cottage.
* * * *
Meav was growing restless ... and hungr
y. She decided to search the tiny cottage for a morsel of food. Surely there had to be something, a crust of bread, a homemade biscuit or two, in one of the cupboards? Meav swung her legs out of the bed and wrapped the sheet around her nakedness. Slowly she made her way to the cabinet and opened the door. She spotted a bowl filled with apples. Just as she was about to reach for the fruit, the cottage door opened.
"I see you have awakened,” Wysteria said.
Meav turned to find an elderly woman standing in the doorway. Her hair, saturated with gray, was coiled into a braid that hung over her shoulder. Slight of frame, the crone's watery topaz hued eyes twinkled as she smiled.
Meav's face reddened, embarrassed to be caught rummaging around in someone's home. She modestly adjusted the sheet and cast her gaze to the floor. “I ... I ... was hungry,” she stammered in a wee voice.
Titiana finally poked her head out from beneath the quilt, and fluttered over to Wysteria. “She has lost her mind, as well."
Wysteria opened her hand for the pixie to land upon. “Has she now?"
"Aye,” Titiana said, pulling back her wings and sitting down on the boney palm. “And she is clueless as to where she is or how she got here.” She tipped her head slightly. “Not all that smart, I would say."
"Titiana!” Gyla shouted, flying across the room. “What have I told you about being rude?"
Wysteria chuckled lightly. “Careful little one or else you will be getting that bottom reddened."
Titiana pouted. “I am sorry, sister."
Gyla landed on Wysteria's arm and pointed to Meav. “Who is she, dear healer?"
Wysteria looked over at Meav. “Who are you, child?"
Meav cleared her throat nervously. “I am Meav O'Shay, from Dublin, Ireland."
"And where is Dublin, Ireland?” Wysteria questioned.
Meav shrugged. “I know not how to explain the where about of me homeland, only that me journey on that ship was for many days.” She clutched the sheet to her breasts. “And who might you be?"
"They call me Wysteria ... healer and wise crone of these here isles of Keronia,” Wysteria explained, placing each pixie gently on the mantel and moving closer to Meav.
"And how have I come to be here?” Meav asked.
Wysteria smiled warmly. “Suppose you tell me what you remember."
Meav licked her dry lips. “When the Sea Dragon, the ship I had stowed away on, sunk to her doom, I was washed upon your shores."
"Aye,” Wysteria said. “Many ships meet their fate in these waters. ‘Tis the siren's song that lures them to their death."
"Aye ... ‘tis what happened,” Meav admitted quickly. “Exactly that way ... the mer-woman's screech ... the ship being tossed ... and then...” Meav's voice trailed off, as she remembered the way she plunged into the depth of the black sea, her lungs filling with water till they would burst. She shivered. “Then a hand gripped mine; pulled me from the deepness and placed me on the beach."
"'Twas Loreli who saved you,” Gyla chirped.
Meav frowned. “Who is Loreli?"
"She is the mermaid that lives in the river ... a river of orange,” Gyla explained.
Meav's face brightened. “Aye, I have seen her ... I remember waking on the beach, searching for food, and coming upon the orange waters. Loreli sat sunbathing on a rock. She is a magnificent creature, so beautiful ... so ... so free,” again her voice faded, as she pictured Loreli upon the rock, touching and fondling herself. Suddenly Meav remembered how the sea nymph had awakened strange feelings within her own body. Nervously she cleared her throat. “And then there was a boar, rushing from the bushes ... he came after me ... and ... and then...” Meav sighed. “I can remember nothing more from that point on."
Wysteria gave Meav's arm an affectionate pat. “What matters is that you are alive and safe.” She handed Meav the garment. “And after you get dressed, and I fill your belly with a thick slice of homemade bread and a bowl of eggplant soup, you can tell me why ‘tis you stowed away on the Sea Dragon."
Meav's mouth watered at the thought of real food. She quickly took the dress Wysteria held out to her. “Where can I change?"
Wysteria arched a brow. “Right where you stand, child."
Again Meav felt her cheeks grow hot.
Wysteria chuckled lightly. “There is no reason for your shame. I was the one who undressed you and bathed the dirt from your body. So, you hide nothing beneath that sheet."
Meav reluctantly dropped the sheet to the floor, and quickly slipped the dress on over her head.
Wysteria helped the young woman to smooth down the flared skirt. “Aye, it suits you well,” she said. “You have brought the old garment to life once again.
"'Tis beautiful,” Meav whispered.
"Aye, ‘tis,” Wysteria agreed. “I remember feeling the same way whenever I wore it. Her eyes softened. “I once filled it the same as well."
Meav smiled lovingly. “Thank you so much for giving me something that obviously was very special to you.” She looked around the tiny cottage. “And for opening your home to me."
Wysteria felt the kindred spirit of the sweet-faced maiden. “Sit,” she said, motioning to a chair at the table. “And let me make you that meal.” Wysteria began to prepare the food. “Now tell me, lass, why did you steal away on the ship."
Meav sighed heavily. “'Twas because of Hollister McGreary. When I refused his marriage proposal, he had me home burned to the ground and murdered me family."
Wysteria gasped. “Mercy me ... and how did you escape?"
"I had slept at the Connor home on that eve, to help Maggie Connor birth her child. If not for that, I would have perished along with me folks,” Meav explained. “Timothy Connor, sweet Maggie's husband, had somehow learned of McGreary's plan to destroy me home and family. Come midnight Timothy had helped me sneak out his back door, to the pier and into the hold of the Sea Dragon, the only ship leaving the docks the next morn.” Meav shivered. “There I slept with the rats in the stench and the cargo.” She sighed again. “So, I am an orphan now."
Wysteria placed the bowl of soup before her guest. “You have a place here, with me,” she offered. “Though ‘tis humble, ‘tis also clean, warm, and a happy place."
Titiana flew to the table and broke off a tiny piece of Meav's bread. With a smile she popped it into her mouth. “'Tis true, Meav O'Shay. You will be happy here."
Meav smiled down at the little pixie woman, who was lying on her back with her legs spread wide apart, boldly displaying all she was about, and enjoying the sun that shone from the window above the table.
Wysteria reached over and rubbed the fairie's belly with the tip of her finger. “I am pleased you agree."
Titiana giggled. “I do wholeheartedly,” she said, stretching her naked form, thoroughly enjoying the attention Wysteria was bestowing upon her.
Meav shook her head in disgust. “You truly have no shame, little one.” She pursed her lips together. “I must sew you clothes."
Titiana giggled again. “Gyla told you before, pixies don't wear clothes."
Wysteria gently picked the tiny woman up by a sheer wing. “Off with you now, so I might get acquainted with Meav.” She released Titiana and the little fairie flew out the window.
Gyla sat down upon the table. “I thought she'd never leave.” She smiled at Wysteria, then at Meav. “Now, ladies, let us chat."
Wysteria chuckled. “Off with you as well."
Gyla's smile drooped. “Surely you jest."
Wisteria faked a stern face. “Surely, I do not.” She gave Gyla a gentle push. “Go seda, back to your tree and the Treogs that dwell with you."
"Very well,” Gyla mumbled. “'Tis a safe bet Titiana is in need of another spanking anyway."
Once they were alone, Meav talked through mouthfuls of soup about the potato famine in Ireland, the disease and death that ravaged the land, about the British and how they treated her people.
Wisteria cleverly moved the conversation around to fami
ly. “Tell me more about your folks."
Meav broke off a piece of bread and savored its flavor. “I have...” she paused. Her face saddened. “Before McGreary's rage I had,” she corrected, “two younger sisters, a grandmother and a father."
Wysteria arched a brow. “What of your mother?"
"She died when I was only five ... after giving life to me younger siblings, twin sisters, Sinead and Shawna,” she added softly. “I have been told I favor her, with me fiery head of hair and the blue eyes."
"Then she must have been a beautiful woman,” Wysteria commented.
Meav smiled at the compliment. “She was ... always laughing, singing, dancing ... me Papa would say she had a dancing heart."
"Aye, I know the type well,” Wysteria whispered, seeing Meridith's spirit in the young woman who sat before her.
"Me mama was not from Ireland ... never spoke of her homeland or her family. She just showed up in Dublin one day and me Papa fell head over heels in love with her."
"Then I can only imagine how hard and long he grieved when she passed,” Wysteria sympathized, feeling the sadness of Meridith's death as well.
Meav nodded in agreement. “I do not believe he ever got over her death, and though he was a good and loving father, there was something lacking in his spirit ... his joy disappeared. He went through the motions of living, did right by his family, never failed to do his best, but his heart was not in it. Grandmamma came to live with us a few weeks after Mama died. And Papa just left the rearing of us girls up to her.” Meav sighed. “Out of the three of us, I am most like me Mama, not just me coloring, but the fact that we both have the same birthmark under the right heel of our foot."
Wysteria's heart suddenly began to beat rapidly. She leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me your mother's name, Meav.” She needed to hear it from the maiden's own lips.
"Meridith,” Meav said. “Her name was Meridith O'Shay."
Chapter Two
Queen Devora rang the summons bell. Quickly, Zailia rushed to assist the queen before the bell rang a second time. From experience, Zailia knew being prompt was what kept Devora happy. And when the queen was happy, it made everyone else's life in the castle that much easier to bear.
A River of Orange Page 3
