by JK Ensley
Shaemon took a step back. “Wha… what?”
“Aye, that’s right, wee Fairy man. We’ll live forever in her magical cove an’ have many wee Death Angel babies. What do ye think aboot that, Shae? Can ye imagine it? I cannae keep my hands off that gorgeous maid. An’ since we’re immortal, she’ll birth many of our kind,” he said, trying to contain a chuckle. “Just picture it, Shae. Hundreds of giggling wee Death Angels running around, playing across yer vast green expanse, making daily visits tae yer happy wee home.”
Shaemon visibly shuddered at the thought. He pictured the whole of it, horror showing plainly on his normally sour face. Vittorio had to fight to restrain his laughter.
Afterwards, the forlorn Guardian spent many days upon Lyra. Jenevier would’ve definitely stuck out among the diminutive races sparsely populating this tiny realm. But he checked every inch, just to be sure. None had seen her or even heard stories of her likeness.
Eventually Vittorio winged his way to Spadroon, empty-handed, and met up with Vareilious.
“Aye now, how goes it, Brother?” he asked as he approached the massive Gate Guardian. “Have ye seen hide or hair of my wee lass? Do any of the folk here know of my Angel?”
Vareilious rolled his eyes. “Ugh, every living thing upon this bloody layer knows of our Princess, can even describe her in detail, they can.” He rubbed his furrowed brow. “Yet, I’ve found no recent trace of the glorious little Angel I love. It’s maddening.”
“Aye, ye cause my wingtips tae tingle painfully, Brother, when ye speak of her thusly. I dunnae like it.”
Vareilious snorted. “I dunnae give a damn what you like, Brother. I’m not plagued with such a vile a thing as jealousy, least not as badly as you are. Get over it, skirt boy.” He shot a smirking glance toward Vittorio’s snow white kilt. “I love her. I’ve never kept that a secret. Not from anyone. She knows my heart and I know hers. Even if she were to run into your arms right now and give you the whole of her beautiful little soul, I’d go right on loving her… regardless.”
“Aye, then we’re of like-mind concerning the lass.” Vittorio grasped Vareilious’s proffered forearm. “Fear nae. We’ll nae live tae see the day she gives her precious heart tae either of us, Brother. That damnable Blessing of hers is more than any woman could handle, even our wee Angel.”
“Yeah. I swear, if I didn’t like him so much, I’d hate that cocky little, blue-winged, perfect creature.”
Vittorio laughed. “Aye, Brother.” He slapped Vareilious’s shoulder. “Fret nae. I hate him enough for the both of us.”
The bulky Gate Guardian just snorted, and smiled.
The mighty Vanir warriors now doubled their efforts and once more searched the whole of the third layer realm of Spadroon.
Chapter 8
Jenevier
(ZHEN-ah-veer)
She cocked her head to the side, furrowing her dull silver brows, staring at the giant man they all called King.
Brodder laughed. “These are my trusted generals, Gealach. You’ll need to know each of them, and exceptionally well at that,” he said. “Many times, in the very near future, our lives will be saved or sacrificed by their hands alone. Don’t be shy with them, Lass. They won’t object to your attentions. They have nothing to hide.” He inclined his head toward the man to her right. “That fair-haired young man, there, is called Brian.” Brodder slowly sounded out the name again. “BREE-un. He’s the youngest among us, he is. But a more strategic mind you’ll not find. Next to him, the man with hair like fire, he’s Eògan. Say it with me, Lass… YO-khan.”
She cut her eyes to the smirking man she couldn’t help but love, and crinkled up her nose. His reference to her absent voice almost made her stick out her tongue at him, just like a child.
Why is it he makes me feel like a little girl, or a wee lamb, as he’d put it?
She giggled inside her head again. Yeah, he had that sort of hold over her.
He laughed. “Well, I tried, Lass,” he said. “You can’t blame me for that, now, can you?”
She rolled her eyes, playfully.
Brodder continued, “Now then, he may look like a regular bloke, a bit on the tall side perhaps, but Eògan here boasts the strength of two oxen.” He held up as many fingers for emphasis. “Never let his soft baby-face fool you, wee moon. This gentle looking giant is a beast, he is. Fierce as they come.” He then nodded toward the next man. “That one there with all the gray at his temples, his name is Luag. Listen closely, Lass… LUE-ack.” He patted her head as he repeated the third man’s name. “He’s my oldest and dearest friend in the world. We’ve lived through things we probably shouldn’t have.” He chuckled. “Some of it was our own doing, truth be told. And finally, that handsome devil back there in the corner.”
She glanced over as Brodder pointed to the man casually leaning against the wall.
“He boasts the only solid white braid in all of Val Hal. Born that way, he was. Don’t let those pale blue eyes lull you, Lass. He’s arrogant and hard-headed, stubborn as a donkey, quick to fight and even quicker to love.”
He playfully bumped her shoulder, and winked. She bit her lip, holding in a giggle.
“In truth, Lass, that handsome warrior owns the most loyal heart you’ll ever meet, even though he’d rather die than admit it. He’s as true as the river is deep. That young man’s name is Finnean, so named for the color he’s crowned with.”
FIN-yan. She repeated the name in her mind, same as she had with all the others.
Brodder leaned in closer, only pretending to whisper, his words were heard by all. “Aye, Lass, don’t stray too far with him. He has a bad reputation amongst the maidens. Boasts a string of broken hearts that could stretch near to the moon and back, he does. Although he likes to play with them, he’s never claimed one for his own, never promised one his only forever.” He winked at her and turned back to the waiting men. “Brothers, this fair creature at my side has not shown me she has the ability to speak. Yet I know she can hear me and you all bore witness to her growls.” His chuckles brought smiles from a couple of his men. “I call her Gealach. And you can see why.” He tenderly, lovingly ran his hand down the back of her curls. “Take extra special care with her, gentlemen. She’s more precious to me than is gold or crown. For not only is she lethal…” Brodder cleared his throat then and blinked away the gentle tears. “I’ve claimed her as my only daughter and heir. Treat her with the same respect you’d show me, Brothers. This fair moon drop will assume my place if ever I should fall. She’ll take my seat, my throne, in my absence.”
Murmurs filled the room.
Jenevier wrapped her arms around Brodder’s waist, burying her tears against his side. This giant man had saved her, trusted her, worried over her, and now he claimed her as his own blood. She would love and protect him always.
Brian stepped forward, his hand extended. “I offer myself up to you, fair Princess of Val Hal, and pledge my sword to you always.”
She grasped his forearm and bowed slightly toward him, smiling.
“Milady,” Brian said, bending low as he turned his head to the side, exposing his neck within her reach.
Jenevier glanced sideways at Brodder then, moving her eyebrows up and down as she smiled devilishly.
“Easy now, Lass.” He chuckled. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much. Spare their hearts, wee maid. I wasn’t speaking only of Finnean before. I know these buggers all too well to leave you alone with any one of them. Fighting isn’t the only thing these warriors enjoy. Forlorn maids cry for their favor from here to the highlands. I’ve seen women come to blows over that fair young man you now stand before.”
Brian’s cheeks turned crimson at his King’s words. She audibly giggled at the sight, immediately clamping her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, shocked at the strange sound.
“Ahh… That sounded like heaven, wee Gealach.” Brodder smiled approvingly. “I like hearing that sweet noise much more than your growls.”
When she turned bac
k to Brian, he was staring at her, wide-eyed. They almost bumped noses. Not knowing what to do, they shyly froze, bashful gazes locked. Brodder noisily cleared his throat, causing them both to jump slightly, blushing. Well, she felt like she blushed, yet no rosy color adorned her pale cheeks.
The gallant young man shuddered, closing his eyes as the tip of her tongue traced the strong muscles of his neck. When at last he raised his head, Brian had to brace himself against the table, his knees threatening to betray him.
She rolled his valiant scent over her tongue, and then bowed low before him. Turning to Brodder, the tiny colorless woman stuck both thumbs up in the air. The King only inclined his head knowingly toward her.
Luag approached. They went through the same ritual. He received the same approving results as did the first.
Jenevier turned to face Eògan. The giant of a man had to get down on his knees just so she could reach his broad neck. This warrior’s hair was the color of lapping flames. She ran her fingers eagerly through the unusual locks. His freckled face burned as bright as his fiery mane. He looked just like a little boy. She giggled again.
“Ah, Lass, I do love that sound,” Brodder whispered. “It warms my weary old heart.”
She licked the shy red giant and then rested their foreheads together, playfully pinching his cheeks while smiling her approval.
Eògan’s face flushed again, pulling chuckles from his nearby brethren.
Jenevier clapped her hands gaily as she turned to meet the last man. All of Brodder’s valiant brethren had brought a calming sense of warmth with them. They had unknowingly gifted her with a blissful feeling of love, the love of family… the greatest kind of love there is. She swelled with it, relished it, was wholly nourished by it. The coldness that had plagued her inside now seemed as but a distant memory. A bad dream, one she’d never have to know again.
When her happy gaze locked with the pale icy blue one of the final man within this noble party, her cheerful smile faded. She took a hasty step back, fear sweeping over her features, casting a shadow where joy had only just reigned.
The fearless party was shocked by her darkened reaction, none more so than Finnean.
Brodder caught her arms, halting her blind retreat just as she stumbled backward… almost falling into the lap of the seated and still bleeding Gráda.
“What’s the matter, Gealach?” the King asked. “Fear not, dear child. Finnean would never harm you. My words before were as jest. I’ve raised this lad from his youth. I trust him with my life.” He brushed her hair back from her milky cheeks. “I trust that valiant man with your life, precious moon.”
Jenevier could tell Finnean wasn’t a bad man. In fact, she could see plainly his heroic bravery and loyal nobility. She had no need to taste him to know the value of his gallant heart. This handsome warrior was true and faithful to a fault, especially toward his honored King. The glistening snow upon his head, pure and spotless, couldn’t hold a candle to his pristine soul.
Finnean was one of the blessed rare, as beautiful on the inside as was his wrapper. She had known only a few who could boast such magic, Alastyn, Alzeen, and Vittorio. The three names rang through her thoughts, but the recollection as to why… that bit escaped her. The names may have been plain within her mind, yes, but the faces to match those names were absent.
Alas, for all this reassurance, something was whispering from the dark recesses of her forgotten life… Steer clear of this one, Jenevier. Only danger and misery await you down this dark path. Forged wisdom was calling out to her. A wisdom… bought and paid for through deep sorrow and painful grief.
She shook her head, recoiling from the beautiful man’s proffered hand. Watching as bitter rejection filled those lovely pale blue eyes, Jenevier died a little inside.
Frantically, she began searching the room, pulling out drawers, combing through the contents, slamming each shut upon inspection. Her eyes were wild, desperate. Curious gazes followed her dull silver curls, swinging madly about from her frenzied movements.
Brodder laid a calming hand upon her shoulder. “Shhh, wee lamb.” He tenderly stroked her hair as he spoke. “Hold still and breathe, Lass.”
She did as she was told. Her anxious movements ceased, but her chest heaved and her coal black eyes still scanned the room.
Returning to her side, Brodder held out ink and some oddly thick paper, the sight of which sent a wave of relief washing over her.
She hurriedly scribbled out what her heart was longing to say, what her muddled mind kept screaming at her. She knew not the reasoning, but the message had to be delivered, explainable or not. Jenevier beamed, her smile was shining like the heavens when she turned to face Finnean.
And once again, as when first he laid eyes upon her, the snow white warrior was lost, swaying to a magical tune that her smile alone played in his valiant heart. His stomach twisted, his knees felt like mush. So intent was he upon her lovely face, upon the innocent joy dancing in her black eyes, nothing else registered. Only when she shook it, noisily, did he realize she was holding up a piece of paper with strange markings scratched on it.
He scanned the words. Slowly shaking his head, his confused gaze left the unreadable note and found her hopeful eyes.
Jenevier’s heart sank, her radiant smile vanishing as her shoulders slumped forward.
Brodder slipped the message from her listless hands as her deflated gaze remained fixed upon the worn wooden floor. Silence consumed her, threatened to still her joy, madden her already mottled mind.
The only sound in the room was the slowing thump of her sinking heart… until the broken, unsure words rang like sweet music within her ears. She turned to find a weakened warrior, shaky fingers sliding across her scratchy print, lips carefully sounding out each word. It was the man her claws had claimed, the one that tasted of bitter lies. Gráda gave her message a voice and lifted her crumbling heart. He didn’t say every word exactly right, but it was close enough to convey her intent.
“I am a… dead… deadly… poi… poison. This nob… nob… noble man has no need of my ty… type of inter… ven… intervention. My gift is a cur… is a cur… a curse. I wis… wish not to har… harm him as I fe… fear I have alr… already harm… ed… harmed Bree… Breeun.”
She lowered her head. Relief and guilt sat equally upon the back of her neck, weighing her down.
“Gráda? How is it you can read these words?” Luag asked. “Who taught you these strange shapes?” He was shaking the man as he questioned him.
“The Silver Witch,” Gráda rasped. “She didn’t teach me. I gleaned their meaning from her words as she wrote. She always spoke aloud when she made words such as these with her quill.”
At the injured man’s confession, Jenevier quickly turned to Brodder, worry making her heart race. She couldn’t read his eyes, couldn’t tell if this little revelation diminished her in his heart.
Why do I write as does the witch my father hates?
Looking then to Brian, she watched as the color drained from his handsome face. He looked haunted, scared. She started to cry when their eyes met.
What have I done? What harm have I wrought upon these noble people? Poor Brian, why did I have to hurt someone so innocent? I know not how I cursed him, only that I did.
Tears dripped from her chin, landing on her dress, soaking the thin fabric, discoloring her already tattered raiment.
Finnean spoke as he grabbed her hand, pulling her hard against him. “Aye, Lass, it’s a good thing I don’t believe in curses.” His arms wrapped about her like a vise. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her intoxicating scent as his eyelashes fluttered and his breath hitched. “Lick me, Milady. Prove to our noble King I am worthy his trust. Do not shun me, wee Princess. Don’t leave unanswered questions and doubt floating on the air between us. Treat me fairly, lovely moon, as you have done with my brethren.”
His sharp nose brushed her ear as he spoke, hot breath tickling her there. She ceased resisting him, nearly we
nt limp in his arms. His embrace only tightened as his labored breathing increased.
With every thought in her head warning her not to, with every cell of her being screaming admonition, she obeyed him.
The jarring current that passed between warrior and maiden was almost painful. Trying to withdraw, she heard his sharp intake of breath a mere second before his lips found hers, stealing her will. He pulled her ever tighter, cutting off her breath. She cared not. She was spinning through time, dizzy with desire. His tongue tasted like honeysuckles in her mouth, even brought the likeness of the tiny yellow flower to her thoughts. She stopped struggling and ran her fingers into his hair, melted to his will. And now she was utterly lost.
Their world faded away around them. All that remained was the spellbound, snow-kissed couple. Lost to each other and never wishing to be found.
When strong hands pulled her from this knight’s consuming embrace, Jenevier was almost grateful. Her woozy head fell limply back—a jarring thud, addling her when it soundly met the broad chest.
Warm breath tickled her ear. “Shhh, all’s well now, Milady,” Gráda whispered. “I have you. I’ll keep you safe. Fear not my fair brother, little one. He is now restrained.”
She didn’t resist the injured man, she was too thankful. Slowly raising her weighted lids, she saw Finnean’s maddened, hunger-filled eyes. Brian’s strong arms were wrapped around the warrior’s heaving chest.
She stretched a trembling hand out toward him. I didn’t mean to, I swear it. I tried to warn you, brave knight. Never would I slight you, never. Her words echoed through her head… but were heard by no one else in the universe.
“Finnean, you fool,” Brodder yelled at the white-haired man who couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. “What were you thinking, lad? Did she not tell us plainly she was a poison to you?”
“I was thinking only of her, Sire. She consumes my mind, removes my rational thought.” His voice was raspy, strained. “If she is my poison, then I wish to die this day, pressed against her, gloriously happy. I cannot deny her claim upon me, Your Grace. Nor do I want to.”
