by Robyn Bachar
“I have misjudged you, Duquesne,” Simon commented, his voice sounding faint and distant to me. “I thought you were an intelligent man, but anyone who would willingly let such a rare treasure get away from him is naught but a fool.”
Though I would’ve loved to have heard Lex’s reply, the darkness rose and swallowed me, and everything went cold and black.
Chapter Ten
Okay, I was getting real tired of this being-knocked-unconscious thing, even though this particular incident hadn’t involved me being hit in the head with an almighty whammy, and instead involved suffering severe blood loss. Again. Lord and Lady. Really embarrassing blood loss too. I’d volunteered myself to be molested by a damn vampire. I must be losing my mind. Totally. Completely. Irrevocably.
The sensation of two purring machines sleeping curled up on my feet woke me this time, and I was pleased they hadn’t decided to nip me awake. Groaning, I blinked my eyes open, but much to my surprise I did not see the familiar surroundings of my apartment. Nor was I in the vampire’s library, or Lex’s SUV, which I also would have expected to wake up in. The setting felt familiar to my fuzzy, addled brain, and I struggled to place where I was. I was beneath the covers of an enormous, orgy-sized four-poster bed, with Merri and Pippin napping happily on my feet. Thick navy blue velvet fabric stretched in a canopy above me, falling in curtains around the bed. To my right the curtains had been pulled aside, tied back with a silver cord. Silver. The word finally triggered the correct memory: Castle Silverleaf, in Faerie.
“Portia?” I called out, and was answered by the sound of excited fluttering wings.
“You’re awake!” The faerie plopped herself down on the edge of the bed. “Here, drink this.” With one hand she guided me into a sitting position while she handed me a silver chalice with the other.
“What is it?” The liquid was cold and looked a bit syrupy, a far cry from my usual mug of morning coffee.
“Pink drink.”
Not a good sign-the pink drink is a super energy drink for magic users, like Red Bull on steroids. It’s hard to find and costly to make, so if I needed it I must have been in sorry shape. Grimacing, I began to sip the beverage. Chugging the pink drink is a bad idea-it can make smoke come out your ears. Literally.
“How’d I get here?”
“Lex brought you. I went back to your apartment for the cats, and Tybalt brought your equipment.”
“Thanks, Portia, I appreciate that.” I winced with guilt at the mention of Lex. He’d looked mad enough to shoot laser beams from his eyes before I’d fainted. “Where is Lex now?” I asked, doing my best to sound only casually interested.
“Out in the courtyard sparring with Tybalt. Tybalt wanted to bring your clothes too, but I made you new ones so you wouldn’t need them anyway. Better ones too. They’re so pretty, you’ll love them, look!” Launching herself into the air, she zipped across the room and out of my line of sight. Glancing down at myself, I realized for the first time that I was dressed in a frilly white nightgown, the stuff of Victorian fantasies-long sleeved, high collared, with enough itchy fabric to clothe three people. Shaking my head in disbelief, I cautiously got out of bed to investigate Portia’s source of high-pitched glee.
With her wings working a mile a minute the fairy hovered in front of a large wooden wardrobe filled to capacity with dresses. They were the sort of fashion popular in fairytale movies and upscale Renaissance faires. Ribbons, silk, satin, intricate embroidery, lace. It was a virtual hit parade of women’s fashion throughout the ages, featuring only the softest, most feminine, flattering and formal. I paused, frowning at Portia dressed like a 1980s punk princess in her halter top, ripped stonewash jeans and combat boots. Elaborate gowns were not her style, and they certainly weren’t mine. Hell, I didn’t think there was one dress in my closet at home. Probably not any skirts either.
“Look!” Portia gasped, holding out a gorgeous scarlet dress with golden embroidery of leaves and suns. The much-neglected girly part of my brain leapt up from the dark, dusty corner of my mind I’d kicked it into with my white gym shoes, and it did an excited dance of approval.
“Wow. I can’t wear that, it’s too nice. I’d only end up getting it dirty or bleeding all over it.” I shook my head.
Undeterred, Portia held the garment up in front of me with a contemplative expression on her face. “I think the color would go well with blood…maybe something darker,” she decided, oblivious as to how morbid her statement sounded. Turning back to the selection, she sorted through gowns, looking for a more suitable dress. “And I have jewelry, and we can style your hair, and I have all kinds of shoes for you to pick from, and-”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down there. What’s with the sudden desire for a makeover party?”
“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it sometime, Kitty. When you’re Titania you’ll have to go to big formal gatherings like banquets and masquerade balls and you need to dress pretty, like a lady.” She lectured me matter-of-factly, her serious tone unusual for the playful faerie.
“Great, something else to look forward to. Okay, fine. I’ll wear a dress. A plain dress.”
Squaring my shoulders, I endured my torture like a good soldier, sipping my pink drink and regaining my strength as I let Portia have at me. She buzzed and chattered around me as though someone had crowned her my Extreme Makeover Fairy Godmother. After a great deal of agonizing, she settled on a deep forest green satin gown with silver knotwork embroidery along the neckline and hem and a matching cloak, and then made my hair her next project after getting me dressed.
I honestly don’t know what magic she used on my hair, but with a few strokes of her brush and the strategic placement of several decorative silver combs, Portia managed to tame my mane more effectively than I ever had in my entire life. Amazing. By the time she finished with me I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. The only things I’d been allowed to keep were my glasses, so I wouldn’t be blind, and my wristwatch, because without it I’d slip out of Earth’s timeline and that would be really, really bad.
“Eat your heart out, Liv Tyler,” I murmured as I twirled around to ensure it was truly me reflected in the looking glass. Though I would have thought it impossible, Portia had transformed me into a fine lady-at least in appearance if not in spirit. As much as I hated to admit it, I felt better. A lot better, by leaps and bounds, and the realization brought tears to my eyes. It had been a long time since I’d given any real thought to the way I looked. I’d forgotten that beneath the messy hair and behind the glasses I was kinda pretty. Maybe even beautiful, but I doubted my self-esteem would ever be healthy enough to buy that.
“Thank you, cousin.” I hugged her, carefully avoiding her wings.
“Let’s go show Lex how beautiful you look,” Portia insisted. If my girly instincts hadn’t been enjoying their big day out by preening in front of the mirror, I might have picked up on the mischievous glint in her eyes, but the majority of my brain was taken up by “ooh, shiny” at that moment. Portia led me outside, though I could easily have found the way by myself. Castle Silverleaf is like a second home to me, and Portia and her clan are the only family I have left. I hold the title of cousin within them-which is a big deal for a human-and I can trace my faerie blood to the Silverleafs a few generations back on my mother’s side.
Family blood ties create most of the contact between humans and faeries. Faeries once lived in our world, but they left to form their own sometime in the distant past. The sheer magnitude of power required to create Faerie left them drained as a people, and inherently changed as well. While they are almost impossible to kill, age incredibly slowly, and are immune to all manners of disease, they are also sterile-at least where each other are involved. A full-blooded faerie child has not been conceived since the split, but they can impregnate and be made pregnant by humans. As a mixed-blood, my ties are to Portia, Tybalt and the Silverleafs. In many ways Castle Silverleaf is the only real home I have.
The pale winter
sunlight glinted on Portia’s delicate, silvery wings as we emerged into the courtyard, and normally I would have been jealous, but with my stunning dress and my fabulous hair I felt pretty damn good about myself. The ringing, clattering, swooshing sounds of frantic swordplay could be heard even before we set foot outside, and I spotted the two combatants locked in their battle. From the look of it Tybalt was winning, but really that was to be expected, considering he had a millennia or so more experience than Lex did. To his credit, Lex was holding his own, even managing to press the faerie back toward the stone stairway Portia and I were descending.
“Get ’im, Tybalt!” I shouted in encouragement. Lex glanced up at the sound of my voice and did a double take. Tybalt took advantage of the guardian’s momentary distraction and swept Lex’s feet out from under him. Falling flat on his back, Lex grunted in shock. Triumphant, Tybalt kicked the sword out of Lex’s hand.
“You cheated.” He coughed, staring up at the faerie standing over him.
“Not my fault you let yourself get distracted by a lovely lass,” Tybalt argued, grinning, and then he turned to me. “I see you finally allowed my sister to adjust your wardrobe. You look very elegant.” He gave me a courtly bow, and I did my best attempt at a curtsey.
“Why thank you, cousin.”
“Were you planning on attending a ball, Cinderella?” Lex drawled, a sour note in his voice. I had the distinct impression he wasn’t happy to see me, but I wasn’t about to let him ruin my princess vibe.
“I just might. I think we can rustle up a pumpkin and some mice for my coach and four.” I turned to Portia for confirmation. “I already have my Fairy Godmother here.”
“A ball? Yes! We should have a ball, that’s a splendid idea! To celebrate our cousin’s ascension to Titania,” Portia exclaimed. Her eagerness nearly popped my eardrum, and I resisted the urge to tell her to use her indoor voice. Sadly, faeries don’t have one.
“But I haven’t gotten the position yet.” I was more than a little afraid of the eager gleam in Portia’s dark blue eyes. Portia loves parties. I should’ve been more cautious with my reply. Damn.
“Then this will be a show of support. I’ll handle everything, don’t you worry,” she assured me, and vanished in an excited puff of frost.
“No good will come of this.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you’re already dressed as the belle of the ball.” Lex chuckled at my dilemma as he pushed himself to his feet.
“Yeah, laugh it up, she’ll be after you next, trying to dress you in a doublet and hose. Just you wait.” I shook a finger at him in warning, and Tybalt snickered.
“You’d look good in some nice pastels, guardian.”
“Not a chance.” Lex shook his head firmly. “Well if there’s goin’ to be a party, I guess I’d better go catch a shower. See ya ’round.”
I frowned at his back as he wandered away, feeling rejected. Didn’t I at least deserve a hug after being a blood bank? Well…I wasn’t about to let it bother me, just like I wasn’t going to pay any mind to the fact that as he walked away Lex looked as good from behind as he did from the front. Tearing my gaze away from that perfect posterior, I turned to Tybalt, who was watching me pensively.
“Come walk with me, cousin.” The faerie led me to a familiar spot up on the wall of the keep, a walkway that would have been patrolled by the castle’s defenders, if there’d been a need for them. There hadn’t been a war in Faerie…ever, actually. I think they must have left those tendencies behind on Earth. Tybalt often came up here when he needed to brood, which true to his namesake was a fairly regular occurrence. With nervous care I brushed away the snow and hitched myself up to sit on the edge of the wall, smoothing the skirt of my gown into place around me.
“So you two are back together now?” Tybalt asked without preamble. I blinked in surprise, startled.
“I suppose so.”
“You don’t sound very sure of that.”
“I said I was willing to give it another try. I don’t know. I’m still not sure what he sees in me. Lex needs the kinda girl who’ll bake cookies for his kids and be on the PTA council, and in guardian terms I’m practically an ex-con.”
“Don’t be silly,” he scoffed.
“It’s only a matter of time before I screw up again. Tick tock. In fact he’s already mad at me again.”
“Because you were foolish and let a vampire feed from you.”
“A chronicler, not a vampire.”
Tybalt rolled his eyes. “The difference is purely academic. You’re just making excuses. Kitty, I know that you know not all men are base villains like your father, and I can generally tell the good from the bad, which is why I tried to talk your mother out of marrying Dorian.”
“And?”
“And despite the fact that he hurt you, I’ve come to think that Lex is a good man. He cares a great deal for you. He stayed by your side from the moment he brought you here until I dragged him out into the courtyard for some fresh air.”
Squirming, I fidgeted with the fabric of my skirt. “We’re a bad match. I already failed once at being a guardian’s girlfriend. I don’t play by the rules enough for him.”
“I’m not so sure. Magic needs a balance-masculine and feminine, lord and lady, order and chaos. I think if you worked at it, you could make it a good match. You’re obviously attracted to each other, since I hear you’ve been, ahem, kissing again.”
From his expression it was obvious Tybalt was referring to a little bit more than kissing, and I thought I’d die of embarrassment. “He told you that?”
“Of course not. Your blush just did though.” Tybalt grinned mischievously and I couldn’t believe I’d actually fallen for that trick.
“One night doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh no? Then why does he watch you like a man in love?”
“You’re being overly dramatic.” It really wasn’t much of a stretch though, because we’d been in love before our relationship had gone down in flames.
“I’m not blind either, cousin. Well, I’d better go and stop Portia before she throws you a parade. You’ll want to find another dress, I’ll wager. She’s going to insist you wear something even fancier to your party.”
The blood drained from my face at the idea of wearing an even fancier gown, and I nodded as Tybalt walked off. Deciding I’d better pick something before she did, I made my way through the castle and tried to ignore the fact that the noise level had raised a few decibels with general excitement at the prospect of a party. Faeries love to party-they love food, they love booze, they love music. Wine, women and song is a nicer way to phrase it, but the plain truth is faeries are as rowdy and fun-loving as the Greek community on a Big Ten campus.
When I returned to my room, I stood standing in front of the intimidating array of outfits, having absolutely no idea what I was doing. Like I said, dresses are not my style. I pick my clothing based on comfort, durability and machine washability. I don’t iron. I don’t dry clean. I wasn’t even sure how to get into most of these outfits, much less the undergarments that went with them. There were no less than three corsets, and the mere sight of them made me want to run screaming from the room.
As I contemplated which one would be the least torturous I found my mind wandering. Lex’s favorite color (aside from black) was red, and there were several dresses in various shades of it. Would he like me better in the dress with the ridiculously low-plunging neckline, or the anorexically tight dress that would push my girls up so high the tops of my breasts could almost brush the bottom of my chin? The train of thought continued on to consider if the bright scarlet fabric emanated a woman-of-ill-repute vibe.
“Ooh, ooh, the pink one!” Portia squealed from behind me. “Pick the pink one, he’ll just love it.”
“Pink?” I frowned. “Not going to happen. This thing is a nightmare dipped in Pepto-Bismol.”
“It’s pretty.” Portia pouted as she hovered over me, literally.
“It’s got ruffl
es! I don’t do ruffles.” I shook my head in a firm no. The faerie sighed, the weight of the world in her tone, and poofed the offending dress out of existence in a puff of shining dust. “Is there slinky? Maybe slinky that flows into a twirly-skirt-type thing?” I suggested in my “I know nothing of fashion” speak. “And maybe long evening gloves. I like those, the silky kind.”
Portia nodded, pressing a petite finger to her lips as she plotted. “What color?”
“Black.”
“Not black. Black is not a color.”
“Geez. Red? Like garnet red maybe?”
“I can work with that. Stand still.” Tilting her head to the side, she paused for a moment, and then I felt a tingling rush of prickly heat flash across my body in the blink of an eye. Glancing down at myself, I discovered the green and silver gown had been replaced by sleek scarlet silk. I gasped, my torso now constricted by an oxygen-depriving torture device that had to be a corset.
“Ow! Bloody hell, Portia, I can’t breathe.”
“You don’t need to breathe. You look fabulous, see for yourself.”
At her direction I turned toward the mirror and blinked. The evil device had sucked me in and fluffed me out, giving me ample cleavage and the illusion of a slender waist. Slowly I approached my reflection and did a series of half turns, amazed at the effect a little torture had on my figure. Maybe breathing was overrated after all. The skirt of the gown fanned out just under my knees, flowing with a fluid grace every time I moved. Strapless, the gown bared my shoulders, and matching silk gloves stretched up my arms and ended just above my elbows, marred only by the bump of my wristwatch concealed beneath one.
