Enchanted No More

by Robin D. Owens

  “You would think so,” he said, but there was an indulgent note in his voice.

  Jenni noted that there weren’t any colors of Treefolk—no rich red-browns that mimicked redwoods or greens of spring leaves or oak forests.

  Aric put an arm around her shoulders. “We wouldn’t want a place with the Eight anyway.”

  She wondered if that were true.

  “And if there are visitors from dryads or Treemen…” He tilted his head and Jenni knew that there were. “They would be using the trees on the land and the greenhome.”

  “Uh-huh.” She wondered if his mother was there.

  He turned to face Jenni. “I’ve asked Leafswirl to stay away. Too dangerous.”

  Fear painted the inside of Jenni’s throat. He wouldn’t want his mother to see him dead, either.

  “Will you go meet your father?” Jenni asked, and knew at once she’d made a mistake.

  “No.” Aric’s expression set. “He’ll be entertaining the Eight and their entourages, busy.”

  Too busy to acknowledge his son. That had always been the excuse Jenni had heard. Aric didn’t want to risk rejection again, who would? And she figured that Windstrum would reject Aric…or be more interested in soaking up the effervescence of the Eight’s magic, being the life of the party, catering to the great Lightfolk than spending time with his son.

  A brief knock came at the door and it opened to show the most minor naiad of the household behind a tray floating with a nutritious but bland meal.

  Aric went to take the tray and the anti-grav spell vanished. “Apparently we are eating here in our room tonight,” he said.

  “All our rooms and dining areas are now full,” said the naiad, who then turned her back and hurried away. The door swung shut behind her.

  Aric grunted and glanced at the tiny round table that they’d been using as a desk—one at a time.

  There was a small crack and the browniefem who’d served them before walked out of the wall. She sniffed in disapproval. At first Jenni thought it was because the room was very humid due to the staff practicing their magic to make everything perfect. But then the fem reached up to touch the tray full of food and it vanished.

  “Fire lady say your food must good,” the brownie said. With a whisk of her hands, the electronics and papers on the table were banished to a dresser drawer that opened and shut in the blink of an eye. A new top was placed on the table to extend the space—it looked to be granite. Jenni touched it and found it heated. Then dishes and flatware appeared on the table, along with food.

  Luscious-smelling seared steak made her mouth water. Tender steamed green vegetables along with buttery new potatoes.

  “Keep you good for tomorrow.” The brownie gave a definitive nod, then disappeared.

  Aric bolted toward the table, found “elf and Treefolk” fare—more tubers and roots that he preferred, quail. He transferred half of the steamed vegetables to his plate, half to Jenni’s and the moment the serving dish was empty it disappeared from his hands. He grunted again, this time in pleasure.

  He pulled out a chair for Jenni, then sat himself and they both ate.

  As usual, flavors popped in her mouth and sank into her tongue and there was just enough for her to feel replete but not overfull. She made no comment on the music that drifted to them from the Eight’s banquet.

  After dinner was done and they moved from the table, everything that the brownie had brought disappeared and the electronics were reinstated in their previous places.

  They hadn’t spoken much during the meal and now Jenni said, “I’m going to take a shower. I think I’ll stay in here tonight.” The atmosphere outside was more like a carnival than the eve of a battle—reminding her that it had been that way fifteen years ago, too. The Lightfolk, in general, were a happy people. But last time she’d stayed out until the last flute played the final note. Not tonight.

  Everything rested on her tomorrow.

  Aric’s eyelashes lowered, his smile was slow.

  Jenni had already taken off her blouse, slipped out of her jeans. At his look, she stopped and held them in front of her. “I don’t know if I can. Loving. Tonight or tomorrow morning.” Too many memories, too many similarities between this mission and the last.

  She’d tried to ignore those over the last days, concentrated on the differences—her own power was greater, as was her knowledge. Her spell technique had refined since she was so determined and focused.

  But now all the memories had risen to plague her and anything that echoed of the past resonated to thrum her nerves. She couldn’t bear it if she failed again, and that meant taking steps so she wouldn’t.

  Her emotions churned and she knew he sensed them.

  “Oh, Jindesfarne,” he whispered, sorrow in his eyes. He stood. “I hadn’t considered.”

  Men. What was so difficult to understand that she wouldn’t take a chance on repeating her previous mistakes?

  He walked to her, into her personal space, but not quite touching her. She became aware of mass; his height, taller than she, his body wider than hers. The solidity of him, the strength. But he hadn’t been strong during the portal mission. He’d been weak, and his weakness had matched her own in putting their pleasure before their duty that morning.

  She wouldn’t do that again.

  CHAPTER 29

  ARIC SAID, “WHAT IF I PROMISED YOU THAT we will be on the beach and ready for the ritual to start two hours before it is scheduled?”

  An inward tremor had her gritting her teeth. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes. He, too, had regrets. Maybe he didn’t feel the guilt because they’d been “late,” but maybe he was as determined as she to make this experience different.

  This time he touched her. Fingertips on her cheek, feathering down to trace her lips. He smiled and though the sadness lingered in his eyes, a glint was back. He pressed his fingers to her lips like a kiss, a benediction. Then his hands drew down her neck, and again he barely brushed the sensitive tatt on her nape. Tingles shivered through her, heating her blood, her skin, her core.

  His smile widened, but he remained silent. His touch swept down her shoulders, her waist, until his hands settled on her hips. His gaze met hers. “I wouldn’t do anything to upset you at this juncture, Jenni.” He jerked his head to their electronics on the table. “Four alarms are set.” A corner of his mouth twisted. “And the naiad we like least has orders to personally wake us three hours ahead of the midmorning ritual. For breakfast and cleansing and preparation. We won’t be late this time, Jenni. I promise you.”

  He’d changed. The careless young man who’d put his pleasure first was long gone, ground to a sharp blade for the Eight. He learned to put their missions first, and his own Folk, the Treefolk. He’d thought of others first for a long time.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  Closing his eyes, he dropped his hands, his smile dimmed, then kicked up again. “Go start your shower, Jenni.”

  She rolled her clothes up and stuck them in her backpack—a magical backpack now with a pocket of greenspace provided by Aric. She couldn’t reach into such a space, but she could request something pop out. The pack had expanded as she picked up items along the way. Even as she stuffed her clothes in, she wondered if she’d be in any kind of shape to draw them out in the future.

  In the bathroom she stripped and put her bra and panties in the laundry chute, again wondering when she’d get them back with all the demands on the household staff.

  The bathroom was the best thing about this place, and nearly as big as their bedroom. Each tile was uniquely painted and had a slight texture that made it nonslippery. There was a freshwater pool-tub set in stone in the floor, with easy steps down and jet options…all worked by magic. An enclosed shower had opposite showerheads on each wall. She stepped in the shower and steamed up the place. Her muscles relaxed and her turbulent emotions quieted enough to be tucked away.

  Then the shower door opened and Aric stepped in, fully arous
ed, and her entire body hummed with anticipation. Again he put his hands on her hips. He said, “Music,” and a deep beating rhythm upped the spiral of desire that came as his slick hands roamed her body. He pulled her close and they swayed to Spanish-inspired music that she didn’t know he liked. It lit her fire nature, and as his hands stroked and she returned the sensual touch, reveling in skin over smooth muscle, wet, hers, all thought vanished.

  They danced, they played, they merged. Him thrusting into her with a pleasure that had her panting, pumping, breaking into shards of deep pleasure. Forming again.

  She held on to him as he leaned against the warm wall of the shower, ordered the music and the water off. With barely enough breath to order a breeze to dry them, she enjoyed the contentment of caring that came after sex.

  He put an arm around her, bracing her as they walked from the bathroom, where he helped her with the over-large soft cotton T-shirt that she wore to bed, nuzzling her ear, then tucked her in.

  She was sleepy until a wisp of song came from outside their windows and all the responsibility she had tomorrow hit her once again and froze her with icy dread.

  Aric was there with a drink, his face austere.

  Sniffing, she understood the warm herbal liquid was a sleeping potion without any side effects. With the potion and sleeping with Aric, she might not even wake up in the middle of the night. She took it and downed it, warming from the inside out without using her magic. She settled back into the plump feather pillows. “I take it that this means no more loving tonight.”

  “You take it wrong.” He slid into bed with her. “I need to ensure that you will sleep well. My duty.”

  “Ah,” she said, then she only moaned.

  When she woke up, the planet had turned and the sun had risen and it was the day of the spring equinox. The day of the mission. The day that would change her life.

  Aric was as quiet as she, speaking gently to the naiad who pounded on the door after they were already awake, the browniefem who’d come to serve them breakfast.

  Jenni listened to her blood and body’s beat, had done the procedure for entering the interdimension often enough that there would be no hesitation.

  She dressed in silk: undershirt and blouse, thin long johns and heavier trousers. All items were woven in different directions—a battle precaution. Aric wore heavier padded silk armor with light chain mail—and spells. He’d also hardened his skin until it shone like polished redwood.

  Soon they were ready—or for Jenni, as ready as she would ever be. It was obvious from the way Aric dressed and checked his weapons that he’d fought over the years, while she had avoided her magic and her heritage. The last week had been good. No one had wanted to visit with her, so she concentrated on the mission—and proving herself.

  Ripples of chimes collided with piano riffs and an epic music theme as all their electronic alarms sounded.

  Jenni chuckled and Aric laughed, rolled his shoulders to settle his armor. “Now we go. The Lightfolk are preparing the dancing circle.”

  Some of the underlying tension that had imbued her since she’d awakened knowing it was the day settled within her, adding energy instead of distracting. These were the great magical Folk. She certainly wouldn’t be alone in handling the bubble. Now that he’d mentioned it, she felt the heaviness of magic surrounding her.

  She could only do her part and balance the energies inside the bubble and when it popped. Everything after that was up to the Lightfolk.

  Aric stopped her when she put her hand on the door latch, turned her around. The feel of his hands on her—smooth and flexible wood, so different!—distracted her mind and body and sent them into considering sex instead of magic.

  He tipped her chin up, his eyes like emeralds, crystalline, hard to read. Bending his head he kissed her, lightly, tenderly. The scent of him—sparkling air magic, the secret depths of great forests, redwood, man—wrapped around her until she ached with wanting to stay with him.

  Lifting his head, he stepped back. “I love you,” he said, just as he hadn’t said it fifteen years ago on that lost morning of Before.

  She opened her mouth to say it in return, but the words couldn’t come out. She couldn’t be that vulnerable before this man who had hurt her so, whom she’d believed had betrayed her. Not this morning, the morning of the next battle where she might live or die.

  He might die, too. “I—I…” But she could only scrape that word from her throat, no others.

  Again he gathered her close, rocked her, murmured words against her hair. His hand covered the tatt on her neck and she shivered under his touch. “I understand. This is too much like the time before when you were hurt so badly.” His other hand lifted to stroke her hair. “I’m with you all the way today. I won’t leave you.”

  Unless he died outside the interdimension, like the rest of her family had, except Rothly. Rothly she could do something about. She reached for him mentally, it was eight hours later there, in Northumberland, and she sensed it was gray and raining. She almost wished it was gray and raining here, so the weather and the morning wasn’t like that last battle.

  Rothly, she called mentally. I love you.

  He was startled.

  I forgive you, she said, telling him again in words what had to be said. I love you and forgive you. This was the right thing to do.

  Her brother slammed shields against her, but she’d done what she’d needed to, a small weight that had burdened her had lifted. She looked into Aric’s eyes, found her mouth quirking as she said, “I forgive you, too.”

  Aric shook his head. “I don’t think you do, all the way down to the last flicker-flame of your being, or you’d be able to tell me you loved me.” He kissed her forehead. “But you’ve—we’ve—come a long way in a short amount of time. We’ll get where we need to be.”

  She hoped so.

  “Time to go.” He stepped around her and opened a door.

  On a shaky breath she left the room to walk out the door for a last check of the dancing circle. To confront the Lightfolk and the full Eight.

  CHAPTER 30

  NO ONE WAS IN THE HOUSE, EVERYONE WAS outside near the Lightfolk camp…and they all watched Jenni as she crossed to the area that had been prepared for a sacred dancing ritual. Aric accompanied her like the guard he was.

  The gazes of the Eight and all the other powerful Lightfolk they’d gathered had weight. The strongest in elemental magic were there to cast the spell that would direct the rich bubble energies for the result the Eight wished. A new stream of change that would affect the entire world.

  This wouldn’t be an on-the-fly spell like she and Aric and the guardians had done at Yellowstone. Since this was the last bubble, she was sure the event was planned to the last detail.

  The Eight wanted that creative bubble force to bolster the Lightfolk so they wouldn’t die out, maybe become more fertile. A good plan as far as it went, but Jenni figured any stream of magic infused with hope and creativity would benefit everyone. Not to mention the fact that this new upsurge of magic might very well meld with the evolving tech of humankind and forge something better.

  Look how the shadleeches that had been created by the first bubble had been bad for Lightfolk and humans alike, “good” only for the Darkfolk who could use and direct them to do harm.

  Her feet tingled as magic from many Folk saturated the ground. Where the Lightfolk had trod now showed greener grasses, and even white crocus in a wide ring, a fairy ring. Beautiful. She stared at the green and the flowers, reluctantly accepting that the Lightfolk, on the whole, were good for Earth…at least better for the Earth than her own human heritage.

  She’d even give the Eight the benefit of the doubt and accept that, in this matter, they were truly interested in helping the whole Lightfolk community, all the way down to the weakest air sprite.

  Her trancelike state deepened as more of the herbs from her last potion kicked in. The air seemed to buzz around her. She went to the middle of the circle
and stood, spread-legged, and lifted her arms wide, opened her mouth to check the magic.

  Not. Quite. Balanced. Too many magical people spending too much time here. But it would only take a tweak or two to set all right.

  One breath, two, the pattern of the chant and steps and the gray mist formed before her. She took the half step into the interdimension. A night with aurora borealis was nothing like this. Each Lightfolk colored the mist—from the dull gold of the small browniefem who’d taken to providing Jenni and Aric with their meals, to a flaming red-orange that had Jenni frowning at the general familiarity of its superheated flash of blue until she understood that Synicess had been invited.

  The Eight were majestic pillars of elemental magic.

  It took Jenni only three breaths to gather some of the ambient power and weave it into her previous spell, adjusting the balance of all four elements to perfection. That’s what the Eight expected from her, and what she intended to deliver.

  Another breath and she backed out of the mist, banished it with a gesture. Sunshine warmed her and she caught a look of surprise on Aric’s face. “Done so soon?”

  “I don’t know how long it will take the bubble to rise from the Earth’s crust and float up into the atmosphere to break.” She rolled her shoulders, the coolness of the interdimension had slid against her skin, not quite sinking in, and she wanted the warmth. “I anticipate entering and exiting the interdimension several times instead of staying there.”

  Her father’s friend, Etesian, the scholarly elf, hurried up and put an arm around her shoulders, gave her a short squeeze. “Quite so.” He stared at the Eight. “You must reserve your skill to attempt to balance the energy inside the bubble.”

  Jenni nodded, leaned slightly into the elf, who smelled of leather and paper and a spring breeze. “Most of my magic will be joining great outside energies with the bubble magic after it bursts.”

  The Fire King, Emberdrake, now her adopted father, rubbed his hands, smiling. “You’ll give us a great deal of equal magical elemental power to work with. Thank you.” He topped off his thanks with a bow.