Finvarra turned on her with a flash of anger. “Surely, my honor is beyond rebuke, as I am king of his realm.”
Una’s eyes narrowed but she said no more. Finvarra settled back with satisfaction, his gaze fixed grimly upon Rafael.
Darg bowed again, clearing her throat. “This mortal would not be so bold, as to demand the most valued prize you hold. Indeed, he would wager with you and exchange a riddle as his due. But should you not solve his rhyme, a boon he would claim of you this time.”
Finvarra made a sound of annoyance in his throat and drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. Elizabeth knew he loved to match wits with others, for he dearly loved to win. She hoped Rafael had a good riddle, because she had a fair idea what he might ask if he did win.
Her heart filled with hope anew.
“I need not play your games,” Finvarra said. “I know your desire and I would not relinquish her.”
His wife Una leaned over his shoulder, her hand stroking his neck. “But surely, my love, you can defeat a mere mortal!” she said, laughter running beneath her tone. “You have lived thousands of years and know nigh every riddle there is!” She leaned down and lowered her voice. “Show him that you are master in this kingdom.”
Her taunt worked, for Finvarra straightened. Una shot a triumphant glance at Elizabeth, and she realized that the Fae queen had also guessed Rafael’s intent. “I take your wager,” Finvarra said, then gestured to Darg. “But if I can answer it, then you will be my captive forever.”
Darg glanced up at Rafael, saw the reply in his eyes, then turned to nod at Finvarra.
“Tell your riddle that this folly may quickly be behind us.” Finvarra pretended to be dismissive but his eyes glinted with interest and he stroked his beard, unable to fully hide his anticipation of victory.
Darg straightened and clasped her hands behind her back. Her voice rang clearly through the Fae court.
“Splendid palaces and rich attire,
A love to set her heart afire,
Children to fill her days with joy,
Labor that she does enjoy,
A smooth young face for all her days,
Cause for laughter, come what may:
These gifts there are and more besides
But all women name the same one prized.
Cocks may strut and braggards boast:
But what does a woman want the most?”
Una laughed lightly, her laughter sounding of silver bells. “Surely you, my lord husband, with your great fondness for women, should solve this one easily.” There was an edge to her voice and Elizabeth glimpsed again her jealousy. She could have named what Una wanted most, that was for certain, for it was clear the queen wished for her husband’s faithfulness.
Finvarra hemmed. Finvarra hawed. Finvarra knitted his fingers together and furrowed his brow. He glowered at Rafael, who remained impassive, Darg standing on his outstretched palm. He glowered at Elizabeth, then at Una, then at the Elphine Queen—who appeared to be mightily amused by this exchange. Elizabeth supposed that he, like she, could not imagine what objectives they three women might hold in common value.
Darg cleared her throat again, this time more portentously. “Your time cannot be infinite, a reply I need so answer quick.” Finvarra glared at the spriggan for her audacity, but Darg was not deterred. “’Tis only just that kings show grace. Your reply must be made apace. Ten pulses of the mortal’s heart, then I shall have your best retort.” Darg bent down to touch the pulse at Rafael’s wrist and began to count aloud.
One, two, three.
Elizabeth was amazed that Rafael’s heart beat so slowly, despite the moment before them. He was so composed that she might have feared he did not care for her, had he not sent the pomegranate. As it was, she knew he sought to have Finvarra underestimate him.
Elizabeth toyed with her mead, determined to feed the illusion, knowing that surprise was the best weapon. As ever, she did not drink the beverage, but simply let the Fae pour it for her.
Four, five, six.
Finvarra drummed his fingers on his knee, then snapped them, summoning a cloud of Fae advisors. They whispered to him, suggesting solutions, as he glared at Rafael.
Seven, eight, nine.
Elizabeth dared not breathe. She feared her agitation would be evident to any one who glanced her way.
“Ten!” the spriggan cried. “Ten beats there were and ten is time. Your answer now shall be mine.”
Finvarra rose to his feet. He strode toward the spriggan and the warrior, his manner so forbidding that Elizabeth feared he would smite them both. Rafael did not move. The spriggan quivered a little but stood tall on Rafael’s palm. Finvarra seemed to grow larger and his silhouette more ominous. The words burst from him with evident reluctance and no small measure of frustration.
“I do not know!” he declared and the court was all a-chatter.
Darg beamed. “Then you have lost and he has won. His will in your court must now be done.”
“But what is the answer to the riddle?” Una demanded.
Darg glanced up at Rafael, then nodded at the king and queen. “A lady would choose her own way, for choice is what brings joy to her day. And so it is my warrior’s request, that you grant a choice to Elizabeth.”
Finvarra pivoted sharply, his gaze locking upon Elizabeth. He smiled slightly as she deliberately feigned indifference, then spun to face Rafael again. “You are a fool,” he said softly. “You give a choice, but she will not choose to leave. Our marks are upon her skin; she has become one of us. You have wasted your victory.”
Darg cleared her throat pointedly and Finvarra laughed.
“I shall keep my word, have no fear of that.” The king spun then, his robes flaring out behind him as he strode to Elizabeth. He spoke softly, urgently, his voice pitched low in an evident attempt to beguile her. Elizabeth stared down at her mead, trembling inside. “And so, my Elizabeth, a choice lies before you,” he murmured. “Will you stay in Fae, or will you leave with this rough warrior?”
Elizabeth dared to lift her gaze. She glanced at Rafael as if she did not know him, then surveyed the court with obvious admiration, letting Finvarra believe he had won.
The king smiled slowly, chuckling at his evident triumph, then Elizabeth straightened.
“I will go,” she said, speaking loudly and with clarity so her decision could not be questioned. “I would have my own choice, and he is the one who gives it to me.”
Una laughed merrily at that. Finvarra’s brow grew dark as thunder and he raised a fist, but Darg clucked her tongue. Rafael bowed to the king and offered his hand to Elizabeth. She could not truly believe that they would be allowed to depart, but she was not going to surrender the opportunity to do so. She hastened to Rafael’s side and put her hand in his, struck by how right his grip felt upon hers. She spared him a smile of gratitude, only to find his eyes narrowed.
And his gaze fixed upon Finvarra even as he backed away, retracing his steps out of the Fae court.
Finvarra smiled at them, his manner indulgent. He was so satisfied that Elizabeth could not explain his manner. Was he glad to see her gone, then? It made no sense. His wife Una came to stand behind his throne, her own pleasure in the result more than clear. It was impossible to Elizabeth that this pair should agree upon anything, but Una’s hand stole over Finvarra’s shoulder in a possessive gesture. The king glanced at her hand, then moved as if to shrug it off.
There was a sound then that seemed to come from deep in the earth, a sound that set the very court to vibrating. It could either have been a mountain moving or the sky tearing. Elizabeth could not say, but it was a sound that filled her with dread.
That Finvarra laughed heartily did naught to change her thinking. “You had best be quick,” he murmured with obvious glee. “Soon this portal will be closed between the realms and you will be my captives forever.”
Una, his wife, cursed like a fishwife. “Vermin!” she cried at her spouse. “You would seal your mi
stress in our realm when the way is barred. You tricked them and me, by stalling until it was too late for them to flee.”
The portal closed!
Finvarra laughed and laughed, well pleased with what he had wrought.
Rafael spun on his heel and began to run, tugging Elizabeth behind him. His mouth was set to a firm line, evidently to keep him from swearing aloud, but his eyes blazed with anger. He clearly remembered the course he had taken, for he ran with all haste, never hesitating at a junction or a turn.
Elizabeth was running as quickly as she could, her breath coming in great gasps, even as the rending sound continued. She did not know how far they had to flee or even where they would emerge in the mortal realm. In truth, she did not care. She feared she was slowing Rafael’s retreat but his grip was tight on her hand, and she knew he would not leave her behind.
The tunnels reminded her of the ones that had once been beneath Ravensmuir, the ones that had fallen in years before. They were hewn from rock and would have been dark without the golden illumination of the Fae court far behind them. Their shadows were long and dark on the walls and the light grew ever more dim as they ran. But they were unfamiliar tunnels, and she had been beneath Ravensmuir enough in her life that some corner should have looked familiar.
As they ran, the sound of the realms being torn apart grew only more fearsome.
They climbed a pile of loose stone and Elizabeth stumbled, stubbing her toe on some of the rock. Rafael did not hesitate but swept her into his arms and continued to run. She clung to him, hoping they would survive.
Before them a great portal was suddenly revealed, a deeper shadow in the darkness ahead. It was more than two-thirds obscured, a door of mirrored obsidian drawing steadily across the gap. A light glimmered far beyond the opening, and Elizabeth was reminded of the flame atop an oil lantern. It seemed like a beacon and she was convinced that if they could reach it, they would be safe. The gap, though, grew smaller with every step they took. The dark mirror moved with convulsive jerks, closing the space on one great lunge. The flame was out of sight and Elizabeth gripped Rafael tightly.
The portal would be sealed before they passed through it!
Rafael evidently came to the same conclusion. He bared his teeth and leapt for the door, just as it rumbled again. The remaining gap was too narrow for Rafael and Elizabeth’s heart clenched in fear.
But Rafael seized the lip of the mirror as if to halt its progress. He shoved Elizabeth through the space to the other side as he forcibly kept the portal from closing.
Nay! Not alone! Elizabeth tumbled to the ground from the force of his push, but was on her feet in a heartbeat.
The opening had already shrunk to half its width again.
“Rafael!” Elizabeth screamed, seeing that they would be parted forever. “I love you!” She saw the blood flowing from his fingers and knew the portal was as sharp as a blade. She gripped his hand and he leaned to the gap so that she could see part of his face.
“Mi piqueño ángel,” he mouthed, still recalling the rules of Finvarra’s court, still hoping for triumph. “Better me than you,” he added, to her horror, and blew her a kiss through the space.
Nay! She could not lose him.
Then the mirror shook and moved again. Rafael pulled back his hand and there was only his blood on the stone. Elizabeth beat at the barrier, wanting to be with him, but its course was relentless.
He would be trapped in his worse nightmare, snared with the dead in Finvarra’s court and compelled to pay a price forevermore for seeing her free.
This could not be!
As Elizabeth shouted in frustration, a small figure leapt into the remaining gap and braced itself between portal and wall. The space was no bigger than the width of two of Elizabeth’s fingers held together and the door shuddered to move. Whatever it was would be sliced in half!
To her amazement, Elizabeth recognized Darg, the Fae spriggan that had both befriended her and plagued her. She had no notion what to anticipate from the small creature, for its loyalties oft changed.
Darg granted her a sharp look, then drew herself up taller. “A boon is owed from me to you, and on this day all debts are due. The fourth of true loves bound to each other, this portal will not cleave asunder.”
Before Elizabeth could make sense of that, the spriggan took a deep breath, then screamed.
“Aiiiiiii!” was her bellow, the sound loud enough to pierce Elizabeth’s ears. In the same moment that Darg roared, the spriggan became a large phantom of furious, pulsing red. In the blink of an eye, she was taller than Elizabeth, wider than the corridor, and Elizabeth was thrown backward by her sudden and growing presence.
She shielded her eyes as the stone of the corridor began to crack, overhead and on all sides, the rock strained by the spriggan’s need for space at all costs. She heard a rumble and a groan and feared that she would be trapped beneath a mound of rubble, just as her uncle Tynan had been.
Then she saw a jagged line erupt across the smooth black obsidian that created a barrier between the worlds.
The dark mirror cracked.
Darg screamed again and the rock shivered. Elizabeth heard another crack and then a third. Rafael’s boot appeared as he kicked at the mirror from the other side. The portal shattered and broke, creating an opening into darkness.
Rafael did not hesitate but lunged through the space, landing in a tumble and rolling to his feet. Elizabeth was already on her feet by the time he reached her and he urged her away from the portal.
She heard a bellow from far below, a roar that made the earth rumble and the ground shake beneath their feet. They held hands and ran toward that flickering light. Elizabeth did not know precisely where they were, for it was dark on all sides, but Rafael ran with confidence.
There was the sound of crumbling behind them, the echo of rock falling and tunnels collapsing. She looked back to find a cloud of dust rolling in pursuit, a roiling cloud filled with debris and undoubtedly ill will. It gathered speed, approaching so quickly that she feared they could not outrun it, but Rafael tugged her onward.
They were panting when they reached a threshold of stone. It made no sense that there should be a lip of fitted masonry in this cave, but there was no time for questions.
Rafael pulled out a dagger that was wedged into the mortar, and Elizabeth had time to recognize it as his own. Then he swept her into his arms and jumped over that sill, catching her close as he fell down into some space beyond. He turned his back to the onslaught of debris, holding her tightly against him. Elizabeth buried her face in the warmth of his throat, glad beyond all to be in his embrace.
The dust and stone erupted beside them, and she fully expected it to follow them. But the gap had become a barrier, a clear barrier that halted the assault of the debris.
Elizabeth felt the floor beneath their feet shake, but Rafael held fast to her. She clung to him, reassured by the steady pound of his heart beneath her ear and the strength of his arms wrapped around her.
With Rafael, she would always be defended.
She would tell him later that his rescue of her from Finvarra’s court was fitting of a troubadour’s tale. She would tell him later that he was a champion beyond her wildest dreams.
But first she would show him how glad she was of his return.
Saturday, December 25, 1428
Feast Day of Saints Anastasia and Eugenia. Christmas Day.
Twenty-One
When the tumult was passed, Elizabeth dared to open her eyes. They were in a chamber and she realized with a start that it was the one in Kinfairlie’s tower, the one with three windows looking out to sea.
The middle window no longer offered a different view than the other two.
The portal to Fae was closed, and they were on the right side of it. Elizabeth could see the sea in the moonlight, its surface glittering as if it were studded with gems. The moon rode high and silver in a sky as dark as velvet and there were few clouds. A slight wind blew and it was
chilly, but she found it invigorating. She took a deep breath, well pleased with where she stood.
There was no sign of Darg.
The flame flickered atop the lantern left on the floor beside the door, and Rafael went to check the level of the oil. “I thought we might have need of a beacon,” he said, heaved a sigh of satisfaction, then returned to face her with a smile.
Elizabeth smiled back at him, letting her pleasure show. She had no chance to express her thanks, for Rafael cupped her face in his hand, then bent to kiss her thoroughly.
“I suppose there is one good way to celebrate your return,” she said when she could speak again.
Rafael grinned. “I would think it a fitting deed for a lady to meet her legal husband abed.”
Elizabeth took a step back to consider him, pretending to be more surprised than she was. “You said you would never wed.”
“I had not the right to wed. I left to win that right.” Rafael gestured to his tabard. “I have a holding, now, our own little Valencia, if you will have me as your own.” His eyes twinkled in a way that made her chest tight. “A man of honor.”
Elizabeth smiled in turn. “I fear you will never become as tedious as others we have met.” She bit her lip. “But I suppose you will have to ask Alexander for his permission.”
“He has given it,” Rafael said. “In exchange for my quest to save you.” His dark brows quirked, giving him the wicked expression she so loved. “But let us ensure that he cannot change his choice.”
“How so?”
Rafael took off his cloak and spread it on the floor, then beckoned to her with a dangerous smile. “Come here, mi piqueño ángel, for it is time we had a son.”
Elizabeth laughed and went to him, for he offered everything she had ever desired.
And more.
There was no possibility that Rafael could lose Elizabeth now.
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 134
