Woe for a Faerie Page 22

  She nodded. “May I remove my veil?”

  I scowled, trying to think of a reason that she shouldn’t. “Yes?”

  “I am in mourning. It is our custom to ask the lady of the house to remove the mourning veil before doing so.” At my confusion, she laughed, a real laugh this time, like a waterfall. She carefully lowered the veil, exposing hideous lines of scars that covered half her face. The shock of scars contrasted the soft and pale beauty.

  A long silence passed between us. Ishka waited, wary of my response.

  Finally, I said, “It’s a good thing I was here, then.” I smiled.

  She smiled at my joke but did not comment. She moved about the perimeter of the room the same way Arún did.

  Finally, she said, “I wonder sometimes if my parents should have placed me on the old altars. Our foremothers did this when a daughter preceded a son, even when the two were born in the same birthing as we were.”

  The thought contrasted the laughter that still echoed in the air. I could never do that to a child. “Our history records such times.” I sighed and then added, “We like to think we’re more sophisticated now.” I paused. “Does the blight impact all Fae women?”

  “All our women have it. In varying ways. Some are not scarred on the outside, only scarred inside. All have become sterile. I have an excess of both kinds of scarring.”

  She studied me while I scrutinized her. Pewter ringed the same silver-white of Arún’s irises. Even paler than Arún, she reminded me of a moonbeam in humanoid form. Her white hair was intricately braided and piled on top of her head. I wondered what she saw in me. Beneath her façade, a great sadness lived in her, and it fascinated me.

  When she’d circled back to me, she offered a sad smile. “I came by earlier.”

  “Ah.” I knew where this was headed. I grimaced. “You heard us?”

  She dipped her head to the side and lifted her shoulders in a sheepish shrug. “I did not mean to overhear, but…”

  “It’s hard not to when we’re caterwauling.”

  “Caterwauling?” She stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

  I added, “Like two cats yowling at each other in the alley?”

  “Cats?” She looked more confused than ever.

  “Never mind.” I crossed to a dark brown table in the center of the room. I lifted the water decanter. “Would you like something to drink?” I glanced around. “I don’t think I have anything else.”

  She sat at the dining table but waved the liquid away. She folded her hands on the table. “You mean Arún didn’t arrange for any food?”

  “I haven’t seen any.” Her eyebrows raised in an expression so much like Arún’s. I pulled out a chair and seated myself across from her.

  Ishka laid her hand on my forearm. Starlight painted her fingernails, and a shooting star moved from her thumb to her pinkie. Animated art.

  “Please do not give up on my pig-headed brother,” she said, her eyes pleading. “He believes he knows better than anyone else, but he’s a good protector. He keeps his promises.” She beamed at me, but the joy did not reach her eyes and the corners of her mouth tipped down. “He brought you to meet us, didn’t he?”

  I tipped my chin to the side.

  “It was his promise to me.” Without another word, she moved to the door, leaving me to puzzle over her words as she called down the hall. Someone stopped and they had a whispered conversation. “I’ve ordered food.”

  As if on cue, my stomach growled. “Since you mentioned it, I guess my body decided I was hungry.”

  She swept back to the table. We conversed until silver platters arrived, piled high with food. I didn’t recognize so much of the food that passed over our table. We drank honeyed citrus water and ate berries and fruit. And then Ishka ordered desserts. I had never seen so much food in all my life.

  By the end, our conversation turned serious again. I sipped something that was a blend of hot chocolate and coffee, pondering a question that had been troubling me since she’d arrived. “Why are you in mourning, Ishka?”

  “I wondered how long you would puzzle over this. You did not ask at the beginning.” Her graying lips stretched into a smile.

  “It seemed too private then.”

  “Never keep a question to yourself, Woe. I’ll answer when I wish and tell you when I don’t.” She patted my arm. “One day, you will be queen.”

  I snorted. “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll ever make a queen. I’d have to marry your brother first, wouldn’t I?”

  “You might be surprised. Someday, ask Arún for a copy of the queens’ history.” She shifted in her seat. “To answer your question, I mourn for the children I will never bear. The blight has cursed my insides. I won’t marry. I would be a barren wife.”

  “Arún says you have healers.” It sounded trite to my own ears. I was sure they had already tried, but the words were out before I could stop them.

  Ishka wandered to the balcony and I followed. “The healers cannot mend me. We have not found the source or cause. There is always hope…”

  In companionable silence, we both studied the capital.

  Until Arún burst into the room, eyes crazed and silver hair disheveled, pointing in all different directions. “Woe,” he bellowed. “Where are you?”

  Ishka snarled in his direction and loosed a stream of words I could not understand. His mouth opened and closed like the koi in the park. She pointed at the leftover food that still covered the table and let him have it again in clipped, angry syllables. By the end, even the points on his ears drooped.

  I had to turn away to keep from laughing. It was clear that Arún had been taken to task by his older-by-a-few-minutes sister. Splendidly. She said something else to Arún, and he disappeared from the room.

  Ishka whispered, “You shouldn’t have any more trouble out of him today.” She winked and then donned her veil.

  I couldn’t tell her that he’d apologized before he left. She believed she helped.

  When Arún returned, he handed Ishka a small box, inlaid with mother of pearl. It disappeared somewhere in the folds of her dress as Arún ushered his sister to the door. When he closed the door behind her, his shoulders relaxed.

  He turned. “I owe you another apology,” he said. “You must have been hungry.”

  “I was, but your sister took care of me.” I wasn’t mad anymore.

  His expression turned properly chagrined. Served him right. Arún meant well.

  “Tell me about the handcuffs.”

  “After you left the Atheneum, Jason and I replayed his memory. I recognized the handcuffs that held the shifter who murdered Frank.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he stared out of the French doors. He settled into the chair I had left on the balcony and continued, “They’re made by the Fae to hold Fae criminals. We don’t use them often, but once every few hundred years, somebody decides to break our laws. The cuffs are made of metal and magic. We’ve never used them on paranormal creatures, but they worked on this one. Somebody knew they would, but as far as we can tell, we have not allowed a pair outside our kingdom.”

  I plucked a handful of berries from the table and meandered after Arún. He watched me with guarded eyes. I held up a berry and raised my eyebrows. He gave a slow nod and opened his mouth. I dropped the last two in his mouth.

  He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I love you.”

  “I love you,” I said. I wriggled free and leaned over the railing. Gardeners tended the sprawling terraces below. “How did the handcuffs get to New Haven City?”

  “I suspect the man who intended to murder you. He already admitted to working for the Boss, and he knew how to get into my world without alerting the authorities.”

  He reached for my hand. He tugged me down into the chair and I let him. “We’ve searched for a portal of one kind or another. Either she’s in league with traitorous Fae or we’ve missed something. The guard will continue searching and compiling reports of their findings.” />
  “What now?” I shivered. From his touch or the thought of what might have happened, I couldn’t tell.

  “We have dinner with my parents tomorrow night and then return to New Haven City.” He cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer. He pressed a careful kiss to my lips. When I leaned into him, he moaned and the sound ignited my desire. Long minutes passed, and when we finally broke apart, he grinned.

  The next day, as far as I could tell without a sunrise or sunset, I woke before Arún. Nerves kept me from sleeping well or deeply. Today, I would meet Arún’s parents. Today, I would meet the king and queen.

  Pacing from one side of the room to the other, I mentally berated myself and the Fae prince who’d dragged me here and had the indecency to still be sleeping. I owned one dress, and I had worn it the day before, and it was probably still covered in blood. My hand-wringing must have woken Arún.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, rolling to his back. His eyes were closed, one elbow bent, a hand tucked behind his head.

  I fell into the dining chair, my heart pounding in my chest. It was a little jumpy. “I’m freaking out. That’s what I’m doing.”

  One eye popped open. “What?” His mouth turned down.

  “I’m freaking out.” I started pacing again. I had done at least fifteen laps.

  “They’re just my parents.”

  I stopped, saying, “The royal couple, King and Queen, rulers of this realm…” My eyes widened and I pressed my fingers over my mouth. I whispered, “Your parents.”

  Arún scowled with one side of his face. “What did you eat yesterday?”

  “Whatever Ishka fed me.” I waved my hands around and then paced some more. My heart was going to explode.

  “Guess I’ll get up,” he grumbled. He tossed the sheet back and sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. “You’re going to combust right there, Woe. Calm down.”

  A knock at the door made me gasp and clutch at my chest.

  Arún raised an eyebrow, then he turned to the entrance. “Come.”

  A young Fae stepped into the room. “Did you beckon?”

  “The dresses?” Arún tucked the sheet around him and stood.

  “The seamstress is adding a few finishing touches, but they should be ready any moment.”

  Arún said, “Thank you.” The youth bowed and backed out of the room. I clapped the way Hannah had when I flew loop-de-loops in the sky. I ran at my giant in a Toga. I guess he noticed too late, he grunted as I slammed into him. We both fell back onto the bed.

  “Thank you,” I said. He had thought of almost everything. I even forgave him for being angry and forgetting to make sure I had food.

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should have dresses sent every day.”

  I punched his shoulder but leapt away when he reached for me, and we each went to our suites to prepare.

  After we were both dressed and ready, we met in the living area. Arún carried a small wooden box. He held it up to me.

  I asked, “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  I took the box from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. I smoothed a hand over the top. The wood was inlaid with a rainbow of colors depicting a woman seated on a throne. I lifted the lid slowly.

  Something sparkled inside. Three different shades of gold were braided into a dainty crown. Every few inches, a drop diamond caught the light. I gasped. “This is mine?” I looked up at Arún.

  He stared into my eyes and his face softened. “If you choose it, my Queen.”

  I studied the crown as it laid in the ornate box. I slowly closed the lid. “Not today.”

  He took it from my hands, kissed my cheek, and placed it back on his bedside table. “For another day,” he said. “Another time.” Then he led me out into the hall.

  A grim-faced Fae struck a large copper gong. We strolled down a long hall toward two gigantic doors that dwarfed Arún. We met his parents in their private quarters.

  Nobody smiled. Except Arún. He grinned so big that his whole body seemed happy. He had even asked for a lady to help me with my hair. It was prettier and smoother than it had ever been. I always knew it would take spells and magic to get it to do what I wanted it to. I wore a long, drapey dress of tie-died silks. Arún wore a tunic with a sash made of the same silks.

  The sour-faced attendant hit the gong with his oversized mallet. Again. As soon as were within a few feet of the far entrance.

  Both doors swung inward. Two figures stood next to a table laden with fruits. An unveiled Ishka stood near a window. The relief I felt when I saw her brought a rush of tears.

  An older Fae woman held out her hands to me. “Child,” she said and waved me closer.

  I glanced at Arún. If I bolted right now, I could probably get past the big doors before she caught me. The Fae woman’s mouth twitched and broke into a smile. He nodded toward her. Hug time.

  I plastered a smile on my face and hoped it looked alright. “Ummm… Queen… Mother?”

  She gathered me in. Floral scents washed over me. She let me go and took my hand, tugging me toward the only other male in the room. “You may call me Ányah. And this is Kentigern.”

  I tried a sloppy curtsy but could tell it didn’t measure up when Ányah’s expression widened ever so slightly. If I wasn’t so miserably uncomfortable, I would laugh. I should never have agreed to this.

  Ishka rushed forward. “My turn,” she said, planting air kisses on my cheeks. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “They’re as nervous as you are.”

  I think my eyes bulged. If that behavior was their version of nervous, I would hate to see the royal couple’s version of frightened. Arún took my elbow and guided me to the dining table. He winked at me. The tension that pulled at my shoulders lessened a bit.

  Then he pinched me.

  “Stop doing that, Arún. Not here,” I whispered.

  Ishka gasped.

  I dropped my chin and tried to covertly look around the room. Arún’s shoulders shook. Ishka bit her lip, and her eyes sparkled with mirth. For a moment, happiness bathed her face in a beautiful glow. His parents stared at me, mouths open.

  I had a feeling the meal would be arduous.

  The food was delicious. I had mulled wine from a fluted decanter in my golden goblet. My nerves settled a little more with each swallow. I’d never had it before, but I liked it. And then Arún’s mother cleared her throat.

  Arún paled and then glared. “Mother.” His voice held a warning.

  “She can’t read my mind. You two are different. She’s human, after all.” She frowned at her son. “Let me ask it.”

  Arún turned away and flushed from head to toe. Kentigern hid his face behind a hand. Maybe he blushed, too.

  She smiled at me gently. “How are things, dear?” She leaned toward me. “You know, in there? I hear they don’t even wait for the bonding ceremony in the mortal realm.” She dipped her head to the right. I turned to look.

  At a bed. An ornate bed. She couldn’t possibly be asking me… If-if we were…

  She was.

  Well, she asked, and if I could bluff Jason, I could bluff her, too. I would not disappoint my future mother-in-law. If she thought we were… then who was I to tell her differently?

  “Ma’am, Mother Queen Ányah—” I stumbled a bit over her name “—I am happy to report that your son is incredible in bed. He’s patient and kind. And I don’t know how we couldn’t be pregnant by now. I don’t think we’ve gone a whole day without–”

  A strangled sound came from the end of the table. I turned. Ishka had slumped to the side, smothering laughter with her napkin. Kentigern had gotten up from the table to stare out the same window Ishka had favored earlier. Ányah leaned away as far back in her chair as she could, clenching the armrests.

  And Arún had turned from white to pink. He said, “I’m glad you enjoyed—” He reached across my plate and grabbed my glass. “—your wine.” He cleared his throat, but it sounded more like a wheeze.
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br />   I scowled at the sound coming from Ishka. “Is your sister choking?”

  39

  Refusal

  Arún

  Woe called my mother’s bluff. Spectacularly.

  And I couldn’t wait to get her alone. She pushed food from one side of her plate to the other, shifting in her seat. She didn’t look up as the conversation continued around her.

  I drew my fingers along the inside of her arm. Her pulse throbbed beneath my fingertips. I impacted her as much as she did me.

  When she glanced up, my world stopped. She wore a pained expression.

  Yet light danced in her eyes, exposing the golden flecks and making the color come alive. She didn’t withdraw, but her eyebrows tipped up.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, capturing my hand in hers.

  Don’t be sorry. She deserved it. Never be sorry, Woe. I pushed the thought toward her, willing her to hear me.

  My mother didn’t treat anyone gently. The best thing Woe could have done was what she had done. I probably should have warned her. My absence encompassed years, and I had hoped my mother had changed.

  Woe’s eyes widened slightly, and surprise flickered there. She heard me. That meant, on some level, she didn’t reject my love, perhaps even so far as receptive.

  My heart tripped in my chest, and magic surged through me, pulling me to declare my side of the bond. A tremor rolled through me as I fought the desire to pledge myself to her immediately and take her to my bed.

  I had failed to hold back the progression of the Fae bonding. Our kind had only one recourse. Once the bond formed, it guaranteed a specific outcome.

  I had to tell her. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to explain what would come next for me. To offer her my protection and my heart without reservation. The rush would not diminish until I did so. I had to say the words out loud, satisfy the spiritual bond between us. Then, perhaps, I could manage my desire for her.

  “Arún?” she whispered, her tone hesitant, searching my face. “Are you okay?”

  “Woe, I want to—” I began.