Part 18 (2/2)
One fee man had not seen the usual in her. Exotic, he had labeled her. And his kisses, even now, stirred a longing in Gossamyr's belly. Arousal tended to show in the fee wings, turning the normally pellicle appendages a deep color. His papilonid hind wings, with elegant projections that curled and uncoiled, had shaded to a lovely violet, stirring his long black hair to elegant waves across his back...
The memory of her loss hurt, and so Gossamyr pushed back the urge to re-create their tender moments. Her father had been cruel, reacting before considering his daughter's heart.
”Faeries know little of love,” s.h.i.+nn had warned. ”It is merely l.u.s.t you feel.”
l.u.s.t was not what her heart knew. It could not be! Nor could l.u.s.t have driven a man to arrive at his wife's bedside every morning just to watch her wake. It was something more. And the only something she could summon was love.
If her father's words held truth, why had it been so easy for s.h.i.+nn to marry Veridienne? Had he loved her? Should not his marriage have been arranged, as was hers? Rarely did a fee lord marry by choice. Love? Or was it merely l.u.s.t wanting to be so much more?
Gossamyr could guess. Mortal women were compelling to the fee men. Exotic and easily seduced by the Enchanted. Though, no fee would make it known, they carried on illicit liaisons against the commands of their elders. Gossamyr had not heard the fee women mention such desires for the mortal male, though it was possible.
Half mortal in blood, flesh and soul-who was she to discount a mortal man?
”Do you hear that?”
Turning to the man's voice, Gossamyr stood and strode toward the water mill.
Ulrich propped himself in the doorway beneath a surviving wood awning, one leg dangling, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Suddenly the rains increased. Now the wooden slats were beat upon by heavy drops. The fresh scent smelled good enough to eat.
”Sweet, redeeming rain,” Ulrich said reverently. Then he twisted his attention to Gossamyr.
So fierce his gaze fixed to her, she stepped back. A slick of her palm erased the rain from her nose and cheeks. ”What?”
”I've an idea.”He gripped her wrist and tugged. ”Come with me.”
”But-”
Cool, fat raindrops skipped across her face and soaked into the dusty wool gown. Gossamyr raised her face to the rain and closed her eyes. She felt Ulrich move his hands over her eyelids, her cheeks and her jaw but did not protest what he was doing.
”Forgive my touch, my lady.”
”Blight that. Is it working?”
”Yes. Look!”
She opened her eyes to see his palms glittered with faery dust.
”It is was.h.i.+ng from your hair, as well.”
Gossamyr lifted her thick plaits and made to brush away the offensive glimmer, but she paused. Do I really want this? The surrender of all Enchantment? Her last tie to Faery and the father she relied upon for return. You yet have the fetch.
”What is it? Gossamyr? Ah.” Ulrich's voice moved close to her ear and he embraced her.
She remained stiff, fingering the carved bone clasp tipping a plait, not sure how to react, or what to say. Embraced without her consent, she initially felt violated, and yet, the feeling was immediately replaced with relief and rea.s.surance. How long had it been since she'd been embraced by a man?
”I understand,” he said against her ear, his wet lips cold. ”Perhaps you should take cover?”
Close, this man. Close, this mortal realm. And she but a step away from completely joining it.
Gossamyr held out a hand, palm up, to catch the rain. Pulse, pulse, against her hand. Beat, beat-her heart favored this man's closeness.
Can you do it? Wash away all trace of Faery?
Can you become a champion?
”This must be done. It is...bone.” Gossamyr lifted the hem of the sodden blue wool and pulled it up over her knees and hips, exposing her braies. Striding around the windmill and toward the stream she called back to Ulrich, ”Don't look!” And she pulled the gown over her head and tossed it to the ground in a tangle.
”Oh, mercy.” His groan made Gossamyr smile. ”Why do this to me, woman? I have not looked upon a naked woman since my wife. There you go and- Hades!”
She trusted he walked around to the opposite side of the mill, for his voice trailed off. It mattered not. With or without a watcher, 'twas splendid to stand in the rain and sluice off the dust and dirt from the road.
s.h.i.+vering, she slicked her hands down her rib cage and undid the hip belt and amphi-leather ties at her waist. Kneeling, she made quick work of the leather strips bound about her ankles. She slid her fingers over the braies and they dropped at her feet along with the Glamoursiege sigil, her purse, and a clutter of arrets.
Earth and gra.s.s, soggy and thick, squished between her toes. A warty gray toad hopped to and fro along the stream bank and Gossamyr followed, plunging to her knees into the cold water. She gave a squeal and sank down and dipped her head back, surrendering to the moment and the inevitable Disenchantment.
”To mortality,” she whispered and closed her eyes.
The water barely deep enough to cover her to the waist, she floated. The bone clasps closing the ends of her plaits were shucked off with a tug. Quickly, she worked the braids open and splayed out her hair. Long pale tresses took on the weight of the water, then clung possessively about her naked flesh.
The notion of a lover's possessive embrace took shape and memory filled her thoughts...
Gossamyr wrung her hands in frustration as she looked up to Avenall. He hovered outside her bedchamber but could not enter. She had not, until now, been aware of the s.h.i.+eld of glamour surrounding the castle.
”There is no way through this.”Avenall punched out a fist. The s.h.i.+eld glimmered and wavered like ripples on a pond then stilled. ”You think it is only against me?”
”Not sure.” Gossamyr stepped back, a finger to her lips, and thought. ”Perhaps it is merely against my room. Yes! Go around to the south side, I'll meet you in my mother's study. No one ever goes in there.”
Avenall flew up and out of Gossamyr's sight. Her cobwebby robes sailing out like the wings she would never own, she scrambled down the corridor and pushed open the door to Veridienne's room. She did not need light to navigate the room, so many times she snuck into her mother's private chambers to study the bestiary.
Trailing a finger across the dustless book as she pa.s.sed, Gossamyr sailed to the far side of the room and pulled open the curtain. Silk s.h.i.+nged to the side. Tale twilight entered. The summer night was hot and a moth that had been clinging to the curtain, seeking refuge from a predatory root frog, stretched out its wings and fluttered inside.
Avenall descended from above and landed the rose-festooned deck of the gallery with ease.
”You are sure it is safe?”Avenall folded his wings against his back and thighs and crossed his arms over his chest in a das.h.i.+ng pose.
”It is. I swear it to you”
Aware now she wore but a robe and her hair unbound, Gossamyr took a tentative step toward the grinning man. Young man, no longer a boy, but not quite a warrior. His shoulders were as broad as any of s.h.i.+nn's warriors, and his muscles hard. The air, tangible against her skin, brushed her nerve endings to an alertness that prinkled.
”You are beautiful this evening,” he said. ”I don't believe I have ever seen you, my sweet, with your hair unbound.”
My sweet? Gossamyr's heart lunged up her throat.
A rush of antic.i.p.ation pressed her up onto her toes. Twilight danced in Avenall's eyes, making them liquid, a rich violet wine Gossamyr wanted to drink until she wobbled. Close enough to kiss, to smell, to taste.
”Brown,”he whispered. He held her face so she could not look from him. ”I have not before noticed your eyes. They are...exotic.”
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