Part 30 (1/2)
He gathered his supplies into the saddlebag and they began to circle down the stairs. Disregarding the darkness and the cold stone, she traced her fingertips along the curving walls. The short steps and tight twists enclosed Gossamyr in her thoughts.
Do you know the truth of yourself?
Why had she not been marked? The Disenchanted had been. Was it her mortal blood? Did it alter the spell, blinding it to her fee half? Perhaps Ulrich had merely been too close? Close enough for Faery, not nearly close enough for her newly kissed desires.
”Likely we need to view my light from above,” she called up to Ulrich.
”Certainly, that is the case.”
As they gained the last dozen steps, Ulrich's voice was low but close to Gossamyr. ”So, are we to pretend it never happened?”
Pressing to the wall and looking up to him, Gossamyr feigned ignorance. A teasing gesture. It took all her determination to keep the smile from her mouth. She picked at a tuft of fur at her shoulder. ”What never happened?”
”That kiss. Two kisses, actually.”
Ah. Touching her lips invited a silly grin to her face. ”Of course it happened,” she offered slowly. ”I kissed you because I wanted to.”
”Will you kiss me again?”
Blue eyes on a white sky. Exotic, he. ”Mayhap. If you are worthy.”
”Ah, I am always up for a challenge put forth by a beautiful lady. Were I a knight, I should wear your favor onto the tournament lists.”
”Were you a knight, you should come to arms against me in the tournament lists.”
Ulrich's chuckle echoed in the twisting stone stairway. His final step as he brushed past Gossamyr swept a s.h.i.+mmer of feeling through her. Touched. Connected. For a moment they two had spoken silently their needs. It was a moment she planned to hold for ever in her heart. A heart that would need sweet memories to endure a loveless marriage.
As he turned to bow to her, Ulrich misstepped and stumbled. The saddlebag spilled its contents.
Gossamyr lunged to catch up the mortar and pestle and the alicorn. The blade he'd been using to sc.r.a.pe at the base of the alicorn landed the ground at Ulrich's toe, but a hair from doing harm. Fine particles of the alicorn glittered upon the tiled stone floor of the cathedral. She scooped up everything.
The mortar tucked inside the bags, Gossamyr stood, ready to chuckle at the man's clumsiness and offer a chiding remark, when Ulrich's expression silenced her mirth.
”You cannot touch that thing without protec-” he started. ”You're holding it.”
His sudden awe switched her attention to what she was doing.
”You are holding the alicorn,” Ulrich gasped, ”in your bare hand.”
Indeed she did hold the unicorn's horn against her flesh. She'd picked it up without thought, hadn't been concerned the loose linen wrap had come off from the horn.
Not possible. She must not- Suddenly a shock of power hit Gossamyr like a blow to the chest. Her arms stretched wide and her body tense, she stood within the vibrations, unable to move but feeling no pain. Something radiated through her being, seeping into her every pore and permeating her veins. 'Twas a remarkable sensation limned with a solemn fear.
She must drop the alicorn. This was a sacred horn. Only the pure could touch it.
”Gossamyr, are you...fine and well?”
Ulrich's voice barely edged the sensation surrounding her as if with a brilliant beam of cool light. She could not utter a reply. 'Twas as if all the magical lights Ulrich had cast across the city gathered in her breast, inflamed but not burning.
”You will lead the unicorn right to us!” he cried. ”Keep hold of it, Gossamyr.”
”No!” Voicing her fear released Gossamyr from the paralyzing stance. She was able to open her fingers. The alicorn landed the cloth Ulrich had kept it wrapped in.
”What be to you? Something great had begun. A signal or beacon was being sent. The unicorn cannot find us unless you keep hold of the alicorn.”
Gasping in breaths, Gossamyr bent at the waist and caught her hands on her knees. ”I will not be responsible for luring the unicorn to the Red Lady.”
”But it is the only way the unicorn will ever have it back. Please, you must pick it up again.”
”Ulrich.” She straightened and, shaking off the lingering prinkles, toed the cloth carefully over the alicorn. ”I journey to the Red Lady. Any man or beast following me-particularly a hornless unicorn-will be endangered. I cannot risk it. In fact, we must hide the alicorn. Yes. Until we can return to it knowing the unicorn will be safe.”
”Unthinkable.” Ulrich wrapped up the alicorn and replaced it in the saddlebag. ”I have taken a vow to protect this horn. It won't leave my sight.”
”You vowed to protect it?”
”Yes.”
”A few whispered words of prayer as you were being chased by the big bad evils?”
”About like that.”
”Sacrilege!”
”To a faith that is not mine, faery! I will give up the search when the devil is blind. It has given me strength when I only wish to close my eyes and... Never mind.” He stood and made to stalk off, but Gossamyr caught him by the arm. ”It is human-emotion stuff,” he spat. ”Stuff you would never comprehend, so I will not bother to explain it to you.” He tugged his arm from her grip and marched out from the cathedral.
Gossamyr sighed. She comprehended. And that knowing frightened her mightily.
After they had pa.s.sed through the Porte St. Antoine, Dominique San Juste dismounted Tor and landed the cobbles. When he'd agreed to accompany Tor he'd thought the beast merely in need of a run. Not a trek to Paris. Relentlessly, the stallion had galloped straight on to the outskirts of the capital city. The beast had seemed to fly. Almost.
Now Tor stilled, p.r.i.c.king his tufted white ears. Clanging metal signaled slops being emptied out a window close by, and beyond that a baby wailed like the wind. With a glance to Dominique, the beast regarded the changeling with what Dominique had come to learn a very sad look.
”I know what you seek, fair friend.” Dominique smoothed his palm across the base of Tor's neck. That one spot, there beneath the braided witch locks, pleased him so whenever it was itched. ”I will accompany you evermore. Onward?”
The stallion snorted and pawed the ground, hooves sc.r.a.ping hard cobbles. Dominique remounted, and threading a hand through the witch locks-for he never reined the beast-he prepared for the ride. Tor stepped into a regal march. One step, pause to listen, and then another.
Sliding a hand up Tor's mane and leaning forward, Dominique wondered if the bare spot on the forehead of the beast wasn't s.h.i.+ning more brilliantly than usual. Could it be Tor had finally located what he had been missing all these years?
NINETEEN.
Ill-sprung, this carriage. His jaw clacked as each uneven cobble bit at
the rotating wheels. The pin man drew a pin crusted with dried blood beneath his nose, remarking the scent as most curious. Female certainly, as his mistress had remarked. Though not the usual female scent. Strangely, it seemed familiar. Yet...exotic. How could that be?
And that the woman had spoken to him with some familiarity struck him harshly. She could not know him, for he did not recognize her. Much as he knew his memories of the past were blurry...