Part 41 (2/2)
”Interesting. I cannot figure this.” How to possess glamour without Enchantment?
”You know Faery?” he inquired softly. ”Tell me who you are, demoiselle. You are on a quest?”
”I am come from Faery,” she confessed. ”Glamoursiege, a tribe that borders the Netherdred. But I am mortal. Like you, I...am a changeling.”
He tilted his head wonderingly.
That she had spoken the word secured it into her soul. A completely mortal soul. No essence of Faery within. In a rocking sway of unstoppable comprehension, Belief altered.
Lost to you now...Faery.
I bid you farewell...
Gossamyr stroked a finger under her eye. No tears. Just the memory of pain. ”I am mortal, stolen from my cradle as a child and taken to Faery. I have lived there all my life because I...believed.”
”Wondrous.”
”And now I do not belong.”
”Why not?”
”Because a mortal must Believe to Belong.” Gossamyr twined her fingers together before her and pounded her balled hands to her forehead. ”I have always believed myself to be born of a mortal woman and a Faery lord; only recently have I learned I am true mortal-that my birth parents are no longer.”
”I am sorry.”
Bouncing on antic.i.p.atory footsteps, she shook out her fingers and entreated, ”Did you ever meet your faery parents?”
”Yes. My mother lives close to me now. My father...is dead. For the best; he was not fee.”
”I see.”
”That may be the reason I have glamour while you deem me without Enchantment. My father, he was...cruel. Of the angelic ranks. I am...”
”Quite astounding,” Gossamyr offered.
Charmed by his smile, an easy charm and not gratuitous, Gossamyr knew she had found a friend.
”Why have you come to Paris, my lady?”
”I have left Faery to seek the Red Lady and destroy her. My father sent me, knowing no fee could approach the villainess without her seducing and killing them.”
”You possess the powers of the fee?”
”No. I am Disenchanted, stripped of the little glamour I once held.”
”Ah.” He curved his hand before her, looking to caress her cheek, but he did not touch her. Only he smiled upon her with a calm look of peace that rea.s.sured he was friend not enemy. ”What is your name?”
”Gossamyr,” she said, and then looked to the ground. Overwhelmed, that is all she could feel here in the presence of such a regal man and the unicorn. Gossamyr Verity de Winters.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege, false child of s.h.i.+nn. Avenall's words cut to her tender heart. Who was this Verity d'Ange?
The unicorn snorted at the sudden appearance of a man in the doorway. A froth of white beard tufted the door frame. Ulrich's uncle tilted his head, sensing those around him. ”Who is about?”
”Monsieur LaLoux.” Gossamyr approached the old man. ”It is Gossamyr. I've come for Ulrich. Is he inside?”
”Ulrich? I've not spoken to him since last he was here with you, my lady.”
”I told him to return anon. Where could he possibly-” Spinning her half staff, Gossamyr looked both ways down the dark street. ”Oh, no.”
”What is it?” Dominique calmed Tor with a palm to the beast's muzzle.
”She was calling to him earlier,” Gossamyr said. ”I should have never left her lair. The Red Lady has likely lured Ulrich and the alicorn to her.”
”The alicorn?”
”Yes.” She started walking the cobbles. ”My friend was on a quest to return the alicorn to its rightful owner. I must hurry.”
”I shall accompany you!”
”You cannot,” she called to the changeling. ”You would put yourself in harm's way should the Red Lady recognize you are fee. Stay with the unicorn; protect it.”
”Very well,” the changeling called. ”But Tor does not take orders. He will go where he pleases, there is nothing I can do to stop him.”
Gossamyr winced. A unicorn anywhere near the Red Lady was surely a dead unicorn. ”If the beast knows what is good for it, it will stay far from the Red Lady's lair.”
A protesting whinny and clomp of hooves preceded the charge of the unicorn. He cantered past Gossamyr. Close behind ran the changeling.
”Very well,” Gossamyr said, picking up her pace to match the others. The smile of adventure emerged. ”To charging head on into danger!”
The world undulated away from him. Or rather, he was being dragged, arms wrenched overhead and wrists clasped by pinching fingers. His muscles, stretching from pit to torso, screamed. Too dazed to struggle, Ulrich remarked the thick white candles flas.h.i.+ng fire sparkles across the walls. Stars stolen from the sky. The flickers of light moved away from him, appearing from wherever it was he was being dragged.
At his feet trailed a disturbing vision, the succubus who had kissed him -briefly. Not really a kiss though, more like she had moved close enough to kiss and had...inhaled his essence. Your soul, lackwit! She draws out your soul! Even so, that blithe moment had literally left him drained.
Lifting a knee, Ulrich thought to kick out, to put a stop to this.
”Ah, ah,” the lady with the red marking on her face cooed-still he could but see a swath of her face where she had wiped his tears; it floated mysteriously above the white dress. She poked Ulrich with the tip of the alicorn.
Such fire! 'Twas as though he'd been pierced with a flame-red poker, when all she had done was touch it to his knee.
Drowsy with pain, Ulrich muttered, ”Gossamyr?”
”Be that her name, then?” The Red Lady danced the alicorn in the air gaily, drawing a circle of iridescent glamour in its wake. ”Gossamyr, s.h.i.+nn's false daughter?”
”The man knows not what he mumbles,” the unseen voice from above Ulrich's head snapped. ”Gossamyr is a common name.”
Something gave a tug to one of Ulrich's wrists, making him cry out. He could not see who or what held him. A faery thing, curse them all!
”Why do you hide things from me, Puppy? There, in the torture chamber.”
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