Bride of Fae (Tethers) (21 page)

She ached to have him inside her again, but she wanted
so much more. She wanted to know he felt the same desire for her. She wanted him to rage against the idea of her marriage to Dumnos.

“Lord Dumnos doesn’t love me.”

“Dumnos.” He pulled away and tilted his head like a perplexed dog.

“He’s doesn’t love me. And I don’t love him. He’s almost fifty.”

“A child in fae years,” Dandelion said. “But you will accept him.” The moment had passed. His passion faded.

“All he asks of me is an heir. After that, I wouldn’t have to…”
How did her life become so twisted?

“You wouldn’t have to take him into your bed.”

“That’s about it.” Sun and moon. It sounded worse aloud than clanging around in her head. And Dandelion showed no reaction. Her arrangement with the earl meant nothing to him.
He’s a fairy,
she reminded herself.
They feel passion and desire. Don’t confuse those things with love.

At the entrance
to the V&A, the guard stopped them. “No flash photography allowed.” He looked pointedly at the Nikon dangling from Dandelion’s neck. “Just a friendly reminder, sir.”

“Of course.” Dandelion turned to Beverly. “May I?” He dropped the camera in her bag
with easy familiarity, an attitude that they were together.
But were not together, and we never can be.

Th
e museum had drawn a crowd. People spilled out of the fairy exhibit into other areas, and gift shop was packed. Dandelion took Beverly’s hand. Like magic the way cleared, opening a path to the hall they wanted. Beverly gave her name, and they were let in straightaway.

They moved through the Celebration of Faeries, depictions and theories of the otherworldly creatures. Dandelion lingered fondly over the Cottingley display but scoffed at everything else.

Dumnos,
proclaimed a sign outside an exclusive exhibition room,
a land of mist and rain.
Inside, a docent stood at the center in mid lecture. Dandelion’s green eyes flashed.

“That’s it.”

The docent stood beside a low pedestal, a three-foot square covered with a glass dome. The cup was inside the dome, a goblet of hand-blown glass about fourteen inches tall with blue, green, and red enamel inlay and scattered green and red beads.

It made
Beverly think of the borealis.

“Bausiney’s Abundance is most likely thirteenth century Syrian,” the docent said, “brought
here during the Crusades when London was still called Sarumos. It’s remarkable so old a piece of such delicate material has made it to the twentieth century in perfect condition.”

“It’s not perfect,” Dandelion said under his
breath. He crossed his arms over his chest. His face was a blank, but she felt the emotion churning inside him. “Something’s wrong,” he said to himself. He was in his own world. It seemed he’d forgotten she was standing there.

The guard who’d let them through
was on the other side of the room, moving through the visitors. Dandelion couldn’t do anything now, with so many people watching the cup.

“However,” the docent continued, “the story of how the cup came to be in the possession of the Bausiney family augurs quite a different, more fanciful origin. You will understand why the V&A are so pleased Lord Dumnos agreed to lend it out for this exhibit.

“As the story has it, one hundred years ago tonight, the future earl heard noises coming from the roof of Faeview, the family estate in Dumnos County. You can see a picture of Faeview here.”

The docent walked over to a blown-up aerial photograph of
Bausiney’s End hung on the wall. She pointed at the northwest corner of the roof.

“Lord Tintagos surprised a party of faeries dancing and drinking under the full moon.”

The guard moved past Beverly and caught the docent’s eye. He pointed and mouthed
it’s her.

“The fairies
scattered away.” The docent smiled brightly and gestured at Beverly to come up. Everyone looked at Beverly, and she felt her face go red. Not going to happen. She turned to Dandelion for support, but he was gone. He’d moved off to the corner.

“Lord Tintagos discovered this cup left behind
.” The docent gave up on Beverly and went on. “When the fairy tried to retrieve it, Lord Tintagos threw crumbs of salted holy cake into the air, through which fairies cannot pass.”

“Hmph.” Dandelion’s scoff carried through the
room.

“As you see, we’ve lined the display dome with sea salt and crumbs to represent the Lord Tintagos’s holy cake. We need fear no fae tonight!”

The visitors laughed. The docent beamed, flush with her lecture’s success. “As Lord Tintagos admired the beautiful object in the moonlight, the fairy cried out a warning:

‘If this cup should fall or crack,
Bausiney’s End will meet its lack.’

“Bausiney is the Dumnos family name. As you can see, the cup is perfect, and Bausiney’s Abundance is assured.”

Beverly applauded with the rest of the crowd and looked to see what Dandelion thought of the story. As their eyes met, the lights overhead flickered and the room went dark.

“Oh, dear,” the docent said in the dark. “Not to worry. We’ll soon have it—”

The lights came on again, but Dandelion was gone.

“No!” The docent staggered against the guard, pointing at the dome on the pedestal.

Bausiney’s Abundance was not there.

T
HIS TIME DANDELION WASN’T
drugged. He wouldn’t be stopped by salt and holy cakes. He doused the lights in the display room, and while the humans stepped on toes and complained and politely apologized he grabbed the cup from the pedestal. Before anyone thought to light a match, he transported out of the dark to the museum roof.

He ripped off his tether and stuffed it into his small pouch, extended his wings and soared into the night sky.

Modern London was a carpet of blazing jewels below. It felt good to get away from the electricity. He hated electricity almost as much as he hated cold iron. The creepy sense of energy trying to escape the wires always made him feel trapped in his skin.

But from
this distance he could appreciate electrification. The wires powered a dazzling light display, and the river at night became a beautiful dark snake winding along the southeast. Beverly would love this view.

Beverly.
He hadn’t expected his reaction to seeing her again. The involuntary grin. The butterflies dancing over his stomach. The absolute pleasure in kissing her, followed hard by the need to have her entirely. Unexpected.

And
unwanted.

Thoughts of the human were a distraction he couldn’t indulge. If things had been different, if she hadn’t fallen through the portal back to her own time—to this time—they might have spent her short life together pleasantly at Mudcastle.

If Idris wasn’t a bad ruler, Dandelion might stay solitary and keep Beverly with him even now.

But Idris was destroying the Dumnos fae and taking Cissa with him. Living at Mudcastle Dandelion had avoided seeing the fae’s transformation, but he wasn’t completely ignorant of the changes.

Goldy’s gossip was increasingly alarming. Another human danced to death. A fire set to the roof of a human cottage built over a fairy path. A goblin’s refusal to make a teapot because he was too depressed to think of a design.

Max had always been disgusted with Idris, but his resentment had taken on a nervous quality. Dandelion would call it fear if he didn’t know Max was utterly fearless.

Cissa never said anything. She was all happy-talk and chit-chat. But she was losing her spark, the thing that made her Cissa. There was no joy and thievery in her these days. It would break Dandelion’s heart if that were possible.

The fae themselves were evidence of the change. Today in the city he’d seen it. Like Idris, they took pleasure in cruelty
with no care for human safety. They passed out food laced with psychotropic drugs, knocked down stop signs at intersections, and raped where once they ravished.

It used to be an accident when a human was danced to death. This morning in Green Park, he’d seen two fairies wait for it, their eyes shining with anticipation.

No. Dandelion couldn’t allow himself the luxury of time with Beverly, no matter how beautiful or fun or fascinating he found her. No matter how happy she made him feel. For too long he’d avoided his duty—to Queen Sifae’s memory, to Cissa, to his people. Now he had the cup. He had to save the Dumnos fae.

He shot higher, up to the edge of the atmosphere, and breathed
in the radiating starlight, filling his lungs to bursting. He relaxed his wings and plummeted to earth with a victorious roar.

He landed in a treed area across from the museum near the Albert Memorial and headed deeper into Hyde Park
to take the portal to Tintagos Castle. From the castle ruins he’d fly to Igdrasil and take the portal to Mudcastle.

Too
bad transporting only worked for short distances, but in twenty minutes he’d be sitting by the fire drinking peppermint tea, plotting with Goldy and Max while Cissa distracted Idris.

Cissa was waiting in the park, her
feet dangling from a tree limb beside the portal. He flew up to sit beside her.

“Success?” she said.

He grinned and patted his hidey pouch.

“Well done you.” She threw her arms around him. “Idris will be so pleased.” She had to play nice. She was wearing her tether, and Idris might be monitoring them even now.

“It was good to send the fae here for the troop,” Dandelion said. Cissa and Goldy had given Idris the idea years ago, laying the groundwork for this night to happen. “Where is everyone?”

“Out and about terrorizing humans, I would imagine
.” She sounded tired.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“I miss Goldy and Glory,” Cissa said. “Goldy can enjoy Lord Dumnos all he wants, but we lost Morning Glory because of a Bausiney. I’ll never forgive them. Not once, not thrice.”

Cissa had never especially cared for humans, but this was the first time she’d ever sounded hateful.

“Glory wanted what she wanted,” Dandelion said, “and she took it. You can’t blame the Bausineys for…” He remembered the tether. It did no good to remind Idris of Lily’s existence. “I’d better go.”

The longer he delayed getting back to Mudcastle, the more dangerous. Idris wasn’t in London, but his factotum Aubrey was. The portal was just on the other side of the tree trunk. He started to jump down when Cissa’s hand clamped over his knee.

“Listen!” she hissed.

The London fog dampened all sound. There was distant traffic noise and the muffled call of a tawny owl. Then he heard it. Aubrey’s sick laughter, joined by other fairies. They were somewhere in the park.

“No!” a human cried. “Don’t, please!”

It was Beverly.

The police had set up a command post in the Bausiney’s Abundance exhibition room. They interviewed the docent and the exhibition guard first and then Beverly. No one mentioned she’d come in with a guest, and she was relieved when the inspector didn’t ask about Dandelion.