Bride of Fae (Tethers) (23 page)

“
When I’m king, I’ll let you return to Tintagos,” Dandelion said. “You can see Elyse.” He spoke directly to Aubrey’s tether jewel. “Idris won’t be
that
grateful.”

Aubrey paced around Beverly
, his look full of contempt for her. It was difficult to believe he’d ever loved a human being. The tension thickened until one of the musicians dropped a hammer on her dulcimer.

“Enough talk,” Aubrey said. “Give me the cup, or stop wasting my time.”

Dandelion turned to Cissa. “We want to stop this slide to the dark,” he said. “If I keep the cup at the expense of someone’s pain—even a human—I might as well join the Unseelie. Then I’d be worthless sitting on the moonstick throne.”

“I agree with your words, brother, but I’m afraid.” A tear spilled down Cissa’s cheek.

“I can handle Aubrey,” Dandelion said.

“I'm not afraid of
Aubrey,” Cissa said. “I’m afraid of
her
. Your feelings for her.”

Dandelion gave no answer. He kissed his sister’s forehead and faced Aubrey. He produced the cup from the larger pouch on his belt and shoved it against the lilac-eyed fairy’s chest.

“Yes!” Aubrey clutched the prize. His spell over Beverly dissolved and faded away. She was free but wobbly, and she pitched forward toward the ground.

Instantly Dandelion was at her side. “I have you.” He lifted her and extended his wings. They rose above Hyde Park and higher until they were well above London, a blanket of jewels below and a canopy of starlight above.

“Oh!” She caught her breath. He’d rescued her from hell and brought her to heaven.

“I knew you’d like the view.” His kiss was slow and warm, and his tongue made promises that the rest of his body appeared ready to keep.

Max was halfway through his second glass of jasmine wine. Or maybe his third. He didn’t much like the stuff, but it made troop night bearable. He’d rather be at Mudcastle, away from the freak carnival troop night had become. This year Dandelion was in Sarumos on the troop at Princess Cissa’s request. Goldy had gone to a midnight rendezvous at the Temple of Joy and Wonder with his human lover.

The only other person in the room was Idris, draped over the moonstick throne watching the abominable glimmer glass. He’d last gone on the troop
a century ago, the year before Dandelion’s banishment. Idris hadn’t left the faewood at all since Morning Glory escaped with Lily to who knows where.

He’d
turned to the wretched glass for intelligence of the outside world. One of his pleasures was making Max watch. “There she is again,” Idris said. Aubrey and his band of tricksters were harassing a human in one of Sarumos’s parks.

If it was anyone else Max wouldn’t care, but their victim was Beverly, the dark-haired beauty he’d met at Mudcastle. He remembered her curiosity and kindness. She hadn’t been repelled by his looks and had treated him as equal to the other fae. It was a shame she’d come to Aubrey’s attention.

When Cissa showed in the glass, Max sat up and leaned closer. Dandelion was right behind her, ready to bargain for Beverly’s release.

“He has affection for that human,” Idris said. “It
must be a pet of his.”

Sun and moon
, the bleeding treesap offered Aubrey his tether. Max sighed and finished his wine. He couldn’t believe it. Fairies really didn’t deserve to think so highly of themselves. Dandelion was the most thoughtful of them all, and even he had a limited grasp of the tether jewels’ power.

“Ha! The fool,” Idris said. “He’s giving it over.”

“Hmph.” With relief Max watched the prince hand Aubrey not the tether but the fairy cup. It was painful to see Cissa in distress. Next time he saw her in a safe place, he’d reassure her. Losing the fairy cup was nothing compared loosing a tether jewel to an enemy’s possession, a fact none of them had yet realized.

Idris shook his head and snickered. He poured more wine into Max’s goblet
. “What a revolting development.” What a wit.

“Extraordinary,” Max mumbled into his goblet. He recalled the prince’s face when he first held the cup, his mixture of profound self-confidence and bliss.
Max’s own father swore by the myth of the fairy cup, that it had a supernatural connection with the royal line, but he’d never truly believed until he saw that look on Dandelion’s face.

“Well, well.” Idris made the glass go dark and let it hang in the air. “Lucky your gobs finally finished with the bower.”

“Hmph.” They weren’t his “gobs” as Idris insisted on calling them, but yes. They were all glad to be finished with the bower project, an ugly piece of work if ever there was one.

Idris said, “I want you at Mudcastle when Dandelion returns. Take away his tether and slap a cold iron collar on him. Bring him here without delay.”

“I’m busy.” Dread chilled Max’s veins. “And I’m not your goon squad.”

“Busy!” Idris leapt to his feet and plucked the glimmer glass out of the air. He held it to his chest, his eyes flaring with rage. “You forget yourself, goblin.”

“Do it then.” Max wished Idris would end his threats at last. Destroy the abomination and bring its centuries of agony to an end. “Death is better than this.”

“Oh, Max. Dear Max. You misunderstand me.” Idris strode over to the fire. “I'm no murderer.”

They both knew that was a lie. This was the hold Idris had over Max. Max’s sister was trapped in the glimmer glass. Idris would kill her if he thought it would better suit his desires. He held the glass over the fire and slowly lowered it closer to the flames.

“Stop,” Max said. “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will.” Idris clapped once, and the glass disappeared. He looked around the throne room at the empty sofas and chairs. “It’s lonely with everyone on the troop. I miss my people.”

Max shuddered
. It was true Dumnos fae were becoming more Idris’s creatures all the time. He’d go solitary himself if it wasn’t for the glimmer glass. He headed for the exit. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He’d have to take a pony cart to Mudcastle, something to haul Dandelion back to the faewood in.

“Wait,” Idris said. “No collar. No need to distress Princess Cissa
any more than necessary. Wrist shackles will do to make the point.”

“Y
OU SAVED ME.” BEVERLY
couldn’t say thank you. Mere words were too small, too inadequate to acknowledge Dandelion’s sacrifice. “You gave up the cup.”

He smiled without bitterness, and her heart went out to him even more.

“Oh, Dandelion.” She could never repay him.

“Close your eyes,” he said gently. “Picture your hotel room.”

She did as she was told, and in the next instant they were in her suite at the Dorchester. He laid her on the bed and hovered over her, his wings still extended. He was like a great mythological beast.

Check that. He
was
a great mythological beast.

His vest accentuated the muscles in his arms and chest. He’d cleaned up
nicely
in the tux, but she’d take those bare arms any day of the week. Or night.

“Are you staying?” She reached for the vest’s top silver and leather toggle. “Or just dropping off?”

He remained suspended above her while she opened the vest’s five toggles. She ran her hands over his chest, and the vest disappeared with the rest of his clothes and hers too.

“Staying,” he said. He settled between her knees, retracting his wings, and moved forward, his hands on her hips. He kissed her belly. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

His mahogany hair fell forward in a cascade. He kissed and licked her breasts and his fingers explored between her legs. She was already on fire for him, and he was hot and hard against her. He kissed her throat and her ears and ran his hands through her hair and moaned.

“Beverly.”

She whispered, “I have you,” and held him close.

Light shimmered around them, reds and greens and blues and purples. A kaleidoscope of images tripped through Beverly’s consciousness one by one and fell away. Lord Dumnos, the Tragic Fall, Marion, George Sarumos, her mother, her father.

There was only Dandelion, filling her body and soul with his body and soul.

“Beverly. Beverly.” He chanted her name like a mantra. The colored lights brightened
until they became as white as the sun at noon in summer. A presence filled the room, awful and wonderful. Something she’d felt once long ago and forgotten until now.

Still inside her, Dandelion sat up and pulled her onto his thighs. He reached toward the ceiling and started to grow. His body grew larger, metamorphosing into gargantuan thing. She clung to him to keep from falling, like she had clung to Igdrasil when she was a child to keep from falling to the rocks and the sea below.

That was it. That was the presence she’d felt once then forgotten. Pure energy that flowed not only through Igdrasil, but through every living thing. The power that had saved her from falling.

Dandelion’s torso
became a tree trunk and his head and arms became branches. He was gone, replaced by Igdrasil. Beverly fell back on her elbows. The tree was taller than the room, the ceiling disappeared, and the branches stretched up into the night sky. Her body tingled and quivered, and she felt shattered by vibration and soothed by waves of warmth.

Then Igdrasil was gone. The ceiling was intact. Dandelion was Dandelion. He collapsed on her chest, exhausted.

“Beverly.” His voice anchored her, and she held him tight. “Beverly, I never thought I could feel….”

He was a fairy prince, and he was a man. He fell asleep.

Beverly stretched and arched her back. Dandelion still lay on top of her, his head just under her chin. He wasn’t as heavy as she expected—maybe he was using his powers to keep from crushing her. She chuckled at the thought; that would be useful magic.

It was late…or early, depending on how you looked at it. Night had begun to surrender to dawn. She hadn’t
slept. She couldn’t get the image of Igdrasil out of her mind. She wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite, she was charged with energy.

Everything was different
now.

Dandelion stirred, and she kissed the top of his head. He opened his eyes and smiled as if he was surprised and delighted to find her there. Sun and moon, she loved him, and now their story was ending. As surely as the sun would rise, today he would be at Mudcastle, and she would be at Bausiney’s End.