For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (30 page)

    
I’ve had just about enough of this.  I pull weird, softer-than-I’ve-ever-felt blankets off and slide away, intent on getting out of the bed.  “Whatever lady, I’ve got rights.  I want to go home.  Now.”

    
“But Tam Rhynn,” she says lightly, standing and coming around the side of the bed quicker than is humanly possible and blocks my way.  “You are home.  You’re one of us now.”

Blinking back into the here and now, I gently pick the petal from Jean’s hair, my hand brushing her shoulder.  The things I saw in these dreams?  The experience of being kidnapped and taken away from Jean?  Of being made into someone new?  They are steps leading to a day when I awoke and no longer remembered why I had been heartsick in the first place.

    
Jean shivers and curls in and around me.  Her lips move against my thigh.  “Timmy,” she whispers.

    
Still holding the petal, I stroke her cheek.  “I’m here,” I whisper.  And I know it’s true.  I
am
here.    

    
Self possession overcomes me.  Tamrin.  Tam Rhynn.  TimTam Rhynn.  Timothy Tamsin Rhynn.  That’s why Leah’s Bend is going all strange, I really
am
Timmy.  These memories prove it, show me the transformation between Timothy Rhynn to Tamrin.  I was stolen away from Jean.  I wanted to come home to her.  Something stopped me.  Something made me forget.  What?  I close my eyes against the forest around me and remember Roxel’s quiet grin that day at the loom.  What did she do to me?  She stole all my childhood memories, stole my love for Jean, she changed the way I look so I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror.  She even altered my memories – exchanging the real ones with false ones so I would never question what she’d done. 

    
She used that evil Bender power on me.  Used it to create the mist this afternoon.

    
That mist…  I stare down at Jean.  The mist is a double edged sword.  While it didn’t force either of us into doing what we weren’t willing to do, it was still wrong.  Just as I know I did what I wanted, Jean will wake knowing she consented and enjoyed what she desired most.  Yet, without knowing of the mist, she will never understand why she gave up her vow to wait until marriage.  The bottom line is that Roxel’s mist forced me to cross Jean – to go back on a promise I made.  I’ve sullied her.  How I will ever make it up to her?

    
Dread fills me. 

    
By these memories, if Roxel went to such great lengths to keep me to herself in the first place, now that Jean’s back in my life, what is she willing to do to get me back?  I look around, already knowing the answer.  She did this.  She made me betray Jean’s trust.  What else will she do to make me hurt Jean?

    
Knowing the truth of whom and what I am only makes my guilt worsen.  All I want is to give Jean the very best of everything, but I’ve only ever caused her pain.

    
No more.  I have to fix this the best I can.

    
I slide out of the shelter of Jean’s body and dress quietly, knowing what I need to do.  I watch Jeanette for a long, long time, making a memory of her face, her breathing, her beautiful heart.  Though I know she may not forgive me for what we’ve done –perhaps even blame me for seducing her, I hope she at least knows how much it meant to me.  I hope she understands just a fraction of how much I love her – how much I’ve always loved her.

    
I kneel beside her and tuck my uniform jacket around her.  I don’t want to leave her alone out here – not again – but I’m afraid of picking her up and carrying her back to her father’s house.  I don’t want her waking up out of a dream and finding herself in a nightmare.

    
Gently, I lean over and kiss her.  She murmurs and shifts in her sleep, her face peaceful and satisfied.  I hope she’s dreaming of something wonderful.  I pull the freshly fallen petal from my pocket and tuck it gently into her fist.  There’s a possibility she’ll crush it in her sleep, but I don’t care.  I want her to have this memory.  I want her to know what I now know – that I’m Timothy Rhynn and I came home to her – even if her crushing it means that I might forget.  Again.

    
I gather my bag and tuck the rose back within.  It’s time to pay for my sins.

Jeanette

    
Tamrin is kissing me.  It’s a good kiss – hard and deep, a little tongue and lots of love.  I adore when he kisses me.  I like sharing his breath, feeling his heart against my chest, and having his body against mine.  It’s like we’re one step away from becoming one entity.

    
He shifts, and his body rubs against mine, making me break away with a gasp.  As I throw my head back, he kisses my neck.

    
I bury my fingers through his hair, burying my pale skin in the ebony of his mane.  I whisper his name, but the wrong one comes out.  “Timmy.”

    
I freeze, mortified, as he looks up at me.

    
“Omigosh,” I breathe, my face heating beyond terror.  “I’m so sorry.”

    
Tamrin reaches up and folds a piece of my hair back behind my ear, smiles teasingly.  “For what?”

    
“For calling you that.”

    
He shrugs.  “Why be sorry for calling me by my name?  What else would you call me?”

    
I blink at him, confused for a mere instant before I recognize a boy named Timmy in the mature features of a man named Tamrin.  Perhaps time or the hand of the faerie queen have turned his blue eyes grey, his dark brown hair black, and his pale skin sun-kissed gold.  But the underlying structure is still there.  The intent gaze, the lopsided one-dimple smirk, the high cheekbones and square jaw.  Tamrin is Timmy.  I know it now, and perhaps I always have.

Twip twip twip
.

    
Moaning, I roll over.  It’s so hard, lumpy.

    
Twip twip
.

    
Geez, what an obnoxious bird.  I cover my ears and curl into a ball, but a dull pain pulls between my legs.  Generally annoyed, I decide it must be time to wake up.  So I do.  Into almost darkness.

    
I’m naked and alone on the forest floor.  Confused, I look around.  “Hello?”  I call.  Frightened, I stand, the pain pulls again.  I look down and blink.  Do I have my period?  No, it’s not due for another two weeks.

    
A breeze skitters over the leaves.  Shivering, I pull my coat tight around me and take a shuttering breath.  Tamrin’s scent fills my nose.  Instantly calming, instantly warming in my stomach.  And then, with a huge sweaty blush, I remember and go jelly legged.  I fall back on my butt.

    
I touch my face, slap it.  This is real.  I’m real, the reality of what we did is real.  The pieces fall rapidly into place.  I thought I saw Timmy.  I went into the park.  Tamrin was there, only – in my mind, he’s now Timmy and I can’t shake that certainty. 

    
I wanted him.  I’ve always wanted him, but I always found a reason to say no.  This time, I didn’t. 

    
I bite my lips.  Holy crap, I practically seduced him!  I made him make love to me.  I begged and pleaded and he tried to say no.  But I was evil and I teased him until he eventually grew too weak and gave in.  That was bad of me, to exploit his desire for me like that.

    
Is it?  Did I really?  If he wanted it in the first place then it’s not bad, right?

    
I rub my too hot ears.  What is bad is what
I’ve
done.  I’ve committed a sin.  I’ve broken a vow to myself and to God.  Why would I do that?  I don’t understand.  How can all that suddenly not matter to me?  Do I love him that much?

    
And who is it I love?  Tim or Tam?  I don’t know, they’re one and the same.  And that’s even more frightening.  I need to talk to Tamrin.  We have to figure out what’s going on.  Is he really Timmy or is this wishful thinking?  Talk about having one’s cake and eating it, too.  Maybe the Bend is going bad? 

    
But the Timmy thing isn’t the only thing we have to talk about.  I have to talk to him about what we did with each other.  I have to know if he feels about me like I feel about him. 

    
I love Tamrin.  If he really is Timmy, then I always have.  Can it be such a terrible sin if it’s not the icy twist of lust but the fire of love?  This wasn’t some one-night stand. 
That doesn’t matter, it was still a sin
.  I glance around, looking for my absent lover. 

    
Forcing myself back onto shaking legs, I call, “Tam?  Tamrin?!”

    
Nothing.  At least, I hope it’s not a one-night stand.

    
I clutch at the cross around my neck.  “God.  Please God, I know I’m totally not a good person and I gave in to temptation, but please don’t take him away from me.  Please don’t punish me.”

    
I look all around.  Where is he?

    
I call again and again.  Still nothing and no sign he was ever here.  Except…I bend and pull a small red petal from where the wind blew it into the hollow of a tree.  I put it to my lips and I’m struck again with the absolute certainty that Timmy is indeed Tamrin.  “Timmy,” I whisper.  “Come back to me.”

Twyla

     Tamrin is a storm.  I’ve always thought so, ever since the first day I saw him, scowling at Roxel, daring her to pick him up and carry him away.

    
She took that challenge and met it tenfold.  She weathered that storm in his eyes, eventually broke him.  But everyone knows that throwing the wind back into the sea only makes it stronger.  I’ve always known that when he discovered what she’s done to him, his storm would be a tempest like none to grace the eyes of the
Aos Si
since God’s wrath fell upon our ancestors and we all nearly drowned in the flood.

    
Tamrin will not give her forty days.

    
Tamrin will kill her outright.

    
And then I shall finally be rid of my mistress.

    
So, as he comes – thunder and lightning through the faerie Court of Summer – I grin to myself with glee.  Roxel’s whole plan has backfired.  She meant to win his affection by making him conquer his human lover, but he possesses the rose…He must know by now he was fated to take that girl long ago.

    
I could almost giggle.

    
“Why, Tamrin,” Roxel purrs from where she sits, one leg slung over her throne and a careless finger twirling her hair.  “What could possibly bring you back so soon?”

    
Tamrin swallows hard, his face impassable as he glances around the faerie court.  “You know exactly why I’m here, Roxi.”  He uses her pet name in public, a slap, but the tone is low and hurt.  “Why did you do that?”  Vulnerability blinks behind the grey storm in his eyes.  He’s wavering and uncertain.

    
I frown.  This isn’t what I wanted.  I didn’t want him to break again.  Love makes the heart too soft.

    
Roxel smiles to herself as she picks at the ends of her hair.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tamrin.  I only gave you what you wanted.  Now that you’ve gotten what you desire, you can come home and be with me.”  She says this in the most cutesy, disgusting way imaginable.

    
I resist the urge to make a gagging gesture with my finger.

    
Tamrin’s brows crimp.  “That’s not what I wanted.”

    
“No?”  Roxel asks.  “Sure looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

    
Tamrin reaches into his satchel and pulls out the rose.  He throws it to the ground.  Unless you’re me and know Roxel inside and out, you wouldn’t be able to catch the little flash of surprise in her eyes.  “Here,” Tamrin growls, “is this what you want?  You can have it; you can punish me all you want for damaging it, just leave Jean out of this!”

    
Roxel’s eyes shift from the rose to Tamrin’s face.  For a long moment, she stares at him and then pouts and makes a show of examining her nails.  “I watched, you know.  I wanted to see what was so great about this boring little human that she’d distract you from your duties.  I still don’t understand.”  She looks up at him, this time genuine hurt in her expression.  “Why don’t you make love to me like that, Tam?”

    
Tamrin straightens and lifts his chin, the winds of the storm churning high and hateful.  And even though the words cut, he says them gently, like how Roxel speaks to sacrificial animals and tithes before slitting their throats.  “Because I don’t love you, Roxel.  I never have.  Nothing you do will ever make me hate you less than I do right now.”

    
I turn away and bury my face in the tapestry to keep her from seeing and hearing my laugh.  Roxel doesn’t notice.  She’s too busy calling the guards to seize her ungrateful lover.