Fractured Fairy Tales (18 page)

The apparition of the once powerful enchantress was as impressive as the real woman had been. Her pale skin appeared to shimmer in this form, and her dark cape and horned hat were deep black against royal purple. Her golden staff, of course, was not with her, it was locked up in a tower with all the remaining sewing wheels in the kingdom. Sela had no idea if the woman could do anything without the staff, but she hadn’t had the foresight to grab it. However, not having it didn’t change the power that resonated off of Maleficent. Even in death, she brought something unnamed into the room, something dark. If it hadn’t been for the way she shimmered when she moved, Sela would have believed the flesh and blood enchantress had joined her—and that would have been a mistake even she didn’t wish to make.

The clamminess in the room was oppressive, and she could hardly force her mouth to form the words to command the apparition. “I wish to strike a bargain.”

“Go on, fairy. I may be a spirit, but I am not foolish. I know how long I have on Earth, and I know you control that. Why not make it quick, and let me return to my eternal slumber? I do not wish to linger here, in a plane where I can touch nothing, feel nothing,” her eyes narrowed, “control nothing.”

Sela slowly nodded, forgetting that it was she who held all the power in this scenario. “I wish for you to make me human.” Maleficent raised her hand as if to compl,y but Sela put her own up. “I am not finished.”

“I was not going to grant it. You spoke of a bargain. I would be a fool to move forward without hearing it all,” Maleficent’s voice was low and held all the darkness it had in life.

“I want you to make me human. I want to be young enough to marry, beautiful enough to draw a man’s eye and I want to know real emotions. I want to be able to love a young noble in return, although I feel something for him already that is not akin to the only emotions I have ever really known.” The words, once spoken, lifted an invisible weight off Sela’s shoulders. The request was not ridiculous, and it was a shame that only dark arts held the power to reverse the effects of aging. “I also want a love potion. A dark one, strong enough to seduce anyone whose lips it passes between. I want it potent.”

A strange smile took place on Maleficent’s mouth. Her white teeth shined against the blood red of her painted lips. “And in return, little fairy?”

The idea of being called a little fairy grated on Sela, but she wouldn’t say as much. She blew out a deep breath and locked her amber eyes to the enchantress seaweed green ones.

“In return, I will free your spirit. In exchange, you must also agree that you will harm none from this land.”

At her words, Maleficent’s eyebrows shot up. Again, fear would have set a normal fairy, or human, straight. But Sela could not feel fear. She had never known the emotion, and had no way of knowing the slight pinpricks of pain at the nape of her neck were a warning sign.

“And just why would you do that?”

“I want to know what it’s like to not be left out. I…I saw a man at the royal wedding. One who stirred emotion in me, as I said. I want a life with him. I want to not be the outcast little sister. I want to have it all. With your promise that you will harm none form this land, I know the royals and myself are safe. Should you choose to rule another land, it is not my problem.” She watched, her eyes still level with Maleficent’s, as the moments seemed to stretch. The light streaming through the slats in the windows was golden now. She had but a few minutes to strike this bargain.

Maleficent said nothing. She stood perfectly still, in the same spot she had been the entire time. Sela began to wonder if the enchantress was playing with her, wasting her time, when the woman suddenly spoke.

“It is done, little fairy. Do not forget our bargain. I will be waiting.” She seemed to vanish into thin air, and Sela couldn’t help but wonder where she had gone.

“You aren’t supposed to be able to leave!” She kicked the floor and cursed. “You’re supposed to do what I asked you, stupid witch!” She threw her hands up, wand sparkling, and fixed the cabin with a disgruntled snort. “Stupid witch, I knew not to trust her. Oh well, not like she can get out. When the sun sets tonight, she’ll be gone again.” Sela went to fly out the door and nothing happened. Startled, she reached a hand behind her back and stretched uncomfortably. But she felt nothing. Her wings were tiny, but she had always been able to feel them before.

Racing across the house she stopped in front of the mirrored shard that served to view one’s reflection in her sister’s bedroom. The face that reflected back at her was her own, but different. The wrinkles of age that had kissed the corners of her eyes and mouth were gone. The small stains upon her teeth were missing, and her eyes glowed with a youth she was not familiar with.

“It worked,” Sela’s voice was a gasp as she ran her hand over her face.
But what of the love potion?
she thought, pressing a hand against the small pocket in her yellow dress. Sure enough, she felt the round shape of a potion vial and didn’t bother to pull it out. Stalling as she looked at herself, she jolted when she heard her sisters’ voices coming near the cottage. “Shit!” Looking down at the wand in her hand, she was pleased to see that her magic was still there. Creating a cloak of sorts around herself, she quickly squeezed out of the cottage door as her sisters stepped in from the wedding.

A safe distance from the cottage, she finally stopped walking and dropped the magic shielding her. “Time to catch a knight, Sela. Time to not be left out again.”

Alric de Genise chuckled as he hooked the quiver onto his back. “Philip, your jealousy at my superior hunting skills is amusing.” He felt the clap on his back just as Philip’s red clad leg flew next to his head as the prince mounted his steed.

“Yes, but when you slay a fire breathing dragon, that is really an evil enchantress, then we can discuss who is truly superior.” Philip flashed a grin at him before turning his horse in the direction of the castle. “Everyone good to return to the keep? I have a bride awaiting me?”

“And a bed that needs warming!” The comment came from the back of the hunting line and sounded like Timothy.

The good natured rib sent rolling laughter through the eight man hunting party, and Philip’s grin deepened as he shook his head. “I’ll not sully my wife’s name by speaking of how I impress her.”

Alric laughed and tossed his worn boot onto the stirrup and mounted his horse, Kohl. He ran a hand down the horse’s flank, a greeting that was really a ritual when he mounted and patted the horse twice to complete the gesture.

“And now if we’re all well and ready—” A crackling sound in the bushes behind Alric turned his head and stopped Philip from speaking.

A sharp cry sounded through the trees, and all eight men were back off their horses, swords drawn at the ready. Philip, ever the hero, took to the front, with Alric right beside him—as he always would be. Philip glowered at Alric and shoved him back slightly. The movement raised a growl from his throat, but he did as the prince wanted. He may be second in command, but he knew when to not push Philip, and a few short days after the death of the witch was definitely one of those days.

Philip led, his sword extended in front of him, as he pushed back the dense foliage. The plants gave way and the ground was littered with shrubs and thorns from plants. Philip exhaled sharply and Alric’s gaze snapped to the ground. A maid lay, bare as the day she had entered the world, with blood trickling down her forehead. Her black hair fell in thick curls down to her waist, her breasts were bare and exposed and it sent a lick of desire through Alric at an entirely inappropriate time.

“Stay back. I don’t know if whatever did this lurks.” He moved passed Philip, not caring if the prince wanted him to be the one to search the female or not. He bent down and placed a hand to her throat, a pulse flickered, oddly strong given her condition. “She lives.” His arms reached under her back and he heaved her up into his arms. “We must take her back with us. Whoever did this to her could strike again.”

He began to walk towards the group and Philip’s color palled. Worry was evident in his gaze, and Alric had to bite back the desire to ask if he’d ever brought harm to his liege before. He kept walking, despite the look, and when he slung her over Kohl and mounted him, the others silently returned to their own horses and mounted.

Philip looked sideways at Alric as he repositioned the maiden Unclipping his cloak, he laid it over her, covering her from wandering eyes.

Alric tersely nodded at Philip before kicking Kohl in the sides and beginning back. The laughter and jovial taunts didn’t resume. No one would say it, but picking up a maiden—even a naked one—was a danger. Evil lurked behind many faces, and they had no idea if they were really safe from Maleficent.

Alric could hear the crunch of the twigs beneath Kohl’s feet, could hear the inhaled and exhaled breaths of the hunting party. It sent a wave of ire through him. Their duty was to protect, he would not feel guilty for doing that. Grabbing hold of the maiden’s shoulder to keep her on Kohl, he kicked him in the ribs and galloped to castle, leaving the hunting party and his majesty behind.

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Gently, he set the female on his bed. She looked as if she belonged amongst his mess of furs and wooden canopy. He did his best to quietly remove his armor; he didn’t wish to wake her until a healer could see to her needs.

“Where am I?” the voice was strong and feminine.

His body twitched with need to turn around and get answers from her, but brashness was not the solution with a damsel he had rescued from distress. Biting his lower lip, he tried to still the race of blood in his body, and turned to face her.

With her eyes open, she was far more enchanting than she had been while resting. The amber in them was like melted gold. They bore into him, as if she could see through him. He’d seen eyes like this before. An elder maid, well elder by comparison to his age, at the wedding feast. They’d enchanted him then as well. Perhaps this was the woman’s daughter.

“Do not be afraid. You are safe here. I promise you, whomever attacked you cannot get to you.” He swore he saw the barest flicker of a smile on her face. “I am Alric de Genise. I am Prince Philip’s second, and we found you in a rather bad predicament while hunting.”

She sat up in the bed, the cloak Philip had placed on her sliding off and exposing her once more.

Alric groaned softly.

“Why am I,” she looked around the room, “in a room? Should I not be with a physician? I remember gathering water and then a giant rock and nothing more.” The look in her eyes mimicked fear, but her voice was too calm—too strong.

Alric knew he should be wary, and yet, every fiber of his being wanted to cross the room and press his lips to hers. He longed to drink in the taste of her and see if she tasted of honey, a deep rich honey that would match the color of her eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to see you rest first. I can bring the castle healer now, or the fairies if you need your memory returned, so that we might catch who attacked you.”

Her color paled and she bolted off the bed. Afraid she would fall, he stepped in her path. Her breasts crushed against his cloth covered chest, and he let his nose fall into her hair. She did smell of honey. He didn’t know why he had thought she would, but he’d been right, and his mouth watered as he wondered if she tasted as sweet.

“Please no! Not the fairies. I assure you that it must have been a falling rock slide. There is no guilty party, save for my own clumsiness!” her voice was shrill and real fear echoed there.

Her hand touched his cheek, and a strong sensation went through him. He couldn’t stop himself as she pressed her lips to his. Desire coursed through his body. His hands aggressively kneaded in her thick hair, forgetting the trickle of blood and the possible pain she could be in. She moaned softly and stepped up on her tip toes, angling their bodies together and sliding her tongue over the crease of his lips.

Lost in a haze, only the knock at the door cooled him down. His mouth stopped moving on hers, but his body still pressed dangerously close to her naked warmth. Alric pulled back, pushing her at the same time. She looked up at him, startled as he stepped back, putting his hand on the door.

“Forgive me, Lady—”

“Sela,” her voice was deep, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off him.

“Lady Sela. I forgot myself.” Without another word he tugged upon the door for the physician to come in. He hadn’t called for the old woman but she did have a way of knowing just when she was needed, or maybe one of the others had. It was lucky for the maid, for Sela.

He nodded at the older woman and then turned back to Sela. “I have guard duty, but… but I’ll return this night.” Then to the healer, “She is not to be removed from my chambers. She is my guest here.” Alric didn’t wait for a response, but he seldom did when speaking to people beneath him.

He could hear how loudly his boots echoed off the stone walls and he realized he’d left his sword. “Bloody hell!” He would have to obtain one from the armory because if he went back in there he wouldn’t be such a gentleman to the lady. A smile spread at the thought. Perhaps she wasn’t virtuous. She hadn’t responded like she was. “Good, then I’ll bed her and be rid of this need too. It’s been too long apparently.” Turning towards the armory, content with his plan, Alric whistled as he went.