Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

“First though…” Morgan said, and slowly laid it out, step by step…

  “We don’t know how bad off he’ll be,” Morgan said, with a glance at Kyri, then Galan.

  As he expected, Kyri’s gaze was level with his.

  She nodded. “Between the two of us, we’ll manage well enough to allow him to travel.”

  Reluctantly, Galan said, “Even could I gainsay her in this, I wouldn’t. Kyriay is by far the better Healer, she’s better with sword and bow and she’s faster than I or Dorien in the air. One of the many reasons she’s Queen. You’ll need all of that.”

  It was hard to argue that she couldn’t or shouldn’t go since Morgan himself was taking a major role in this and thus putting his own life at risk. So he hadn’t even tried to dissuade her, a part of him wanting her there beside him as much as he wanted her safe.

  They discussed the plan back and forth, refining it, looking for flaws, potential problems, far into the night…

  Finally, at long last, Oryan nodded. “It’s as good a plan as we can make it.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  In the end, it was his decision to make.

  Morgan kept silent, still, ready to accept Oryan’s decision either way.

  Looking from one to the other, Oryan looked for doubt, uncertainty, knowing he wouldn’t find it in either Morgan or Kyri’s eyes. He saw worry in Galan’s and hope in young Jordan’s, but he expected both. The two principals, though, looked sure and steady. Stolid Corvin nodded sharply, Detrick gave him a level look, with a glint in his eyes.

  “We can do this, my Lord,” Detrick said, firmly. “And give Haerold a good kick in the teeth for his efforts.”

  Everyone smiled.

  Oryan took a breath. “We go. Morgan, when will you be ready?”

  It was all the answer necessary.

  Kyri sat on a flat rock by the side of the small pond, her knees pulled up to her chest, one wing wrapped across her so that only her bare toes peeked out from beneath it. Her hair tumbled loosely around her shoulders, nearly sweeping the ground. Around her was a small drift of iridescent feathers, flotsam and jetsam. One of the straps of her dress had slid down her shoulder while she concentrated, so that it looked like the only thing she wore was that one wing.

  For a moment Morgan could only stand still, his body going hot and hard at the thought, but content to simply watch her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, curious.

  She looked up and smiled with evident pleasure at the sight of him, before the smile became a little sheepish in answer to his question.

  “I’m preening,” she said, a light flush of color staining her cheeks.

  “What?” He fought back a smile.

  Sighing, she said, with a wry grin, “It’s not vanity. Wings take maintenance. Feathers get damaged, or break. If they don’t catch the air right you fall out of the sky. If we’re going to do this, I need my wings in good condition.”

  He leaned a shoulder against a tree trunk to watch her, folding his arms as she shook her head, waving away an errant piece of fluff that drifted by her nose and wouldn’t go away. Exasperated, she blew out a puff of air, sending the odd piece to settle elsewhere.

  It was undeniably adorable to watch. Morgan was enchanted and amused.

  Both wings extended so they shimmered in the sunlight and she shook them a little, sending more fluff floating through the air. Then she folded them back as she raised her arms and arched sideways to dive into the pool.

  Morgan found he literally couldn’t move, frozen to the spot as she rose up out of the water, her head tipped back and her eyes closed as she shook the water out of her streaming hair. Water coursed over her. Drenched, her shift was plastered to every sweet line and curve of her body as her wings fluttered happily in the water.

  As arousing as it was, it was also entertaining to watch, like watching a swan play as water splashed and sprayed, casting rainbow reflections to mirror her wings.

  She shook her shoulders as her wings fluttered, spraying water everywhere.

  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

  To Kyri it felt wonderful, as all the itchy spots in her wings were soothed.

  Opening one aqua eye, she looked at him askance. “What’s funny?”

  “You are.”

  “Am I?”

  She grinned wickedly.

  One wing swept hard.

  Morgan discovered that a wing could gather quite a lot of water, as the wave from it soaked him from head to toe.

  Biting her lip, Kyri fought back laughter that threatened to degenerate into undignified giggles.

  Tossing his dripping hat to one side, Morgan gave her a look and dropped his hands to his belt as he advanced slowly toward the lake. And her.

  Eyes widening, Kyri backed slowly into deeper water, her wings beating at the water idly. She watched him warily waiting to see what he would do, fighting a grin.

  Morgan stripped his belt off, too, tossed it aside, his boots following as he neared the pool. Lastly he peeled his drenched shirt off.

  Moving slowly into the depths of the pool, Kyri’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

  Kyri’s heart did a little flip at the sight of his broadly muscled chest and then he ran and dove, disappearing beneath the water.

  Laughing with delight, feet kicking, wings raised, Kyri turned in the water, looking for him in the depths.

  An eddy of water washed around her. A strong arm snaked up from the depths and wrapped around her waist. She barely had time to fold her wings before he pulled her under, his hands slipping up under her shift to clasp her hard against him, her back to his chest.

  Whatever vengeance Morgan had planned disappeared as he filled his hands with her warm skin. His mouth pressed against her throat as they drifted to the surface, the rapid beat of her heart against his lips.

  To his utter astonishment, in that moment Morgan discovered he’d fallen in love with Kyri, the Queen of the Fairy. And she with him. He turned her to look at him, seeing it in her eyes, in the steady warmth of her gaze, in the soft smile that curved her lips.

  It stunned him. All his life he’d missed it and now it was here, in the eyes of the Queen of the Fairy.

  Cupping her face in his hand he looked into her aquamarine eyes as she looked up at him, his arm sliding around her waist to draw her close.

  Everything he needed to see, everything he needed to know, was in her gentle and ancient eyes.

  Those eyes and her mouth were soft as her arms slid around his shoulders, one hand stroking through his hair as his mouth closed over hers softly and sweetly.

  Around them the water was warm as he slid up inside her, claiming her now as his.

  She sighed as he drew away, lifted her.

  He took her on the shore, beneath the trees, her wings spread, his body moving inside hers, into that sweet delicious tightness, her soft cries echoing off the stone and the trees.

  Buried deep inside her, Morgan looked down at Kyri’s lovely face, her body, both haloed by the glory of her wings as she rose to take him. He touched her cheek as he looked into her incredible eyes.

  “I love you, Kyri,” he said.

  It was there in his voice as he drove deeper.

  On a cry of joy, of wonder, Kyri answered, “I love you, too, Morgan…”

  And he came, filling her gloriously, emptying into her as she trembled beneath him.

  Finding a warm place in the sun, they curled up together.

  Laying her head on his shoulder, she said, quietly, brushing her mouth against the hard muscles of his chest. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Morgan.”

  She fought back her fear for him.

  “As careful as I can,” he said.

  Her fingers traced the lines of the crystal amulet that lay on his chest. Her amulet. It would protect him…

  Then she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, his skin still cool from the water and the soft breeze.

  Stroking her hair, he said, “You know I wish you wo
uld stay away.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “As I wish you would keep yourself safe, but it’s not in us to do either. I won’t ask another to go in my stead any more than you would. But there’s no one I would rather have at my back than you, Morgan.”

  Brushing a kiss over her soft curls, he knew the same was true for him.

  Letting out a breath, he also let it go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Morgan moved nearly silently through the darkness. There were some jobs he would give to his people and some, like this, that he kept for himself. Not because he wanted it, but because he couldn’t ask another to do it. Nor had he involved Jacob. Not for a lack of trust, but if the plan failed, there was the risk Jacob would be exposed and his usefulness to Oryan would end.

  Assuming, of course, that Morgan himself made it out alive.

  And Kyri with him.

  The advantage to a city like this was that the original houses had been built so close together you could practically stand between them, stretch out your arms and touch your neighbor’s house. More than one thief had scaled them that way. As time had gone by and the number of occupants had grown, their only option had been to grow up, often expanding a little out as well, adding living space above the shop below, or simply allowing for larger rooms higher above the street.

  It meant, however, that the hodge-podge of rooftops were sometimes within inches of each other in distance, although maybe feet higher, so he had to scramble along the length of a gutter.

  Now he pressed his back against a chimney and settled down to watch and wait, his hand closing idly and out of habit around Kyri’s talisman.

  Sure enough, after a short wait he saw a shadow move from rooftop to rooftop, claws clicking faintly. Hunters weren’t made to be still for long.

  So, they did have the bowmen guarded by Hunters. They’d expected that possibility. He would have to take this one alone though, and quickly. Kyri was due to arrive at any minute.

  He tossed one of the stones he’d stuck in his pocket and heard the thing spin around at the light clatter. With a nod, Morgan moved back the way he’d come, allowing small noises to catch the Hunter’s ear. Enough so it might be a cat, or something larger, enough to make the Hunter curious, drawing it away from the archer.

  It lifted its head and Morgan could tell the instant it caught his scent.

  Now wasn’t the time to be careful as he heard its oncoming rush, claws scraping over wood and slate.

  He leaped across the intervening space between two of the houses, knowing the thing could clear it easily, but also hoping he was far enough ahead to be tantalizing but not far enough for it to notice the tripwire he’d planted.

  Ducking around a corner, he slid into the shadows.

  A yelp told him it had hit the wire.

  He poked his head around the corner and saw it turn, limping. And angry. Good.

  Flattening himself back against the wall, he waited, listening as it scrambled to its feet and launched itself along the edge of the sloped roof above the alley.

  Then he spun, swinging his sword backward two-handed. It struck hard, slicing deep into the Hunter’s chest.

  The Hunter didn’t make a sound as it fell dead into the alley below.

  “One down,” he said, softly.

  From above he heard a chirrup, like the sound a pigeon would make when it was disturbed.

  He looked up as Kyri dropped down, her wings nearly silent in the darkness.

  For once she was dressed in something more than one of those little shifts. Instead she wore a peasant’s tunic belted over a peasant’s long skirt. Morgan had to admit he was disappointed.

  “Neatly done,” Kyri whispered, eyes sparkling, her sword in hand.

  “You think so?” he said, amused. “I did, too. How many others are there?”

  “Two more, one, it seems, for each archer,” Kyri said.

  He nodded, took a breath. “Are the archers in place?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She hadn’t dared to take them out, lest their absence be noted, especially coming from on high.

  This was one of the trickier parts, among many tricky parts.

  With the execution scheduled for noon to allow for the most people to fill the square outside the castle for the spectacle, they needed to eliminate the archers and the defense they offered before daybreak. Not too soon before daybreak or the bodies would be discovered too quickly, raising the alarm. Too late, and someone might spot Morgan or Kyri in the growing light.

  Once people filled the town and square there was a good chance everyone would have far too much to do and be far too busy to notice the absences.

  At least, that was Morgan’s hope.

  “Ready?”

  Kyri nodded, drawing a long, hooded cloak out of the bag hanging from her belt. She swirled it around her shoulders to hide the glimmer of those iridescent wings. A cloak wasn’t uncommon garb for most women of the kingdoms.

  Morgan paused to touch her face.

  Her eyes met his, a gleam in the darkness.

  It was enough, they had no time for more.

  He turned, as they made their way along the rooftops closer to the square.

  They were limiting her time in the sky.

  It was a fair guess Haerold now suspected that the Fair were involved somehow, so there were likely to be eyes on the sky. They just didn’t know how skilled the Fairy were.

  Like an owl, Kyri had flown silently through the night, staying at rooftop level through the outskirts of the town, rising silently and circling around far enough out to spot the Hunters before joining Morgan.

  “To your left,” Kyri said, softly, “somewhere to your left. One was prowling along that flat rooftop.”

  He nodded.

  Trying for silence, Morgan moved ahead, his eyes scanning the darkness, seeking a darker form against the starry sky, a movement.

  It was Kyri who heard it, behind her, as it bounded over the pitched roof to begin its leap halfway down. At her. She dove for the flat roof and rolled, the Hunter landing where she had been only a moment before.

  Morgan heard it, turning even as Kyri spun on her toes like a dancer, her sword in hand.

  A low growl, almost of pleasure, murmured out of the Hunter, as he circled, leaped to the next roof, circling. Always circling.

  “Now, what are you doing up here?” it asked.

  All it saw was a woman – a human woman, prey – alone on the rooftops, not a Fairy.

  It didn’t seem to have noticed Morgan yet, but it was circling the wrong way for him, intent on Kyri.

  She watched it warily, standing still, knowing that flight would drive its instincts to chase.

  For the moment, though, it was content to stalk her. Her innate knowledge of where Morgan was sensed him moving along the slope of the roof, keeping his eye on the Hunter.

  As much as she hated it, she couldn’t risk being injured by it.

  One step, two, she backed and it huffed, growling a little, its mouth curling into a lupine smile.

  “Breakfast,” it said and leaped.

  She jumped aside, away from Morgan, putting the Hunter between them.

  It turned, as quick as a snake, chuckling.

  Intent on her it was oblivious to Morgan’s presence.

  Almost playfully, it swung at her.

  A quick snap of her blade caught it across the fingers.

  It snarled, narrowing its eyes.

  This wouldn’t be as easy as it thought.

  Kyri kept her sword extended in front of her, the blade across her body. She much preferred fighting these things from the air, with a bow. They were quick, powerful and nearly twice her size.

  Then Morgan stepped out of the shadows behind it.

  She smiled.

  The thing seemed to realize its danger at the last minute, but by then it was too late.

  The look on its face was almost comical as Morgan’s sword pierced its chest.

 
Kyri’s sword rendered its howl silent.

  She said, “I’ll take the next one.”

  Morgan pulled her into a sharp, fierce hug.

  Bows would have been quieter, but also far more chancy. As good as she was, one missed shot in poor light was all it would have taken to raise the alarm. At night the risk was that much greater.

  The next one made the mistake of dozing a little and was by far the easiest to kill.

  Morgan let the body fall and moved out into the darkness in search of the remaining archers.

  By the time the last of them had fallen to his knife or her bow – the body propped into position – the first hint of light was touching the sky.

  This was why he hadn’t asked another to do this. He had no taste for cold-blooded killing, but if it must be done, better him than another.

  The same for Kyri.

  Kyri waited for him, reaching up to touch his face, her heart aching for him, knowing what it had cost him to do it.

  Morgan pressed his mouth against her palm, taking the solace she offered.

  In the building below some of Haerold’s soldiers awaited, Kyri could sense them there, pent up and restless.

  Using eyes and ears to determine whether someone was in the alley below, although eyes weren’t yet as useful, Morgan shook out the rope Kyri had brought in the bag at her waist and lowered her into the narrow space between the buildings, it being too narrow for her to fly. He tied the rope off and rolled over the side himself a moment later, dropping down to join her.

  Now it was only watching and waiting as the sky cleared and folk filled the square, the two of them staying in the shadows and alert for movement around them.

  As Morgan’s description had been more thoroughly circulated by now and they might be searching the folk entering the square for weapons or wings, it had been decided it would be best if they slipped in at night, joining the crowd when the square was nearly filled.

  Morgan’s distinctive hair had been darkened by more conventional means than magic for fear the wizards would catch the trace of it.

  Nothing could be done about his crystal blue eyes, Kyri thought, but he wouldn’t be visible for long.

  As for her hair, it had been neatly braided and coiled by one of Oryan’s servants so it covered her betraying ears. The girl had giggled while taking surreptitious touches of Kyri’s wings. Somewhat amused, Kyri had presented the girl with a feather when she was through. The girl had been delighted.