Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

  Then she said it.

  “I was dying, Gawain. Almost gone, if you hadn’t done what you did.”

  Morgan’s hand tightened on hers, the heartache sharp, piercing. So, it had been that close. Her hand tightened on his as his did on hers.

  She turned her head to bury her face against his throat, fear burning through her.

  “You were the only thing keeping me here, Morgan,” she said softly. “You held me here.”

  His arms tightened around her as his eyes closed.

  Turning her head, Kyri looked at Gawain. “I was fighting, but losing. I would’ve died if you hadn’t done what you did.”

  Gawain looked at her in shock, all color draining from his face.

  “You saved my life,” she said softly, simply.

  “But, if you’re a Healer…” he said confused.

  With a smile, she said, “So…your first lesson in Healing, Gawain. Healers can’t Heal themselves. It takes energy to Heal, energy an injured body doesn’t have and may be leaking from multiple places. As I was.”

  Gawain looked at her.

  “So,” Kyri said, with a soft grin, “shall we try this again, but with not so much feeling? You might as well take care of the rest and I would appreciate it.”

  “But I don’t know what I was doing,” Gawain said nervously.

  Gently she said, “Then you’re about to learn. Try, Gawain, concentrate…think about what you were thinking earlier…”

  It came in a slower, steadier flow this time, a little harsh but there, power, energy in a smooth flow.

  “That’s good,” Kyri said, letting her head fall back against Morgan’s shoulder, as strength flowed back into her.

  With a sigh of relief, she said, “Remember, too, that whatever you give me, unless you take it from another source, comes from you. So, always keep a reserve. You’ll know when you need to stop. If you have to Heal multiple people, you’ll have to portion it out…”

  He looked at her with Gwenifer’s clear gray eyes.

  It made Kyri’s heart ache a little, but she thought Gwen would be very proud of her son, he’d handled this well.

  Kyri released a hand to brush it across his cheek.

  “Your mother would be so proud of you,” Kyri said softly.

  “Why,” Gawain asked, “because I might be a wizard?”

  “Not might, Gawain, but are,” Kyri said gently. “But your mother would be proud of you simply for who you are. For who you’ve become. You’re handling all of this very well, Gawain. And that she would have been proud of.”

  He straightened a little.

  “Two more lessons and then I think I’ll sleep for a while. Let’s see if you can fix this arm, Gawain. All you need to do is picture it whole, see it in one piece, as it should be. The image will come to you. Work from the inside out, bones and muscle, then skin. Think of the bone being whole, undamaged, straight. Then the muscles and skin, all of it.”

  With her head against Morgan’s shoulder, she could both feel and see the moment when Gawain understood, as the bone straightened beneath his hands. The light of triumph in his eyes came with the cessation of pain in her arm.

  He grinned up at her, still very much a boy.

  Flexing her hand and holding up her now-straight and unmarked arm, she grinned in return.

  “One last lesson. Shall we take that scrying bowl away from them?” she asked.

  Morgan looked at her sharply. She gave him a look back and nodded.

  Going still, Gawain looked at her.

  “Yes,” he said, emphatically.

  “Most of magic is about concentration, focus and intent, Gawain,” Kyri said, honest weariness settling over her.

  His eyes determined, Gawain nodded.

  “So, picture someone watching you – that’s concentration – and then focus, power it with your intention,” Kyri said.

  Gawain nodded, concentrating, thinking about the people who’d been watching him, using this scrying bowl that Kyri had given to his father, that they’d stolen from him. Everything they’d done, all the people who’d probably died in his village, the weeks of running, being hunted. All that had happened at Colton’s house – the Hunters pacing below the hayloft where he, Brion and Angela had hidden. They’d been so scared. One of Hunters had taken a running leap to try to catch the edge.

  Terrified, Gawain had swung at the thing, his sword slicing across its reaching hand.

  It had yelped and dropped away.

  It didn’t take a wizard to see the anger rising.

  Morgan touched Gawain’s arm.

  The furious look the boy sent him and the shock of power that went through Morgan’s arm was enough to confirm it.

  “Be careful,” Morgan said, looking at Gawain seriously.“Never kill in anger if you can.”

  “Why not?” Gawain demanded.

  Morgan kept his eyes steady. “For several reasons, but mainly because when you kill out of anger or hate it kills something in you, too.”

  The boy stared at him. “But you’ve killed.”

  “Yes, I have, but every one of them was done either because they were trying to kill me or they were trying to kill someone else. Every life you take – if you don’t take it for a good, clear, sure purpose – takes something from you. If you’ve ended a life, you’d better be sure why you did it and that it’s the right life to take. Even a cold-blooded killing isn’t, underneath there’s always a reason and most of it is anger.”

  As Morgan himself knew, all too well.

  There were some who would’ve said Jacob deserved to die for what he’d done and perhaps Jacob wanted to die for it, but killing him would’ve killed something inside Morgan as well. He knew that now. He’d almost forgotten it.

  Kyri’s fingers tightened on his and he looked down at her. She’d known and had still let him go, knowing what it would do to him… And had had faith in him.

  He brushed a kiss over her forehead.

  Kyri added. “And you don’t know that the person doing the scrying has a choice in what he or she does. Haerold might be forcing them to do it. Always be aware, too, of the law of unintended consequences.”

  Bewildered, Gawain stared at her, much of his anger already dissipating.

  “Doing one thing with the predicted result, but that result causing far-reaching problems,” Kyri said. “As Queen of the Fairy, I can change the weather, but if I take rain from here, I have to take it from there and that might cause the weather pattern to change enough to create a drought.”

  Morgan nodded. “Kill a man or woman and their children might starve. Or grow up angry, looking for you. Don’t make enemies you don’t need to and can’t afford.”

  Touching Gawain’s hand lightly, Kyri said, “Focus on the bowl, not the people using it.”

  It was clear Gawain was thinking about it.

  Slowly he nodded and concentrated.

  “Once you have clear in your mind,” Kyri said, “what it is you want to do, picture it happening as you pictured Healing my arm. You’ll know if it succeeds. The bowl is silver, about this big.”

  She gestured.

  Gawain concentrated, picturing those others watching, imagining, believing, that the bowl was breaking, was broken.

  There was a sharp snap and there was a sense like water draining away.

  He grinned. “I think I did it.”

  “Very good,” Kyri murmured, pleased. “Now, with my thanks, I’m very tired and I’d really like to take a nap.”

  Morgan settled her more comfortably in his lap.

  Laying her head against his shoulder, Kyri contented herself with simply looking up at him until her eyes closed, sliding her hand inside his shirt, over his heart and the feel of the steady beat of it beneath.

  That simple gesture made Morgan’s throat tighten.

  For a time, Morgan listened to her soft breathing, curling a hand around her slender throat, feeling her pulse beat calm and steady beneath it as Colton shook up the horses
and the wagon trundled once more across the plain.

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Kyri woke Morgan with the lightest touch of her lips to his. Above, the sky was turning from smoky pearl to gold, the light soft on her face, gilding it slightly with warm, healthy color. She came to her feet, her eyes brilliant, then turned to run lightly and silently across the little clearing where they’d camped.

  The others were all still asleep, all save for Caleb, sitting watch with his back to them.

  Morgan looked at Kyri, who’d paused at the edge of the clearing to look back at him.

  She’d changed into a clean shift, this one the color of her eyes. It moved over her breasts, swayed around her shapely thighs.

  The look in her eyes, warm, inviting, said it all.

  On silent feet, she turned, the skirt swirling, and disappeared into the woods.

  He was already more than aroused. How long had it been since he’d touched her, loved her? Was her body as sweet as he remembered?

  Quietly he went after her and, smiling, found her shift hanging from a branch by the path.

  He stepped out into another clearing at the edge of a pond.

  Kyri stood on a rock at the edge of the pool, watching, waiting for him, a small smile playing around her mouth, her eyes nearly the same color as the sky, as the blue spread and brightened above them.

  His breath caught to see her standing there, washed in that warm light.

  Like a Fairy…

  Perfect…slender, her breasts high, rounded and full, nipping in to her neat waist, curving out to her hips and her tight, round bottom, her shapely legs. Her skin glowed radiantly in this light. Already her hair had grown out enough to fall around her breasts, the ringlets shifting over them, revealing, concealing.

  Slowly she spread her wings to catch the first rays of the sun, arching her back, her head falling back, glorying in the stretch of her wings as they unfolded.

  Morgan could only stand, watching breathlessly as the sunlight found those glorious wings. The light struck them, sparkling, refracting and reflecting in them, until the clearing was filled with glittering reflections cast from her feathers and she watched him, holding her hands out to him.

  Magic. Beautiful.

  She smiled, looking at him.

  Morgan stripped off his shirt, his eyes on hers.

  Her eyes widened in appreciation as she sighed with pleasure and her smile grew as her lips parted in a sigh, openly admiring him.

  He laughed and she grinned.

  Kyri loved to look at his face, with its strong, clear features. Even at this distance the color of his eyes, a clear sky blue, was unmistakable, as was his coloring, so fair. Then he pulled off his shirt to reveal his chest and she shivered as he walked toward her. She wanted to touch him again, to love him again, to run her fingers through his hair, trace one fair eyebrow. She wanted to spread her hands across that broad muscled chest, to comb her fingers through the crisp hair there, over his strong arms and shoulders, over his hard stomach.

  Not yet. It had been too long.

  Wings folding, Kyri twisted and dove backward, her body arching.

  She disappeared beneath the water.

  Stripping off his belt, his trews, Morgan went after her in a clean shallow dive, smiling.

  The surface of the water was still warm from the previous day and warmer than the cool morning air, but it was cooler still at the bottom of the pool. His head cleared the surface and he shook the water from his hair to find her sitting on a large flattish rock, her knees drawn up to her chin, wings unfolded and open around her to sparkle in the sunlight.

  He swam over to her and wrapped his hand around one slender ankle.

  His fingers encircled it completely, overlapping his thumb. He remembered this, how warm and fragile it was.

  Her eyes watched, a small smile curving her mouth.

  This was the mischievous, impish Kyri he loved. As he loved the strong one and the brave one, but this was the Kyri who lightened his spirit and gave him peace.

  Lightly, he tugged on her ankle, pulled it down so it didn’t block his view as his feet found purchase and he stepped closer.

  He was already hard.

  With a small tug, her other leg followed.

  Morgan slid his hands up her smooth, water-cooled thighs, parted her legs on the way, stepping closer. His hands reached her hips, tugged her a little closer.

  Smiling, Kyri clasped his wrists, relishing the strength in them, in his arms.

  She looked at his face, admiring the clean lines, his crystal blue eyes and his mouth, his firm, wonderful mouth.

  In amazement, she stroked a hand through his hair, touching his cheek, her fingertips lightly brushing his mouth.

  Leaning forward, she offered her lips to his.

  They brushed, teased, played, her tongue darting out to taste him and then he leaned forward enough for their lips to meet.

  His hands slid up, curled over her thighs, just at the top of them, massaging, his thumbs brushing near the core of her. Her hands slid up his arms, stroking across his strong chest, over his broad shoulders.

  Warmth blossomed. Already her nipples were hard and tight. Her breasts ached.

  He tasted so good.

  Morgan savored her, relishing the sensation of Kyri’s silken skin wet beneath his hands, her firm muscles beneath, her body heating to his touch. Sliding his hands up over her hips, he caressed her, molded her, ran his hands up to curl around her ribs below her breasts. He tightened his hands. Obediently she arched, propped back on her hands, her full breasts rising, the nipples hard, round, tight.

  Lightly, he tasted one with his tongue.

  Kyri’s eyelids fluttered and she gasped.

  He tasted the other, too, nibbling lightly, smiling when she squirmed.

  Then he sucked the whole nipple into his mouth and she shivered.

  He looked up into her flushed and delighted face.

  So he did the same to the other, savoring, nibbling, sucking and suckling.

  He loved the way she trembled and quivered in his hands, to his touch.

  Then he worked his way down her ribs, his hands first on her hips to lift her up a little higher on the rock, before drawing her thighs gently apart as she leaned back further. Breathing in the scent of her, he opened her to him, his thumbs exposing her. Lowering his head Morgan tasted her need, her body twitching, suckling lightly as a cry of pleasure built in her throat.

  His mouth moved over her, teasing, tantalizing, until she surrendered to him, her hands falling away as she trembled, her eyelids fluttering as he pleasured her.

  Morgan slid an arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back with a care for her wings and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to a softer spot in a patch of grass, laying her still trembling body down among them. As his mouth closed over hers, he slipped his fingers inside her and stroked, teased, his thumb brushing across her.

  Need and glory built.

  Desperate for him, needing to be filled, Kyri found him with her hand, the thick, hard length of him, squeezing and stroking until he was rigid, as hard as rock in her hand.

  Morgan ached for her.

  Raising himself up over her, he paused to look down into her flushed and glowing face.

  With a smile, Kyri brought her hips up, taking him into her and watched him smile as he sheathed himself in her..

  Slowly, they rocked together, ecstasy gathering, building.

  When it came, it came in a glorious rush, filling them as he filled her, the warmth of it sending another shiver through her. He smiled to know she felt it as he collapsed over her, his head resting on her shoulder and one feather-soft wing.

  Kyri turned her head so she could look at him.

  Morgan reached up to brush the hair back from her face.

  “I love you,” he said softly. “I should have said it before and I almost lost my chance.”

  Kyri smiled, brushed her lips across his. “Did you think I didn’t kn
ow?”

  “Sometimes the words need to be said,” Morgan answered, looking into her luminous eyes.

  “Yes, it does,” Kyri answered.“I love you, too, Morgan.”

  With a sigh, Morgan said, “We should go back.”

  Looking into his eyes, she said regretfully, “We should.”

  For a moment though, he clasped her tighter, and her arms closed around him.

  To their surprise and Galan’s immense relief at seeing Kyri alive and whole, they found Galan waiting with the others at their camp.

  A little surprised to find another Fairy joining them, the others had already relieved his mind once he’d told them what his mission was.

  Delighted, Kyri ran to give him a quick, light kiss on the cheek, a rare gesture of affection from his Queen that had grown even rarer of late. Galan had grieved for that.

  To see her with Morgan, again, to see them both so clearly happy… after watching Kyri’s long vigil…the sadness lifted.

  “It’s good to see you well, my Kyri,” Galan said, his wise eyes asking no questions, simply accepting and gladly.

  “Why is Galan here?” Kyri asked and then answered her own question, with a glance at Morgan. “Ah.”

  “I knew how to call him,” Morgan said, “but not how to tell him he wasn’t needed any longer.”

  Kyri looked at him. “I don’t know whether it’s more dangerous to keep him here with us or send him back, now.”

  “We should at least keep him with us for now,” Colton offered. “If we’ve been under observation, they’ll have seen him arrive. It’s been a while since some folk have seen Fairy and some never have. It’ll worry them.”

  “Then you’re with us for a little while, Galan,” Morgan said apologetically.

  He felt a sharp twinge of concern, remembering too well what had happened to the gentle Fairy Healer the last time he’d been Called.

  With a small shrug, Angela sitting happily on his knee, Galan said, “It’s been quiet for a time in the deep forest. We have another Healer now so I won’t be much missed.”

  Breakfast had already been started, Gawain learning another lesson as Gordon had decided to teach him how to cook.