A Basket of Wishes

by Rebecca Paisley

  “She’s trouble, that’s who,” Jourdian answered, glaring at Harmony. “T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Her other name is Harmony. She’s Splendor’s sister, and you would do well to stay as far from her as possible.”

  Harmony returned Jourdian’s glare. “I understand that you have nay a fear of my honey-sweet sister, human, but I think you forget that the last time you angered me you became a slimy bit of bird food.”

  Splendor laid her hand on Jourdian’s arm. “Do not anger her, Jourdian. Her temper is hotter than the heart of the sun.”

  “Her hot temper matters not at all to me. I want her off my land,” Jourdian flared.

  Harmony raised one golden eyebrow. “I live on this land, human.”

  “This land belongs to me.”

  “You do not own Pillywiggin.”

  “If it’s on my land, I do.”

  “How dare you,” Harmony warned.

  “Jourdian,” Splendor said. “Harmony. Please.”

  Harmony turned to the man standing beside Jourdian. As her gaze met his, her stomach fluttered. She could not seem to look away from him.

  His unruly hair was the color of hay, almost the same hue as hers, but not as bright. He had large round eyes like old gold coins, and as she peered into them she thought she saw a smile in each of them.

  He grinned at her. Looking at his teeth, she thought of the fences some humans liked putting around their homes. White. Strong. Straight. Yes, the man had fence teeth.

  He was tall, appeared to be every bit as strong as Jourdian. Harmony’s stomach fluttered again, then she felt her feet leave the ground by a few inches.

  Such proof of inner joy had never happened to her before. “Splendor says you are her husband’s cousin,” she said to him, and saw the smiles in his eyes widen and flash.

  “Emil Tate,” Emil introduced himself. He had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her breathless. Somehow, he thought, he had to make her understand they were meant for each other. That destiny had finally brought them together.

  Completely perplexed by the strange connection she felt with Emil, Harmony was determined to ignore the feeling. “I do not like your cousin, Emil,” she said, pitching another dark look in Jourdian’s direction. “And since you are related to him, I do not like you, either.”

  “Oh, but I’m not like Jourdian at all,” Emil declared. “I’m kind and considerate.”

  “Kindness and consideration,” Harmony began, “are two qualities that churn my stomach.”

  Emil nodded. “Mine too. That’s why I have been trying to become contemptible and boorish.”

  “Emil, for God’s sake,” Jourdian said. “Why are you trying to impress this evil-minded—”

  “He tries to impress me because he has more intelligence in his head than you’ve in yours,” Harmony spat out.

  She raised her hand, and before Jourdian realized her intentions, stardust clung to every part of him. Clenching his jaw and his fists, he waited in silent apprehension to see what she’d turned him into.

  But nothing happened. Looking down at himself, he saw the same man he’d been only seconds before.

  “What’s the matter, Harmony?” he asked, sneering. “Are your powers weakening?”

  The instant the words were out of his mouth, he felt the eerie sensation that someone else was speaking the exact words at the same time as he was. The other voice sounded close, right next to his ear.

  “Jourdian,” Emil murmured. “Oh, my!”

  “Now, Jourdian,” Splendor cooed, trying her best to sound calm, “there is nothing to worry about. I will undo what Harmony—”

  “What has she done?” Jourdian asked, again hearing his words being spoken by another person. And yet, he thought, the other voice sounded exactly like his own. “Would someone please tell me what she’s done?”

  Emil stared at his cousin. “You have two heads.”

  “What?” Jourdian turned his head to the right, then to the left.

  Shock nearly knocked him off his feet. There, on his left shoulder, sat another head, a replica of his own.

  The mouth on the head smiled. “Hello, Jourdian,” it said. “I’m Jourdian.”

  Harmony burst into laughter. “Two heads, human! When you had only one, you didn’t possess the intelligence of a brick. So, I have found it in my generous heart to bestow upon you another head. Now your intelligence has doubled. If I cared for gratitude, I would have your thanks.”

  Quick as a wink, Splendor dusted Jourdian’s second head with her magic, and her husband was once again a one-headed man.

  Jourdian felt his left shoulder, and when he was satisfied that the second head was gone, he took a menacing step toward Harmony.

  Splendor grasped his arm. “Good-bye, Emil. Good-bye, Harmony.” In a burst of silver, she and Jourdian disappeared.

  Emil stared at the empty spot where they’d stood. “Where—”

  “She rescued him,” Harmony said, “because she knew he was about to become a lamb in a den of starving wolves.”

  “Is your magic as powerful as Splendor’s?”

  Harmony floated into the air, lying on her back as if reclining on a soft sofa. “Whatever she can do, I can do better.”

  Emil stared so hard that his eyes began to sting. Harmony’s hair fell away from her body like a shower of pure gold, revealing the full length of her flawless form.

  “What do you gawk at, human?” Harmony demanded when she caught him staring at her.

  “You… I… You’re very beautiful,” Emil murmured. “And it’s still difficult for me to accustom myself to the sight of unclothed women out in broad daylight.”

  At his compliment, Harmony fairly purred. Still in the air, she turned to her side. “Why do you humans cover your bodies? Are you ashamed of how you look without all those clothes you wear?”

  “Certainly not! It’s just that humans are more sensitive over certain parts of our bodies.”

  “Which parts?”

  “Uh… The private parts.”

  “You are not answering my question, human. Which parts are so private?”

  Emil felt color wash over his smoothly shaven cheeks.

  “Very well,” Harmony said, drifting back to the ground, “since you will not answer me, you must show me.”

  When he saw stardust shooting toward him, Emil lifted his arms in front of his face and ducked as if fending off a brace of battering fists. But the fairy magic caught him easily and quickly divested him of his clothing.

  He stood before Harmony then, just as naked as she was. “Dear God!” Struggling to hide his bare body, he covered his loins with his hands, ran into the pavilion, and hid behind the swing that hung suspended from the roof.

  “Ah, so you are embarrassed,” Harmony said. She approached the pavilion, but drew swiftly away when she sensed all the iron that was nailed into the structure. “Come out of there, human.”

  Emil knew it wasn’t wise to disobey a fairy, especially one as hot-tempered as Harmony. But nothing—not even fear of fairy punishment—could induce him to leave his spot behind the swing.

  Nothing but a bit of magic.

  In a second, he was standing back on the grass in front of Harmony. Keeping his hands over his loins, he looked all around, dreading the possibility of seeing any of the Heathcourte gardeners. “Someone is going to see… The gardeners. They’re going to see me!”

  Harmony floated nearer to him, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek and smell the spicy scent he wore.

  An odd warmth passed through her. Warmth and that equally peculiar flutter again. “These gardeners…do they have something different on their bodies than you do?”

  “No, but—”

  “You are the same as they?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then why do you care if they see you without your clothing?”

  Lost within the depths of eyes that were as blue as the heart of a flame, Emil couldn’t answer. Her nippl
es brushed his bare chest, and her left leg touched his.

  And no longer could he hide his male parts from Harmony’s view.

  “The cattail,” Harmony mused aloud, looking down at his stiffened masculinity. “This is what had Splendor so enthralled?”

  “What?” Emil gasped. “I assure you that Splendor has never seen me—”

  “I refer to her husband’s cattail. But tell me, what is so special about these cattail parts of yours?”

  Emil realized then that Harmony was just as innocent as Splendor had been. Oh, how he longed to be the man to tutor her in the passionate arts of love.

  But he remembered himself instantly. “It’s indecent for me to have this conversation with you, Harmony. You should ask your sister.”

  At that, Harmony burst into a spinning globe of fire. She shot around and around the pavilion, leaving a trail of black smoke in her wake.

  Amazement caused Emil to forget his naked state. “My God,” he whispered, watching as she cooled down and again became the beautiful fairy she was. “Did that little display signify that you’re angry?”

  “I burn when I am upset. Darling little Splendor dissolves into cool mist.”

  Emil detected a sour note in her lovely voice. “Why are you upset?”

  Harmony pulled a big tarantula out of thin air and stroked the creature’s hairy back with the tip of her finger. “She is always first. She learned about human cattails before I, did she not? She’s first in line for the throne, too. She gets everything, aye, that she does, and ’tis grossly unfair.”

  Emil began to comprehend the strange, but profound closeness he’d felt toward her the moment he’d seen her. “It’s hard being second, isn’t it, Harmony?” he asked, his voice brimming with sympathy and understanding.

  Harmony pushed back her bare shoulders and turned away from him. “I do not know what you mean, human.”

  “I think you do.” He reached out and fingered one of the sunny curls that shimmered down her back, wondering warily if he might draw back a nub. “And I know precisely how hard it is.”

  She wanted to show further indifference and push back her shoulders again, but curiosity made her turn to Emil and look into his eyes. “What do you know about being second?”

  Emil was careful to keep a safe distance. She still held the wicked-looking tarantula in her hand. “I’m second, too, and there are times when I covet what Jourdian has. His wealth is the stuff of dreams, and his title is one of the most respected in all of England. It’s impossible not to feel a bit of envy.”

  Harmony nodded. “Aye, ’tis impossible.”

  “But there’s nothing we can do about our situations,” Emil pointed out gently. “I can never be the duke of Heathcourte, nor will I ever possess a fortune similar to his. And you, Harmony, will never be Pillywiggin’s queen.”

  Harmony began to burn again, but she quickly cooled when a sudden thought entered her mischievous mind. “I could put your cousin somewhere where no one could find him. I would take great delight in doing such a thing to him. And if he were lost to the world, you could have his title and his fortune, could you not?”

  “No! For God’s sake, don’t do anything of the sort!”

  “But you want what he has.”

  Emil’s pulse raced erratically. If Harmony caused Jourdian to disappear from the face of the earth, he’d never forgive himself for inadvertently putting the idea in her head in the first place. “If I could, would you have me get rid of Splendor so you could have the throne?”

  “You cannot.”

  “But if I could, would you wish for me to do it?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she is my sister.”

  “And you love her.”

  Harmony had no idea what love was. “I—”

  “And I love Jourdian,” Emil continued smoothly. “Just because I crave the things he has, doesn’t imply I’d harm him in anyway. And it isn’t only Jourdian. There was a boy in the village where I grew up who had the most wonderful white pony I’d ever seen. It had big dark eyes, a thick tail that brushed the ground, and a ribbon of black streaking down its face. I wanted that pony with all my heart, but I’d never have hurt the boy or stolen the animal away from him. The boy was my friend.”

  Harmony remained silent.

  But Emil knew he’d gotten through to her. Jourdian, for the time being, was safe from her vicious magic. “You know,” he said, “you’ll find me a ready listener if you should ever feel the need to talk about your feelings at always being second. I assure you I’ll understand everything you tell me.”

  A tender emotion tried to come to Harmony, but she stubbornly tamped it down. “And I assure you that I will never need a human for anything.”

  “Oh?” Recalling Jourdian’s explanation about how kissing revitalized Splendor, Emil rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip. “What about the need for strength? An infusion of vigor into your fragile body?”

  “Vigor,” Harmony repeated, her gaze locked on his mouth.

  “Get rid of the spider.”

  Too excited to realize she was obeying his command, Harmony tossed the tarantula into the air, where it promptly disappeared.

  Emil spread open his arms. “I’ve more strength than you would know what to do with. If you want it, come and get it.”

  She flew into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Emil reached up into the shining mass of her hair, twined his fingers through the golden silk, and held her steady for his kiss.

  Gently, as if she might come apart in his arms, he touched his lips to hers.

  But Harmony would have none of his tenderness. She fairly smashed her mouth into his, seeking every bit of the energy he could offer her.

  What she sought, Emil gave. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and when she began to shimmer in his embrace, he knew he’d succeeded in gifting her with the vigor she craved.

  And he knew also that she’d given him a desire that would never be satisfied by any other woman, fairy or human. He would have her for his own, he vowed. No matter what he had to do to make her his, she would belong to him.

  “Had enough?” he asked when she floated out of his arms.

  “I do not think I can ever have enough of this kissing!” Harmony cried, her entire body aglow with joy and power.

  “I like that answer. Now, would you be willing to give me something in return? A few wishes, perhaps?” Well, after all, Emil mused, if Splendor couldn’t grant his wishes, he might as well see if Harmony would. And there would be nothing Jourdian could do about it.

  “I am not the wish-granter in my family,” Harmony informed him crisply. “My ninny sister, Splendor, is.”

  “But you can grant wishes.”

  “Aye, but I shall not.”

  “At least give me my clothes back.”

  Harmony pondered his request. It went against her grain to perform any sort of good deed, but for reasons she could not understand, she felt inclined to do this one for Emil. With a flicker of silver, she dressed him back in his clothing. “’Tis all I am willing to do for you. Do not ask me for anything else.”

  Emil’s shoulders slumped. “What a stroke of ill luck,” he grumbled. “I’ve finally found a fairy of my own, and she won’t grant my wishes.”

  “A fairy of your own?” Harmony laughed. “I do not belong to you, human!”

  “Not yet,” Emil whispered, watching as she turned herself into a ball of fire and burned into nothingness. “But you will, Harmony. Yes, you definitely will.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  For the next several days, Jourdian found himself constantly looking over his shoulder. Harmony’s sudden and obnoxious visits set him on edge, and every time he turned a corner or walked into a room, he expected to see her burning in front of him.

  But it was Splendor who followed him, who joined him in each room he entered. She even rode with him, though not on Magnus, for there remained the problem with the iron stirrups
.

  She rode alongside the great stallion, mounted on a blue-green dragonfly. Jourdian wasn’t at all pleased to see his tiny wife sailing around on the back of an insect, but he soon decided it was the only solution to her yearning to ride with him.

  Still, he wanted her to have and ride a horse. And since he didn’t care for the idea of her riding bareback, he began to devise various means to overcome the dilemma with iron.

  As she’d promised she would, Splendor became his steady company, smiling and chattering throughout the course of each day.

  And melting in his arms at night.

  Gradually, Jourdian began to question how he’d endured so many years of relative solitude. So accustomed to Splendor’s presence did he become, that when she left his side for even a moment he wondered where she’d gone and when she’d come back.

  He also wondered what she’d be wearing when next he caught sight of her. Her clothing had arrived from London, and she took great delight in changing into various gowns whenever the whim to do so swept through her capricious fairy mind.

  Of course, she didn’t change clothes the way human women did. She simply sprinkled her stars, and voila! She was wearing another dress.

  “Do you like this gown, Jourdian?” she asked one evening as they enjoyed a late supper in the privacy of their bedchamber. “Does this blue not remind you of an April sky in the morning?”

  He looked up from his plate, blinked, and gave her a slight frown. “Not five seconds ago you were wearing a dress you said made you think of a lightning bolt. Silver-white, you said it was.”

  “Aye, that is what I said it was, but I grew tired of it.”

  “You had it on for all of six minutes.”

  “I am supremely fond of this blue one.”

  Jourdian leaned over the table and caught fast hold of her sparkling, ever-moving gaze. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your new clothes, but every time I look at you, you’re wearing a different color. It almost makes me dizzy.”

  She swallowed a bite of strawberries. “I have always liked the rainbow, Jourdian, and now I have found a way to imitate it.”