by Kai Andersen
“All? Even the village ... er, louts and sluts?”
He harrumphed. “’Eads turn wi’ gold, me lad. And zat man, ’e ’as plenty o’ it.”
“Had he said anything about a quest? Asked about a bird or something?”
“Whazat? No, ’e din ask anyzing. Jes demand -- food, bed, women ...”
“Thank you for telling me, friend. Now, don’t tell the lady what you just ...”
“Aye. No’ ears for ze lady. Yers?”
“No.”
“Och, sorry ...”
Giselda crept away, having heard all that she wanted to hear.
Lying on the bed, she tried to come to terms with what she had just heard. If she deciphered the stablemaster’s diction correctly and the stranger that he was describing was indeed Michael, then the Michael that she had known was very different. Carousing with ruffians, wenching, bribing them with gold ...
Had he ever taken the quest seriously? Or was it just a chance for him to leave the restrictions of the castle to go about carousing and wenching? How much did she know of Michael, anyway? Had he ever loved her? Was she just a tool for him to attain more power through an alliance with Mithirien? Was he using her just as she was using him?
As she was using Rodin for sex?
At the sudden thought, she wanted to curl up in shame. If Michael was using her to gain power, then it served him right that she was using him, as well. But Rodin ... Beneath his tough and fierce exterior, he was good and kind and decent. He didn’t deserve to be used by anyone. Not even the princess of Mithirien.
In recent days, however, they had become friends, as well. And friends can give each other comfort and companionship throughout the long journey, right? So, it was not as if she was using him, right?
At that moment, Rodin slipped into bed beside her. She turned to him, kissing him with all the emotions in her heart. Caught by surprise, he allowed her to straddle him and rain kisses all over his face. As one tear dropped onto his face, he reacted. “Giselda --”
“Just kiss me, Rodin.” She was crying in earnest now, although she didn’t know what she was crying for. She only knew that it had to do with Rodin and what she had found with him in the past few days. “Love me ...”
* * * * *
Giselda couldn’t think of a better way to spend her time -- riding on a horse, wrapped securely in the arms of a man who’d hardly allowed her to have a wink of sleep the previous night. The atmosphere then was different from the other times when they had made love -- tender and desperate, poignant and passionate.
Of course, if the horse had a name, it would have made life perfect, but then, it wasn’t her horse, so she had no right to quibble.
“Would your friend remember ... to take the note ... to your parents?” Being fully satiated -- and sleepy -- had a tendency to make her voice drowsy.
“Yes. I can guarantee that he’ll assign the task to his most trusted servant.”
“Why not himself?”
“He has to take care of Randalin, remember?”
“Will Randalin be safe?”
“Don’t worry; I’ve known him since I was a boy.” Rodin’s hand was rubbing soothing circles on her midriff. “He’s a good man; he’ll take care of her.”
“That’s good.” She yawned. “I hope her leg will be healed by the time we come back to get her. How long do you think before I can see her again?” Her head lolled back onto his chest. “Two months? Six? A year?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. You’ll miss her.”
Strangely, it was not a question. “Yes, we have never been apart since the day Father gave her to me.”
“I really don’t know how long, Princess. But at least we’re heading in the right direction. The direction he’s taken, that is.” There was none of his usual bite whenever he referred to Michael. She soon found out why. “Princess, about last night --”
“Please don’t ask me, Rodin. I don’t have any answers for you.”
“Then tell me why you were crying.”
“I --” She released a helpless sigh. The fairy dust of naps and bedtimes was starting to fade. “I -- I don’t know. It’s a bit hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“I ... I can’t.”
“Is it the prince?”
“Yes -- No --”
“Were you afraid that we wouldn’t find him?”
“No -- Yes --”
“Or is it something else?”
“Yes, it’s something else!” She cried in agitation. Her arms flailed as she struggled to move away from him. He stilled her movements by hugging her more tightly to him. “It’s him and ... and ... and also you and ... and me, and I don’t understand anything anymore, and I don’t know what to do to --”
“I love you.”
Her head reared up and hit his chin.
“Ow!”
Giselda ignored the pain as she turned her head and tried to look at him. “You -- you do?”
Solemn green eyes looked back at her. “Yes.”
“But you can’t!”
“Why not?” He looked at her in a considering manner. “Is it because I’m only the son of a gardener?”
“No!” The words burst out from her. “Please don’t think that. Never think that.” She could see that Rodin was surprised at the vehemence of her protest, but she surprised herself, for it was something she would never have said even a month ago.
“Then I don’t see why not.”
“Was it because ... because of what I said last night?” Love me ...
“No.”
“But -- but --”
“I know you don’t love me, and I didn’t say it to increase your burden. You have no obligation to return the feeling, Giselda. I just want you to remember that, in case --” For the first time, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “In case ... something happened.” He muttered the last two words.
Giselda settled back against his chest when it was clear he didn’t want to talk anymore.
She knew what he was referring to by his last remark, and she thought that it was so sweet of him. He obviously thought she would be heartbroken should she learn of Michael’s infidelity, and knowing that someone else loved her would help assuage the pain. She had learned so much of Rodin’s character in the past few days that she knew that was exactly his intention when he had declared his feelings. She also didn’t doubt his words; he was that honest and straightforward. One thing was also clear: He was a much better man than Michael.
But ... her emotions were so confused and jumbled together. She didn’t feel like she was worthy, and even if she were, she didn’t know if she could reciprocate his feelings. Did she even want to reciprocate? But didn’t love come about naturally? Either she felt it or she didn’t. So what was she doing even deciding about it?
But Michael ... now, that needed some thinking and sorting out. How did she feel toward him now, after hearing about his behavior in the village? There was anger, surely, and a sense of betrayal and disappointment at the kind of man he was turning out to be. His condescending attitude toward the villagers irked her, though his womanizing was fine with her. After all, if she turned him away from their marriage bed, it was good that he could find women who were willing to submit to his advances.
But maybe he lacked practice in bedsports. Was it possible that he would turn out to be as good as Rodin one day, able to arouse her with one touch of his hand, one look of his eyes? Maybe she should give him another chance? Many chances?
For that matter, what was she going to do about Rodin? Having tasted the kind of ecstasy he could bring her, she knew she would look for it again and again. Maybe she could keep him as her sex slave? Or bring him with her to Ermont and let him serve her in the bedchamber? But what about this girl whom Rodin was talking about, this girl he desired to settle down with? Could she accept him with another woman? Could this other woman accept her?
She pushed away thoughts of Rodin with another woman; it made her too uncomf
ortable and unhappy. It made her want to tear out the hair and eyes of that other woman, and the very violence of her emotions scared her.
Frederick and Serena came to her mind, and a faint sense of envy pricked her at the thought of the couple who had found true love and happy-ever-after. Didn’t she want the kind of love they had? Is that what she had with Michael?
Maybe it was time for some deep soul-searching and reflection. What did she have with Michael? Would a crown be a good bedmate and companion in the years to come?
The questions stayed with her for most of the time that they traveled.
Rodin let her think. Though he was silent, she was very aware of his presence -- aware, and comforted by the knowledge that she was not making this journey alone. It was there in his quiet breathing, in the warm press of his hand on her midriff, in the strength of his arm as he held her, and in the force of his thighs as he directed the horse.
“Hey, wait! Wait up!”
Giselda’s sharp ears picked up the faint sounds. Her head swiveled around.
Rodin looked at her sharply. “What is it?”
“I thought I heard something.”
He reigned in the horse and squinted at the horizon.
“I’m here, you idiot!”
Chapter Nineteen
Giselda looked down and saw a medium-sized fox with a sheen to its red fur standing beside the horse, which was strangely calm and quiet. For some reason, curiosity overcame fear at seeing the carnivorous predator standing so close to her.
“Was that you talking?”
“Who else?” It sat on its hind legs as it licked its paws, which were covered with something blue.
“How come you can talk?”
“You mean animals don’t talk?”
“Of course they do.” Giselda was indignant. “I just meant that I have never been able to understand them before nor converse with them.”
“Congratulations. You have met your first talking animal conversing in human.” Something crunched as the fox bit into what looked like a cookie. The voice sounded female.
Giselda didn’t think the fox was giving a compliment; in fact, she was being downright sarcastic.
Rodin, meanwhile, had fallen to his knees in front of the fox. He went on bowing as he kept his eyes trained on the ground. “Oh, goddess, what an honor this is! How may we serve you?”
“Stand up, you moron!” Giselda heard the fox’s teeth snap together. “I am not a goddess.”
“As you wish, my goddess.” Rodin stood up and cocked his head in a thoughtful manner. “Although ... a fox is not really a good form to take when visiting us mere mortals. How about a benevolent dog or an adorable cat?”
Giselda was amused. It was very clear that Rodin had a high regard for Mithirien’s deities, but even so, it did not prevent him from speaking his mind. As for her, she never gave it much thought. If a goddess wanted to come and chat with her, then, by all means, she was welcome. Maybe she could get a bonus from the gracious deity, like a wish or something.
Giselda jumped down to stand beside Rodin.
The fox rolled her eyes. “For the second time, I am not a goddess. You could say that I am the goddess’s ... assistant. Yes, her assistant.” She cocked her head as she looked at them. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to stand. Such a position certainly makes it harder on my neck as I look at you.”
They compromised by sitting on the hard ground.
“What are you eating?”
“Blueberry cookies.”
Did foxes eat blueberry cookies?
Blueberry cookies. Why did that sound so familiar?
Giselda felt the faint stirrings of suspicion.
Rodin was asking, “Do goddesses eat anything as mundane as blueberry cookies?”
“I am not a goddess, so yes, I do eat something as mundane as blueberry cookies.”
A memory clicked. “Blueberry cookies? Isn’t that what Mrs. Goode-Heart always bakes --” Giselda broke off as the fox, who was in no danger of falling from sitting on the solid ground, teetered from her place and fell against Giselda. “Oooh, careful there.” She set the fox carefully back in her place, admiring the sheen of her thick fur.
“Thank you, dearie.”
Giselda was startled. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t you? I heard you loud and clear.”
Giselda shook her head, wondering if she had said something. She knew she had been saying something else, though, before the fox had fallen against her, but now she couldn’t remember what it was. “I was saying something, but --”
“You were talking about Mrs. -- Whoa!”
The fox brushed herself off Rodin’s lap. “I don’t know what’s happening with me today; I am so clumsy. I think these blueberry cookies have alcohol in them; they’re making me drunk. I think I’ll get rid of the rest of these.” She threw what looked like a dozen cookies over her shoulder into the bushes.
How could so many cookies fit into that tiny paw?
Giselda blinked.
Did those cookies disappear in midair?
The fox looked at them both with a pleased smile on her face. “I am here to lead you to Firelight.”
Giselda was puzzled, but it was Rodin who voiced the question. “Firelight? Who is that?”
“You are looking for her, aren’t you?”
Giselda didn’t know how the fox managed it, but she was staring at them both with a frown on her face and her arms akimbo. Giselda answered, “We were actually looking for my betrothed, whom my father sent on a quest --”
The words burst out from Rodin. “Firelight! The golden bird!”
“Yes. Very good, young man. That is how she is known in the legends.”
“You mean she really exists?” Giselda knew her eyes were very round.
“Yes, she really does. You must know that legends have their basis in fact.”
Rodin started to say, “But she’s been spotted somewhere around Lundren --”
“Haven’t you heard of red herrings? Who wants to get caught and be trapped forever in a cage?”
“But you are going to help us catch her?” Rodin’s voice reflected his skepticism at the fox’s contradictory statement and action.
The fox shook her head. “I am going to bring you to her. It is up to you to catch her.” She smirked. “If you can.”
“How come you know where she is?”
“It is my business to know things.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“Take it or leave it.”
Giselda felt compelled to break what she felt was about to explode into a full-blown argument. “What is her story? Is she a goddess?”
“Why don’t you ask her when you see her?” The fox stood up and brushed her paws. “Are we ready to go?”
“Wait! If you know where the bird is, did you meet Michael, as well, and bring him to her?”
“No.”
“Then I am not going after some stupid bird. My aim is to find Michael.” Giselda firmed her chin in a stubborn gesture.
The fox sighed, as if out of patience with a recalcitrant child. “All in good time, child.”
“You mean Michael is safe, that I will find him?”
The fox said slowly, “Well, he is in a bit of a pickle --”
“What pickle?”
“All in good time,” the fox repeated, then continued hurriedly when she saw that Giselda was about to interrupt her again. “But you will find him after you have completed your quest.”
“But my quest was to find him.”
“No, your quest was to continue the quest your father sent him on.”
Giselda completed the thought for her. “Which is to find the golden bird.”
“Among other things.” The fox turned to Rodin. “Are you coming with us?”
“Of course.” He stood up and held out a hand toward Giselda. “Shall we?”
Giselda’s heart beat a little faster as she looked up into hi
s character-hewn face, and her disoriented world righted the moment she placed her hand in his. She would trust this man with her life.
It was such a stunning revelation that she was speechless as he settled her and then himself on his horse. Familiar arms came about her as she rested her back against his strong chest.
She glanced down and was distracted by the sight of the fox taking something out of her pocket and putting it on her hind paws. How could she have a pocket?
“What are you doing?”
“Putting on my boots.”
“Boots?” Rodin’s voice chimed with hers as they both exclaimed their confusion and incredulity.
The fox barely glanced up. “Yes. Time is of the essence, so I have to put on these seven-leagued boots, which I borrowed from my friend Olaf the giant. We can cover more distance that way.”
“Oh, how exciting! I’ve never seen seven-leagued boots before.” Giselda stooped down as she tried to peer at the fox’s paws.
“Well, these boots are amazing. Not only are they distance-eaters, but they can also fit on any size feet. I’ll let you try them sometime, dearie, if you are good.” The fox hopped up and hovered in midair, above the horse’s head and right in front of their faces. “Now, hold on tightly to my tail and I’ll pull you along.”
“You mean to walk on air?” Giselda’s voice reflected her incredulity.
“How else?”
Rodin chuckled.
“But -- but --”
The fox patted Giselda on the cheek. “The universe is full of marvelous things that you have not yet seen, child.” The fox’s tone then turned brisk. “Now, we should reach the Castle of Light by tomorrow.”
“Castle of Light?”
“Where is it?”
The fox answered Rodin’s question. “It is not in Mithirien, but I can’t tell you exactly where it is. Just trust that I can get you there.” She presented her back and tail to them, and then half-turned. “Oh, by the way, my name is G.H. Merry. You can call me G.H. or Merry; it’s all up to you.” She winked. “All right, hold on tight!”
Chapter Twenty
True to Merry’s word, they stopped at their destination the next afternoon.
The whole experience was a lot like flying; the only difference was that they didn’t have to do anything to stay up in the air. Merry’s magic lifted them a few hundred meters above the ground, and as she walked the air, they moved forward by several miles with each step. They had some bloopers along the way, such as the time when the horse looked down and panicked. Merry conjured a piece of cloth, which Rodin tied around the horse’s eyes. There was also the time when they passed villages and towns and people looked up and saw them. Merry solved this by wrapping the cloak of invisibility around them.