by Wen Spencer
“You are.”
Her blush deepened. “No, no, I’m not.”
Oilcan reached out and caught her callous hand.
She stared down at their joined hands in horror. “How awful I am,” Thorne whispered. “I looked at your face and was secretly glad that I would not lose you so soon, but this is not your hand.”
He brought her hand up to rest on his chest. “This is my heart; it has not changed.” She curled her fingers until she gripped his shirt tight. He forced himself to finish. “I am Wind Clan.”
She laughed surprised and then leaned her forehead against his to look deep into his eyes. “Oh, yes, there you are. I see you now.”
“Be my First.”
Her eyes went wide but then she looked away, shaking her head. “You should ask a Wind Clan sekasha to be your First. You will need a full Hand, and the Wind Clan sekasha will not accept a Stone Clan First.”
He took joy in that she had not said “No.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. “If they will not accept you, I do not want them.”
Her emotions warred on her. He was afraid to press her because she would take it wrongly but also afraid that he wasn’t pushing because he was falling into the same old habit. So he put it out, cold and frank, all that he felt.
“ I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. I love you. I want you to be with me. Always.”
She dropped her head to his shoulder and they stood twined together, pressed close. “I love you too, you idiot.” She finally whispered. “It makes me weak. I shouldn’t let you be so stupid as to bind yourself to one like me.”
“I won’t let you talk me out of it.”
She lifted her hand to smack him lightly on the chest but then she kissed him as if he was the thing she needed most to live.
48: Knight in Shining Armor
Sacred Heart was a humming beehive of activity but in a happy, peaceful way. There were sekasha laughing in the gym as they taught Blue Sky some wicked looking moves. The young lovers were in the dining room, practicing music with Moser’s band. The smell of something rich and spicy wreathe the whole place with bounty.
Tommy had brought his younger cousins to help with the rebuilding on the stated theory that it was better for them to meet people outside his family, instead of being hidden away like something shameful. And yeah, that was one reason. But it gave him a good excuse to be in the building.
Once he was sure his cousins were under Cattail Reeds’ artistic supervision, Tommy slipped unnoticed upstairs to the third floor and moved cautiously down the hall to the end room where he knew Jewel Tear was staying. The door stood open, seeming to welcome all comers, but he had heard that Jewel Tear had been quiet and withdrawn. The elves were giving her space to put her ordeal behind her.
He wasn’t sure of how she would react to him, but he wanted to see her again. He told himself that he was a fool—that she made herself clear days ago—but want was eating at him.
She was at the window, looking down into the backyard. She wore a dress obviously by Cattail Reeds. It was a flirty splash of bright yellow that only came to mid-thigh in the front, but trained down in the back to nearly to her bare feet. Seeing her there in the light did all sorts of strange and painful things to his insides.
She put her hand to the glass and smiled radiantly at someone in the backyard. Tommy’s insides twisted hard with jealous anger. He ghosted forward, needing to know whom she was waving at.
Spot was in the backyard with Baby Duck. The little elf female had crowned him with dandelions that were as brilliant yellow as Jewel Tear’s dress against his black fur. They had the chickens in their lap and was hand feeding them while Baby Duck talked earnestly to Spot.
Tommy breathed out as surprise and relief punched him hard in the gut.
Jewel Tear turned and saw him. Her eyes went wide. She glanced to the door standing open.
“It was open.” He really hoped she wasn’t going to scream. Things could get messy if she did. He tried not to think of all the sekasha down on the first floor.
Jewel Tear ran to the door and shut it.
He had expected her to run out into the hall and stood there confused as she locked the door quietly.
“Stupid,” she hissed as she hurried back to him and pulled him away from the window. “We have to be careful not be seen together.”
“Gods forbid we be seen.” Tommy sneered.
“They kill us both if they catch us.” She caught his head and pulled him down to a hard desperate kiss.
For several minutes Tommy couldn’t think coherently as his hands discovered that the dress rode up when she wrapped her arms about his shoulders and his fingers had access to bare skin.
“Who—who will kill us?” He finally managed.
“The sekasha. The domana are forbidden to take lovers outside of their Hands.”
At the faire grounds they had been surrounded by nearly fifty Wyverns. She had acted so distant and dismissive that even he believed there was nothing between them. He breathed out a laugh at his own naivety.
His fingertips brushed higher and his brain stopped working again. “You’re not wearing any…”
“They said your cousins were coming to help. I knew you would be brave enough to seek me out.”
“Oh,” he said and then realized what that meant. “Oh! We’ll have to be quiet.”
She smothered her laughter against his mouth.
49: Elf Princess
The meeting was Tinker’s first real official planned function as an elf princess. Everything else really didn’t count because she had charged ahead without a full thought of the political implications. This time she calculated out maximum strategic impact of every possible detail. She decided on a causal afternoon tea in the courtyard under the peach trees. She would wear the new yellow baby doll shirt that Cattail Reeds had made her with the shorts she permanently borrowed off Stormsong. She drilled all morning on the etiquette of pouring tea, not so much so she could do it exactly right, but so she could humanize the activity without delivering any grave insult. She talked Lemonseed into creating finger sandwiches using human condiments such as mayonnaise, bread and butter pickles, and Dijon mustard. She wanted to deliver a strong message of “This is Pittsburgh, not the Easternlands.”
And then there was nothing to do but wait on the elfin vagueness of time for “afternoon” to roll around. She should have made it “morning” tea. Luckily, her guest was impossibly early by elf standards.
Apparently Forge’s Hand was taking their unintentional complicity with the Skin Clan hard. His First bowed slightly to Pony without the normal cold stare down. Forge echoed the humility in his bow to Tinker. It made it a little easier to bow back.
Forge settled uneasy on the cushion. He had the invition she had sent up the road to him. She had spent an entire hour crafting it. He turned it over and over, as if confused by it.
“You sent this?” He held it out reluctantly, as if he didn’t want her to take it from him. After great deliberation, she had written: Grandpa Forge, come see me this afternoon, your granddaughter, Beloved Tinker of Wind.
She clamp down on the first three snarky things that wanted to come out of her mouth. This was politics. Keeping your mouth shut was part of being smart. “Yes,” she said once she got the impulse for sarcasm under control. “I wanted to talk with you.”
“What do you want of me, Beloved?”
It was weird having someone other than Windwolf, Pony and Stormsong use that part of her name. It was kind of creepy to have some old guy using it.
“Please, call me Granddaughter.” He looked so hopeful that she had to focus on pouring out the tea. “For most of my life, my cousin was all that I had. There are no words to describe how important he is to me; but I know you understand how I feel about him.”
He bowed his head over his teacup. “I am stunned that you can even speak civilly to me. I would not be able to forgive…”
She di
dn’t want to get into discussion of forgive and forget. Not with the elves demanding truth. “Our family has the capability to love without reservation. The Skin Clan knew that—maybe even bred it into us—and reached out and tried to use it to control us. Both of us. You to take Oilcan and me to launch a war against the Stone Clan to get him back.”
“You did not fall to them.” Forge’s voice was thick with shame. “I betrayed a child that trusted me.”
She controlled the urge to smack Forge for still thinking of Oilcan as a child. Be happy that he’s ashamed. “It was a close thing. Prince True Flame begged me on bended knee not to throw us into a war, and it made me realize how we were being used. That we’ve been manipulated again and again since the day that Unbounded Brilliance fled Elfhome. We face an ancient enemy who would have us ignore all that is good and reasonable to destroy each other.”
She reached out and took his hand. “We are family. Not Wind Clan and Stone Clan but family. Do not let the Skin Clan destroy that.”
Forge’s eyes widen as he gazed at her small hand in his large one.
“I know your heart,” she said. “I know that you will be true to it. I want to be able to trust you.”
“I will never betray my grandchildren’s trust again,” Forge promised.
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
#
After Forge left, Tinker was warned by the sudden appearance of traditional teacakes and fresh tea that Windwolf was returning. The rest of the universe vanished as he swept into the courtyard, his joy at seeing her blazing on his face. They were sprawled on the blanket, her one good hand tangled in his hair, kissing before she remembered that they had a fairly large audience.
Of course most of their audience was probably overjoyed that their lord and lady was going at it like teenagers. Domestic bliss and all that.
“Tea?” She managed, pushing at Windwolf’s chest.
He gave a warm chuckle but rolled off her to sprawl lazily beside her. Somehow most of the nearly eighty people in their joint household and the extra thirty some of Poppymeadow’s staff were making themselves invisible. Only their Firsts and Seconds were nearby, standing guard as Shields.
Windwolf stole a teacake and nibbled on it as he watched her pour out tea. “You spoke with Forge?”
“I don’t want Pittsburgh swamped by old hatreds. If you look at who was sent—an old rival, a desperate ex-lover, and an insane mobile howitzer—it’s like someone loaded the dice for war. I’m not going to let them do that to my city. I want Forge as an ally, not an enemy. And I think we should do something with Forest Moss—like find him sex therapist.”
Windwolf smiled so wide that she wondered if she had said something funny.
“What?” Perhaps it was the sex therapist part; it was kind of weird but the elf desperately needed something.
“Elfhome dragons are spawned in the roots of mountains. They grow to adult with their wings folded back, out of the way in the tight spaces of their nursery caves. Then one day, they climb out and spread wide their wings and take flight to rule the sky.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve spread your wings, Beloved. I’m enjoying seeing your take flight to rule.”
#
“So that’s how it is?” Tinker asked when Oilcan came and settled beside her and Thorne Scratch did the sekasha cold-eyed stare off with Pony. Odd how she hadn’t noticed until now that little tradition had been missing—until today.
Oilcan grinned sheepishly and that admitted. “I figured she would hit me if I asked her to be my domi.”
“Smart man.” Tinker bumped shoulders with him lightly. “We still good?”
“Always.” Oilcan said.
She wanted to ask him how he felt about the change but she knew how long it took her to just get over plain mad. She’d let him deal if it without having to dragging how she felt into the mess. What was important was he tapping his thigh to some inner rhythm, occasionally drifting mentally away to string words together to a song she may never hear.
“Loan me some money,” he said out of the blue.
“Okay.” Normally they swapped money back and worth like it was joint property, but things had changed. “Do want it on the sly, no strings attached?”
“Nah, I want the strings. Make it all official.”
“Sponsorship?”
He nodded and grinned again. “I need so much to get my enclave up and running—again.”
“Thorne and the kids?” She asked.
“They seem to see it as ‘cousin’ and not ‘the Wind Clan,’ but they’re signed up for the whole shebang.”
She wasn’t sure how things worked between domana but she didn’t care. Whatever he needed, she was going to see he got it. It turned out ridiculously easy to give it to him too. It only took one phone call to the president of their bank and bludgeoning the man with her Vicereine title, and the money was transferred from her account to Oilcan’s. All the while Oilcan silently laughed at her.
“If you need more, let me know. I’ll put the squeeze on Windwolf.” She’d been ignoring how the whole money thing worked—enjoying the opportunity to get whatever she wanted without thinking where the funds were coming from—but she really should start paying attention to that whole mess.
They talked for a while, making plans, just like they always had. Giant plans sketched out with the barest details and a hell of a lot of trust that they both understood what had to be done and would do their part. She couldn’t have done half the things in her life without him beside her. This time, it was his dreams that they were making true.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
1: Tunnel to Nowhere
2: Echoing of Merriment
3: Protection Money
4: Three Esva Shy of a Full Deck
5: Train Spotting
6: Whelping Pens
7: Lullaby of Stone
8: On the Nose
9: Thorne Scratch
10: Panty Raid
11: Spell Lock
12: Morning After
13: Knock Knock Open the Box
14: Monster Popsicles
15: Sacred Heart
16: Morgue Breaking and Entering
17: Give Me a Beat
18: Repercussions
19: For the Win
20: Blackbird Sing
21: Shadow Boxing
22: Helpless
23: Scissor Paper Stone
24: Scapegoat
25: Unbounded Brilliance
26: Providence
27: On Track
28: Tea and Crumpets
29: Spot On
30: Codex Moment
31: Jewel Tear on Stone
32: Scry
33: Hit by an Arrow
34: Amaranth and Forge
35: Forest Moss
36: Between a Stone and a Iron Mace
37: Days of Past Not Forgotten
38: Unclean Blood
39: Making Peace
40: Childhood’s End
41: Southern Rim
42: Awaking
43: Lost
44: Iron Mace
45: Impatience
46: Knight Errant
47: Commitment
48: Knight in Shining Armor
49: Elf Princess