FULL MOON

by Jennifer St. Clair

  Rose raised her head and looked at him, and for a moment–one very small moment, since he doubted his leg would hold–he wanted to shift shape and join her out in the snow. Just forget what he was and what he'd have to do to survive the rest of the winter, and play.

  And then, the moment was past, and she stood in front of him, her tail wagging, an image of contentment in her mind.

  With one last wistful glance at the snow, Edward turned to walk back into his house, into warmth and the embrace of his wards. Perhaps Elinor would return soon, and then he could–what?

  Rose sent him an image of an outstretched hand.

  "Why would she need me to help her?" he asked, and stopped in front of the painting of his mother.

  Despite his heritage, he had not gotten involved in the concerns of Faerie, save for that one small interaction with the elvish witch that had left him cursed. He wasn't sure he wanted to get involved with them at all, much less in something that concerned a crown.

  His mother had never been very enthusiastic about crowns.

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  Chapter Fourteen

  Sennet's mirror was nearly as tall as she was, and set in a plain wooden frame. It seemed out of place in a room that also housed a television and an overstuffed couch, but Ceidrin wasn't about to say anything about her decorating attempts. He knew she didn't particularly care.

  Without asking, she provided him with a candle and a flame to light it; after that, it was only a small bit of magic to ignite a few strands of Gene's hair and gift his name to the mirror. After that, circumventing the spells that surrounded his presence, and not setting off any alarms was a matter of skill more than talent.

  The mirror shimmered, casting Ceidrin's reflection--and that of the room beyond--into shadow.

  "Can you create a portal without an alternating mirror?" Lucien asked as Ceidrin tried to coax some clarity from the darkness. Was that a wall?

  "Of course not," Ceidrin said. "If I made a portal from here, it would only go one way. But I can make one from a puddle of water, or a doorway, or anything else that comes to hand to get back out once I find him." If he could push his way past their spells. It was hard enough to do that right now, on the opposite side of their defenses. And how long would it take them to notice his presence before they attacked?

  "Careful," Sennet warned as his concentration slipped. She extended her hand and touched the surface of the mirror, her face intent on something Ceidrin could not see. "We need a bit of light."

  The room beyond the mirror brightened just enough for Ceidrin to make out a figure slumped against the wall. He could not definitely identify the figure as Gene, but he saw no one else in the room, and he'd spent enough time nestled against his lover's body to know every inch of him.

  He stepped back, almost overbalanced, and caught himself against the mirror's frame. "You're not going to try to talk me out of going through?"

  "Can you get back?" Sennet asked, quite seriously.

  Ceidrin opened his mouth, then shrugged, staring at the silent figure lying beside a seeping stone wall. "I'd have to open the door," he said. "There's not enough water in that room to form a portal."

  "I'm not sensing a single thing from inside that room," Sennet said. "It could be illusion; it could be Gene. Are you willing to take that chance?"

  Lucien stepped up behind them. "I'll go in your place."

  "You'll do no such thing," Ceidrin said calmly. He tried to think of another alternative, but other than carrying in the way out..."Sennet, do you have any other mirrors?"

  "One," Sennet said, "but I don't think you could carry it and walk at the same time, Ceidrin."

  He hadn't thought of that. "Damn."

  "Then let me come with you," Lucien said. "I'll carry your mirror; you see to your--your human. We'll leave together. All three of us."

  "You'd throw your lot in with me?" Ceidrin asked. He still wasn't certain about Lucien or his loyalties; his branch of the family had always been a bit close-mouthed and quiet.

  "You could end this in an instant," Lucien said softly. He truly did not look as if he had enough strength to lug a heavy mirror a matter of inches, much less feet.

  "And when they kill me, what then?" Ceidrin asked. "They'd just pick us off one by one until there was no one left to deny them the throne."

  "You could--"

  "Without proof?" Ceidrin asked, knowing what Lucien would suggest even before he finished. "Then I would not be a king; I would be a tyrant."

  Lucien closed his eyes and rocked back on his feet. "I wanted to speak to Elinor because I had every intention of asking her not to come," he said. "I thought she was in the least danger of all of us, and if they tried to do something at the gathering, then at least one of us would be free."

  "And?" Ceidrin asked when he didn't continue.

  "I am not aligned with our cousins," Lucien said. "I would prefer to see the true heir assume the throne. And if that means helping you find out if Nidrea's son is still alive, then so be it. But if Nidrea's son is dead--"

  "Why don't you find that out first before deciding what to do about it?" Sennet suggested. "The longer you stand here, the closer you are to discovery. Do you want to try to use my other mirror? Or should we circumvent any possibility of a trap?"

  "How do you propose to do that?" Ceidrin asked, hating the fact that he felt so helpless.

  "Healers go where they are needed," Sennet said, and touched the mirror again. It shimmered, then solidified into a portal. "Lucien, stay here. Keep the portal open."

  "You can--you can do that?" Ceidrin asked, following Sennet as she stepped through.

  "Of course," Sennet said.

  "Why didn't you suggest that before, then?" Ceidrin limped over to where Gene--hopefully--lay against the wall and fell to his knees, unmindful of the filth underfoot. He caught his breath as a bolt of pain shrieked through his leg.

  "I felt that," Sennet said as he reached out his hand for something to hold onto before he collapsed.

  His hand found bare skin, both bruised and bloody, and then the body awoke under his touch--flailing and cursing in a broken voice that Ceidrin instantly recognized.

  Using both his hands, forgetting about balance and the screaming pain in his knee, he gathered Gene close and held him until he stopped struggling.

  "Hush, hush, you're safe now," he whispered, his fingers trailing across unfamiliar wounds as Sennet's talent worked its magic. "What did they do to you?"

  Gene sagged in Ceidrin's arms, suddenly limp.

  "It's more like what did they not do to him," Sennet murmured. "But..."

  "Ah, no," he whispered, stricken. "No. No. Tell me they didn't--"

  Gene went rigid in his arms. He would have screamed, Ceidrin thought, but his voice had given out a long time ago.

  "Hush," he said again. "Gene, it's me. Ceidrin. I swear to you--you are safe now. I won't let them hurt you again."

  Gene's hand slowly reached up to touch Ceidrin's face."Ceidrin?"

  "You're safe," Ceidrin repeated.

  "They...they told me you were dead--"

  "I very nearly was," Ceidrin said, and tried to stand up, forgetting about his knee. He lurched forward, instead, and had to bite back a scream.

  "What part of 'be careful' don't you understand?" Sennet snapped. "Hold still, both of you!"

  Ceidrin laughed. It was either that or sob. "Gene, you remember Sennet."

  Gene's arms quivered as he pressed himself against Ceidrin's chest. "How could I forget S-Sennet?"

  "She's here to help, so tell her anything you might need," Ceidrin said. "I--I can't carry you out of here; I'm sorry. I was wounded, and I--"

  "The heads of the elves who stole me away, for starters," Gene said, his voice suddenly cold. "But I know you can't give me that."

  "You're right," Sennet said. "I can't give you that. But I can heal your wounds--"

  "Not all of them," Gene whispered.

  "No,
not all of them," Sennet said. "Some you'll have to heal yourself. Ceidrin might be able to help you with that."

  "They--" Gene's voice cracked and he clutched at Ceidrin even tighter than before.

  Ceidrin's entire leg was a mass of pain now, but he didn't dare shift position. "Whatever they did can be undone," he said, and hoped that were true. "When I found out you were gone, I thought--I thought I had lost you forever. My cousins can be cruel."

  Sennet stood, and gently disentangled Gene's arms from around Ceidrin's chest. From somewhere, she produced a blanket, which she gave to Gene to cover himself. "Can you walk through the portal by yourself?"

  "I think so," Gene whispered.

  "I thought Healers were neutral," Ceidrin said, which was something he'd wanted to say since she told him she would help him. "Isn't this a bit--not neutral?"

  "Healers may be neutral, but we aren't stupid," Sennet said. "And you're my friend. We tend to take very good care of our friends." She helped him up next, and let him lean on her all the way back to the portal.

  "I think I may need a crutch after this," Ceidrin said through clenched teeth, but Sennet did something with her talent that took away some of the pain. By the time he stepped out of the mirror again, he thought he might survive.

  Gene stood in the middle of the room, clutching the blanket around his body, shivering, even though it was quite warm in the room. Ceidrin ignored Lucien in favor of leading him to the couch and sinking down beside him as Sennet closed the portal.

  "Will you be okay?" he asked softly.

  Gene shuddered. His dark hair covered the expression on his face, but he twined his fingers through Ceidrin's, as if unwilling to release him. "I think--maybe. Yes. They--" His breath caught in his throat. "Do you think I could have a bath?"

  "Of course," Sennet said. "I would rather you not go alone."

  Ceidrin's thought he saw the flicker of a smile on Gene's face before it vanished again. "I would rather not be alone," he whispered.

  "Then you shall not," Ceidrin said, and with Sennet's aid, helped him down the hall to the bathroom so he could wash the marks of his ordeal away.

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  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elinor couldn't quite bring herself to buy the biggest bag of dog food she could find--for Edward, at least. She grabbed a bag of the least offensive brand for the dog, but Edward deserved something other than mere survival, despite the fact that he had been a wolf when she awoke that evening.

  So she bought two of the biggest steaks she could find, bagged everything up, and drove back to his house, half-expecting the wards to deny her entry.

  There was sign that someone had gone out; the footprints of a dog or a wolf in the snow. But both Edward and the dog--the former in human form--were inside when she opened the door; Edward lying in front of the fire, his legs outstretched, and the dog beside him, her head lying on his stomach in a perfect picture of contentment.

  They both seemed to be asleep, although the dog's ears swiveled at her arrival.

  Elinor took that moment to study Edward in more detail. Something about him--some feature of his face, or the way he moved, perhaps--struck her as familiar, but she could not place the feeling with anything concrete. And perhaps it was the curse; since it was Faerie-made, that could very well be the familiarity. If the woman whose painting hung in the hallway was his mother, then he resembled his father more. Shaking her head, she carried her bags into the kitchen, poured a bowl of food for the dog, and set to work.

  The dog arrived in the kitchen twenty minutes later, looking hopeful, and Edward followed behind her, hesitating in the doorway.

  "I bought food," Elinor said when he didn't speak. "And more tea."

  "Rose says thank you, and so do I," Edward said. "I--I wasn't sure you'd come back. I'm sorry for doubting you."

  "The dog's name is Rose?" Elinor asked, and received a happy bark for her trouble. "You've--"

  "Spoken?" Edward smiled. "Yes. We've spoken. In a way. Her--master was a human wizard. I think he's dead, but she doesn't have a word for what happened to him. She thinks in pictures."

  "Oh," Elinor said. "I'm sorry, Rose." She didn't have much experience with pets; her father had a cat who hated her, and her mother had never kept a pet in Faerie. "Did you see my note? I thought you'd find it there--"

  "I saw it," Edward said, and glanced away from her. "But why should you take the time to help me? You have no reason--"

  "Maybe I just wanted to help," Elinor said, but she couldn't find any heat to back up her words. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do or where to go next."

  "Did you sense the ones who hunt you while you were out?"

  "Not a sign of them," Elinor admitted. "My aunt could have called them back, but I don't know. She doesn't give up easily."

  "Maybe they got picked up by the dog warden," Edward said with a straight face, and after a moment, she realized he had meant that to be a joke. But even as she realized that, she couldn't help but try to imagine it, and the look on Oriellen's face.

  She laughed. "That would eliminate the problem, wouldn't it?" she asked. "But I have a feeling they'll be back. To pull them off my trail means they were put on someone else's, and there are plenty of others who are in danger because of this."

  "Is there no one neutral you can turn to?" Edward asked. "Even if just to ask advice?"

  "The only true neutral parties anywhere are Healers," Elinor said. "But I'm not sure they could help me with this. They're not into successions, really."

  "It wouldn't hurt to ask," Edward said. "And aren't you a healer anyway?"

  Elinor felt herself flush. "Not like they are," she said, and busied herself at the stove. "I only have a small talent for healing." She tried to sound as if that didn't really matter, but it did. She had small talents for everything. Almost.

  "Will you tell me more about the succession?" Edward asked, and poured himself a cup of tea. "I think I'm involved now whether you want me to be or not." He hesitated. "And maybe I can help."

  Elinor's first impulse was to refuse; to deny him both an explanation and his offer to help. But she also realized that by having him as an ally--even in the form of a wolf--she would have something her cousins couldn't touch. She doubted very much that anyone could get past his wards if he didn't want them to.

  "I would be honored to have your help," she said, and meant every word. "But are you certain you want to get involved? They...they burned down my mother's house and murdered her. And they would have murdered me if I hadn't run away."

  "There are other heirs?" Edward asked. "Other than you, I mean?"

  "Yes. My cousins Ceidrin and Lucien are actually before me," Elinor said. "But the succession is--complicated." She didn't know every detail of the whole story, but she knew enough to tell him. "A long time ago, the heir to the throne ran away with her human lover. She abdicated, I guess, leaving her sister Isobel to rule when their parents died."

  "Isobel was the queen who recently died?" Edward asked.

  "Yes." Elinor poured herself a cup of tea, then put both steaks on a plate. She set the plate in front of Edward, then sat down across from him. "She was probably murdered. I don't know for sure, because I don't actually live in Faerie. And I only heard about her death a few days ago." The message had come from her mother, a carefully worded letter that appeared in her mailbox. "Isobel left no heirs, though."

  "If Isobel left no heirs and your aunt is next in line--"

  Elinor smiled as he took a bite of steak. "It's actually a bit more complicated than that," she said. "The succession doesn't usually go from sister to sister, or even to sister's son. There are three or four branches of the family that kind of take turns."

  "But your aunt and cousin don't want to take turns," Edward said.

  "No, they don't." Elinor briefly closed her eyes and tried not to see her mother's body in her mind's eye. "They want the crown, and they will do anything to get it, I'm afraid."


  "Who is the real heir?" Edward asked. He'd finished one steak already, and started in on the second after giving Rose a nice big chunk. "Who has the most claim?"

  "Well, that's where it gets complicated," Elinor said and laughed. "Because there's a cipher--if Nidrea had any children, then her children would be heirs by default."

  Edward almost choked on his supper. "Who?"

  For a moment, Elinor thought he would say something else, but he bit his lip and glanced down at Rose instead. "Isobel's sister--the one who ran away--was named Nidrea."

  "And if...if N-Nidrea had no children?" He asked this in a whisper, his hand shaking as he raised his cup to his lips.

  "Are you okay?" Elinor asked.

  Edward pasted on a smile. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I think."

  He wasn't very convincing, but what could she do but believe him? "If Nidrea had no heirs, then Ceidrin would be the first choice, since he's the eldest of us all. The crown always goes to the eldest child, unless my aunt manages to change that. I know she wants to."

  "She wants the crown," Edward said. "And if she doesn't get it, she wants her son to have it."

  "Exactly." Elinor watched him for a moment more, but he seemed calmer now, as if the surprise at hearing Nidrea's name had passed. Maybe he had heard it before, however far-fetched that may be. "And if no one is available to contest her will, she'll get the crown."

  "What would stop her from killing anyone who gets the crown?" Edward asked, his face still a bit pale.

  "That's why I don't want it," Elinor said fiercely. "I don't want her to have it either, but--" She sighed. "Maybe I should contact the Healers. Or my cousin Ceidrin, since he's in danger, too."

  "Is he the one who lives here?" Edward asked.

  "Yes, with his human lover," Elinor said. "I've only met them a couple of times. But he'd probably talk to me."

  "If your aunt hasn't already killed him," Edward said.

  "True." Elinor sighed. "Do you have a better suggestion?"

  Edward hesitated. "Perhaps. Let me see what I can find you to eat, and have a look at something I saw just before you got back. Okay?"