Anth - Mistletoe & Magic

by Mistletoe

  But Nicholas hadn't chosen Taran for his courage alone. A warrior whose skill and bravery had elevated him to almost legendary proportions, Taran had been even more renowned for his kindness. He had defended his people from invaders, crafted the swords and the armor for his sovereign, and in those rare times of peace, he'd made tiny soldiers with perfect little weapons as toys for children. Something he continued to do in Nicholas's service.

  As much as he annoyed her, An ana had to admit Taran was skilled at making toy soldiers. No deadpan expressions had they, but instead, each one had a unique character. The villains looked fierce, the heroes proud and even perhaps a little weary. Even the toy horses had expressions. Because of this, Ariana knew the hard warrior hadn't gone through his life without caring. He had noticed everything, and remembered. He was sensitive—to everything.

  Except her. To Taran, Ariana had been an amusement. He had played to her when she was new to the Vale. Then, when he tired of her, she had become an annoyance. But Ariana refused to be relegated to nothingness. She would matter to him, even if she had to be an eternal thorn in his side.

  The situation was unfortunate, too, for Ariana had almost never been happier. Nothing Ariana had seen during her lifetime equaled the glory of the service she now performed, working for Nicholas.

  The only dark spot in her life was Taran. As noble as she knew him to be, as handsome and as proud, he frightened her— so deeply that she had no idea how to combat it. He looked at her, and seemed to see inside her. And the fear that plagued her most was that if he asked, she would do whatever he wanted.

  She knew, because she had done it once before. How that night haunted her! The chill in her heart made the mountains of snow outside seen like summer hills.

  Ariana turned her attention back to Nicholas. His aged head was bowed, and he appeared pained by their conversation. She gulped, but she had to do something to remove Taran from her life. "Sir, I know it's our busiest time, and I hate to trouble you this way…" She felt sure she heard the old man sigh, faintly, but she had no choice but to go on. "I realize you can't send him back… probably…"

  She paused, hoping Nicholas would do just that. Taran appeared confident beside her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ariana? But my workshop produces toys that are much-valued with small boys, and a surprising number of girls, too. As much as you want me to leave, they need me to stay."

  Her teeth ground together. He made it seem as if he cared more for children than she did. She had to restrain herself, but it wasn't easy. "Couldn't you move his workshop away from mine?"

  Taran huffed. "You would make trouble with anyone."

  "That's not sol Kiya the Egyptian has never once complained about my procedures or my assistants. You, on the other hand, would do well to be given an isolated studio far away from the others. It is well known that you and that Viking, Hakon, are always fighting, engaging in battles that disrupt all of us."

  Her accusation did nothing to disturb Taran's composure. "My skirmishes with Hakon have been orderly, for the purpose of testing our creations. Every such event has been approved, and never employed with a spirit of hostility and rancor— unlike that which motivated your assault on my studio this morning."

  "Those battles were disruptive all the same." Disruptive, because rather than attending to her own work, Ariana had hidden herself nearby to watch. She was never sure why she did so, except that Taran looked so happy with his Viking friend, laughing as they aligned their small toy armies. the scene always reminded her that he, too, had once been a child. They showed her his deep capacity for joy.

  He didn't look happy now. "Disruptive, am I? And what do we say of your past misdeeds? Each year you wreak new havoc in my life, and each year it's worse than the one before."

  I've done nothing—"

  "You set my hair on fire."

  A tiny smile formed on her lips before she could stop it. "That was an accident."

  He leaned toward her, dark eyes blazing. She remembered seeing that expression once before, but in a different mood, and a powerful tingling coursed through her veins. He was so close that she could imagine the heat of his body, the power of him as he reached out to hold her… "I had almost no hair for a year."

  Ariana puffed an impatient breath. "It grew back, didn't it?" If possible, it had grown back even shinier, even more glorious than it had been. From the moment she'd first seen him, she had longed to entangle her fingers in that dark black mane. One night, she had done so, and the sweet bliss of the touch still lingered in her memory.

  She pried her attention from Taran to Nicholas. "Sir, that incident was thoroughly investigated, and I was found innocent of any attempt to intentionally harm a fellow craftsman."

  Taran glared. "You were found innocent of trying to murder me. It is clear you had every intention of destroying my hair."

  "I never considered any such thing" She had. It had been months since their one night of bliss, and he had shown no inclination toward trying to win her heart. It was clear that she had been only an amusement, a pastime. Perhaps he had toyed with her for the sake of his own ego. She had endured the shame as long as she could, then in a manner befitting her Celtic ancestors, she had taken action, setting his hair— accidentally— on fire.

  Ariana met Taran's dark gaze and saw no yielding there, just anger. Most of the time, she felt that anger, too, but sometimes, late in the night when no one could hear, she found herself crying. Sometimes, the icy cold outside seemed nothing against the frost of her own heart. What was wrong with her?

  Taran moved past her and placed his hands on Nicholas's desk. "This woman has long been a miscreant, trouble practically since she arrived here." He paused as Ariana wondered where this was heading Taran glanced back at her. "It may be that Ariana herself would be better suited by a new chance at life."

  He was trying to get rid of her! She felt her face blanch. Why it should hurt so, she didn't know. After all, she had come to Nicholas's chamber for just the same purpose— to get rid of Taran. But she'd never dreamed he loathed her; she simply needed to have him far away.

  "But I— I don't want to go." Her voice sounded very small, not at all the impermeable shell she wanted to portray. He straightened and glared down at her.

  "Nor, my lady, do I."

  Tears of anger and hurt filled her eyes. "I am not leaving."

  Taran stood as if carved from marble. "I'm not leaving, either."

  "You're both leaving." Nicholas spoke for the first time, stood up from his desk, and gazed miserably at them. He wasn't a tall man, but he was fat, and his presence was always imposing. Ariana stared at him aghast.

  "What?" She spoke in unison with Taran, who appeared equally shocked by the old man's announcement.

  Nicholas fingered his beard. "You two have squabbled since you met. Perhaps you don't understand the reason, but I do…"

  Ariana's shock gave way to anger. "I understand perfectly! He is selfish, ill-mannered, and he cares nothing…" She stopped, horrified. She had been about to say, "for me."

  "For the work I do."

  Taran frowned. "I am selfish? Your studio takes up more space than all the others combined. Perhaps Kiya doesn't object, but you don't torment her as you do me. It is impossible to work beside you, Ariana. You are a distraction—" He stopped and cleared his throat. If she hadn't known him better, she would have suspected he blushed. "Your work is a distraction… and one I would soon be rid of."

  Nicholas glanced at them. "The battle between you two is disrupting everything."

  Desperation seized Ariana. She loved her work. She loved living in the Vale of Snow, the quiet walks amidst ice-laden trees, the small animals, the beauty and peace. She didn't want to leave. "I have never missed my deadline, sir. True, I'm a little behind now, but that's his fault." She paused to glare at Taran. She was hurt, and furious, and though she was sure Taran was solely to blame, a small part of her still felt guilty. "My studio has always produced the required toys, and their qual
ity has always been the very highest."

  The old man's expression softened. He wouldn't send her away. He loved her, as he loved all those he enlisted. "Both of you serve me well… when you're not busy battling each other. This year, though, the conflict between you has escalated, and I cannot be sure either of you can perform your work as scheduled."

  Taran's dark eyes formed slits of anger. "Had my toy soldiers not donned dresses, my quota would already be met."

  Ariana made a fist. "Had you not destroyed one of my finest dollhouses, I would have more than enough time to finish its furnishings!"

  Nicholas held up his hand, then cast his gaze heavenward as if fighting despair. "Neither of you can see beyond your personal difficulties." He glanced out his frosty window to the snow-covered forest beyond. A wistfulness crossed his face, and in response, Ariana's own heart suffered a dull ache. She had no name to give that pain, but she had felt it often of late. She had felt it while still a young girl and into womanhood.

  Looking into the old man's face, she saw a shadow of herself. Only once could she remember that empty space inside her heart filled, only once had she felt complete— in Taran's arms. She reminded herself that fulfillment had caused her far more pain after it was over.

  Nicholas looked back at her, then came around the desk to stand between her and Taran. "I rarely make mistakes, but perhaps I brought you here too soon."

  That didn't sound promising Ariana held her breath. "What do you mean? Have I not done all that you asked me to do?"

  "You have served me well, and you are both skilled at what you do. But there is something you both have yet to find. I thought you would find it here. It is plain you have not."

  Ariana hesitated, not daring to ask what he meant, or to look at Taran. "What do you intend to do with us?"

  The old man considered this for a long while, long enough for Ariana to begin to squirm and fidget. She chewed her lip, and stole a quick peek at Taran. One glance told her he endured the same nervous anticipation.

  Nicholas went to the large, round spyglass he used to investigate mortal deeds. He studied it, turning dials and muttering to himself. Ariana looked on with dread, not daring to look over his shoulder. At last, he nodded, then turned back to them.

  "Britain, I think, might offer you a chance to redeem yourselves…" Nicholas looked thoughtful, and a slow smile grew on his face. Ariana's nervousness soared. "In the land of your birth, you will find a test worthy of redemption."

  "Do you mean there's some sort of good deed to be performed?"

  "There is."

  "What is it?"

  "That is for you to discover, Ariana. Half the challenge of helping the world is recognizing a problem where none appears to exist/1

  Taran's dark brow slanted. "That's not much to go on."

  The fat man glanced out his window again, his expression unreadable. "There are many dangers in the world, my friend. Many you both have faced yourselves. But there is another, less threatening, that causes more pain than all else."

  Ariana chewed her lip. "That is cryptic, sir. Can't you tell us something helpful?"

  "Where I will send you, there is a person who is suffering. You two must find this person, and then heal the wound no one else can see."

  Ariana considered this. Since Nicholas was the patron saint of children, this task must naturally involve a child. She knew children well, felt comfortable with them, and understood them. She had the utmost confidence in her ability to identify anything troubling to a child, and fixing it.

  Nicholas's quest didn't sound too bad, but something in his tone left her uneasy. "Much has changed in Britain since I lived there. It's no longer the same world I knew."

  Nicholas appeared unaffected by her words. "The world you knew was medieval, far more savage than the Britain of today. Instead of your warrior kings, a gentle, fat queen rules."

  "Queen Victoria. I know." Ariana hesitated. "I should fit in fairly well in her realm."

  Her heart fell, but she wasn't sure why. She glanced at Taran, fighting the ache that formed in her chest. "What about him? Are you sending him back to his birthplace, too?"

  "I am sending him with you."

  Ariana tried to affect disinterest and irritation, but she couldn't quite contain a spark of pleasure. " suppose I can endure his presence until our task is complete."

  Nicholas studied her awhile, then shook his head. "You don't have much time, Ariana. There are two days before Christmas."

  She bit her lip. "Do you mean we have to solve this dilemma before Christmas?"

  "I make my deliveries on Christmas Eve. Your task must be completed by Christmas morning."

  Taran folded his arms over his broad chest. "What happens if we fail?"

  "If the problem I spoke of is not resolved, then I will know beyond a doubt that I brought you to my domain in error." Nicholas's tone was ominous.

  Ariana shifted her weight from foot to foot. "So then you'll leave us in Britain?" That didn't sound so bad. At least she would be with Taran in a world where she belonged— and one where he was a stranger.

  "No, Ariana. That, I cannot do."

  "What will you do, then?"

  "I will have no choice but to return you both to the lands and time from whence you came."

  Ariana stopped fidgeting and stood still as stone. "Back to medieval Wales?"

  "Yes, and Taran will go back to the mountains of his birth."

  Ariana gulped, fighting a fear she didn't fully comprehend. "But… we come from different times. If we go back, there would be no chance—" She stopped herself and felt her cheeks grow warm. No chance of seeing each other again. They would be separated by more than anger or resentment— or fear. They would be separated by distance and time, forever.

  Nicholas's eyes glowed brighter. Sometimes, she forgot how ancient he was, and how wise. "You understand that much, at least."

  Her chin quivered, but she couldn't let Taran know how much the thought of losing him terrified her. "I don't want to be sent back. I have learned so much in this time. I will be out of place."

  Taran cleared his throat and seemed tense. "I, too, would find myself at a loss in the world I once knew. My life is here."

  Nicholas looked between them. "We will see where your life is, Taran. I have appointed you a task, seemingly simple, yet which is filled with mysteries. Hopefully, it will lead you two to what you have not yet seemed to have found. You have two days to find it. If you fail, nothing I can do will change your fates."

  Ariana's heart labored. I can't lose you. "Can't you advise us in some way, so that we might know how to avoid this dark fate?"

  Nicholas placed his broad hand on her shoulder, kind like a grandfather. "Advise you? No. You must find it yourselves. I will tell you only this: There are many forces in you, Ariana. In everyone. Some are dark and pull you away from your heart's most true desire. They are the forces of fear and hate and anger. Sometimes, not fully understanding what we want can be enough to let the darkness seep in and rule us. When what we want is stronger than what we fear, no darkness will be strong enough to hide the light."

  Taran sat outside his studio, ignoring the cold and new falling snow. He glared at the southeastern horizon, where the winter sun rose only a sliver, then set again. The icicles glittered on his roof. "I have no wish to go to England. What is he thinking, to send me there with her?"

  Hakon stretched his long legs out before him and leaned back against the wall. "I don't envy you, my friend. England is at peace, and no excitement is to be found at all. Would that you were returned to some other land— north to mine, or farther south to where your land still twists in strife. There, you might make an impact that would regain your stead here."

  Taran nodded, liking the idea. "Instead, he sends me with the fiend."

  Hakon looked thoughtful "If it were possible to seal shut her small mouth, perhaps she would be… Ariana is among the loveliest women I've ever seen." A smile formed on Hakon's lips and he si
ghed.

  Taran glared at him. He had tasted that mouth, held that small, perfect body next to his own… and the memory of its perfection had still not abated. She was a goddess who offered the sweetest promise of his soul, then denied him its true satisfaction. Herself.

  "Her loveliness is obliterated by the shadow of her scheming and pride." He said the words, knowing they were false. Nothing obliterated Ariana's beauty. Even when she had set his hair on fire, he had absurdly noticed only the beauty and charm of her devious expression, the way the flames reflected in the green irises of her eyes. I am pathetic.

  She was a distraction, more so even than he could begin to tell their benefactor. Not the noise of her small, tapping hammers, or the constant singing of her tiny Welsh assistants, but because every time he saw her, he forgot what he was doing. He forgot where he was, and thought only of the one fleeting night she had been his. He had proven, too well, that he couldn't control himself when she was close.

  there had to be another way to avoid a second humiliation. "I'll have to avoid her."

  Hakon eyed him doubtfully. "You have had opportunity to avoid her here, yet find occasion daily to engage her in some squabble or other."

  Taran felt a too-familiar heat rise to his cheeks. "Only because, daily, Ariana finds reason to torment me."

  A half-smile twisted his friend's face. "It seems to me that the simple act of her walking past your studio is enough to torment you." The Viking paused while Taran fought for an excuse to deny the obvious. "Is it her deviltry, or the pretty sway of her slender hips that distracts you?"

  Taran started to object, then found himself bowing his head into his hands. He groaned miserably. "What am I going to do?"

  Hakon sat forward and crossed one leg over his knee. "Make the best of it. What choice do you have?"