Fair Maiden

by Cheri Schmidt

  Bent over the horses for protection against the howling winds, they crossed the bridge. Christian’s fingers tightened around the mane of his horse. He would have fallen off otherwise. When the wind lessened, he knew they’d reached the end. The horse’s hooves clopped against the wood and echoed as though they were the only beings left in the world.

  Sliding from the saddle, Christian reached to aid Tabitha down as well.

  Once she was steady upon the ground, he blindly stretched his arms out, feeling for a door...for anything.... He was relieved to find that the structure seemed to partially shelter them from the mist as well as the wind and Christian felt some of his strength return.

  His palms landed on a carved wooden surface. He felt around for a knocker. With fingers bumping into a smoother material that rose from the panel, Christian exhaled with relief. He curled his fingers around it, pulled it back and slammed it against the plate behind it. That sound echoed loudly in this world of choking mist. It also reverberated from behind the door.

  It did not open, but a voice from within said, “Enter and bring your mounts.”

  Hesitating, he contemplated what he was really just about to do. Meet her parents...and Heaven forgive him...he hadn’t compromised just a lady, while that was bad enough, he’d compromised a princess. The king and queen were going to have his head.

  “My lord?” He could feel Tabitha clinging to his coat, and realized he’d best get them both out of this chilling mist. Christian felt around for a handle, and gave it a twist when he found it.

  As though the castle itself exhaled, a current of air pushed past them as they forced their way inside. The mist released them into an enormous atrium and standing before them was a man and woman.

  Both were dressed as royalty from the medieval past. He knew then that he faced her parents.

  The king and queen—a fey king and queen.

  Her father was dressed in an embroidered velvet jerkin. He wore black shiny boots that came up to his knees. His fingers were adorned with three rings upon each hand, and his head was crowned with a circlet of ruby-studded gold. The queen’s attire also bespoke of nobility. Many diamonds captured the light and sent it flying in all directions from the crown adorning her elaborate coiffure. Her blue gown shimmered with even more jewels. It was as though her dress has been cut from the fabric of the night sky.

  Christian dropped to his knees before them and bowed his head. “Forgive me,” he said in a hushed voice.

  Silence ensued. Christian understood proper etiquette for royals in his time...but feared it may be different with a fey and medieval king and queen. Without knowing their customs in regards to showing them respect, he felt it best if he did not look up until directed to do so, thus he waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tabitha upon her knees beside him.

  “Please rise,” said the queen.

  He did, as did Tabitha.

  “Forgive you for what?” asked King James, after exchanging a confused look with his wife.

  “For...for...compromising your daughter.” He was surprised how much it hurt to say that out loud.

  The king smiled, or was it a smirk? While worry for his daughter winked forth from his eyes, he seemed amused by Christian’s concern. However, instead of saying anything about it, James caught the eye of a servant, and said, “Will you take their horses to the stables please, Bertwin?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty,” said the thin man just before scurrying toward the horses and gathering their reins.

  “Come,” said James as he turned and strode toward the main entrance of the castle.

  “Sit,” he commanded as they entered the great hall. It was decorated as he imagined his own castle must have been centuries ago. A fire flickered before an arrangement of elegant chairs upon a red and tan woven rug. The cold stone walls were warmed with elaborate and colorful tapestries depicting unicorns and other such mythical creatures. Besides the fire, the hall was lit with many sconces mounted along the walls. Above the arch leading from the large chamber were hung four battered shields. A unique crest design, featuring other mythical beasts, was painted on each one. On the wall straight ahead of him was displayed a large collection of ornately carved bows and arrows.

  They sat, he upon a fat-cushioned chair, and Tabitha upon a turquoise-upholstered settee.

  Another servant entered, carrying a tray, a woman this time. She performed a deep curtsy while balancing her laden platter and said, “Tea, Your Majesties?”

  “Yes, please,” said Annabelle.

  Tea was served and Christian wished to get the awkward conversation over with before he lost his lunch. He took his tea straight. “Your Majesty—”

  “We’re not angry with you, young man.”

  Christian blinked.

  Annabelle went on, “We knew she might fall in love with a human when we placed her in your world.”

  “So you did build that chamber for her?” Christian rubbed sweaty palms onto his pant legs, shifting his cup from one hand to the other.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “After Dominic killed her?”

  Again the king and queen exchanged a look. Then James explained, but his answer made little sense. “We placed that spell upon her.”

  Lunging to his feet, Christian barely avoided spilling his drink. “You—?” The king seemed irritated he would think they’d taken her life, and the queen appeared rather disturbed by it. But how else was he supposed to interpret what the man had just said?

  “Sit down,” snapped James. “No, we did not murder her. What you saw was a fey glamour. It was the only way to hide her from him. He had to think she was dead.”

  Christian sank back into his seat. He massaged his left temple with two fingers. “I’m terribly confused.”

  James took a draw of his tea after lifting his spoon from the drink and setting it upon the edge of his saucer. “Dominic wanted to marry her, but we knew what he’d done to his other wives, and we could not let him do that to her too.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He murdered them...all of them. It is how he has gained so much land and wealth.”

  “But you’re saying he did not kill her?”

  “Correct. She was never dead.”

  Christian remembered the mark upon her neck, and asked, not really wanting the answer, “Did he ravish her?”

  Color drained from Annabelle’s face, but James responded, “No.”

  “Thank the saints,” breathed Christian.

  James continued to explain, “It seemed that from the prince’s perspective, the mark was enough to force our hand. But when we continued to argue over it, they threatened war. Contessa then agreed to the marriage to protect us. However, we could not let her go through with it. On the day of the wedding we cast the spell. We put her into a deep sleep, and for all who saw her, she appeared to be deceased, having taken a fatal tumble down the staircase, which was also an illusion. After the funeral, I removed her from the tomb and hid her within Krestly Castle, within your human realm, knowing he would not sense her there, would never seek her there.”

  “Dear me,” exhaled Tabitha. “I have heard of the fey masking themselves behind a cunning glamour before, but never did I fathom such a glamour could be so complicated and so utterly convincing.”

  It certainly had been convincing. Christian had read about glamours, but hadn’t made the connection. From what he’d understood, glamours were used to hide the fey’s true appearance, not life itself, so he never suspected.... But as he marveled at how she’d drifted through walls, he also realized that somehow Dominic had discovered her after centuries of her remaining hidden. “How then did he find her, and why didn’t she know who she was?”

  “We had to take her memories from her. It was of most importance to maintain the magic for her to not exist, or appear to not exist. If she remembered her name, and anyone else but her uttered it, it would cause the spell to break, and he would sense the sudden return of her presence.” />
  Christian felt his heart sink to his knees as he shared a look with Tabitha. The witch had been correct. He never should have spoken her name. This was his fault. He alone was to blame for the danger she was in. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Lord Sparks, please know that she slept until you came. When she awoke, we knew she was meant for you.”

  Finding it hard to be comforted by that, he said, “Why didn’t you warn her? Or warn me the same way you called me here?”

  “The mirror was only for us to watch over her. We could not communicate with her for fear of her remembering her name. We could not speak to her through it.”

  “But you contacted me.”

  “It took a great deal of magic to accomplish that.”

  “And you revealed yourselves to her....”

  “We did not wear crowns, she was only to know that she was loved, cared for, and not forgotten.”

  “How could you let your daughter sleep her life away like this?”

  “She has been frozen in time, and we never meant for it to be for so long. It was supposed to be a temporary solution, whilst we fought the Renard family. They are brutal and dangerous.”

  Christian choked on the horrible images those words conjured. What was she going through now? Where were they keeping her? What was he doing to her? Again surging to his feet, Christian exclaimed, “Tell me where he lives! I will go to her, rescue her.”

  “You must be trained first, or you will not survive.”

  “There isn’t time! He has her—he could be hurting her as we speak!”

  The queen continued to look quite pale, weak and troubled with deep emotional distress. Surely she was imagining the same horrors as he. But the king maintained his strength...a shining example of an ever benevolent ruler...and father. “I understand your concern. But Dominic will slaughter you if you’re not prepared to fight him. He dabbles in dark magic, as did his mother and father. Because of that, they’re quite powerful. It is how they trapped us here. They combined their powers and set the mist about our home. We were helpless to do much else but watch over Contessa whilst she slept.”

  “Thank the Heavens the spell was in place before,” whispered the queen.

  “Why did they imprison you like this?”

  “When she died, they suspected that it had been done on purpose by either her or us, so they locked us away.”

  Compassion helped to dissipate his upset with their actions. They’d done much more to protect their daughter than parents in her era normally would have. Even more than parents in his era would have done. With a love bite like that, any girl would have been forced to wed the assailant. It was horribly wrong and unjust, but it was true. Christian had to admire them for what they’d accomplished, even while locked up for as long as they had been.

  But worries for her well-being continued to assail him. “She could already—”

  “He will not murder her until after the wedding.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “For him to gain her possessions he must first wed her, then kill us so that she inherits our land. It would not benefit him to do it before.”

  Christian straightened his spine. “Then train me. Prepare me. We must do it with great haste.” He didn’t say it, but inside, he longed to spill the blood of that selfish fey prince.

  “First you must learn from Tabitha. She can teach you incantations to use against him. It is the reason we had you bring her here.”

  “Can’t you teach me fey magic?” Wouldn’t that work better against a fey prince?

  “He will not be expecting it, and the magic will work just as well against him as ours would. Perhaps better, in fact.”

  Perhaps?

  “I’m more than happy to come with him, to aid—” offered Tabitha.

  “You cannot go. If you near Dominic’s castle he will sense your magic.”

  “Will he sense me?” Christian asked.

  “No. Magic is in her blood, it is not in yours.”

  He supposed they were saying he would have stealth as a human and wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that or not.

  King James made a list of spells he thought would be most helpful. Tabitha scribed them down and then began coaching Christian in how to remember them. It was difficult learning Welsh and Gaelic on short notice.

  They spent an immeasurable amount of time—at least to him it felt that way—rehearsing spells for deflecting magic, spells for disarming the prince of weapons, spells for opening locked doors, spells of confusion in case he is seen, even spells for masking his very presence or the essence of his being.

  His head began to ache and he hoped they were nearly done, because he could not stop the worries for Contessa’s well-being from tormenting his thoughts.

  The king stood and gathered something wrapped in cloth from the mantle. Christian tried not to gulp when a gleaming sword was revealed. It wasn’t that he was intimidated by the blade, but rather, concern about wielding it. The king lifted it and held the hilt end toward him. He took it and attempted to hide his internal panic. It was far heavier than the foils he was accustomed to. Would he be able to handle it with the proper amount of skill? He was not a small man, but he was also not a muscle-roped, medieval warrior, which is who this weapon had been crafted for.

  “My sword, a fey sword, is the only blade that will defend you against his. You must take this with you.”

  Christian thought about the hunting rifles he had at home. Of course he knew fencing, but he was a much better shot than he was a swordsman. There was a large knot in his throat that he tried to swallow and frowned when he was unsuccessful in dislodging it.

  “I must teach you the moves Dominic will use to fight. Fey techniques are slightly different from yours.” Stepping back, James said, “Come to the atrium, there is room there for us to train.”

  Linking the buckle for the scabbard around his waist, Christian re-sheathed the blade. It lay heavy against his thigh. He shifted the belt, feeling awkward and unqualified, like a young, foolish lad trying on his father’s shoes and then trying to walk in footwear while his feet slid around inside.

  He let out a long exhale, then followed the king.

  James went on, apparently not noticing the fact that Christian lagged behind a bit, “I’m sorry we do not have access to the usual training grounds due to the mist.”

  That was the last thing Christian cared about at the moment.

  Gathering another sword, James withdrew the weapon and didn’t hesitate in engaging Christian in a violent bout of fencing that strained all of his strength and skill after a very short period of time.

  And somehow the man was able to maintain casual conversation. “So, you’re engaged to my daughter, are you?”

  Tripping, Christian barely blocked a blow sent from a man much older than him, and his bones rattled from the force. James wasn’t even breaking into a sweat. This just wasn’t right. “I, er, Sire, I must beg your forgiveness. I did not know she was fey.”

  “That point is quite irrelevant, young man.” The king’s blade flashed with candlelight on a graceful slice to the left.

  Metal rang against metal as Christian parried. “It is?” he managed, getting to the point of panting. That last blow, he was fairly certain, had shaken his teeth loose.

  “The only difference between us is magic, Lord Sparks.”

  “But she will live so much longer.”

  James lowered his blade, and Christian was grateful for it. “As long as you’re with her, you will live as long as she.”

  “I will?”

  “Yes. The magic will...rub off.”

  “Then you will grant your consent?”

  “Is that what you’re inquiring of me?”

  “I...yes, sir. May I have Contessa’s hand in marriage?”

  “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking.”

  Was that a yes or a no?

  Chuckling, King James put his blade away. “We would be pleas
ed to have you for a son-in-law, Earl of Krestly Castle.”

  Christian nearly fell flat on his face when the king slapped him on the back.

  James had not gone easy on him. He ached from head to toe and feared that if saving Tessa rested on his shoulders alone—they may be quite doomed.

  Chapter 29

  Death Defying

  That night, Contessa’s prayers were answered when she got her wish. She awoke floating above the mattress as only a spirit could, and she squealed with joy. Not wanting to waste a single second, Tessa flew to the door, drifted through it, and silently slipped out into a narrow landing at the top of the stairs.

  The guard was there. She could barely see him, for he was half hidden in shadow, but he was certainly not sleeping, though he appeared quite tired. Nervous, she watched him for a moment. The gigantic man scratched at his beard and adjusted the sword slung across his wide back. His head turned and he looked through her without giving any sign that he could see anything more than empty space.

  Relief settled around her and she made her way down, pausing at times to listen for anyone coming up. When she made it to the bottom and saw that the corridor was still clear, she could hardly believe it.

  But just as suddenly as she’d turned into a spirit, she returned to living flesh and blood. Contessa frowned at the golden wedding gown that would now hamper her movement. Still determined to make an escape, Contessa turned and made her way to a window on the lower level that was open, jerking the enormous train of fabric along with her. She was terrified she might now get caught and was nearly crippled by the worry. Her heart was pounding so hard it was painful and loud; at least to her it beat like a drum in her head. She feared if anyone were near they would discover her by that thundering sound along with her shuddering breaths.

  She gathered fistfuls of her skirt, attempting to stop the uncontrolled trembling in her limbs, and lifted one leg over the windowsill. She edged out over the ledge. It wasn’t too high for her to drop, so she did, and landed with a soft thump upon the grass below.

  But just as she began to move forward, she felt a tug on her dress. Panicking for a moment, she swung back to see the ruffles of her skirt had simply gotten caught onto the edge of the windowsill. She yanked at it several times before it ripped lose.