by L. K. Rigel
“Perhaps they were giving me a chance to atone.”
“Atone?” Lily looked at him quizzically. “I can’t imagine you ever doing something that required atonement.”
“That’s kind of you, but I did create Mistcutter. For that, Brother Sun and Sister Moon cursed all goblinkind. We weren’t always so ugly, you know.”
Lily was quiet then. She watched Lexi, who’d fallen asleep in the cot, but her mind seemed far, far away. Finally she seemed to make a decision and stood up.
“Would you come with me for a moment?”
He followed her to her chamber and waited by the window where there was a good view of the ruins of Tintagos Castle, the bay, and the Severn Sea.
“This secretary has belonged to all countesses of Dumnos starting with Lydia Pengrith Bausiney in the 1870s.” Lilith ran her fingers along the bottom of a roll-top desk. “My father’s wife,” she added with droll humor. A side door popped open, and she took out a brass key and unlocked a compartment inside the roll-top.
She laid the compartment’s contents out.
“A peacock feather?” Max said.
“Apparently they were the rage. She’s wearing peacock feathers in her portrait in the rogues gallery. Perhaps this one had a special meaning for her.”
“Sun and moon, that’s a bottle of Morning Glory’s love potion.” Max held up a clear bottle with a silver stopper and containing a red liquid. “And half-empty.”
“I had a feeling… but I thought that was just a story.” Lilith set the bottle aside, and as she did so she furtively palmed another object among the treasures and shifted it back to the compartment, behind the love potion, under the feather.
Max said nothing, though he recognized the object. It was a double-banded ring, one silver and one gold. A ring of power—and of danger too. The ring Merlyn had made to enhance his powers, but at such great cost that to remove it meant death.
Max knew the ring’s power and its danger well, for he was the one who’d removed it from Merlyn’s hand.
“And I believe you will recognize this.” Lily was speaking, holding something out to him. “Max?”
“What—oh! I…” Max felt a smile tug at his mouth. “I always wondered what happened to that.”
Lily laid a scoping glass in the palm of his hand, and he fingered the bright-cut apple blossom design.
“You carved that design, Max, a long, long time ago. You were sitting in the Avalos sunshine beside Igraine of Kaelyn’s cave as she tried to get you to talk about Mistcutter, not knowing you were the sword’s maker and ignorant of all the pain it had caused you.”
“How…?”
“I am Igraine,” Lily said. “And Cade is Ross Bausiney. When my life was cut short by Quinn Sarumen, Brother Sun and Sister Moon granted me another life, and Ross too. A chance to love again. The memories of my life as Igraine were awakened by handling Mistcutter. Cade understands and believes, but he only has sporadic flashes of memory, and none that stick. Other than him, you’re the one person in all the realms I trust utterly. It feels right that you should know.”
“I’m… speechless.” It explained more than a few things, not the least why Lily had been able to remove the sword from the stone. Kaelyn had seen that it would be Igraine, and Kaelyn’s sight was never wrong.
“I called you Maxim then,” Lilith said.
“My proper name. I started hearing ‘Max’ about the time of the Napoleonic Wars. Everyone thought they were so modern then.”
Lily chuckled. “Well, now you know about me. And I’m so glad.”
“Why do you have the oracle ring?” Max blurted out the question, as this seemed to be a time for confidences.
Lily’s face went red, but she answered forthrightly. “I found it at Igdrasil after the lightning strike, sitting in a cleft near the ground. My first thought was to destroy it. Throw it over the cliff into Tintagos Bay. But somehow I knew it couldn’t be destroyed. Better to keep it here, safely locked away. No one else knows I have it. Not even Cade. I don’t know why, but I feel it would be a danger to him if he knew.”
“Perhaps,” Max said. “I’m sure the Dumnos Clad isn’t the only thing the Sarumen are after, and they have ways of finding out people’s secrets.”
“Quinn.” Lily froze as she spoke the name. “Something Jenna said… I didn’t know, in that other life, that he was fae. She spoke of him as if he is still living. Max, do you want to take the ring with you?”
“No. The less it travels, the better. This is a good, obscure hiding place—as long as the door to your treasures stays locked.” He gave her the scoping glass. “I should be getting back to Mavis.”
“Your pony. See, I do remember things.” Lily returned the glass to the cubby and locked everything away again. After putting the key back in its own hiding place, she and Max went back to the nursery.
Lexi was still napping. Again Max thought she looked angelic, but he’d seen a mischievous spark in her eye. She was going to be a fun one to watch grow up.
“About the Sarumen,” Lily said. “I didn’t like Jenna because she stole my boyfriend. Ha! That sounds so childish. And of course now I’m glad she did it. But I didn’t like her family then because they were rich and powerful and I felt drab and powerless beside them. I had no idea they were magical and powerful.”
“It’s because they’re power-hungry that I don’t trust them,” Max said. “I wonder if they’ll be there today.”
“What do you mean? Why should they?”
“Our queen has invited fae from all courts of the British Isles. She wants to show off her grandniece.”
“Sun and moon,” Lily said. “I told the French girls the picnic might be fancy dress. I had no idea how right I was.”
“The leprechauns had better hold on to their hats,” Max said. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
A modern lawn surrounded most of the lake. The hunter’s lodge was gone, and a quarter of the way around the lake a Grecian temple had been built about the time Max’s name got shortened. A couple of starry-eyed Bausiney girls had named the grandiose marble gazebo the Temple of Joy and Wonder.
Cade and Cissa were there, overseeing more than helping with final preparations for the day’s festivities. The brownies had just finished the finishing touches on the decorations around the Temple of Joy and Wonder, cheerfully calling out instructions to each other.
With the first guests arriving, the leprechauns thought they were being clever and sly, but it was easy to see all they were interested in was the cut of everyone's clothing and their hats. Hats, hats, hats.
Max unhitched Mavis to let her forage in the chicory behind the temple, which she loved. He joined Cade and Cissa, quite aware of the emerald necklace around the fairy’s neck.
“Max, I was just telling Cade that Morning Glory says Lilith was conceived here inside the temple,” Cissa said.
“I like that,” Cade said. “I choose to believe it.”
“Did you see Beverly yet?” Max asked. “Has she set the boundary at the wishing portal?”
“Mission accomplished,” Cade said. “She’s set it to last a day and an hour, as Cissa suggested. It will stop any wanderers from accidentally falling in.”
The queen bobbled her head and grinned prettily, delighted as always to take credit for a good idea. What a self-involved imp she was! She was happier today than she’d been in a long time, and it gladdened Max’s heart to see it.
“The last thing we need is to lose a guest to the mists of time,” Cade said. “Unless it’s a Sarumen, of course.”
« Chapter 8 »
Seven Ways of Looking at a Gifting
I. Cammy
Dragonflies danced over the pristine lake and its lush surrounding lawns. Beyond, the branches of nine ancient hazel trees were thick with blossoms. West of the water, butterflies of varied and fantastical colors fluttered about a Grecian temple that looked perfect for a Pride and Prejudice film location.
Bordering all, massi
ve rhododendrons, hydrangeas, camellias, and lilacs provided a feeling of gentle seclusion. A spring breeze whooshed over the grass and through the shrubs, lifting skirts and knocking off hats. Cammy drew the fresh air into her lungs and smiled inwardly, thinking that Aeolios—or more likely his cranky wife, Lourdes—wanted to remind the guests that the gods existed and were always watching.
“It’s just as I knew it would be,” she said. “Faeview’s grounds are perfect for a faeling’s gifting celebration.”
“A faeling.” Bella frowned.
“Lady Lexi must have fae blood. Look at her grandmother,” Cammy said. “Grandmother! The lady looks younger than you or I. Frown all you want, Bella. I don’t care. I know I’m right.”
From a choice of seating arrangements, she and her sister had commandeered a thick, richly colored Turkish rug laid out on the grass along with throw pillows and parasols. For the less adventurous, or the less decadent, wicker chairs and tables were available.
“Her ladyship wasn’t kidding when she said fancy dress,” Bella said. “What do you think they’re all supposed to be?”
“I think the little cute ones are pixies, and the ones with the slouch hats are leprechauns,” Cammy said. “The tall, beautiful ones are fairies.”
“What about over by the water, those blokes with the black harps tattooed on their biceps? Bella said. “Urban punk Irish?”
“Don’t turn up your nose. One might put a spell on you.” From Cammy’s research, they were likely a contingent of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. “Relax. Enjoy—”
“Oh! Cam, look.”
A pair of steely wings popped out of the back of the darkly handsome guy talking to Lord Dumnos. They extended, undulating as if possessed of their own sinister intentions, then retracted and disappeared. The fairy made Cammy quite nervous, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
This isn’t fancy dress at all. It’s real.
“How… how fun,” she said. Let Bella keep her illusions if it made her feel safer. Let her cling to the notion this was all for show. “It’s like we’re in a play. A Midsummer Day’s Dream.”
“Only it’s not midsummer, Cam. And we’re awake.”
“Yes, dearest.” Cammy sighed. She had to accept it. Bella had no imagination at all, and moving to Tintagos hadn’t helped. “I’m sure you’re always awake.”
“One of us has to be.”
“You’re not going to forgive me for what you saw in the magic mirror, are you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then I’m going to go find some champagne.”
Cammy stood up and, her hands covered in fingerless lace gloves, brushed errant sparkles from her shoulders. She smoothed the skirt of her Belle Epoch gown and inwardly smiled. The pale green brocade was perfect for the occasion, as were the button-up, fawn-colored boots, but the peacock feathers in her hair were the pièce de résistance. Whether or not anyone recognized who she was supposed to be, in her own mind the costume was a success.
She headed toward the Grecian temple. Her eyes drinking in the feast of it all, she glanced back to check on Bella and promptly bumped into someone.
“Oh, excuse moi!” the man said. His hand went reflexively to his macramé choker and the bright-cut jewel at his throat. “On a day like today, I should have watched where I was popping into.”
He looked like a golden god. There was no other way to say it. His loose, curly hair was like spun gold out of a fairy tale, and his skin was smooth, perfect, and had a bronzish-gold tint. His eyes were bright green, the only thing about him not golden.
“Well, aren’t you a picture.” His wings contracted and disappeared as he admired Cammy’s costume, his smile bright, as if she was the most interesting person he’d ever encountered. “For a moment, I thought I’d gone through Morning Glory’s time portal back to 1876 again. You’re the image of Lydia Pengrith.”
“You’re right, I am.” Her costume really was a success!
“But darling, where is your adult beverage?” The golden man clapped his hands. “More importantly, where is mine?”
A little creature appeared in the air between them with a tray and three flutes of pink bubbly liquid.
“Have a drink! It’s good and pink!” the creature said.
Cammy accepted a flute, and as the golden man also took one, an arm covered in sparkles reached out from behind him for the third, just as the creature and tray disappeared.
“Hello, hello! I’m here!” Her ladyship’s mother stepped out of nowhere. She took a sip of champagne and said, “Goldy, come on. Let’s go see Lexi.”
Goldy. Of course that would be his name. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Cammy in farewell, then followed Morning Glory over to what looked like a giant walnut shell which served as a child’s cot. Lady Lexi held on to its edge and brightened as Goldy called out to her.
More proof she’s faeling, Cammy thought as she put the pink liquid to her lips. According to Lydia Pengrith, fairies developed extremely quickly, and faelings—human children who had fae blood—grew faster than usual when they were in touch with their fae nature. The baby wasn’t four months old, yet she was standing.
Cammy’s wine was only half gone, and a wonderful feeling came over her. Everything was fine. Everyone was beautiful. Lovely. The world could not possibly be a better place. She took another sip. As the liquid surged through her, she saw every creature for its true self.
There were fairies and brownies, leprechauns and pixies, humans, and—if she wasn’t mistaken—not twenty feet away from her, the ugliest creature in the world, engaged in a perfectly matter-of-fact conversation with the countess, was a goblin.
Lovely, lovely. She twirled in the sunshine. That is just as it should be.
She finished the champagne, and a pixie popped in to take her glass and offer a fresh one. Cammy lifted the glass from the tray, another crystal flute rimmed in gold, and the pixie popped out. She lazily continued creature watching, until she saw someone who took her breath away.
A man had just come over the hill from the direction of the car park and stood at the edge of the gathering, looking from group to group as if searching for someone in particular. Cammy’s heart pounded as she watched him, waiting for him to find her.
But he stopped too soon. He fixed on Cade and headed in the earl’s direction.
No! Cammy wanted to cry out. You’re supposed to come to me.
She had no idea who he was, but she had seen him once before, standing behind her shoulder in the magic mirror.
II. Bella
Cammy was making a fool of herself. Again. Bella knew she should have stayed at the flat. She could have kept the shop open. One of them had to be sensible, and it obviously wasn’t going to be her little sister, with her magic mirrors and books of wyrding spells.
Tintagos had pixilated Cammy. With that sloppy smile and rapturous expression, people would think she was on something.
No. They wouldn’t. Bella sighed. Everyone at the picnic looked like they were on something.
The sun had passed its zenith, and dusk was but an hour or so away. As the daylight began to lose strength, the energy of the actors all around her seemed to increase. Of course they were actors. Lady Dumnos had told them it would be fancy dress. They were actors, and the appearing and disappearing acts were special effects, done with high-tech makeup, dry ice, and mirrors, somehow rendered for the out-of-doors.
Except for one small problem. The short, gnarled, truly hideous-looking—and short—man talking with their hostess.
He looked very much like the one Bella had seen last night in her magic mirror.
III. Greg
The drive from London had taken hours, but finally the stretch limo pulled into an off-road parking lot and stopped. The fae poured out, eager for the open air. Each one wrinkled his nose or averted her eyes as they passed Greg. His wife first, then her father. Then his father, Lord Sarumen, the scary bugger. Quinn, the asshole.
None liked
him, not even Jenna. He didn’t like them either.
He used to think he was special. Really going somewhere. At first he’d been amazed that a long, cool drink of water like Jenna Sarumen even knew he was alive, let alone that she wanted to know him much, much better.
But then he’d thought, why not? He was pretty hot himself. And he was well on the way to wealth of his own. Not Sarumen wealth, obviously, but he could see himself making base high six figures with bonuses and escalators pushing it close to two mil. Every year. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Jenna didn’t have to wink at him twice before he’d dumped his drab, workhorse girlfriend, Lilith Evergreen. Lily was dead weight anyway. Dragging him down. She had no self-respect. No self-confidence. Good enough to get him through law school—she could cook and clean, do research and type, and she was useful enough in bed. But nothing close to life-partner material.
All he had to do was mention the name Sarumen to his mother and hint that an engagement was imminent. Soon after that, the keys to the kingdom had been restored, his father’s acceptance once again beyond doubt, his trust fund unfrozen. The world was his oyster.
And it had all burst like a bubble. Lily had taken the guilt money—which he’d fully expected her to reject—and had gone off to England, to Dumnos, where she met and married an earl, Cade Bausiney. She was a countess now, damn it all.
When Jenna found out, she’d gone ballistic. Called her father, screaming like the spoiled brat she was, said that Lily had gone back to England and demanded to go home. Home… to London. Jeez. She was a Brit. Information she might have told a guy before she married him.
Apparently, Lily was ancient, like them. She used to go by the name Igraine, and the Sarumens had been searching the world for her for hundreds of years—which made no sense, but what did anymore? Jenna had never wanted Greg. She’d only wanted to take what she thought belonged to Lily.