Bride of Fae (Tethers)

by Rigel, LK

Dandelion slipped the cup into his hidey pouch and extended his wings. The cup became formless in the pouch and as light as air, yet he could feel it calling to him to perform the ritual.

  “Let’s go.”

  Disaster

  THE RIGHTFUL KING AND his exasperating sister flew to the head of the troop line with Morning Glory and that sod Aubrey following behind. The trooping fae streamed out of the faewood, and a part of Max wanted to go too.

  Odd. He was no trooping fae, but a word from Cissa and he would have joined them tonight. The way she’d responded to his kiss, he could almost believe she had real feelings for him. But that was Cissa. She was just playing with him.

  “Never mind them, gob,” Idris said. He jabbed at the human woman a few times with his foot, but she didn’t move. “This one’s finished, I’m afraid.” He lifted her arm and let it fall. With a dismissive wave he said, “Back where you came from.”

  The lump of human disappeared. It was fifty-fifty whether anyone who knew her still lived. At all events, those who found her on their threshold would discover either an exhausted woman with swollen bloody stumps where feet had been or a dead body.

  “That’s better.” Idris put the moonstick crown back on his head and snapped his fingers. Two serving pixies appeared holding the abomination. Idris’s glimmer glass.

  Max’s stomach turned over. Glimmer glasses were objects of the wyrd, not the fae. He valued privacy as much as the next goblin, and all forms of eavesdropping disgusted him, but his abhorrence of Idris’s glimmer glass was about something far deeper, far darker.

  Idris had made it almost nine hundred years ago during the war between the wyrd and fae, and he’d made sure then Max knew exactly what animated the glass.

  Idris waved the serving pixies away and suspended the glass in air. “Now it’s only us chickens,” he said. Careless, nonchalant. Pretending neither of them knew what both of them knew.

  Max seethed inside. The old pain brought him low. His bones screamed, and he felt the lines in his face deepen.

  Idris smiled slightly, just enough to indicate he appreciated Max’s pain. And to show that enjoyed it. “Let’s watch, eh? See how Cissa’s fantasy of a brother king turns out.”

  “You still haven’t told anyone about this…thing,” Max said. “Not even your puppet, Aubrey?”

  “Careful, Max. The day may come when I don’t need you anymore.”

  Max grunted. He tried to not think of the glass. Instead he concentrated on what it displayed. Fairies were invisible to glimmer glass, but not—Idris had discovered—when wearing a tether jewel. They had no idea their noble regent spied on them.

  A scene came into focus, a stream of fairy lights winding up a dark hill. The troop had passed Tintagos Village and entered the gardens at Faeview.

  “Nearly there,” Max said.

  Idris snorted. “He feigns disinterest, but he’s quick enough to claim my crown.”

  “Prince Dandelion has charisma, I’ll give him that.” It felt good to pour a little salt on Idris’s wounded ego.

  “What do you mean? He barely speaks.”

  “And when he does, they hang on his every word.”

  “He’s not the king yet, Max.”

  Now that Max thought about it, Idris didn’t seem worried about this turn of events. “True enough.”

  “What were you two talking about earlier so earnestly?” Idris said. “And so secretively. Not the bower, surely.”

  “I don’t talk about that job,” Max said. “I try not to think about it.”

  “But you should be proud of it, Max. You’re helping to bring order to the chaos that is the Dumnos fae. Goblins like order, don’t they?”

  “In its place,” Max said. Order and rules were very fine. Goblins admired them. But with fairies…Max smiled at the thought of Cissa flaunting every rule she ever met. With fairies, a small serving of order went a long way. That was natural. How it should be.

  “There they are,” Idris said.

  The scene in the glass shifted to the roof of Faeview, the estate of the earl of Dumnos. When King Stephen affirmed the first Bausiney’s earldom at the close of the war of the wyrd and fae, the earl built a grand manor to show his importance. He located it on the direct line of the troop trail, over the most sacred fairy circle in the Dumnos realm, where Dumnos fae monarchs had been sanctified by the high gods since time was time.

  Legend had it that when the wyrding woman Elyse advised on Faeview’s placement she insisted all windows and doors be framed in cold iron. Her version of an obscene gesture in the faewood’s direction.

  In the glimmer glass, Cissa and Morning Glory spun in the air over the Faeview rooftop like sparkling ornaments. Cissa was a brat and reckless, not to mention a thief. Max couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d never look at him with romantic love. He knew that. The kiss was a pity kiss. Fairies couldn’t abide anything ugly.

  And he was a goblin, the ugliest form of fae.

  “I think she likes you, Max,” Idris said. “I should marry her off to you. You’d keep her out of trouble.”

  Sod him. Max didn’t rise to the bait.

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That gives me an idea.” A slow smile spread over Idris’s face. “It’s brilliant! If Dandelion doesn’t pull this off—and between you and me, he isn’t going to—I’ll marry the princess myself.”

  Bile rose in Max’s throat. Cissa—that free spirit—tied to Idris through eternity? Never!

  “If you touch…”

  “Hold everything.” Idris adjusted the image in the glimmer glass. “What’s this?” Agitated fairies were jumping up, flying in all directions, and bumping into each other. Morning Glory popped out of the scene followed by the musicians, one after the other.

  “There.” Idris pointed. The spot expanded to show Dandelion hovering at a strange angle, talking to a human.

  “I believe that’s Donall Bausiney,” Idris said. “Lord Tintagos himself, the future earl.”

  Goldenrod and Morning Glory popped in, disoriented, near the fire. Idris snapped his fingers, and the glimmer glass disappeared. Glory fell to her knees, her face pale and her eyes huge. “Someone came.” She fluttered her wings and shook her hands and shoulders. “Ugh! He threw holy cakes at us.”

  “Salted,” Goldenrod said.

  Max rolled his eyes. Fairies would go on about holy cakes.

  “Thank the high gods, I think he missed.” Glory calmed down a little and tilted her head. “The human was a bit lovely, actually.”

  “Sincere,” Goldenrod sniffed. “But bearable. He liked you, Glory.”

  The musicians started popping in. Finally Cissa. She looked scared. Was she hurt? Did she think the human was a bit lovely?

  “Where’s Dandelion?” she said. “Something was wrong.”

  “He knocked into my wings,” Glory said. “It hurt.”

  “Oh, Glory, that’s not important,” Cissa said. “Is he here yet?”

  She was more than scared. She was terrified, and there was nothing Max could do about it. Not at the moment, at all events.

  “It’s gone.” Aubrey popped in. “The cup is gone. Prince Dandelion lost the fairy cup.”

  “That’s not fair!” Cissa said. She lost her balance as she retracted her wings, and Max offered his shoulder for support. “Thank you, Max,” she said softly. The kindness in her voice gave him a thrill, but she wasn’t thinking of him. Dandelion popped in, and all her care flowed in that direction.

  The prince was on his hands and knees, his head hung low. It was terrible seeing him like that. Weak. It was wrong, unnatural. The treesap retracted his wings in slow jerks with a painful moan at each move. It took forever to get them all the way in, then he crashed to the ground unconscious.

  Mudcastle

  IT WAS A SMALL FIRE, but the one-room hut had overheated. Dandelion was still adjusting to a human realm subject to human laws. His new home was an hour and a half from the faewood by goblin tunnel. By fairy flight it was
an hour from the nearest portal—if any fairy ever flew straight.

  While Cissa fussed about the burl oak bed, he opened the door to let in the cold December air and then put the kettle on the hook He absent-mindedly pushed against the fireplace grate with one foot. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re banished,” Cissa said. “But I’m not going to let you be miserable.” She tossed fairy dust over the blankets and pillows. “There. For sweet dreams.”

  Cissa—and Max and Glory and Goldenrod too—had made a project of improving the hovel. The kettle and grate and a rocking chair were Max’s contribution. Goldy brought the full wineskins. Today Cissa had blankets and pillows in her hidey pouch.

  Dandelion smiled. Who knew where she pinched the stuff—or who from. “I should be miserable,” he said. But he wasn’t.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Cissa’s eyes flashed in anger. “I’m sure Idris drugged the dandelion wine. I should have suspected he was up to something when he acted so pleased I found the cup.”

  “There’s no proof Idris had anything to do with it,” Dandelion said. Idris had everything to do with it, but Cissa was wearing her tether and this needed to be a safe conversation. “Besides, I welcome banishment. I heard them jeer. The fae think I’m a daft failure they’re well rid of. Well, ta! I feel the same about my fair-weather people.”

  “Not fair for long. Idris is taking the Dumnos fae dark.”

  “Let them go. They’re already dark as far as I can tell. Sod it. Forget the tea.” Dandelion took the kettle off the chimney crane. There was a winesack with a bit left in it and goblets in the hutch.

  “Not all welcomed the banishment decree, Dandelion. Those who think for themselves know it wasn’t your fault the cup was lost.”

  “And how many still think for themselves?” He handed her a goblet of wine. “I was already going solitary, Cissa. Idris just made it easier, that’s all.”

  If she’d ever visit without that damn tether at her throat, Dandelion would say more. He knew about Idris’s glimmer glass. Max told him about it on his last visit and explained its ability to monitor anyone wearing the jeweled chokers.

  “He mocks you.” Cissa sipped the wine, a mischievous glint in her eye. “He calls this place Mudcastle.”

  “So it is.” Dandelion laughed bitterly. She’d hit a sore spot, the thing he couldn’t stand about this whole fiasco: Idris triumphant.

  Mudcastle. The abandoned earthen mound lay at the far edge of Faeview land. Judging by the cobbler’s tools strewn about when he arrived, the place was once occupied by a solitary leprechaun. It had been sadly neglected.

  “Never mind,” Cissa said. “You’ll be living like a prince in no time. And we’ll think of a way to bring you back—oh. I almost forgot.” She put her goblet down next to his tether box on a side table and pulled a Turkey carpet out of her hidey pouch. “Voilà!”

  "How much more do you have in that thing?” He laughed and helped her spread the rug over the dirt floor in front of the fireplace.

  “Mudcastle could be nice,” she said. “The windows are round. The door is round. No sharp angles. There’s a big stand of lilac not far from your door, did you see? It will smell heavenly this spring.”

  “If you enjoy that sort of thing.”

  “Which you do,” Cissa said. “If you're going solitary, you’re going to be a comfortable solitary.” As she smoothed the rug, her attention fixed on the fire grate, polished Dumnos steel with a bright-cut design of crickets and fireflies. “That’s lovely. Did Max make it?”

  Dandelion nodded. “He brought it through the tunnel. The chair too.”

  “Poor Max.” Cissa’s hand went to her red choker. “I wish he could use a tether. I’ve heard the goblin tunnels are cold and dark and creepy.”

  “Max can handle himself,” Dandelion said.

  Cissa glanced from Dandelion’s bare throat to the blackthorn box beside her wine goblet. “Don’t you wear yours anymore?”

  “What would be the point?” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’d feel naked without mine now.” Cissa picked up the box and absently ran her fingers over its carved dandelions. Her voice grew soft, serious. “Idris said something yesterday.” She put the box down. “He said he should marry me to Max.”

  “An alliance,” Dandelion said. “So many goblins have left the faewood, have you noticed? He’s always thinking.”

  “He was joking, I think.”

  “Idris can joke all he likes,” Dandelion said. “He can’t force you.” Let Idris eavesdrop on that.

  “Max is a good friend,” Cissa said. “I wish he wasn’t…”

  “So ugly?”

  “It’s not that,” Cissa said. “I guess I’ve gotten used to him. He doesn’t look horrible to me now, anyway.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “I just wish he wasn’t a goblin,” she said. “But if he wasn’t a goblin, then he wouldn’t be Max.”

  “I think you like him.”

  “Of course I like him. He’s helped us so much.”

  “I think you might love him a little.” He’d never understand anyone who fell in love. It never ended well. Look at Aubrey. The treesap, as Max would say.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cissa said.

  “Hello in there!” Max was silhouetted at the threshold of the open door.

  Cissa’s cheeks turned pink. She snatched up her wine and finished it off as Max walked by with another rocker. He grunted something that might have been ridiculous, and set the chair down in front of the fireplace.

  “My friends make it difficult to turn solitary,” Dandelion said. “I see more of you now than when I lived in the faewood.”

  Max started to speak, but at the sight of Cissa’s tether he just grumbled something indistinct.

  Her eyes lit up. “How beautiful.” She caressed the moonstick dandelions inlaid along the rocker’s back and arms.

  “Hmph.” Max looked at Dandelion. “Your many visitors should have decent places to sit.”

  Cissa tried the chair and beamed. “Such craftsmanship—you’re an artist, Max!”

  Craftsmanship. Artist. Words to feed a goblin’s pride. Cissa poured it on to make up for saying it would be ridiculous to love him, but from the way Max grumbled Dandelion knew Max hadn’t heard. If he had, he’d now be silent as a rock.

  “I’ve brought something for you too, princess,” Max said.

  “A present?” Indecision played over Cissa’s face. Good manners required she reciprocate; she’d be under obligation to give a present in return.

  Merciless, Max withdrew something wonderful from his hidey pouch, a rosewood box decorated with cloisonné dragonflies.

  “Ooh!” She pressed the box against her cheek then opened it. “Oh, Max.” She held up the emerald necklace inside. It sparkled in the firelight, and her eyes widened and glittered like the stones.

  The more Dandelion knew the goblin, the more he admired the guy. No surprise, Cissa stripped off her tether—as Max must have intended—and dropped it over the rosewood box.

  “Good.” Dandelion stuffed the tether inside the box. He snapped the lid shut and tucked the box in his sister’s hidey pouch. “Now we can talk.”

  Cissa handed the jeweled necklace to Max. “Help me?” She turned around and squatted down a bit. It was Max’s turn to blush as he draped the jewels around Cissa’s neck and closed the clasp at the back.

  Odd. Dandelion could swear Max had grown taller. The top of his head reached Cissa’s shoulders—even before she stooped. On troop night he’d barely reached her bosom. And today his boots were flat-soled.

  Cissa gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and the lines on the gob’s face smoothed. Poor treesap. A goblin and a fairy princess. Impossible. As Cissa said, ridiculous. No doubt, Max had real feelings for Cissa, but she’d never see him as more than a friend—or a curiosity.

  With a start Dandelion realized C
issa was staring at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifted. “What did you mean, now we can talk?”

  “Max,” he said. “You want to explain?”

  “Just a minute.” Max went to the door and called out, “It’s safe. Are you there?”

  Morning Glory appeared in the doorway with Goldy behind her. She was flush with excitement. “It worked!” She twirled in a circle in the air. “We did it!”

  “Fantastic,” Max said.

  “Speak for yourself, girl,” Goldy said. “There was no we about it. I only came along for the ride.”

  “What worked?” Cissa said. “Wait. Where are your tethers?”

  “Mine’s in my small pouch,” Glory said.

  “Same here,” Goldy said. “That’s the point, isn’t it? We didn’t need them.”

  “I made a portal to Mudcastle!” Morning Glory said. “Max said he didn’t think I could, and I did! I’ll bet no one ever finds the other end.”

  “It’s the last place any of those faewood fraidy fairies would look,” Goldy said.

  “We had to get out without making Idris suspicious, so Goldy pretended he wanted to get kinky.”

  “Pretended, huh,” Dandelion said.

  “I merely told the truth.” Goldy crossed his eyes. “I said I was bored.”

  “He said he hadn’t done it with a woman in forever, and would I like to meet him for a dangerous liaison.”

  “I doubt I said done it.” Goldenrod sniffed.

  “But why?” Cissa scrunched her face at Glory.

  “In case Idris was listening,” Glory said matter-of-factly.

  “Still not getting it,” Cissa said.

  “We needed an excuse to take off our tethers. It seemed the most obvious.”

  “Sure,” Dandelion said drily. “Obvious.”

  “Anyway,” Glory said, “guess where I put it? The other end of the portal. You never will so I’ll tell you. At Igdrasil!”

  “Hidden in plain sight,” Goldenrod said. “No fae will go near it.”

  “Clever, Glory,” Dandelion said. “I’m impressed.”

  “We won the dare, Max.” Glory spun around and bowed in the air. “Here we are, untethered.”