Bride of Fae (Tethers)

by Rigel, LK

  “’f I were king of the fairies…”

  The fairies howled, and the musicians picked up their instruments to accompany him. The song was ludicrous, but their music was intoxicating. Beverly’s body responded, moving with the rhythm. The tune shifted. The drumbeat slowed, became sensual.

  “That’s right,” Aubrey said softly. “You feel so much better now. Let’s get rid of a few things.” He snapped his fingers. Her hair fell down over her bare shoulders, freed of its braids. The bolero was gone too.

  Violet kissed her bare arm, the inside of her elbow, her shoulder, her neck, and nibbled her earlobe. Beverly didn’t want it to feel good, but it did. Each kiss ignited a little fire inside.

  “Sharesies, Violet,” Fen said. “Don’t be selfish.” He held Beverly’s hand and ran a finger from her wrist to her shoulder, leaving a trail of tingling warmth along her skin.

  Fear shot through her, competing with the sensuous pleasure, but she couldn’t do anything about fear or pleasure. The music immobilized her. The lyrical notes of the flutes and pipes streamed through her bones and grounded her feet the earth. Drumbeats pulsated inside her and created tiny explosions of erotic desire.

  Violet’s eyes were like emeralds, like sunlight on the sea, like magic. She came closer, as if she was about to share a secret, but instead she kissed Beverly on the mouth.

  Fen kissed the back of her neck, and Violet moved to her earlobe.

  Beverly groaned, and the rest of her clothing disappeared. She felt her nipples harden in the cold, and yet she felt so warm. Fen and Violet reached between her legs and teased her with their fingers.

  “Our queen of the night is almost ready for her king,” Aubrey said. He stood before her wearing nothing but his tether.

  Tradeoffs

  AUBREY WAS LEAN AND hard and perfect. And well-endowed. Beverly’s mind cried out against it, but her body raged to have him inside. Every nerve screamed for relief. Every inch of her skin longed for his touch.

  Traitorous flesh.

  He burst into her consciousness riding his searing gaze. Her body said why hello there come on in and stay awhile, but her heart and soul rebelled against the coming invasion. She could breathe. She could feel her heartbeat. She could move her lips, but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move her head, but she could move her eyes and eyebrows.

  She batted her eyelashes at him, and he jumped—slightly—in surprise. A small victory, the slave moving the master.

  “Leave her alone, Aubrey.” A red-haired fairy flew into the circle, her eyes flashing with fury.

  “My princess.” Aubrey chuckled with satisfaction. “Let me guess. You’ve come to do your brother’s work, as usual.” With revulsion Beverly knew this was exactly what Aubrey had intended all along. He was using her as bait.

  It’s a trick! She yelled, but the words just rattled around in her head. She couldn’t open her mouth.

  Then in a blur of speed, Dandelion was there. He landed between Cissa and Aubrey. “Let her go,” he said as his wings retracted. The tuxedo was gone, and he was in his leather pants and vest.

  The musicians stopped playing.

  “I snatched her fair and square,” Aubrey said. “And I’ve taken so much trouble to get her ready.”

  The fairies in the circle giggled as Fen licked Beverly’s cheek suggestively. She wanted to punch him, but she was helpless to move.

  “Get off.” Dandelion flicked his fingers at Fen and Violet, sending mini lightning bolts into their chests. They cried out in pain and surprise as the bolts knocked them away up into the trees. Beverly’s outfit reappeared along. Even her bag hung from her shoulder.

  “Impressive, my prince, but this is our queen of troop night,” Aubrey said. “And as Idris’s proxy, I’m king of troop night. She’s mine.”

  “Let me have her,” Dandelion said.

  “Why do you care about some human? You have what you came for. If I’m not mistaken, it’s hanging from your belt.”

  Dandelion touched his large pouch and hesitated, and all the fairies in the circle went silent. The only sound was Aubrey’s creepy laugh laced with victory and ridicule.

  “Great gods,” Aubrey said. “I know that look. You love her.”

  The accusation floated in the air with the night mist. Cissa, Fen, Violet—all gave Beverly another appraisal.

  “She doesn’t look special,” Violet said, draped over a tree limb. “Does love hurt?”

  “Special or not,” Aubrey said. “She’s mine.”

  “Give her to me.” Dandelion’s voice cracked.

  How could they think he cared? To Beverly he seemed disgusted by the accusation, sick to his stomach. He’d practically admitted he loved her—but obviously the fact was as repugnant to him as to all the other fairies.

  “Go away.” Aubrey grabbed his shaft and pumped. He strutted around the circle, making himself bigger. “I’m ready to show this human real fae lovemaking.”

  “Give her to me, and I’ll give you a present in return.”

  Aubrey stopped and turned back to Dandelion. He tilted his head, wary but open to the suggestion.

  No. Don’t. Beverly willed Dandelion to look at her, but instead she made eye contact with his seething sister. It was no treat being on the receiving end of Cissa’s utter loathing and despair. And no fair! Beverly didn’t want Dandelion making this sacrifice either.

  “Ah, now,” Aubrey said. “A present. That’s something. I’d like a present from you, my prince. In a thousand years, you’ve never once offered me a present. What is this human worth to you, I wonder?”

  “My tether.”

  The fairies in the circle gasped as Dandelion pulled off his choker. From Cissa’s barely suppressed smile, Beverly guessed she must know the tethers’ sinister purpose.

  “Give me the cup.” Aubrey ignored Dandelion’s outstretched hand.

  Dandelion shook his head. “Why would you want it?”

  “He doesn’t deny it!” Aubrey addressed the circle fairies. “He has recovered the cup.” He strutted around, comfortable in his nakedness, vamping to his audience with mock amazement. “Our prince has redeemed himself.”

  “Ooh!” Violet squeaked. Jeers and snickers bubbled through the circle. There was no sense of respect for their prince among them.

  “It can be of no use to you.” Dandelion stuffed his tether into his small pouch, but didn’t touch the larger one.

  “You’re wrong there. I figure Idris will be most grateful when I bring it to him.”

  “When I’m king, I’ll let you return to Tintagos,” Dandelion said. “You can see Elyse.” He spoke directly to Aubrey’s tether jewel. “Idris won’t be that grateful.”

  Aubrey paced around Beverly, his look full of contempt for her. It was difficult to believe he’d ever loved a human being. The tension thickened until one of the musicians dropped a hammer on her dulcimer.

  “Enough talk,” Aubrey said. “Give me the cup, or stop wasting my time.”

  Dandelion turned to Cissa. “We want to stop this slide to the dark,” he said. “If I keep the cup at the expense of someone’s pain—even a human—I might as well join the Unseelie. Then I’d be worthless sitting on the moonstick throne.”

  “I agree with your words, brother, but I’m afraid.” A tear spilled down Cissa’s cheek.

  “I can handle Aubrey,” Dandelion said.

  “I'm not afraid of Aubrey,” Cissa said. “I’m afraid of her. Your feelings for her.”

  Dandelion gave no answer. He kissed his sister’s forehead and faced Aubrey. He produced the cup from the larger pouch on his belt and shoved it against the lilac-eyed fairy’s chest.

  “Yes!” Aubrey clutched the prize. His spell over Beverly dissolved and faded away. She was free but wobbly, and she pitched forward toward the ground.

  Instantly Dandelion was at her side. “I have you.” He lifted her and extended his wings. They rose above Hyde Park and higher until they were well above London, a blanket of jewels be
low and a canopy of starlight above.

  “Oh!” She caught her breath. He’d rescued her from hell and brought her to heaven.

  “I knew you’d like the view.” His kiss was slow and warm, and his tongue made promises that the rest of his body appeared ready to keep.

  Max was halfway through his second glass of jasmine wine. Or maybe his third. He didn’t much like the stuff, but it made troop night bearable. He’d rather be at Mudcastle, away from the freak carnival troop night had become. This year Dandelion was in Sarumos on the troop at Princess Cissa’s request. Goldy had gone to a midnight rendezvous at the Temple of Joy and Wonder with his human lover.

  The only other person in the room was Idris, draped over the moonstick throne watching the abominable glimmer glass. He’d last gone on the troop a century ago, the year before Dandelion’s banishment. Idris hadn’t left the faewood at all since Morning Glory escaped with Lily to who knows where.

  He’d turned to the wretched glass for intelligence of the outside world. One of his pleasures was making Max watch. “There she is again,” Idris said. Aubrey and his band of tricksters were harassing a human in one of Sarumos’s parks.

  If it was anyone else Max wouldn’t care, but their victim was Beverly, the dark-haired beauty he’d met at Mudcastle. He remembered her curiosity and kindness. She hadn’t been repelled by his looks and had treated him as equal to the other fae. It was a shame she’d come to Aubrey’s attention.

  When Cissa showed in the glass, Max sat up and leaned closer. Dandelion was right behind her, ready to bargain for Beverly’s release.

  “He has affection for that human,” Idris said. “It must be a pet of his.”

  Sun and moon, the bleeding treesap offered Aubrey his tether. Max sighed and finished his wine. He couldn’t believe it. Fairies really didn’t deserve to think so highly of themselves. Dandelion was the most thoughtful of them all, and even he had a limited grasp of the tether jewels’ power.

  “Ha! The fool,” Idris said. “He’s giving it over.”

  “Hmph.” With relief Max watched the prince hand Aubrey not the tether but the fairy cup. It was painful to see Cissa in distress. Next time he saw her in a safe place, he’d reassure her. Losing the fairy cup was nothing compared loosing a tether jewel to an enemy’s possession, a fact none of them had yet realized.

  Idris shook his head and snickered. He poured more wine into Max’s goblet. “What a revolting development.” What a wit.

  “Extraordinary,” Max mumbled into his goblet. He recalled the prince’s face when he first held the cup, his mixture of profound self-confidence and bliss. Max’s own father swore by the myth of the fairy cup, that it had a supernatural connection with the royal line, but he’d never truly believed until he saw that look on Dandelion’s face.

  “Well, well.” Idris made the glass go dark and let it hang in the air. “Lucky your gobs finally finished with the bower.”

  “Hmph.” They weren’t his “gobs” as Idris insisted on calling them, but yes. They were all glad to be finished with the bower project, an ugly piece of work if ever there was one.

  Idris said, “I want you at Mudcastle when Dandelion returns. Take away his tether and slap a cold iron collar on him. Bring him here without delay.”

  “I’m busy.” Dread chilled Max’s veins. “And I’m not your goon squad.”

  “Busy!” Idris leapt to his feet and plucked the glimmer glass out of the air. He held it to his chest, his eyes flaring with rage. “You forget yourself, goblin.”

  “Do it then.” Max wished Idris would end his threats at last. Destroy the abomination and bring its centuries of agony to an end. “Death is better than this.”

  “Oh, Max. Dear Max. You misunderstand me.” Idris strode over to the fire. “I'm no murderer.”

  They both knew that was a lie. This was the hold Idris had over Max. Max’s sister was trapped in the glimmer glass. Idris would kill her if he thought it would better suit his desires. He held the glass over the fire and slowly lowered it closer to the flames.

  “Stop,” Max said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Of course you will.” Idris clapped once, and the glass disappeared. He looked around the throne room at the empty sofas and chairs. “It’s lonely with everyone on the troop. I miss my people.”

  Max shuddered. It was true Dumnos fae were becoming more Idris’s creatures all the time. He’d go solitary himself if it wasn’t for the glimmer glass. He headed for the exit. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He’d have to take a pony cart to Mudcastle, something to haul Dandelion back to the faewood in.

  “Wait,” Idris said. “No collar. No need to distress Princess Cissa any more than necessary. Wrist shackles will do to make the point.”

  Love and Affection

  “YOU SAVED ME.” BEVERLY couldn’t say thank you. Mere words were too small, too inadequate to acknowledge Dandelion’s sacrifice. “You gave up the cup.”

  He smiled without bitterness, and her heart went out to him even more.

  “Oh, Dandelion.” She could never repay him.

  “Close your eyes,” he said gently. “Picture your hotel room.”

  She did as she was told, and in the next instant they were in her suite at the Dorchester. He laid her on the bed and hovered over her, his wings still extended. He was like a great mythological beast.

  Check that. He was a great mythological beast.

  His vest accentuated the muscles in his arms and chest. He’d cleaned up nicely in the tux, but she’d take those bare arms any day of the week. Or night.

  “Are you staying?” She reached for the vest’s top silver and leather toggle. “Or just dropping off?”

  He remained suspended above her while she opened the vest’s five toggles. She ran her hands over his chest, and the vest disappeared with the rest of his clothes and hers too.

  “Staying,” he said. He settled between her knees, retracting his wings, and moved forward, his hands on her hips. He kissed her belly. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  His mahogany hair fell forward in a cascade. He kissed and licked her breasts and his fingers explored between her legs. She was already on fire for him, and he was hot and hard against her. He kissed her throat and her ears and ran his hands through her hair and moaned.

  “Beverly.”

  She whispered, “I have you,” and held him close.

  Light shimmered around them, reds and greens and blues and purples. A kaleidoscope of images tripped through Beverly’s consciousness one by one and fell away. Lord Dumnos, the Tragic Fall, Marion, George Sarumos, her mother, her father.

  There was only Dandelion, filling her body and soul with his body and soul.

  “Beverly. Beverly.” He chanted her name like a mantra. The colored lights brightened until they became as white as the sun at noon in summer. A presence filled the room, awful and wonderful. Something she’d felt once long ago and forgotten until now.

  Still inside her, Dandelion sat up and pulled her onto his thighs. He reached toward the ceiling and started to grow. His body grew larger, metamorphosing into gargantuan thing. She clung to him to keep from falling, like she had clung to Igdrasil when she was a child to keep from falling to the rocks and the sea below.

  That was it. That was the presence she’d felt once then forgotten. Pure energy that flowed not only through Igdrasil, but through every living thing. The power that had saved her from falling.

  Dandelion’s torso became a tree trunk and his head and arms became branches. He was gone, replaced by Igdrasil. Beverly fell back on her elbows. The tree was taller than the room, the ceiling disappeared, and the branches stretched up into the night sky. Her body tingled and quivered, and she felt shattered by vibration and soothed by waves of warmth.

  Then Igdrasil was gone. The ceiling was intact. Dandelion was Dandelion. He collapsed on her chest, exhausted.

  “Beverly.” His voice anchored her, and she held him tight. “Beverly, I never thought I could feel….” />
  He was a fairy prince, and he was a man. He fell asleep.

  Beverly stretched and arched her back. Dandelion still lay on top of her, his head just under her chin. He wasn’t as heavy as she expected—maybe he was using his powers to keep from crushing her. She chuckled at the thought; that would be useful magic.

  It was late…or early, depending on how you looked at it. Night had begun to surrender to dawn. She hadn’t slept. She couldn’t get the image of Igdrasil out of her mind. She wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite, she was charged with energy.

  Everything was different now.

  Dandelion stirred, and she kissed the top of his head. He opened his eyes and smiled as if he was surprised and delighted to find her there. Sun and moon, she loved him, and now their story was ending. As surely as the sun would rise, today he would be at Mudcastle, and she would be at Bausiney’s End.

  He sat up and tweaked her nose playfully. “Good morning.” He locked his fingers behind his head and did some twisting stretches. When he turned away, she noticed the ridges under his shoulder blades. How did those huge wings fit in there?

  Oh, yeah. Magic.

  Nothing in her world would ever be normal again. She saw that now.

  He rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself on his elbows. “I have to tell you something.”

  Her heart sank. Not yet. He was too serious. Don’t leave me just yet. Wait for the morning light. She remembered something he’d said yesterday at Piccadilly Circus and again last night in the park.

  “Why won’t Idris let Aubrey visit Tintagos?”

  Dandelion reached for her hand. He kissed her fingers and grinned at her obvious ploy to change the subject, but he answered her question. “Do you remember I told you Idris was rejected by Elyse?”

  “The human wyrding woman.”

  “Half human. Aubrey is Elyse’s father. He loved her mother, Frona,” Dandelion said, “a wyrding woman who lived at the border of the faewood on the outskirts of Tintagos Village. When Frona died, all the light went out of him. He didn’t need Idris to embrace the dark.”