by JK Ensley
She smiled at the warm voice and turned to give a slight bow to the now blushing Eògan.
“Your father and your King…” He cut his eyes toward Gráda. “…woke in anger at your repeated absence, Milady. He ordered Luag fetch him a proper switch. I promised to return you, unharmed, if he would stay your punishment.”
“A switch?” She started to giggle. “My punishment? The old giant seems to be taking this whole only daughter thing a bit too far. I am not a babe, Lord Eògan. And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Gratitude for all your concern, but I’ll be just fine.”
Gráda took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I can personally vouch for that.” He lightly placed her captured hand over the now healed scars upon his chest. “But you err on one part, enchanting Liadan.”
“And which part would that be, good Gráda?”
“There’s no denying it, Gealach. You are most definitely a babe.” He winked at her, playfully.
Eògan cleared his throat. “Don’t use such language with King Brodder’s daughter. Mind your manners, Lord Gráda. She is your royal Princess. Save your filthy talk for the red houses.”
“As you say, Lord Eògan.” He gave the other warrior a sideways glance and smiled wryly. “Deepest apologies, Princess,” Gráda said as he bowed low and kissed her hand before turning, heading back alone.
What are the red houses? she thought.
“Have you acquired all you need, Milady?” Eògan asked shyly.
“No, my gentle flaming warrior. I have not.”
His cheeks took on a fierce crimson glow at her enduring reference. It made her smile.
“Tell Father I will be along shortly. I’ll be needing many more petals if I wish to sate my desire.”
Jenevier returned to her aromatic task, leaving the fumbling man at a loss for words.
“But… Princess…”
“Fear not, good Eògan. The sun has risen now. And I have already been seen to by no less than two of his trusted generals.” She spoke without turning. “I know the way back home, Brother. I’ll be there shortly.”
Knowing not what else to do after her gentle dismissal, Eògan dug one booted toe into the moist ground before he turned, walking slowly back the way he had come.
“Overly protective brothers can be so tiresome,” she absently grumbled. Her hands stilled mid-pluck, she froze. But… how would I know that? What in the world would even give me such a thought? I was first blessed with brothers only yesterday, and have claimed a father for but a fortnight.
Her mind teased her with snippets of a past it refused to release, held it safely locked away, maddeningly so.
She was still lost in troublesome thought when warm lips lightly touched her cool cheek. She smiled.
“Shall I be forced to entertain my entire new family while I labor amongst these thorns?”
“Only the rarest, most beautiful blossoms are protected by thorns.” Finnean gave her another quick peck before he started helping with her glory-stealing task. “I closed my eyes last night with the hopes of getting to gaze upon your sleeping face this morning, Princess. Are you always so late to bed and early to rise?”
“I know not, Lord Finnean. These past few days with Brod are my only reference.” A gentle smile spread across her face, reaching all the way up to her eyes. “Prior to his healing lullaby, I cannot recall if ever I slept, or when I woke, or even if I dreamt. Only my new life with my giant friend is what fills my warming heart. Perhaps I was newly born when first he found me.” She chuckled softly at the idea.
“You mean… perhaps you were created and tossed from the heavens but a few days ago?”
She turned then, staring into his hauntingly pale blue eyes. “Perhaps you’re right, fairest amongst my brothers. Yours is the most likely scenario.” She brushed a wisp of snowy hair back that had fallen free of his long braid. “Wonder why I was discarded?” she mused. “Did my creator find me so impossible to love, that he tossed me aside before even blessing me with a spark of color?”
A single tear slipped from the corner of her still smiling eyes. The white-haired warrior caught it with a bent finger and placed it on his tongue. His lids fluttered closed, relishing in this tiniest taste of her.
“That’s not what I said, nor was it the intent of my words.” He looked deep into her questioning eyes. “It is not possible you were discarded, Milady. More appropriately, you were your creator’s rarest treasure. He was taking extra care with you, ensuring the perfection you now claim. He was basking in your rare beauty, minus color, relishing the elegance you exude.” The mesmerized look on her angelic face caused him to tremble inside. “A jealous rival came from the shadows as you slumbered,” he whispered. “A pirate of beauty, he stole you away in the night, only to lose his grip upon you during his hurried escape.”
When Finnean’s strong arms slid around her waist, pulling her to him, she absently dropped her basket of treasured petals. Jenevier’s eyes slowly closed, relishing the sensation as the tip of his nose traced along her brow line before it came down dangerously close to her waiting lips. There was something about this rare man above all the others that threw her off balance. He undid her… inside.
“White warrior, I unbound you from my vile heart,” she whispered. “No longer are you shackled to me. My contemptuous curse no longer claims a hold over you.”
“Your heart is not vile, wee Princess. And it’s not your curse that claims me. Yet, I am claimed all the same.”
She slowly opened her eyes, meeting his adoring blue gaze. Those eyes, coupled with that glistening hair, vainly pulled at her buried memories. She was lulled by the look of him. Something about this warrior brought her a sense of trust, of peace. She felt safe, treasured.
“Is this how you play with women, Lord Finnean? Is this why my father warned me not to be alone with you?”
“I cannot be the same man our good King spoke of. Not when I come near you, Milady.” He lightly traced the edge of her lips with his fingertip. “The man he described is a contemptible fool in your presence—that devilish stealer of hearts.”
His sweet breath, coupled with his soft touch… melted her, completely. She nearly swooned in his strong arms, the thought of honeysuckles filling her mind.
“Yes, I have known many women,” he whispered. “And perhaps, many of them loved me. Yes, I know how to be that man. I know him well. Alas, you never will, tiniest moon.”
Jenevier caught her breath, steadying herself. “Did you come here to brag about your former conquests, snow warrior? Did you think such things would impress me, would woo me, have me melting in your arms?”
“Nay, just the opposite, Milady,” he said softly, almost cooing. “I wish to make confession to you. Two very different confessions, actually.”
“And they are?”
“To own my past sins against many hearts and swear an oath upon my honor not to repeat them.”
“I am not a holy man, nor am I a ruler,” she said. “Why would you wish to confess or swear anything to me?”
“Because of my second confession,” he whispered.
“Which is?”
“That you have smitten me wholly, laid claim upon my wistful heart.” He paused, a look of worship gleaming in his ice blue eyes. He smiled softly, gently. “Never have I looked upon a woman and wished her never to leave my sight, to always remain near me.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “Gealach, when you lifted that strangely tattooed hand and removed what you called your curse, when you unbound my heart, you caused a great change within me. One you’re not yet aware of.” He tightened his arm around her. “With your unbinding, my desire for you did not leave. Only the uncontrollable hunger driving said desire was washed away with your words.” His charming smile lit up his handsome face. “And then, an even more amazing thing replaced it.”
“And what was this amazing replacement, Lord Finnean?”
“No longer did my mind burn to devour you,” he said, s
earching her snowflake eyes. “Instead, a new song rang loudly within me. A tune I’d never heard before. Now… I wish only to win your love. To win your heart, not claim your body.”
The tightening sensation now filling her chest was almost painful. Who is this man? she thought.
“And… what were you planning on doing with my heart, once it was yours?” Her voice quivered slightly.
“Aye, Milady,” he said, smiling shyly and blushing ever so lightly. “I cannot possibly fathom ever being so lucky. Yet if by some great miracle you granted me your rare favor, I would treasure it above life itself.”
She searched those enchanting eyes of his and could find no lie within them. Still, this whole conversation was oddly déjà vu and splendidly brand new at the same time. Elation and trepidation swirled within her muddled mind.
“How can I trust such sweet words from one who admits using them to cause harm in the past?”
He absently caressed her back, was lost in her eyes. The rest of the world fell away for this warrior. Her fair voice and enchanting smile were the only things he could think of. His need for them was all-consuming, and he reveled in the wondrous feeling.
“I am a new man, wee snowflake,” he said. “I even know the exact moment it happened. I was pierced through and through. Mortally wounded by love, yet knew it not.”
Jenevier’s pulse quickened, her heartbeat was likened unto a flutter.
What is this? When did I begin to lose control, begin to melt inside? Why am I finding it so hard to breathe? Why can’t I pull my eyes from this glorious man? It’s terrifying… I love it. I wish this moment to continue without ceasing. She swallowed hard, feared her voice would betray her. “Tell me, good Finnean. When were you pierced?”
“When first you stepped from behind my King,” he said. “The very moment I was blessed to look upon your enchanting ghostly form. You didn’t even spare me a passing glance; gave no notice whatsoever to my presence. Yet my breath stilled in my lungs.”
As he spoke, Finnean used his fingertip to lightly trace the outline of her collarbone, out to the tip of her shoulder and slowly back again.
“Do not hate me for the truth of my coming words, fairest Princess. But… always before… I would look upon a rare beauty and feel a stirring within my loins.”
His words were raw, unnerving. They embarrassed her. She began to feel trapped, a bit uncomfortable. She tried to look away.
Finnean lightly placed a finger to her chin, turning her back to him, forcing her to look upon his face, to be captured by his possessive gaze.
“Alas, things were not so when I beheld you, Maiden,” he whispered. “When I was blessed with my first glimpse of your delicate face… there was a fierce tightness growing and swelling within my chest, within my heart.” He traced tiny circles on her cheek with the tip of his nose, his breath landing hot upon her tingling flesh. “And I believe that’s why your so-called poisonous curse was so uncontrollable for me. I also believe it’s why, when you unbound me, you not only released me, you freed me. Unshackled my smitten heart, gave it the liberty to love you openly. Just as I secretly had upon sight, lovely Gealach.”
Her breath hitched as his beautiful lips drew closer. She felt faint.
Finnean paused a fraction before they touched, and whispered warmly against her waiting mouth. “I will not force you, ever again. I have determined to be content with waiting until you accept me, Milady. The only way I can ever truly be happy, is with your acceptance of my love.” He stared deep into her eyes. “How fares your heart concerning me, white Princess? Has my confession fallen upon a stone? Or does its glory now take root within you? Do you think you could ever love one such as me? If you cannot, then will you bless me by naming me your sworn knight? If your heart is not meant to be mine, will you at least let me serve and protect you, claim a place at your side as your loyal warrior?”
She tenderly rubbed her nose against the tip of his, making tiny little circles as she smiled. Sliding her hands up his arms, she gently locked them behind his neck. Tiptoeing to meet his waiting lips, Jenevier closed off the distance remaining between them.
His heated response to her gentle kiss was knee-weakening. She felt his racing heart beating wildly within his chest, thrumming against her own. She knew in that moment… she could never part from him. This was the first thing she could ever remember wanting, truly wanting, with a possessive passion that was almost consuming. She wanted this valiant man’s noble heart. She wanted to own it, as he now owned hers.
Jenevier felt the warm tear land upon her cheek as it fell from his loosely closed eyes.
He sheds tears for our first real kiss, she thought. Why does this man stir forgotten places within me? How has he effortlessly eased my heart into trusting him? This is something Otherworldly, something magical. I cannot let him go, will not let him go.
As their lips slowly parted, unbidden smiles adorned their happy faces.
“How is it you are real?” he whispered, lightly kissing her forehead. “Has Fate led you to me, wee moon? Have I finally pleased the gods? Did I do anything worthy of such a gift? Or is your gentle heart an undeserved blessing?”
“Every blessing has a curse, every curse has a blessing,” she softly whispered. “Be very careful, Milord. I may not be your reward. I may be your punishment… and you mine.”
“I care not if you are blessing or curse, punishment or reward. You are mine, Gealach. Do you understand me?” His embrace tightened as his lips went to her neck, his words tickling warmly across her tender places. “You are mine.”
“As you are mine,” she whispered, causing his arms to tighten to the point of restricting her breathing.
Finnean slowly, gently, regretfully, released her. “The King is not known for his patience, wee Princess. He’ll tan both our hides if we stay much longer.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “Your father wasn’t teasing when he warned you away from me. I have been by his side since I was a child. He knows me. He’ll not easily accept what it is we now share. He will think I’m playing about with his only daughter’s rare heart.”
“Are you, Lord Finnean? Playing about with his only daughter’s heart?” She smiled sweetly.
He chuckled. “I fear your wrath more than his, wee lass. I saw how you dealt with good Gráda. That could’ve been no easy thing. Gráda has slain countless men, with his blade and his bare hands alike. I wouldn’t relish the thought of standing against the man. Yet you… you casually strolled up to him as would a lover, and claimed his life with but a breath. I may be quick to fight, my love, yet I am no fool. I do not jest with you, now or ever. I claimed you, Gealach. That in itself should be proof enough of my heart.”
“Very well, brave knight.” She giggled as she turned. “I must finish the delectable task I started before dawn. Eògan told me Father bade Luag fetch a switch. I’ll not have stripes upon my legs for the sake of tea, no matter how delicious it may be.”
“I will gladly take your lashes, Milady. For that kiss alone, I would bear a thousand.” He yanked one of her curls as he tossed more rose petals into the basket. She giggled.
The new lovers laughed and talked on their way back to the modest home holding her waiting new family. Finnean fetched the water and heated the stove, while Jenevier ground the delicate petals and other seasonings together in the old stone mortar. The keen whistling pot brought them all to the table. She watched their faces as they relished in the intoxicating aroma and sweet taste of her favorite drink.
But… Why is this my favorite drink? How did I even know how to make it? And, why do I crave it so badly?
“What did you do to my white warrior, Milady?” Brodder leaned over and whispered in her ear, jerking her wondering mind back to the present.
She chuckled softly from the sensation of his warm breath tickling her snowy cheek. “What are you teasing about, Father?”
“Don’t play with me, Princess,” he said. “I watched as you neared our home, hand i
n hand, whispering to one another, wearing twin smiles that sparkled all the way up to your eyes.” He kissed the side of her head, holding her there for a couple more heartbeats before continuing. “I have known him since he was but a lad. Something has changed within my snow-crowned general. Something’s different.” He cut his eyes toward the man in question. “The set of his shoulders, the creases upon his brow, the way in which he carries himself, even his gait has changed. He seems… lighter… younger, mayhap.” Brodder looked back to his tiny heir and only child. “So I ask you again, sweet daughter. What spell did you cast upon my trusted Hand?”
Jenevier turned to look her adoring father in the eye. “Finnean is your Hand?”
Brodder nodded. “Aye, Lass. That he is. As I said, a more loyal heart has yet to be born. Now, answer me true. Tell me what rare magic was born this dawn, Milady.”
“I did not bespell him, Your Grace. I know not how to cast or divine.” She focused on her twiddling fingers, trying to hide her widening smile. “Besides, Father, no breathing creature possesses as great a magic as what the heart can produce. There’s no enchantment stronger than is love.”
She felt him stiffen beside her, and then ever so slowly relax once more.
“Did I not warn you of his type of love?” Brodder asked. “I told you he plays with women. He is a faithful warrior and a trusted brother, yes. But I know the lad. And, well… you’re my daughter.”
“You did warn me, Father, yes. And I tried to heed your words, truly I did. But neither of us could deny this feeling. We were powerless against its infinite pull.” She slowly exhaled, a twisting nausea growing in the pit of her stomach. “Finnean knew how you would feel about this, about us. He told me, if you asked this thing, if you questioned his heart concerning me, I am to tell you this… He claimed me.”
The King furrowed his brow, making her turn to face him proper. “He said that, did he? Think hard, Gealach. Were those his exact words?”