The crowd stilled when they saw Bianca, lying limp in Robin’s arms. One man dropped to his knees, then another, until one by one they all knelt in homage to their dying queen.
Vivienne turned and curtsied to her cousin, then stepped forward and raised her hands, drawing everyone’s eyes.
“You have won your freedom from this tyrannous king. You have earned it, through your own courage and conviction. Now, if you would honor your queen and the sacrifice she has made,” Vivi’s words ended on a choked sob, and she stopped to take a deep breath. When she went on, her voice was softer. “Go home. Go back to your lives. Return to your families. And live each day in peace and prosperity, knowing that this was all Bianca ever wanted, for each of you.”
Robin looked out over the crowd, and saw his grief mirrored in a thousand faces. It was more than he could bear. He turned, clutching Bianca against his chest, and descended from the platform. Behind him he heard the crowd take up a wailing cry, and he hurried his steps. He could not be a part of this. He needed to go back to the tent. There was no solace, there, but at the very least there was solitude.
Except for Connelly. He looked haggard and spent, but his eyes were like bottomless wells of compassion. He gazed at Robin’s face in silence for a moment, and what agonies he read there Robin could not say. After a time he spoke.
“‘Tis yer turn, lad.” Connelly stepped forward, and held out his arms, trying to take Bianca from Robin. “Ye canna hold her forever. Ye need ta make yer farewells.”
“I cannot let her go,” Robin whispered.
Vivienne came quietly into the tent behind him. “I know.” She spoke through tears. “But she will go, whether you allow it or not.” She stepped around him, and leaned down gently to brush a kiss across her cousin’s brow. “Whether I allow it or not.” Alone in the tent, away from the prying eyes of the crowd, Vivienne’s composure finally shattered. She pressed her own pink cheek against Bianca’s pale one, and helpless sobs racked her body.
“She’s right, lad.” Connelly looked at him across the two women, one lost in grief, the other still as the grave. “Ye have ta let her go.”
All of Robin’s being focused down to one, simple truth. It did not matter what he should do. Neither did the risks, nor the consequences, nor what the fates decreed.
He could not let this woman go.
“No.” His voice rang out like hammered iron.
Vivienne was startled out of her sobs. “What do you mean?”
“I will not let her go. She made the choice to dedicate her life to the kingdom, and I honored that. But I will not give her up to death.”
“Ye canna stop it.” Connelly’s voice held a warning.
“I can try.” Robin met the medic’s eyes, in angry challenge.
“‘Twill kill ye, boy.”
“Perhaps. But it is my choice to make.” Robin stepped back, pulling Bianca from her cousin’s embrace.
“What are you doing?” Vivienne asked through her tears. “Where are you taking her?”
“Away from here.” Robin felt the rightness of his choice in every fiber of his being. He held Bianca close against his chest, and found the rent in the world where Anders had escaped. Then he stepped through it, taking her with him, into the swirling mists.
They drifted alone, in tendrils of mist. Robin lay her gently on the ground and knelt beside her, so he could hold her hand and gaze down at her face. The golden armor seemed to be growing weaker, and the grey muck surged over it, as though it was aware that soon it would be able to rip her life away. Still, Robin took a few last moments to look at her beloved face. He did not know if he would see it again.
The wisps parted, and a woman walked to him with quiet steps.
“She is dying.” His grandmother’s voice held compassion, and pain.
“Not today.” Robin wouldn’t look at her.
“You must return her to the mortal world. Let the moments pass, let the protection falter, and let her go.”
“No.”
“You cannot keep her here, my dear. She will never wake, only sleep forever, suspended in time. You cannot want that.” His grandmother’s voice was softly persuasive. “Take her back.”
“No.”
She peered at him sharply. “Robin, you aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“Go away, Grandmother.”
Her eyes widened, as she realized his intent. “You cannot!” She hissed the words at him, for once in a panic. “It’s like to kill you, fool boy! And even if you succeed, you will have broken the Accords! Is her life worth it?”
“It is to me.” He gathered Bianca into his arms, and looked up at the Dame. “This is my choice, Grandmother.”
She stared down at him, fear and love standing plainly in her eyes. Then she leaned in and kissed his brow.
“Then do it well, my boy. And come safely through the other side.” Her voice echoed around him as she faded into the mist.
Robin looked down at the woman he held. Her head dangled over the edge of his arm, stretching her throat taut, and he could see the fluttering of her slow pulse. With one arm still supporting her, he raised the other, and cupped her face in his hand. Then he leaned down and touched his lips lightly to hers, sending a stream of energy through her mouth, breaking the golden barrier and letting the grey curse plunge with gleeful malice into her body.
Her heart faltered, and her back arched as the curse began to finish its work. Robin felt a surge of fear. Perhaps she was too far gone. Perhaps it would not work. He pushed the thoughts aside and focused instead on Bianca. Not her shell, which was so close to death, but the kernel of energy inside, the source of her compassion and strength and endless capacity to give. He reached out gently, trying to find that warm, gentle core, and felt the first trickle of energy seep into her.
What began as a trickle was soon a stream. Robin felt the life flowing from him and into Bianca, filling the well that had been all but depleted by the curse in the poisoned apple. The well spilled over, flooding out into every part of her being, running along the secret paths of bloods and humors, chasing the grey muck from where it clung to her life, sucking it dry. In the onslaught of such light and life, the curse had no foothold in Bianca, and it shattered to pieces. Even the remnants faded away, yet still Bianca absorbed the energy. Her body was cleansed, but it needed more than to be cleansed. It needed to be reborn.
The stream flowing from Robin became a torrent, and then a flood. His life was cascading out, creating a void as it went. He felt his heart beating in her chest, his blood running in her veins, his days and months and years offering themselves up to be hers.
His arms grew weak, and he lay her on the ground, leaning over her to maintain their connection, to keep the flow steady. He felt his pulse slow and his lungs labor to breathe, but beneath him Bianca’s body shone with a radiant light, replete with life force, humming with vitality. He was dying, and he knew it, but still he pushed energy into her quiescent form, willing her to open her eyes. To gasp. To come awake to the world.
Beneath his mouth he felt her lips soften, and mold against his own.
What had been mere contact became a kiss. Bianca’s hands rose and she framed his face, while her body rose up to press against his own. He no longer had the strength to support them, so he sank down against her, content to spend his final moments in her arms.
Then the energy began to flow back into him.
His eyes flew open, fearful of the effect it would have on her, but Bianca laughed up at him. He could see the dancing motes swirling around her, as they would around one of the Fae. She fed life into him freely, pulling it from herself, only to have it replaced when he gave it back. They floated together in a warm ocean of life, fed from the same fount, the same source.
***
Bianca drew Robin’s face back down. As their lips met, she could feel every part of him, as though it were an extension of her own self. The arms embracing, the hands caressing, the hearts racing
; they were like one. She felt strong and whole, full of the golden light that Robin had poured into her dying body. Waves of emotion crashed through her soul—love, and delight, and a joy so profound she had no name for it.
He pulled away from her. She could see the reflection of her feelings in his eyes, feel it pouring from him. She almost didn’t need to hear the words.
Almost.
And, of course, he knew. He held her tenderly, and gazed deep into her eyes.
“I love you, Bianca.”
She twined her arms around his neck, and returned his gaze. “As I love you.” She kissed him again, fiercely, hungrily, then drew back. “How can I repay you for this gift you have given me, Robin?”
He laughed. “I do not need thanks. I have realized that my soul can not survive without you. It is a small thing to share it. I only wish I had seen it sooner.” He cradled her close against him.
She snuggled even deeper into his arms. “Still, I will think of a way.”
He sighed. “If you really wish to repay me, Bianca, you might try not dying for a while. I find this habit of yours to be most distressing.”
Bianca began laughing, and Robin joined her. The sound of their mirth floated out among the shifting mists, entwined, as they were now, in all things.
Chapter 35
In the great crystal chamber of the Accords, Merriweather looked down on Leanan’s face. It looked the same now as it had so many hundred years ago, when she first lay willing down upon the bier, allowing her enchanted sleep to keep the peace among the Fae.
Behind her, there was a rustle of skirts, and then a voice spoke.
“Where are they?”
Merriweather turned. Carabosse had never been Leanan’s equal in beauty, but her voice was a glorious thing indeed. It could inspire your heart or flay the skin from your bones, depending on how the prideful Fae woman chose to use it. Even now, with such a simple question, it made the crystal chamber ring like a bell.
“They are awaiting our decision.”
The elder fairy descended the steps, down to Leanan’s bier. She, too, gazed on the lovely face. Then she reached out and gently stroked the hair back from the forehead of her most bitter enemy.
“I miss her.” The magnificent voice was rich with grief.
“As do we all.” It was as though an autumn breeze formed the words, blowing them through the chamber. Both of the Fae turned and bowed low before their queen. Mab’s power was such a wild thing, she kept her mouth closed, lest it slip between her lips and run free. All of nature spoke for her, instead. The wind turned colder, and took on the bite of winter to form the next phrase. “Would that I could set her free.”
“Would that she had not charted her course in folly.” Carabosse leaned down and kissed the still forehead, then straightened, smoothing the coverlet over the mound of Leanan’s pregnant belly. “But we are not here to discuss my sister. We are here to speak of Merriweather’s errant grandson, and his new-made bride.”
The three turned and paced away from the bier, seating themselves on the row of risers that stretched back into the dark, cavernous reaches of the crystal chamber.
Merriweather nodded at Carabosse. “What would you have?”
“Death, Exile, or Sleep. Those are the only true options.”
Merriweather regarded the more powerful Fae. It would have been so easy to hate her, but her voice throbbed with real sorrow as she spoke the words. Whatever her faults, Carabosse was not malevolent. She did as she did out of conviction, nothing more.
Of course, that made her all the more dangerous.
“That is too harsh,” Merriweather stated her own case. “After all, Robin would never have violated the Accords had one of your own not done so first.”
Carabosse practically vibrated with shock. “We have not!”
“You have.” Merriweather was firm. “Prince Anders swears that he wandered in a wood for a mere quarter of an hour, but for weeks his doppelganger courted Bianca and attempted to kill her. That cannot be explained by mortal means.”
“This was no doing of mine.” The anger in the other Fae’s voice flayed Merriweather’s ears. “I did not approve that.”
“It makes no matter. A member of your faction violated the accords, in an attempt to kill a mortal who bent the lights of fate around her. A member of mine violated the accords to save the same girl. I propose we call it even and all go home.”
Merriweather smiled to herself as both Carabosse and Mab stared at her. Her years among the humans had given her an odd sense of humor that the elder Fae never seemed to understand.
“It cannot be.” The stone they sat upon rumbled out. “There must be punishment for the infraction, to hold the balance.”
Merriweather sighed. She hadn’t expected her gambit to work. Carabosse merely nodded. Of course, given how she felt about rules, her pride would require her to find the Fae that had broken their side of the agreement and do something horrible to him.
“This then, is my decree.” The stone still rumbled, but the breeze joined in, and the fires along the walls flickered along. “You and your followers, Carabosse, broke the Accords to take a life. In return, I shall demand a life from you.” Carabosse gave a wary nod. “Merriweather, your grandson acted to save a life. I also demand a life from you.”
Merriweather held her breath. The queen wasn’t finished yet.
“The girl was mortal. For all her part in this, she has broken none of our laws. I give her to your care, Merriweather, to instruct in our ways. She must choose to give her blood to the chalice and agree to the Accords, or she must return to the mortal world.”
“I am sure she will agree, my queen.”
Mab nodded, while the room spoke her words. “Robin, however, broke our law, and his word, in the full knowledge of what he did. I am sorry, Merriweather, but I must remand him to Carabosse for justice.”
Merriweather hung her head in grief. She had feared this outcome, but known it was likely.
“Now—” Mab raised one hand, and mist poured in the door of the chamber. “Let us tell them their fate.”
The mist withdrew, and left Robin and Bianca standing in its wake. They clung to each other, and stared at the three before them.
Mab nodded at Merriweather. Apparently she was to be tasked with giving the verdict. She turned to Bianca first, putting off the painful moment she must tell Robin.
“Bianca, do you wish to return to the mortal world?” Bianca shook her head without speaking. “Then you are offered this alternative: give a drop of blood to the chalice, and agree to follow the Accords henceforth.”
A relieved smile crossed the girl’s face, and she stepped forward.
“Gladly.”
A prick of a pin, a few spoken words, and it was done.
“Come stand by me, child.” Merriweather beckoned her. “For the time being, I am responsible for your care.” Bianca obeyed, and, with a heavy heart, Merriweather turned to Robin.
“My boy,” she paused, collecting herself. “Our queen has judged that your life must be offered up to Carabosse, in payment of your violation.”
At her side, Bianca gasped in horror, and Merriweather had to grab the girl’s elbow to keep her from sinking to the floor. Robin nodded slowly. He had known this might happen. Carabosse stepped forward.
She looked at Robin. Then at Mab. She sighed, and the sound sent out waves of exhaustion along with it, a hint of the weight of the years and the grief carried by the old Fae.
“Robin Goodfellow, for your willful violation of the Accords, I judge that you owe your life.” She reached out, and placed her hand upon his face. A Fae of her power could pull the energy from Robin whether he willed it or no. Merriweather caught her breath, unable even to say goodbye. But Carabosse did nothing. Instead, she looked at Mab.
“My queen. I believe I owe you a life.”
Mab nodded, a pleased smile on her face.
“Will you accept this one, as payment of my debt?”
>
The breeze swirled around them. “I will.”
Merriweather laughed, as her tension broke. Then she took Bianca’s hand and placed it in Robin’s. “Well, your majesty, you might as well have the matched set. Will you accept this woman, given into my care, as payment for my life debt?”
Mab nodded again, and the whole chamber purred with delight.
“I will.”
Robin and Bianca looked at each other, bewildered, but relieved.
Mab walked to stand between them, and the mists began to gather them in. Carabosse and Merriweather stepped back, as their queen’s final thoughts flickered in the fires around them.
“Now, children. I have a task for you.”
Epilogue
Vivienne sat back in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. Fain came and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, massaging at some of the tension there, and Felix poured her a cup of tea. She took it with gratitude and stared at the table before her.
It was heaped with papers. One stack was nothing but pardons, officially releasing all the Toldans Brannon had imprisoned over tax payments or “resisting the authority of the crown.” Another stack was decrees, stripping away many of the new laws he had imposed on the country. Yet a third stack was letters of state from neighboring kingdoms. Some offered aid, others offered treaties, and a few held thinly veiled threats. Those were, oddly enough, some of the easiest to deal with. Bianca had left her nation a number of powerful supporters. Vivienne took a great deal of glee in writing the aggressive rulers and reminding them of that fact. It was one of the few things she enjoyed, these days.
Robin had disappeared with Bianca’s body, and Vivi was dreadfully afraid that he was dead as well. She had sent a letter to Merriweather, but had heard no response. In fact, the Fae community had been oddly quiet of late, just when she most needed their council.
Bianca’s death had created a logistical nightmare. Her followers had spent the night of her death camped on the plain before the city, and Vivi had brought the people of Inisle out to join them for a vast wake. They gathered around campfires and sang songs, and told tales, and mourned their queen. The next day the city folk slunk back to their homes with pounding heads, and the common folk of the land began slowly to disperse home. The farmers spoke together as they went: sometimes crying, remembering Bianca; sometimes laughing, as they pitied the poor nobles who would choose the new ruler.
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 25