Roses & Thorns

by Chris Anne Wolfe

She felt Drew's breath warm on her cheek and then the breath caught in her throat as Drew's mouth captured her own. Faery tunes seemed to whirl about them as the kiss deepened. A starry dust of silver and gold sparkles encircled them. Angelique felt herself lifted and laid flat upon the downy quilt. Drew seemed to be everywhere at once, above her, encircling her. She groaned as Drew broke off the kiss reluctantly, and arched into Drew's willing hands which sought the laces of her vest —

  Angelique woke with a gasp.

  She blinked, disconcerted. Then the quiet click of a latch drew her attention, and she glimpsed the retreating figure as her bedroom door was softly pulled shut. Angelique took a deep breath. Her heart gradually ceased pounding as the last images of the dream began to fade. She was alone in her bed, the fire still blazed in the hearth. It must have been a dream. It must have.

  She could no longer fight the call for rest. Unable to resist, she fell back into sleep and into her dreams.

  Chapter 10

  One of the combs slipped again, and with a resigned grimace Angelique pulled it free. The tumbling mass of hair spilled forward over her bare shoulder. She frowned at the golden hairpiece, trying to discern what was wrong with its design. Everything seemed right. Without much hope that it would stay long, she lifted her hair from her face and slid the comb back into place for the third time.

  "My Lady."

  Angelique smiled at Drew's deep bow, and, hands still busy with her hair, she dipped a small curtsy. Her eyes grew bright with teasing mischief. "Such formality, my Liege?"

  Sweet laughter was the reply and Angelique's heart skipped a beat.

  "I see you are feeling better."

  "Yes, thank you."

  "But somewhat light-headed?"

  "Just a bit."

  "The effects of the faery wine tend to linger. Doubtless you will dream of their music again tonight."

  Angelique blushed. "It was beautiful music."

  "Yes." There was a hesitant pause before Drew added, "but the memory of that beauty pales next to your own. If I may be so bold, my Lady — you are breathtaking tonight."

  "Thank you," Angelique murmured, smoothing the satin and velvet skirts. The deep midnight blue sparkled with bits of gold thread. It had reminded her of the starry, moonless sky of this magickal world. She had chosen the dress especially in hopes of gaining just such a compliment.

  Drew moved closer and a gloved hand lifted, almost daring to touch her cheek. But Drew hesitated and began to move away, but Angelique caught the hand with both of her own. Drew became still. For a moment, neither moved. Angelique turned Drew's hand over, opening the curled fingers. "Last night you wore no gloves."

  "There are no disguises in the faeries' land," came the quiet reply.

  "I remember nothing but your hands."

  The cloaked figure nodded.

  "They are very beautiful. And," she paused, looking into the shadow of Drew's hidden countenance before adding, "gentle.

  “Must you hide them?"

  Drew hesitated, then answered in a strained voice, "The gloves are as much for my sake as for yours, Angelique."

  "Do not hide your hands from me for either of our sakes, Drew."

  There was no reply. Then, "As you wish."

  Magickally, the black leather dissolved, and the warm silken skin of Drew's hands made her gasp. She brushed her cheek against the softness and felt the tremor she caused both of them. Her eyes were tender with concern, and earnestly she pressed, "I am not like the others, Drew."

  "I know." Drew gripped Angelique's hand more firmly with one. "Last night, when I found you had wandered into the faeries' mist, I feared I would be too late." Whispering words, Drew pulled something from the air. "Will you wear this for me?" Drew displayed a locket.

  "Of course."

  It was a thin piece, made of gold; the scrollwork, exquisite. Drew slipped behind Angelique to fasten it about her neck. The chain felt delicate, but it held tenaciously, and Angelique realized it was made by magick.

  "It is a talisman for your safety. If ever you are out of the palace and have need, use this to summon me." Angelique pried the small catch open. Printed inside in a delicate script were magick words that Angelique did not know. "Hold it and call for me. I will know where to come."

  "Will it summon you even through the faeries' mists?"

  "Through fey dreams or mountain storms, it will reach me."

  Angelique nodded, shivering faintly at the memory of the faery world she had wandered into. "Tell me," she said, "is it true I almost died that night?"

  Drew nodded solemnly.

  "But how? Culdun told me his folk often dance with the faery folk and yet they do not seem affected. I thought they chose to pass into the faery lands after death."

  "It's not quite that simple, Angelique. The faery lands are part of death's netherworld. The Old Ones have never been as limited to either this world or that other as much as mortals are. They have always been welcome in both places. When they came here after many years of exile, they found the faeries' mist sought them out again. The mists ring their village now, hiding and protecting it from poachers and wolves alike. For them, it is like a castle's wall. As Culdun says, they walk among the faery folk freely, coming and going until—"

  "One day the wine is too sweet and the dance too merry."

  "Yes. Then they merely stay. But you are mortal, Angelique. Any mortal who passes through the misty boundary has very little time before the faery world claims her forever. Most do not even understand where they are soon enough to leave."

  "I think I understand," Angelique said. "With the wine and the music, it seemed there was no need to hurry."

  "And I could not let you go so soon, my Lady."

  There was something in that voice which made Angelique reach out and grasp Drew's hands again earnestly. "I did not want to die, Drew. I simply did not understand that I was not to remain there. Until you arrived."

  Drew, releasing Angelique's hands, cupped her face tenderly. Angelique held her breath as Drew came near, so close that Angelique could almost feel the sweet caress of Drew's warm breath on her face.

  The dinner chimes rippled lightly.

  Drew started and jerked back to awareness. Angelique felt Drew's hand fall away from her face and the tenderness was replaced with the familiar tension and awkwardness. "Forgive my boldness. Dinner awaits."

  Angelique, nodding to hide the disappointment evident on her face, accepted the other's arm silently. She reminded herself to move slowly. They had time.

  Chapter 11

  The sun sank toward the horizon, sending out long fingers of golden light that seemed to play tag with the wind, which danced in lazy dips and swirls through the high meadow grasses. The clouds, white and fluffy, sailed across a perfect spring sky. Angelique sighed, stretching an arm leisurely above her head as the fat old mare snorted and snuffled through another patch of clover.

  She lay on the broad, bare back of her mare, one foot dangling on either side. Her skirts were comfortably ruffled up and not only were her petticoats showing, but her knees as well. Angelique didn't care. She had dispensed with vest and shoes altogether some time ago. Her hair was a tangled mess since she'd lost one comb and magicked the other into mischievous oblivion. And if anyone had asked, she would have gladly said she'd do it again.

  It was the type of day meant for nothing but daydreams. And Angelique, for perhaps the first time in her entire life, had done just that.

  At her breast, she clutched a bouquet of wild flowers. A little magick had persuaded them to forego wilting for a while longer, and they were the sum total of her day's labors. After three months of learning spells and industriously busying herself with embroidery patterns, history books and riding lessons, Angelique had finally done exactly what Culdun had been urging her to do for some time — nothing. And he'd even packed her a picnic lunch.

  As she lazed in the quiet sunshine, she drew the wild flowers close again, relishing their delicate sweetne
ss. And as the scent filled her, she remembered sweetness of another kind. She shivered, recalling how, the evening before, Drew's fingers had pushed through Angelique's thick hair and lingered, if only for a moment, before slipping a comb back into place.

  Then those hands had fallen to her shoulders. Drew's slender fingers had hesitated, before slowly dipping downward to find the fragile line of collarbone and hollow at the base of her throat. She'd closed her eyes as Drew's hands moved across her heart, leaving delicate lines of fire in their wake and a lingering memory that she would turn over again and again in her mind as she had done with all the others. Rut then the moment was over and Drew stepped away. There were, however, a growing number of these moments, and it was Angelique's intent to encourage a great many more.

  She had taken the initiative subtly, but persistently, since her rescue from the faeries' mist. And when she'd discovered that Drew had difficulty denying her small things, she vowed to use that fact to slowly work her way into Drew's very being until they were completely entwined. Angelique knew the power her own touch evoked, and the power Drew's touch awakened in her. It was a power she was unashamedly using now to wear down Drew's stubborn resistance to mere frustration. She coerced picnics, midnight races, long parlor talks, help with her hair, help in dismounting.

  Angelique was, in her heart, determined to know the truth. Perhaps that sweet protector of hers was indeed a misshapen anomaly of Nature, but she did not, for a single moment, consider it possible that Drew was truly some perverted abomination. She was more than willing to accept the bonds of marriage and all they entailed. But since the night Drew had recounted the banishment by father and stepmother, and since Drew flatly refused to discuss the actual possibility of a marriage, Angelique realized Drew would never reveal that last truth. Why had Drew's love for the stepsister been so forbidden? Drew had never actually considered their own marriage a true possibility. And so Angelique had taken on the responsibility of that final step. If Drew would not tell her willingly, then Angelique would tempt and tease and tantalize until she could demand.

  Angelique assumed that, if Drew knew of her plan, Drew would think it brought on by pity. If Culdun knew, he would think it stubbornness and applaud her persistence. Her mother... Angelique suspected her mother would understand this driving desire. Her mother knew what it was like to play with fire; she would only remind her daughter to be certain she knew the costs of being burned.

  Angelique sat up abruptly and the old mare snorted in protest. Determination was etched into her young face. Angelique could only begin to imagine what Drew's cost in pain and despair had been. She was not about to let Drew's opportunity fade with the twilight's mists.

  As the bluish haze of the twilight rose, Angelique turned the mare toward home. The stars would be out soon enough and then it would be time for dinner and another evening of Drew's company would begin. She glanced down at the flowers in her hand with delight. She planned to arrange them for the dining table. The magicked ones always seemed too formal and she wanted something less auspicious and a bit more charming tonight.

  A beautiful patch of heather beside the trail caught her eye, and Angelique reined in her mare gently. The slender stalks tempted her and she slipped to the ground with eager anticipation. The tiny, dry blossoms rustled beneath her touch as she sought the special stalk or two. Wandering down the hill, she laughed at her foolish quest. It had been her annoyance at the magicked floral perfection that had sent her out gathering the wildflowers in the first place. To be so intent on finding such perfection again seemed rather contradictory.

  A sharp snap split the stillness and she fell with a cry. A sudden pain lanced through her ankle and she gripped her leg to keep from jerking her foot in the snare. The gut string was thick enough to hold, thin enough to bite the skin. Angelique remembered the rabbits her brothers had snared for dinners and the graphic pictures of their bloodied limbs. She bit her lip and inched closer to the trap, giving the line as much slack as she could.

  The mare whinnied from the top of the rise, pawing at the trail in worry. Too late Angelique remembered the warnings from both Culdun and Drew. This close to the valley's borders, she should not have risked going barefoot or straying from the path.

  Again her mare neighed and pawed anxiously. Even the stable horses had been better trained to stay to those trails than she. Angelique swallowed hard, fearful that the fretting mare would work herself into leaving the safety of the hilltop path. What she should do, Angelique realized, was send the animal back as a signal for help.

  She glanced around, attempting to ignore the throbbing in her foot while she gathered up a handful of pebbles. She flung one at the white mare as the animal prepared to lunge downhill. The mare stopped dead in her tracks as the stone flicked her hide. "Home!" Angelique screamed, flinging another pebble and then another. "Get yourself out of here!" Mane tossing in protest, the beast rounded and took off in a canter.

  With a heartfelt sigh, Angelique slumped forward and discarded the last of her small cache of stones. The squeezing pain sliced through her ankle. She winced, grimacing as she clenched her teeth. This was worse than Aloysius' strap.

  She forced herself to relax and examined the contraption more carefully. The stake was driven into the ground too deeply for her fingers to reach the knotted ends, and her inexperienced fumblings only seemed to tighten the noose.

  Undoubtedly there was a spell to undo the whole lot quickly enough, but this far from the palace, the "I wish" tricks would not work. She knew she was still a long way from being a competent sorceress and this was beyond her.

  Common sense told her she needed to do something to keep the cord from inadvertently tightening, and then she needed to sit quietly. Glancing about, she began tearing up the stringy roots from the heather plants behind her. When the fibers were separated, she patiently began to work them in between the snare and her ankle. She concentrated, mentally blocking out the pain just as she once had blocked out Aloysius' stinging blows. The fibers edged in slowly. She was careful to always place the next on the opposite side, attempting to offset the tension and redistribute it equally. She quit when the slicing feeling ebbed into a tight throbbing, and then she felt another stab of pain, one she recognized instantly as fear.

  Above the horizon, hanging low in the dimming twilight, was the white glow of a full moon.

  Angelique glanced about uneasily, curbing her panic with the reminder that the hunters never came deep into the valley until well after dark.

  The sun glowed distantly, lost now behind the mountains of the horizon. But Angelique could not appreciate the sunset's beauty this night. She raised her hand to her chest, as if doing so would slow her pounding heart. Her fingers brushed across something warm and round. The talisman! Drew's words came back to her like an embrace, "Through fey dreams or mountain storms, it will reach me."

  Angelique pressed the locket between trembling fingers and whispered, "Drew, please. Hear me."

  Head bowed, pressed wearily to an upraised knee, Angelique waited. Her hands were folded about the small locket. Twilight had faded to a thick grayness, but the darkness had not quite descended, telling Angelique that she had not been there as long as it seemed. It seemed like an eternity had passed and, given the odd tick and sway of time in this valley, she supposed it may have been forever at that.

  Splitting the quiet evening air, a stallion shrieked.

  Angelique started. A white steed leapt from a portal that appeared out of nowhere and onto the rest of the hill. She blinked. Was she hallucinating? No, there was Drew, dismounting even before the animal's legs had brought it fully to a halt. A torch flared as the cloaked figure paused to survey the downward sweep of the hill.

  "It's a snare!" Angelique called, surprised to find her voice so hoarse. "I don't know if there are others."

  If Drew heard her caution, there was no sign of it. Drew crossed the distance between them in few swift strides. Sinking down at Angelique's side, Drew said, "Yo
ur foot? Has the cord cut you?" The torch stake drove into the ground, casting light in a defiant circle.

  "I don't think so." Angelique watched as Drew's hands covered her cold foot and the bruised ring on her ankle. She swallowed thickly and managed, "I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention."

  A warm hand pressed her cheek for an instant, and a gentle, teasing voice said, "I guess it's too late now to remind you about boots and snares and such."

  Angelique gave Drew a half-smile.

  "You did well."

  Angelique blinked. There was genuine respect in the other's tone.

  "These roots may have saved you from a crippling." Drew pulled out a knife and began to dig up the trap stake. "You also did well not to try your magick."

  At that Angelique blushed, admitting, "I didn't know anything to try. I haven't yet gotten to sewing knots, let alone these sorts."

  "No," Drew corrected, "anything would have been disastrous. After three generations of hunting in our bewitched woods, these poachers have gotten quite clever. They usually have a local witch bespell their pieces against my magick. Any spell you tried would only have tightened the cord."

  Angelique gasped in pain as Drew tugged the snare free, sliced the gut string and cast the stake aside. The sting worsened as the cord was unwound from its nested niche in her skin. "I know it hurts. Try to relax now. It will be better in a few minutes," her companion murmured, thumbs stroking the swollen ankle. The pain receded. The soothing magick balm lessened the chill in her skin. Feeling began to flow back into her toes and Angelique sighed, closing her eyes to savor the relief. The throbbing became a dull ache, then finally a vague stiffness.

  "Lie back."

  She did so, settling on her elbows and stretching her leg out obediently. The tender touch loosened the tautness of ankle and calf, easing the last of the cramps away. As Drew's fingers kneaded, her skin warmed and Angelique tipped her head back with a luxurious moan as the touch ascended to the sensitive place behind her knee.