Gossamyr

by Michelle Hauf

  "I would have screamed."

  "Of course, Shinn could not deny you a thing, my spoiled faery princess—and I mean that in the kindest manner. So, to remove his one sore spot Shinn had no choice but to send away your lover."

  "My father claims not to believe in romantic love. But I do."

  "Is love such a unique concept to one from Faery? Do not the fee love? Or do they simply mate and exist?"

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  "I have told you they seek their life mate, and live together ever after. I feel sure love is mortal. How can it not be? But it is different for royalty and the upper caste—our mates are often chosen for us. And yet..." She thought of her father's choice. "Shinn chose Veridienne to wed."

  "So he must know romantic love. To sacrifice for the love of a mortal? Was he not looked upon sorely for such a choice?"

  "I had never noticed such when I was younger. It would not be wise to question the lord of Glamoursiege's actions."

  Ulrich's fingers stopped, his palms resting upon her shoulder. "And yet your father is alone now?"

  "Indeed."

  "Perhaps a punishment for his loving a mortal woman?"

  "I.. .had never thought of it that way." Had her father sacrificed for his love? He'd never implied that Veridienne's leave had been required, or forced. No more so than the resistance of the mortal passion made it a forced leave.

  That this mortal man could conjure her to question her beliefs startled more than a little. So much he did claim to know of love. And to have it stolen from him.

  Ulrich's touch called to her in a manner that did not trouble so much as intrigue. The light steps of his fingers working the braid down her back made her pause, counting each twist. Faster than her heartbeats; he had mastered the skill most impressively. Best not to pay attention to such a call.

  "Think you there is a stable close by that will sell me a fine mount?"

  "Just around the corner. Your faery coin still shiny?"

  "It is."

  "That's bone. And I am finished. Pluck that leather cord from the saddlebag and I'll secure it to keep you from spilling these luscious tresses."

  Gossamyr smiled. The man should watch his words and the breathy tone with which he pronounced them. On the other hand,

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  his comfort and lack of discretion around her made him real. No falseness to this man.

  She twisted to draw out the leather cord, but Ulrich laid a hand over hers and settled onto the bench beside her. He still held her braid, and laid that hand upon her shoulder. "I don't know that this will matter at all to you." He clasped his fingers about hers and pressed it over his chest. Soft brows straightened and he bowed his head so close to hers, he might nudge her with his nose if he moved too quickly. "You have become the world to me, Gossamyr. You have been my companion for mere days, you have stood boldly and faced danger, and you seek a noble goal without veering from your path. For as confusing as you faeries make love to be, I love the woman that you are. It is a mortal love, mayhap more companion-like than romantic. As it should be."

  "Ulrich."

  "But.. .it could become romantic, should you allow." He kissed the back of her hand and with a sigh, stood and began to gather his things into the saddlebag. "Hungry?"

  "Yes." Tracing a finger around the warm portion on the back of her hand where he had kissed her, she kept her silence. There was nothing to say. Her Faery heart protested his easy mortal confession.

  But her mortal blood verily ached for the passion that had led her to journey to the Otherside.

  After finishing a trencher of morning sops offered by the old man with wisdom spotting his face, Gossamyr pushed the empty wood bowl to the center of the table and, clasping her hands, bowed and rested her forehead there. She drew in a deep breath. Wine and burnt bread. Her mind aswim, she could not think to hold conversation with Monsieur Armand, for thoughts of her confession to Ulrich still haunted.

  Never before had it occurred to her that Shinn might have sac-

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  rificed Veridienne for the crime of loving a mortal. Not a real crime, a punishable offense. But certainly those who did take a mortal mate were shunned. Unless, the fee was a great lord, wise and noble, who commanded respect no matter his liaisons. Shinn had loved. Deeply.

  Of course the fee knew love! Gossamyr had loved. She had been loved. She was still loved.

  It could become romantic, should you allow.

  So the man did favor her? And why had she not immediately set him to right last night? Tell him there was not an inkling of interest in him on her part.

  Could she Be here in the Otherside? If you Believe you will Belong. Surrounded by this air! Falling into the nuzzling warmth of the hearth fire. Holding hands with a mortal man...

  No time! The Red Lady lurks and gains more power with each moment that she won from Time.

  Peering at the top of her hand, Gossamyr traced the area where Ulrich had kissed her. Mortal touched. So fine. The voice that had initially bothered her now whispered inside her thoughts, deep and gentling—ever present. The weight of her braid, trailing down the center of her back, reminded of his careful attention. She would keep it so.

  "You wish more, my lady?"

  The old man held out a splayed hand. He sat at the end of the table. Ulrich was not to be seen yet this day. Bone. For she wasn't certain what reaction she would make to seeing his pale blue eyes, offering promises of romance.

  "I've had enough, thank you, Monsieur Armand."

  "Ulrich tells me you are in dire need of proper attire." He gestured to a chest near the hearth, where a soft yellow gown had been lain across the curved lid.

  "Oh, but I couldn't," Gossamyr said, even as she stepped over for a look.

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  The fabric slid smoothly under her brushing fingers. Some sort of silk, though it did not possess the iridescence of arachnagoss. The neckline and bell sleeves were trimmed in a thin swath of brown fur. She could not guess at the animal, but sleek gold highlights glinted as she petted the softness.

  "It is old," Armand offered. "My wife's. She passed decades ago."

  "It is gorgeous. But—" Far from practical for the fight that yet waited her.

  "Please, you must wear it for an old man's memory. I thought to sell it at the Monday market, but those greedy hawkers would never pay the coin it is worth. Ulrich tells me you would wear it well." He stroked the soft white hair of his beard. "I will take it as an affront if you do not accept."

  Already holding the gown before her and checking its fit—the shoulders looked to span exactly to match hers—Gossamyr stepped over to Armand, gown held to her chest, and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. "I accept. On one condition."

  "Anything."

  "I require braies, as well."

  Armand chuckled. "Yes, Ulrich did mention your penchant to fight. He placed braies aside for you, but I'm afraid you'll still require the gown."

  She thought of the saddlebag, where her purse yet rested. To give this man her mutable faery coin would be worse than his receiving an unfair price at market.

  "Help him," Armand said.

  "What?"

  "My nephew. Help him to move on, is all I ask in repayment."

  "To move on.. .where?"

  "You know he has suffered. And now he seeks. You can help him find that solace."

  7 hope you discover the solace to the ache that has been jour nemesis.

  It could become romantic, should you allow.

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  "I.. .will. Thank you, Monsieur Armand, I will dress right now." She stepped inside the cove of the doorway and within a leap of the man, tugged the brown wool from her body.

  "My nephew tells me you quest?"

  Dress spilling over her arms, Gossamyr nodded eagerly in response. "Yes. I seek..." Vengeance, valor, truth. "Truth?" The word had sprung from her mouth, unthought. Since when had she claimed truth over valor?

  "Loo
ks like it has already found you."

  She returned to the table, preening over the soft fur at her wrists. "I don't understand."

  "Sometimes the truth can be in your hands, yet you see only the dust from the road. Your past."

  "You see nothing, old man." Then she blanched. Of course he could see nothing.

  "I see Faery, splendid and bright."

  "Truly?" Had Ulrich told him her origins?

  Armand smiled. "I have been there. The last thing I looked upon before the Faery prince took away my sight was the emerald water flowing down a falls amidst a rocky outcrop glittering like diamonds."

  The falls at midcenter of the Spiral forest. Many times she had swum in the waters, always fearful the rush of current would tug her under, but loving that fear for the adventure it proved. Of course, there were surely other falls throughout Faery.

  "Why were you punished so? Did you enter Faery of your free will or fall into it?"

  With a throaty chuckle, he explained,"I plotted and planned for decades, since I was a young boy. Finally I caught me a faery and bade him bring me to his home." He clasped his arms and brought them to embrace across his chest. Reverent in his memories. "He did. I lived there for what seemed like years. I would learn later, here in this mortal land but a day had passed. He indulged me in

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  sweets and kept me as his pet. Then as recompense for his showing me the delights of Faery he took my sight and banished me."

  That word—banished—how it etched at her heart. Like red pricks tojlesh.

  "I remember his name.. .Shinn."

  Clutching the gown between tight fingers, Gossamyr looked to the floor.

  "The Faery prince showed me the dark side of Faery. 'Tis a far cruder place than Paris will ever be. I fear not the Armagnacs nor the English." The old man laid a finger aside his nose, sniffing. "But should I smell a faery I will turn and race far away, blindness be damned."

  If he could smell a fee... Had Disenchantment taken the scent of Faery from her?

  Troubled he was not struck by her presence, Gossamyr put it off for a more immediate worry. She knew Shinn was generous with his favors and ruthless in his repayments. That Armand had tricked him required return punishment. And that Shinn had granted Monsieur LaLoux the pleasures of Faery before stealing his sight was his manner—his very right as a Faery lord.

  "My nephew tells me you are the child of a mortal and a faery."

  Gossamyr traced her neck; the blazon was no longer there, having been washed away in the stream by the windmill. So far from home. Lost... "Yes."

  "But you are more mortal than faery?"

  "You.. .do not scent me?"

  Armand tilted his head, appeared to be sniffing the air, then shrugged. "It has been a time since I have been so close to one from beyond. Wicked place, that."

  "There is a balance between right and wrong. Good and Evil. You cannot have one without the other, old man. Faery is no more wicked than this mortal realm is pristine."

  "Indeed."

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  She strode to the door, but clutched the frame, unwilling to dismiss him as would Shinn. "I am sorry for the loss of your sight. Where is Ulrich? We should be off."

  "He is in a dark mood. He sits up the ladder dwelling on the past." As she passed by, Armand grasped her wrist. His fingers were cool and veiny, loose with age. "Listen to Ulrich, and do not judge. Do not be blind to what he can offer you, child of the faeries."

  SEVENTEEN

  Skirts tugged to her knees, Gossamyr ascended the narrow ladder to the attic room mired with a dull light from the waxed window set into the gabled peak of the roof. She paused on the top rung and knelt on the floor, sure Ulrich remained unmindful of her presence. A fine sheen of dust coated the warped wood-slat flooring. It smelled like the musty underside of a toadstool. Simple this home, crafted of wood and bare of luxury, far from the cold elegance of marble. But she felt comfortable here.

  Or was it the entire atmosphere that embraced with welcoming lightness?

  Ulrich's footsteps made marks across the floor. Peeking around the corner, she spied him in shadow for the sunlight blurred dimension, but his hosen called out in bold defiance—yellow and black now; the left leg yellow, the other black—for he'd found replacements for the pair the werefrog had destroyed. He caught his forehead in his hands and let out a keening moan.

  Gossamyr stiffened. Oh, these mortals and their delicate emotions!

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  "Gossamyr?" He snapped a yellow knee up to his chest. "I should have known. Only you could sneak up that creaky ladder without a sound. That gown!"

  "Your uncle gave it to me. But see." He nodded as she revealed the braies—but she noted his lack of enthusiasm for her secret fortune. "Do you wish to be alone?"

  His sigh settled heavily in her heart.

  "I was thinking of her."

  She tiptoed across the floor and crouched beside him.

  Shrugging his fingers through his hair, a restless motion, Ulrich smirked. "I owe Rhiana twenty years."

  "You missed those years, but yet.. .she did not."

  "Logically, I should accept that truth. But logic has served me no boon of late. Hades, I should have remained in St. Renan and.. .1 don't know.. .slayed the bloody dragon! I might have saved her, Gossamyr! Don't you understand?"

  "Dragon slaying be a miserable task." Rarely did the beasts come to Faery. And should they, they were revered and welcomed.

  Ulrich gasped, clutching at nothing before him, but his shoulders sank as if a giant stood upon them. "Do you have no feelings? No emotions? Don't you know what it is like to feel guilt? Remorse?"

  "Unnecessary feelings." Feelings she had known, surely, but would not succumb to their crippling force. She turned and tried to focus out the waxed window but it only allowed in the light, not a clear view.

  Behind her, Ulrich rose and beat a fist into his opposite palm. Within a heartbeat he'd gone from agony to a strange anger.

  "A man's greatest fear is loss of his family. For without people to love you, what can a man be?"

  The time has come to releaseyoujrom ajather's protective obsession.

  "To have family ripped from one's grasp, it is.. .devastating."

  "Yet still you live." She spoke the statement, but thoughts of her

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  father's devastation filled her vision. Still he lived.. .but for how long? Why did he rush her to marriage?

  "What?"

  "Your greatest fear has come to fruition, yet you remain standing. The fear did not defeat you, so it cannot be a true fear."

  A frustrated clench of fingers shuddered near Ulrich's cheek. "How to make you understand? I have been changed, and I don't like the change, for it finds me standing alone, without hope."

  "You've hopes of finding the unicorn. Your family may yet be returned to you."

  "Never again the same, Faery Not. Never again."

  Likely not, for a man's wish could not reverse time and place his wife at his side and his infant daughter in his arms. For would not the entire universe have to move widdershins, as well? A monumental event. Surely even a unicorn's Enchantment could not make it so.

  Ulrich's only hope was to save his daughter from death. Twenty years must remain a sacrifice for what? A reunion with a child who might never recall her absent father's face?

  "What do you fear, Gossamyr?"

  "Hmm? Me, fear? Oh. Well.. .1... Nothing." Toying a fingertip in the soft fur circling her wrist, she attempted to dredge to light an answer. Despite his disbelief in her capacity to feel, Ulrich's fear was understandable. Loss of family? Not ever seeing her father again? Her heartbeats increased even to consider such. "Mayhap... losing a limb?"

  "That is a ridiculous fear."

  "Not so! A champion cannot—" That she claimed that title with such ease. Who be she but a lost bit of fee dust? Lost. Without Jamily.

  The prinkle returned to her spine. Ever ther
e, that unease and uncertainty.

  "You throw up physical walls of protection against your true emotions, Gossamyr."

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  He stepped beside her. Now she could verily feel the blood of him rushing through his veins, furious and bright. A match to her own inner turmoil. Fear?

  "I think you fear feeling."

  "Nonsense." How had he come to know her very depths in so little time? "I can feel."

  "No."

  "Yes!"

  "She is dead, and I am not," Ulrich hissed. "And.. .it hurts. I made promises to Rhiana. That I would care for her, see to her education and upbringing. Now she is gone from me, I can never have her back. And I cannot imagine what it must have been like for her, to wake one morning to find the one man who should have been there for her gone. Do you know what it is like to love? To have loved and lost? Do you?"

  "I have loved!"

  "Oh? Ah, yes, your parents. The mortal mother who abandons her own for her pleasures, and a Faery lord who blinds an innocent man for his trickery!"

  "How dare you!"

  "Who would have thought I would meet up with the very child of the faery who destroyed my uncle's life."

  "It was mischief that destroyed your uncle Armand's life!"

  "That is his penance not mine. But do you see? Just as me, you fear loss of family. And look: Now they are lost to you."

  He approached, stepping too close for her comfort. The angle of the roof prevented her from moving back. The length of her skirt was too long; her heel stepped onto the hem, jarring her to the side. "How does it feel, Gossamyr?"

  She did not like his tone. She did not want this conversation. Not this thread of misery to be stretched out before her and plucked like a lute string. He thought to know her fears? Yes, and what are they?

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  Believe and you Belong.

  Where did she belong now?

  "Step back," she warned.

  "No." He shoved her shoulder. "Does it hurt? Can you feel it? Right here." He laid a palm over her chest, between her breasts. "Here is where it all coils up and simmers, yes? Tell me you have emotions, Gossamyr. Tell me you are not some freak faery who masks her feelings and blinds men to satisfy their lust for mischief. Do you want to push me away?"