Lucy at Last

by Mary E. Twomey

  “Of course you’re not tired. Did you want to change?”

  “’M fine. I can take care of myself.”

  “Clearly.” The Gar was hitting me in waves. I only hoped I would make it to the bed before I passed out. Jamie hadn’t had as much to drink as Foss, but enough to make me glad there was a bed nearby. “Okay, I’m going to sleep. Goodnight, darling husband.”

  He looked up at me through his haze. “You don’t want to be my husband.”

  I tilted my head at the odd duck he was. “I don’t want to be anyone’s husband.”

  “Jens. You want to be Jens’s husband.”

  I was losing track of what we were talking about. “I’m too tired for this conversation. Can you be cool? You’re not going to hurl in the bed, are you?”

  He took his shirt off and stood to remove his pants. The candlelight danced on the dark skin of his toned belly. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  I slipped into the bed, taking the far side next to the wall so he didn’t have to stumble over me and crush me when he inevitably lost his footing. Given how “fine” he was, I didn’t doubt that he’d be unconscious within minutes. I wasn’t too far behind. The bed was cozy when I compared it with the complicated root system in the Elvage forest I’d had to maneuver around to make myself an uneven nest in. I closed my eyes and wished for the next few days to fly by.

  There was weight next to me, and then warmth that slid in at my back, heating my body and endearing me to the fuzzy feelings both within me and without. Foss’s bare chest pressed up against my spine, his arm snaking around my waist and palming my stomach the way he did when he was picturing his child growing there. I shivered, and he kissed the back of my shoulder. I knew he was thinking about having a baby. It was inevitable, what with Britta’s sweet swollen belly around the house and everyone jabbing us both at our sham marriage. Foss was lost, but I always knew where to find him.

  I reached my hand behind me and tickled his scalp with my nails. “It’s alright. I know it’s not easy.”

  His fingers stroked my stomach, dragging from the dip in my hip up to the middle of my ribs and back down again. The motion was slow under my tank top, but hypnotically tantalizing. “I want to have a baby. I want a son.”

  “I know, sweetie. I know. And someday you will. Someday you’ll have everything you want with a woman who wants those things, too.”

  He caught my hand that was on his head by the wrist and pinned it to the pillow near the headboard. My breath caught in my throat as he continued playing my body like it was his fiddle, the added note of the restraint adding an edge of provocative danger I was not anticipating. “Can you give me what I want?” he whispered in my ear, making me squirm in his grip. I was covered in goose bumps, and my breath came out in shallow gasps that made my chest jump.

  “You know I can’t!” I whined, hating how much I loved him, and that it was never enough. “Foss, don’t do this. It’s so dangerous. Everything you’re thinking isn’t helping either of us!” When his hand dipped to my knee and dragged up my thigh, I ripped my hands out of his restraint. “You said you’d let me go! That you wouldn’t keep tearing me in two!” I shook my head and turned around to face him. “You’re making me hurt you, and that kills me! I love you, Foss! Don’t make me hurt you again and again!”

  Foss came to himself just enough to acknowledge the danger in the game he was playing. “I… You’re right. I’m sorry. I know you’re not my wife.” He closed his eyes. “I miss you.” He touched his heart, and my chest ached at the tenderness. “It’s harder than I thought, to stay away from you.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but when he drew me back down, I went where he led. He wrapped me in his much larger body, pressing my stomach to his and looping my leg around his hip so he could hold me how he liked. “Foss, you’re only wearing your boxer briefs.”

  He paused, bringing my hand up to his lips so he could kiss my fingers. “I don’t care. It’s the same as shorts.”

  “Except Jens would murder you.” I shivered when his hand dipped below the covers and traced the line on my skin above my shorts at the small of my back.

  “I packed in a hurry when I saw your star change. I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”

  I sighed. “Of course you didn’t.” I pressed my cheek to his bare chest, listening to the heartbeat that urged me closer, but never close enough. “Goodnight, Foss.”

  “Goodnight, lovely wife.”

  Of course he kissed me. Harlot that I am let it go on for nineteen whole seconds before I pulled away. “I said goodnight. Don’t make me kick your butt.”

  His eyelids drooped from the late hour and too much Gar. “Don’t you know? You already own it. I own you, and you own me. I don’t like it.”

  “I know. Me neither.” I watched the candlelight dance on his darker skin as sleep took him under. He was peaceful in slumber, beautiful, even. Without the permascowl, he looked younger and impossibly more handsome. I loved him in that fond way you remember the one who got away, even though we were wrapped around each other indiscreetly.

  I finally slept. It was deep and without torture, thanks to Foss and the candle that stayed lit through most of the night. I was awoken to Foss’s soft snore hours later, and when I picked up my head, I was completely on top of his supine body with his hand cupping the curve of my backside. He was dead asleep, so I didn’t slap him, but I did slide off him. My motion turned him onto his side, his body seeking out mine even in sleep. He ended up with his cheek snuggled to my bosom like it was his coveted teddy bear.

  I wanted to push him away on principle, but I couldn’t. He was precious. Precious in sleep and precious to me.

  Twenty-Six.

  Queen Lucy’s Man of Valor

  I awoke to a knock on the door and Foss’s face in my boobs. “Get up. Honey, you have to wake up,” I whispered.

  “Five more minutes,” he mumbled, nuzzling my cleavage in ways that made me blush and shiver. “I’m so comfortable.” He pressed his warm lips to the scar on my chest that bore his emblem.

  I ran my fingers through his short hair. “Darling husband, get up before I roll you off me and dump you onto the floor.” Then to the second knock I called, “Just a second.” I tapped Foss on the back of the head.

  He groaned, stretching atop me and reaching up to peck my lips. “Best night of sleep I’ve had in months.”

  “Back atcha. Get up.”

  Foss grumbled and groaned as he sat up.

  I straightened my tank top and cracked open the door to Olina’s flustered face. “The Soldater’s here!”

  She said that like I was supposed to be as flustered as she. “Who’s that?”

  She wrung her hands. “The Nøkken guard! They heard you were staying here and have asked to speak with you in the parlor. I’ve set out some biscuits for them to give you some time to change, but they seem a little impatient.” She looked down at my naked knees and blushed. “Sweetheart, I sincerely hope you brought a dress with you. I don’t think any of mine will fit.”

  “Of course. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.” I shut the door and fished through my bag, pulling out a dress I’d stashed from my closet in Elvage. It was gold and emerald green, and luckily fit me alright, even with the thinning out I’d done in the sirens’ lair. It cut just below my bust and hung loose to the floor, brushing the tips of my toes as I slid my feed into gold slippers that had leather bottoms. I ran a brush through my hair and splashed water from the basin over my face.

  I was grateful Foss paid me the courtesy of turning around while I changed, as I had him. He offered his arm to me, ready to present himself to the Soldater in his dark shirt and pants. “So what am I about to walk into?”

  “The Soldater’s nothing to be scared of. They know you’re in town, and that I’m back from the dead, no doubt. Probably just offering their welcome.”

  I began to doubt the level of warmth to the welcome when we entered the parlor and saw seven armed men with blue-wh
ite hair in full leather armor standing with serious expressions on.

  “Gentlemen,” I greeted with a smile, clinging to Foss’s arm.

  Jens and Tucker were flanking the front door, trying to look casual, but failing miserably. I glanced out the window and saw at least a dozen more soldiers at the ready.

  My smile hid the chill up my spine at how petrified I was. I checked in with the bond and heard Olina waking Jamie, who was harder to rouse after a night of drinking.

  “What brings you all out this way?” I asked kindly.

  The leader of the group bore a blue design of a tree on his leather breastplate. He was taller than the others with a broad chest and a deep-set chin dimple. “We have orders to take you to the king.”

  Foss snapped, and for once, I was grateful for his fearsome nature that made people cower. “Is that any way to speak to a Tribeswoman?”

  Chin Dimple stiffened. “We were told this was Queen Lucy.”

  Foss postured. “Queen Lucy is my wife. You’ll speak to her with respect, or be buried where you stand.”

  “Meaning no disrespect, Foss. The king offers his welcome at your return from the grave. He requests a meeting with your wife.”

  “Then he can ask us with his mouth and a gift of peace instead of sending his pigeon along as if we were commoners. You can send back word that I’m well, and my wife is returning to Fossegrim on my arm. If he wishes to speak with her, he can do so on my soil. At my table. With my men standing outside staring him down.”

  I was surprised at Foss’s level of swagger, and the tension in the room at the mounting political minefields.

  Chin Dimple bowed to me. “With all due respect, your highness, your presence is requested with the King of the Nøkken. If you will not come willingly, we have been instructed to charge you with high treason and take you in by force.”

  Foss postured, his fists clenching. “Tucker, take Lucy outside.”

  I stroked his arm, feigning calm I did not feel. “Darling husband, it’s okay. High treason on what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that you were last seen traveling with Nik the Man of Dishonor. Your account of the events is in question.”

  I couldn’t be thrown in jail, but I also couldn’t flee while my brother’s body still needed digging up. I threw my dice at playing politics. I threw back my head and gave a throaty laugh. “Nik? What’s he done now? I haven’t heard much gossip and only just got to your land this week. Olin and Olina have been tight-lipped about his whereabouts. Is he off serving the king on some top-secret important mission? Has he whisked away some young beauty who hangs on his every word?”

  Chin Dimple looked as confused as I wanted him to feel. “Your majesty, Nik is dead.”

  I feigned as good a gasp as I had in me, stumbling back with my hand over my heart. “No! You can’t mean… But how?” Then I pulled out my Queen of Hearts demanding tenor. “I want the criminal’s head on a silver platter! Nik the Man of Valor was a loyal friend to my kingdom! He rid his land of trolls and always sought what was best for his people! Who? Who could have killed such a strong warrior?”

  Chin Dimple opened his mouth and sang in full operatic boom, “Queen Lucy, you will tell me the truth!”

  It took me a second to remember that the Nøkken could persuade behavior with their song, and Chin Dimple wasn’t just busting out a tune for no reason. The Nøkken song was beautiful, but it had no effect on me. They didn’t need to know that, though.

  “I haven’t seen Nik since I last passed through here. He mentioned something about righting a wrong, but I was off to Fossegrim that morning, and haven’t seen him since.” I stiffened, pretending to shake off Chin Dimple’s song and trance. “You’ll not manipulate me, Nøkken! Stop pulling the truth from me! I already volunteered the information without your tricks.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jens’s shoulders straighten and a proud smile cross his lips before he could iron it out to don a tough Tom face.

  Chin Dimple looked every bit as terrible as I’d hoped he’d feel. His posture even leaned forward in compassion at upsetting me so. “Your grace, Nik destroyed the portal to the Land of Be. Pesta’s Mouthpiece was there and accused you of aiding him.”

  I scoffed beneath my display of sudden grief. “The Mouthpiece? That’s where you’re getting your information? The Mouthpiece has been set against me and my kingdom from the beginning. He tracked me all through Undraland. He just said that to you so you’d arrest me, and like the fools you are, you’re doing it!”

  Chin Dimple pointed to my hands. “You’re a domslut, but you’re much too young to have met an actual siren. How did you acquire your scars?”

  I displayed my hands to the men, who had all noticed the stars glinting at them. “I didn’t tear down the Nøkken portal, but I did kill the last siren. Nik knew of the Mouthpiece’s vendetta against me and my people, that Pesta wouldn’t let me rest before she’d conquered my kingdom.” I looked up at Foss, the lie coming out of me faster than I could think it all the way through. “I bet that’s why Nik did it. I bet that’s why Nik tore down the portal. The Mouthpiece wouldn’t let me live, so Nik, valiant man that he is, destroyed the portal to protect my kingdom.” I closed my eyes, unbidden tears leaking out onto my cheeks. Nik had worked so hard for his reputation. So help me, I would restore at least that to him. “Pesta was set on attacking Nøkken next. She wanted to tear the people apart bit by bit. The Mouthpiece admitted it to me once by way of a threat.” I turned to Foss. “Don’t you remember, honey? My poor Nik sacrificed his safety when the Mouthpiece tried to throw me to the Nøkkendalig. If not for him, I shudder to think what might’ve happened.” It was a partial lie, but it was a good one they were happy to buy into.

  Chin Dimple gasped, now feeling the gravity of how deep of trouble he would be in if he tried to arrest me.

  Foss nodded, trying to keep up with my wild story. “I remember,” he said, his fingers stroking my hand that was wrapped around his arm. “I fell in love with you that day. You were so strong.” It was the lie, mixed with truth. It was a careful walk on the tightrope, but he danced on the line without regret or permission. It was how he did most things in life. “The Nøkken did nothing to protect their borders, but Nik, Jens the Brave and I went out and slayed the Nøkkendalig in your name. The Mouthpiece escaped, but he confessed Pesta’s plan to end Nøkken with Weres.” His voice deepened in sincerity, and I held my breath as he spoke. “I’d do anything in your name, including tear apart the Soldater if you wished it so.”

  “No, no. I’m fine. I just had no idea Nik would go so far as to destroy the portal to protect his people.” Another tear streaked down my cheek. If each tear had a name, the first two would be called Anxiety and Fear, and the third would be dubbed Going to Pee Myself if this Goes South.

  Chin Dimple put his sword in his sheath, the others of the Soldater following suit. “Can you offer us any proof?”

  “Of a conversation? No.” I held out my hand for them again, earning several deferential looks and bowed heads. “But you can confirm with Elvage that the Mouthpiece was after me, stepping well out of Pesta’s bounds to get her hands on me. She wanted me dead. She told me as much before I murdered her.” I melted a little when Foss took both my besparkled hands and kissed each palm. My voice turned sharp. “Nik was trying to save his people and mine, and you all killed him for it. Nik the Man of Valor, indeed. Had you kept Olin and Olina on the council, they could’ve told you as much!” I lowered my tone to a deadly growl. “So help me, if I hear one person call my hero ‘Nik the Man of Dishonor’, I’ll have their heads!”

  Foss tilted my chin up and kissed my lips. My eyes closed involuntarily as I let Foss keep up the charade. It was a charade, I was sure. Pretty sure. As his lips pledged devotion to mine, I was less and less certain which facts were pretend, and which were far too real.

  With me firmly affixed to his arm, Foss turned to the men and shouted with his most dangerous pent-up anger, “You can se
nd that to your king. Remember each tear on my wife’s face. I’ll expect that many barrels of gold delivered to the chief in my name in two weeks’ time for upsetting a Tribeswoman so. Your incompetency cost us a valuable asset. Nik the Man of Valor was a friend to her throne.”

  Chin Dimple bowed. “I beg your forgiveness, your majesty.”

  “Then beg,” Foss demanded. “On your knees like a true beggar.”

  I was just as uncomfortable as Chin Dimple as he fell to his knees. I saw what a joke the Soldater was, and pitied the Nøkken for having such weak protectors who would cower on a dime.

  Nik hadn’t begged for his life.

  “Your begging means nothing,” I spat in anger. “You snuffed out your bravest warrior and let the Nøkkendalig run free. Beg, soldier. Beg until you’re fit for your post, but do it to your own king. I’ll hear none of it.” I pointed to the door, drawing all eyes in the room to the silver glitter on my fingers. I could feel the Merry Band of Thieves watching my Queen of Hearts viciousness with unabashed awe. “Pesta was the last ruler to cross me. I won’t hesitate to defend my own if your king tries to take me in again. Gather your men, and get out!”

  Twenty-Seven.

  Queen Lucy the Storyteller

  “That was incredible!” Tucker laughed as he shoved extra rolls from Olina’s bread basket into his pack. “Who knew you had that in you?”

  “I did,” Jens bragged. I wanted him to kiss my lips to erase the taste of Foss I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to shake, but Olin and Olina were crying to Jamie, who was doing his best to nod along and keep up with the current events. “Go get changed. We’re ducking out of here before they can change their minds. Take the good luck you bought us and run.”

  I was shaking in Nik’s bedroom as I changed back into my jeans and a dark green “I Got You Babe” t-shirt with my lavender Chucks. All my stuff was ready to go, but my heart was pounding, worrying I might’ve said something that would send a battalion after us.