Garnet thought about it on her way home. Usually witches and pixies got along like peanut butter and jelly. Odd that Alinnafe had driven them away like that. But it hadn't looked to Garnet as though the magic had been fully under Alinnafe's control. It'd been random, lightning and rain drops falling through cedar bows to snake down the back of your neck when you thought you were safe.
The orange might just be a bigger deal than Garnet had thought. She drove slow, careful, hands shaking a little on the steering wheel. Normally she wouldn't have considered it a big deal, something significant, but as time went on their clothes were closer and closer. Garnet's temper had gotten significantly better over the last couple of weeks to the point where her boss as work had asked, quietly and privately with wide eyes and hands held up to ward off a punch before it could happen, if she'd gone on one of the new mood relaxers the Elves had cooked up.
And instead of hitting, Garnet had laughed, shaken her head and walked away. Her boss had stared at her the rest of the day, only relaxing when Garnet headed home. For that matter, the rabbi had asked whether she was in a new relationship, humming and smirking when she said that no, not at all though there was someone she was flirting with.
"So," Garnet murmured to the orange once she was home in her kitchen again, "you're more than an orange. You tying us together, little magic orange from the top of the tree? That's not a nice thing to do. Seriously. You don't take a person's ability to consent away. It's wrong."
The orange sat there being an orange. No answers there.
Next day, Garnet woke to a house that smelled of orange. It was like she'd bathed in orange juice, had someone put orange scented patches over the vents, filled her house with an entire truck load of oranges. When she went into the kitchen the orange sat there, gleaming, as perfect as it could be. She could have sworn that it was even more perfect than it had been before.
"Shit."
Tracking down which coven Alinnafe belonged to took about an hour. Garnet ended up calling Deidre, matriarch of the local wolf pack, who knew absolutely everyone and what they were up to. Which, as always, meant listening to a series of kids babbling the exciting news that their little brother had just lost a tooth and the pixie nest out back had brand new baby pixies that bit really, really hard and that they were having pancakes for breakfast and did Garnet think syrup or jam was better on pancakes.
"Sorry about that," Deidre said once she reclaimed the probably sticky phone from her kids. "This is Garnet, right?"
"Yup, that's me," Garnet said. "I need some help. I have to track down Alinnafe Wyndham's coven. I've got a problem that involves her and well, it's a big one."
"Oh, the orange thing," Deidre said. She chuckled as though she'd just heard the best dirty joke ever. "Yeah, I guess you do have a problem. Don't know why you're stringing her on."
"Ah, I'm not?" Garnet said even though yeah, she must be for the smell of orange to increase that much. "She said she needed it for ever-so-lovely Ravinder Lapointe and I won't give it to him."
"I wouldn't either, marrying a man like that," Deidre agreed. "Seriously, that'd be horrific for both of you."
Garnet sat abruptly, legs giving way so that she smacked to the floor of her kitchen with her legs sprawled underneath her. Marriage? What? Marriage!
"Wait," Garnet snapped as Deidre chuckled something about epic mismatches of personality. "What do you mean 'marriage'?"
"She didn't tell you?" Deidre asked. Kids shouted around her, the sound a din that made Garnet's ears ring even when she held the phone away from her head. A moment later the kids ran away again, leaving Deidre and Garnet with a moment of quiet. "Huh. Yeah, it's an old spell. You pick the fruit of a magical tree, the highest one, and then give it to the one you love. Magic of the tree binds the two of you together."
"Fuck."
Garnet managed not to explain any further. She did get the alarming news that Alinnafe's coven was apparently in talks with Ravinder's family for some sort of arranged marriage so they were very likely over at the Lapointe mansion at this time of the morning. Still took her another ten minutes to get off the phone with Deidre. Then another twenty for her to get properly dressed for a visit to important people, most of that spent on tying her tichel so it didn't look completely haphazard. But then she was in her car, orange safely cradled in a spare knit cap on the passenger's seat.
The front gate opened before Garnet could press the intercom. She stared at it, stared at the huge heavy iron gate as it slid open. It was decorated with iron books embossed with nonsense poetry that was supposed to be Hebrew but pretty clearly was some idiot designer's idea of what traditional Hebrew poetry was supposed to be.
Damn mansion was easily a hundred times the size of Garnet's little house. Huge drafty thing with more window than brick wall, covered in expensive glamor that made it look as though it was marble until you looked closely. The butler opened the door as Garnet got out of her car, bowed to her and then silently led her through more glamor-enhanced hallways to a library that actually was as big as it looked. She wouldn't have bet that all the books actually had writing in them--spines were too new and unbroken for that--but it was a nice enough space, if overly full of annoyed looking witches and Ravinder's relatives.
"Hmph, I see you decided to return my orange," Ravinder said, sauntering towards her.
He was still wearing all black but today it was a tweedy black suit with a black silk shirt and a black lace-covered cravat that was nearly as big as his head. Still had the stupid horn headdress on, bells jingling at the tips of the horns.
"Yours?" Garnet said as she held the orange behind her back. "You never showed up at my house. Never asked to get an orange. Never even tried to climb the damned tree to get it. That was all Alinnafe."
"What?" Vivian Lapointe shot to her feet.
She was as impressive as Ravinder wasn't. Her perfect white pantsuit was the height of fashion with all the right bits of embroidery and silk ribbon on the lapels. Slim, pale skinned and blond haired, she was rather like staring into the sun as she glared first at Garnet and then at Ravinder who curled in on himself. The bells rang constantly as he trembled in front of her. "You were to collect the orange yourself, Ravinder. That is the key to the magic. You were told this."
"Didn't," Garnet said over Ravinder's spluttering protests and weak gestures of apology at his mother. "Alinnafe tried to get to get it by flying over the top of the tree. She fell off her broom and I kind of rescued her."
"Who picked it?" Meredith Thorsen asked. "That's the important question. Who actually picked the orange? That's the person who holds the magic."
Where Vivian was style and power incarnate, Meredith was as comfortable as a worn out sweater that snuggled around you and perfectly matched your every curve. She wore as many layers as Alinnafe who edged out from behind the other witches with cheeks so red that she might as well have been painted with blood, but her layers were vivid reds, greens and blues while Alinnafe matched Garnet's clothes exactly.
They both had green head scarves, Alinnafe's wrapped in a headband around her beautiful poof of curly hair. Each of them had emerald jackets, sage shirts, brown pants, black boots. They'd even chosen the exact same color of tan belt though Alinnafe's was a sash and Garnet's was a proper leather belt holding her too-loose pants up.
"That'd be me," Garnet said with a little sigh because the anger she should be feeling at this entire mess was missing. Seemed to be inside of Alinnafe's blazing eyes. "Knew it was for a spell. Didn't know what sort of spell and well, she'd already gotten stuck in the tree once. I didn't see a reason for her to get stuck again when I had a ladder and could pick the damn thing myself."
Every one of the witches groaned. Vivian hissed and gestured sharply for Ravinder to take his place behind her chair next to her husband who just shook his head and silently frowned at Ravinder.
"Then the marriage cannot proceed," Meredith sighed. She shrugged as if it couldn't be helped. "The magic has already go
ne to Garnet. She is the one who gets to choose who receives it. She is the only one who can give it."
"Hell, I already said I'd give it to Alinnafe," Garnet said because she just couldn't handle the sheer humiliation in Alinnafe's eyes. "Just wouldn't give it to her when I thought it'd go to Ravinder." She turned to Vivian, bobbed her head somewhat politely even though she didn't really mean it. All around her the smell of oranges curled and swirled, filling her nose and her mind with something that she really shouldn't be able to detect, magic-blind as she was. "Sorry, Ms. Lapointe. I just don't agree with your boy's behavior and I won't do anything that enables him to get away with bad behavior. If he'd shown up at my house, asked politely and explained that it was for a marriage gift, well, I'd have given him the ladder to climb myself. He didn't. Apparently he sent Alinnafe to do it and then spent the last few weeks berating her for not having stolen it from me."
Vivian shut her eyes as her jaw worked with enough rage that Garnet fidgeted and backed off a step. "Noted. And understood. He was to do exactly that. Apparently he didn't understand what was needed."
"You don't mean it," Alinnafe said in the murmuring quiet that overrode Ravinder's weak-voiced protests that he hadn't thought it was that necessary. "About me. You don't mean it."
"Sure do," Garnet said.
The witches all turned towards her, disappointment turning into something much more hopeful, sort of wary but still watchful and clear. Even Vivian's scowl turned into an indrawn breath and a bright look between Alinnafe and Garnet. Alinnafe swallowed, hands in fists.
"We're already partially bound, Alinnafe," Garnet said as gently as she could and that was much more gently than it normally would be. "You've gained my temper. I've gained your patience. We're dressing more and more alike every single day. I swear that my entire house smells of oranges and I know it can't. It's the magic of the tree, isn't it? I'm seeing, smelling, the magic as the tree binds us together."
Alinnafe stared at her. She shook and then stared down at her clothes wildly for a moment before gulping and whirling to Meredith who laughed and laughed and laughed, one hand smacking her thigh as if this was the best joke she'd ever heard.
"Well, I suppose that will do, too," Meredith said. "Rather like the idea of binding our coven to a woman more than a man. And I certainly do approve that you're observant instead of atheist, Garnet. It should work, I think."
"Bind the coven?" Garnet asked. She got nothing but cheerful nods from the witches, even Alinnafe, so she turned to Vivian who sighed and rubbed the space between her eyebrows as if fighting a headache.
"Covens need to be bound to specific locations," Vivian explained, mouth twisted as if she'd bitten into one of the sour, unripe oranges from Garnet's tree. "To families, generally. They had a link to a family near the coast but their home was destroyed during the winter, landslide, so they needed a new link. We had planned on centering them here, through Ravinder. This… could work, I suppose."
Which made sense of the whole damned thing. Garnet nodded, turning the orange over in her hands as she stared at Alinnafe who went pale and then red and then pale again. When Garnet held the orange out to her, Alinnafe made another of those little squeaks that made Garnet grin so widely. She laughed and stepped close to pull one of Alinnafe's hands up. Didn't quite put the orange in her hands because damn it, magic tree and covens being grounded or not, consent mattered.
"I meant it," Garnet whispered just to Alinnafe and everyone else could just go jump in the Sound. "I do want to date you. You're beautiful and sweet and I've been looking for you through every window and door I pass. But only if you want it, too. I can give it to someone else if you don't want me?"
"You're such an idiot!" Alinnafe gasped as she snatched the orange out of Garnet's hand. "Of course I want it! I've wanted it ever since you came out of your kitchen ready to beat me up for stealing the silly thing."
She stood on her toes as the room erupted in orange light, the smell of oranges so thick it nearly made Garnet gag. Then her lips were on Garnet's and there wasn't anything other than the smell and taste of Alinnafe's citrus lip balm. The magic hummed around them, warm and loving and just like home, Garnet's home.
Their home.
Garnet laughed as she hugged Alinnafe, laughed as she scooped her up and whirled her around, laughed as Vivian smiled, cold and sure. Meredith cheered. The other witches made magic shower around them while Ravinder protested and then snapped his mouth shut when his father put a hand on his shoulder.
"So," Garnet said once Alinnafe started giggling more like her old self, "what do you think of old-fashioned Jewish weddings? My rabbi is going to insist on one, you know. Magic oranges don't quite work for us."
Alinnafe grinned, waved the orange which she tossed to Meredith, and then nodded. "I think that will be lovely. Especially if you cook something for us. I've been smelling your cooking ever since you picked that orange and I don't think I can wait another day to actually get to eat some of it."
That made Garnet laugh. "Deal. Come on. Let's start planning, little orange thief."
The End
Author Bio
Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from adventures appropriate to children to erotica but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way.
Meyari has been married for just under twenty years and has no children or pets. She lives in the Puget Sound, WA and enjoys the fog, rain and cool weather that are typical here. When vacation times come, she and her husband usually go somewhere warm like Hawaii or they go on their own adventures to Japan and other far away countries.
Her life has included jobs ranging from cleaning motel rooms, food service, receptionist, building and editing digital maps, auditing and document control.
Other Books by Meyari McFarland:
Matriarchies of Muirin:
Tales from the Dana Clanhouse
Repair and Rebuild
Storm Over Archaelaos
Coming Together
Facing the Storm
Fitting In
Following the Beacon
Mages of Tindiere:
Artifacts of Awareness
City of the Dead
Transplant of War
Running From The Immortals
Hearts of Magic
Triumph of the Artificer Mages
Debts to Recover:
The Nature of Beasts
The Manor Verse:
A New Path
Following the Trail
Crafting Home
Finding a Way
Go Between
You can find these books and more at http://meyari.wordpress.com/store/
Author's Note: I have to admit to loving writing couples that you just wouldn't think would work in situations that don't look like they'll ever be resolved. Another recent story that I had an unusual pairing in was Consort. Hope you like the sample!
Consort
His teeth ached. So did his jaw. His hands which were clenched so tight that they felt like wire strung over steel blades ready to spring loose and cut someone to ribbons.
Not someone. Father. Again. Always.
The sitting room was silent, not still. It could never be still, not with Father looming by the window, one finger idly tracing the grill's graceful arcs as if he contemplated nothing more than a fresh coat of paint for the finely carved wood.
Outside there was noise, people training in the courtyard. A horse's hooves. Voices raised, lowered, raised in shock. Stilled. Father smiled as if that sudden silence was his doing but no, it couldn't be.
His power swirled through the room not outside of it. It silenced Keelan's complaints about being forced to take a consort that he didn't want. Padma's tearful expression had collapsed like a burnt-out coal into sullen resignation over Father's declaration that she would soon be married even though she was only twelve. Alex stood by the cold fireplace, arms wra
pped around his chest because, yet again, he'd been denied the right to take holy vows as he'd wanted since he was tiny.
Even Morgan, the only one of them who had ever had the ability to stand up to Father and then only with the help of his wives who were not present this afternoon, was silent. Breathing hard, nostrils flaring and shoulders hunched as if he fought even in silence against the oppression of Father's intent.
His magic. His Will, as Father preferred to call it. But it wasn't some divine right granted to him and him alone. It was magic and nothing more, magic that he'd been trained to control and they'd been denied all knowledge of. Dangerous, Father claimed as he stole their ability to fight him. Forbidden, he mouthed as people danced like puppets on his strings at Court. Perhaps so but their learning magic would be a danger only to Father, not to anyone else.
Keelan knew that he was stronger than father, felt it in the way Father's swirls of shadowy power touched against his mind and then skittered away like frightened cockroaches. But he couldn't keep a grip on the power, the magic. It shimmered inside of him like water and Keelan couldn't grip it. Couldn't shape it. Couldn't figure out how to craft a vessel that would allow him to use that magic in any useful way.
Father's magic swept across the room, crashing against the door like a desert storm piling against the walls of the city. His distant expression turned cruel as he smiled, sneered, then straightened up to nod towards the door.
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