by August Li
“You have the nerve to dirty my frock? Get your filthy hands off me.”
“Snowdrop,” Bunge whined, “I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll give you money, anything you want. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” The faerie made a quick, complex gesture with his hand. A red line stretched across Bunge’s brow from temple to temple. Snow cackled as blood poured into Bunge’s eyes. Bunge clawed at his face. The guard screamed and moved his rifle barrel in Snow’s direction. In an instant Robin pressed his own gun against the man’s ribs. Lila retched. The faerie made another subtle movement with his fingers and the shiny dome slipped from the top of Bunge’s head and landed skin-side down. Flesh and fluids spewed out and the body crumpled. With his thumb and finger, Snow flicked a red chunk from his trousers.
“Come, Robin,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
When he tried to stand, Robin’s hurt leg gave out. He slipped in the abundant blood coating the floor and fell. Unexpectedly, Snow hurried to crouch down and smooth Robin’s hair. Concern crinkled his fine features. He told Robin to hold still and ran his palms over Robin’s wounds. The pain disappeared in seconds.
“Can we go?” Snow asked impatiently. “I can’t see the last of this place too soon.”
“Snow, will you save my friends? Please?”
Glaring at Lila and the guard, he flicked his hand as if to brush away a cobweb. White light engulfed the quartet, and when it dimmed Robin found himself in the center of Halcyon, the capital city of Anglica.
Chapter 11
ROBIN looked up at the fancy iron gates towering four feet above his head. High brick walls covered in centuries of glossy ivy surrounded it. Beyond, stately old buildings stood below red and gold foliage. Together, these things formed the quintessential picture of the elite university he’d always held in his imagination. Robin’s hands trembled around the stack of parchment documents with the swirling script. He still couldn’t believe they were real. It seemed as unbelievable to be standing here as it had when the pudgy, bespectacled young man had approached him and offered him admission to the university with a full scholarship. He felt just as befuddled as that poor fellow had appeared.
Robin yawned and stretched his hands over his head. The sweet smell of fall foliage scented the air. He wished he’d stopped for a cup of coffee, as he hadn’t slept a wink the night before. In fact, he’d spent most of the evening sitting on the small balcony at the flat he shared with Lila and the Belvaisian painter Francois. He’d watched the people below making their way to and from the galleries, theaters, restaurants, and brothels of the artistic neighborhood where they lived. Eventually Lila joined him, wearing only a short, Aurential robe. She leaned her elbows on the iron railing next to Robin’s and offered him a cigarette. He gladly accepted, feeling even more grateful for the company.
“Francois been painting you again?” Robin asked, noticing Lila’s scant attire.
She giggled and shook her head. “Painting? No.”
Robin returned her wry smile and said, “An energetic fellow, our friend. He, um, didn’t paint me not two hours ago.”
“I know, Robin. I was watching.”
“So you were. I’d forgotten.” They both giggled again and then stood silent as they finished smoking and flicked their butts into the gutter below them. “Did you ever imagine we’d end up here?” Robin mused. “Eating out, drinking absinthe, going to shows? We’re artists’ models for crying out loud. I wouldn’t have predicted that one when I was picking pockets back in Enline.”
“No,” she agreed. “Neither would I. But we have a good life. An unusual life—me, you, and Francois—but it’s good. There’s so much to see in this city, and we’re making a living modeling for Francois’s art. Everyone says it’s scandalous, but they buy it up just the same. I’m happy, for the first time that I can remember. Are you happy, Robin?”
“You know what? I am.”
“Are you? Are you sure? Because you was in real bad shape when we first got here.”
Robin recalled the week after Snowdrop had deposited him in Halcyon and kissed him goodbye. He’d been wracked by delusions, unable to distinguish fantasy from reality, unable to eat or do much more than thrash and whimper in his bed. Gradually it had passed, and he’d let the wound made by Snow leaving scab over. He wanted to pick at it from time to time, but he resisted, and it hurt less with each passing day. He draped his hand over Lila’s knuckles and smiled to reassure his friend. “I’m happy,” he told her. “Everything else is in the past, and good riddance.”
“That faerie,” Lila dared, “you cared for him, and he hurt you. Don’t bother to deny it, Robin. We been friends for too long.”
“I was foolish to think I could have anything with him. They aren’t like us, are they? It’s better that it’s over, though I won’t forget him.”
“You still sound sad when you talk of it.”
“Only just a little. Mostly, I’m glad it’s done. I mean that.”
“And now you’re headed for the university!” she squealed with delight, grabbing Robin’s wrist. “You’ll be rich and famous. I’m so proud of you, Robin!”
“I’m nervous,” he admitted.
“Don’t be. You’re as good or better than any of them. You walk right in there with your head high, you hear me?”
REMEMBERING Lila’s words, Robin lifted his chin and prepared himself. This was what he’d always wanted and never thought he could have. Yet here he was, with his dream only an arm’s length away. He only needed to take those last few steps. He pushed the ancient gate open and entered the university’s grounds, making his way toward the main hall. When he reached it, he showed his papers to one of the scholars and was directed to a large lecture hall.
Taking a seat near the back of the tiered room, Robin looked around at his fellow students. His new suit was just as nice as any of theirs, and he told himself he possessed just as good a mind. He’d make friends here, find peers. He tried to assuage his nerves as he looked at the empty podium at the center of the hall. In a few years, Robin Pastorius would be a respected scholar, publishing books of his own ideas, his name embossed on their covers. Why didn’t it feel right?
An old man used the aid of a cane to approach the pedestal. The chatter in the room ceased as he cleared his throat. Robin sat up straight in his seat, his pen, inkwell, and paper at the ready. He’d be studying classical literature, and was eager to begin. He’d grow accustomed to the university in time, and his unease would disappear.
The professor began to list the texts the students would need to read, and Robin scribbled the titles and authors furiously. Noting every word the professor spoke took all of Robin’s concentration, and before he knew it the class concluded, and he gathered up his things and entered the hall. As he walked, another young man hurried to match Robin’s stride.
“On your way to the library, then?” he asked. He was slender, even a little underweight, with rich brown hair and hazel eyes. He had fair, flawless skin and rosy cheeks. “I can help you find the books you’ll need.”
“You think I need help?” Robin asked, a little defensive.
“Of course not. I just hoped we might study together. Either I’m quite wrong, or you hale from the north. I’m curious how you came to study here. I’m curious about you.”
“Is that right? What’s your name?”
“It’s Alistair. You’re called Robin, right?”
“Right.” They rounded the corner and entered the massive hall of bookshelves. Robin couldn’t imagine how anyone located the tomes he needed among the hundreds of stacks. He supposed he should welcome Alistair’s assistance. Besides, the awkward young man possessed a unique charm. Soon they wandered into a secluded alcove and found themselves alone. “So, what do you think of the ladies studying here? I understand they’ve only just been permitted. Any of them strike your fancy?”
“Ladies,” Alistair whispered, flushing. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Tha
t’s alright,” Robin said with a subtle smile, his suspicions confirmed. “I’ll be happy to be your friend.”
“Thanks. I’m a bit apprehensive. Never really, you know, had a friend like that. Wanted one, but—”
“Don’t be on edge.” Robin reached out to take Alistair’s waist when the other man’s face ceased to move. Alistair’s eyes stared blindly at the small, stained glass window high above them. The other students and scholars stood frozen in the hall, books clutched to their chests. The dust filtering through the sunlight stopped mid-drift.
“What do you want?” Robin asked, accustomed to the odd events.
“Just to make sure you’re happy,” the faerie said, crossing his arms in his sky-blue suit.
“I wanted this,” Robin admitted. “You made it happen. I thank you. I thank you for this, Snow.”
“Good. I was just making sure.”
“Then that’s it?” Robin asked, moving nearer to the fey, surprised at his compulsion to touch his face and hair. “That’s all?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I want you to be mine, Robin. I want you to come back home with me and stay with me forever. I should have invited you long before now. I don’t know why I hesitated, but I want to make it up to you. Please, come with me. Be mine.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
“Really, Snow?”
“Yes.”
This declaration would have delighted Robin a month or two ago, but now he felt uncertain. He’d been thinking a great deal since Snow disappeared the last time, and he didn’t know if a true relationship between them would work. Faeries didn’t measure things like love and commitment as humans did. They didn’t even count the passage of time in the same way. What would become of Robin if Snow took a liking to someone else? What would happen when he grew bored of Robin? “I’m not sure I can go with you,” Robin said, unable to meet the faerie’s gaze. He was all too aware that if Snow really wanted him, he could easily just take him. It happened all the time, even in Halcyon.
“You must be joking,” Snow said.
Forcing himself to meet his eyes, Robin tried to explain. “This is what I’ve always wanted, to come to school like this. I have friends in the city, and I’m making friends here at the university.” He looked at cute, little Alistair, colored light from the window washing over his face. “If I give it up, I’ll never have another chance. If I leave, they won’t take me back.”
“Why would you need to come back?” Snow wondered. “My lands will provide you everything. I’ll get you books if you like, as many as you want. I’ll fill my halls with them.”
The hurt, frantic edge in the faerie’s voice scraped along Robin’s heart. He no longer needed to wonder if Snow’s kind felt pain as he did. The faerie leaned his shoulder against a stack of books and rubbed his arms with his gloved hands. “You won’t come?” he muttered, wounded and stunned. “I’ll give you anything you want. Riches, worlds, anything. Just name it, and it will be yours, Robin.”
“But when,” Robin considered how to phrase his thoughts. “What if you change your mind later? What will happen to me then?”
“Change my mind?” Snowdrop gasped. “Is that what you think?”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Robin screwed his eyes shut, both to escape from the cruelty of Snow’s beauty and to hold in his tears. “I’ve got a chance to make a good life for myself here. I cared about you very much, but—”
“Loved,” the faerie corrected, swinging his arm and causing an entire shelf of books to fly across the room. “You said you loved me. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me, then.” Snow took both of Robin’s hands in his and held Robin’s gaze with his eyes. Robin felt his resolve weaken as he stared into the swirling, opalescent greens and golds trimmed by luminous white lashes. He never wanted to look away. Leaning in, he brushed his mouth against the faerie’s soft, honeyed lips, knowing he’d never taste anything sweeter. “Come with me,” Snow whispered, his warm breath caressing Robin’s face.
“Snow. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to give all of this up only to have you get bored with me and forget me. What will I do?”
“I love you. That will never happen.”
“Won’t it? Not in twenty years? In fifty? A hundred?”
“Not in a thousand. Tell me what you want, and you’ll have it. Do you want to bring your little playmate along?” He smirked at Alistair’s suspended form. “The whole school? I know! I’ll give you your own lands, that way you won’t need to worry over your future. Should anything happen between you and I, you’ll always be provided for. Now, will you come?”
“I’m sorry, Snowdrop.”
“What?” He let go of Robin’s hand and stalked around the library in a rage, flinging entire bookshelves to the floor and scattering the hall with papers and tomes. Tables and chairs swirled through the air and hit the stone walls, wood splintering.
“Please stop!” Robin yelled.
Snow spun to face him, his fury and anguish a palpable aura around him. “You took a great risk rescuing me from Bunge. You risked your life to save the rest of my kind! Look at the chance you took to destroy the equipment on that train. Why won’t you take this one last chance?”
“I want to make my own life! I finally have an opportunity.”
“You’ll be content to spend the rest of your days without me? Because I can’t bear mine without you, Robin.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t end up abandoned again.”
Shoulders bowed forward, the faerie walked dejectedly to the door. Robin fought the urge to rush to his side and comfort him. “I wish you could trust me,” he said in a voice so decimated that Robin bit back a sob. “I trust you with everything I have.”
“You do?” Robin asked, taking a step forward.
Snow closed the distance between them and took Robin’s face in his hands, holding it so tightly it almost hurt. He kissed Robin hard on the mouth before brushing the hair away from Robin’s ear. He drew in an apprehensive breath before saying a word that Robin could only comprehend as a rosy, summer sunrise over a meadow of flowers, heavy with perfume and sparkling with dew. The sound of it conjured the scent of blooms and grasses, the gentle caress of a warm breeze, and all the possibilities of a never-ending, perfect day. Robin felt the warmth of the sun in those syllables. They imbued him with the wonder and hope he hadn’t felt since early boyhood. He felt the beauty and power in that word, though he did not dare repeat it.
“Have I proven myself to you?” the faerie asked. “There is nothing greater I can give you. I’ve given you the very essence of my being. You know my name. With it, you can command me. You can destroy me.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“As I said, I trust you. Now, can we go home? I’m getting bored of this place. It’s so musty.”
“Oh, Snow!” Robin flung himself into the faerie’s arms and held tightly to his hair. “I love you. I love you.” They began kissing hard, their hands moving over one another, exploring flesh and skin that felt familiar, yet still new. Their limbs twisted together like morning glory vines, and stayed that way as the wrecked library faded and a soft field of high grass and fragrant blossoms replaced it.
THE students and scholars blinked as they surveyed the chaos around them, and instinctually began re-shelving books. The bizarre incident would be discussed years later in the quiet halls of the university, though no one would ever figure out how it had happened, any more than they could figure out why miniature, white flowers grew out of the stone floor below a small, stained glass window. No matter how many times the staff cut them off or pulled them out, they always returned to scent the library with their blooms.
Many of the students considered the unusual flowers bad luck and avoided the alcove where they grew. Others contended that they possessed the magical ability to make a suitor fall in love when offered as a gift. Along with the tra
in frozen to shattering in the north and the odd disappearance of scholar Robin Pastorius, the flowers and their abilities remained a mystery for years to come. Few knew what to make of these odd things, and in time most forgot them.
Only Lila ever knew what happened to Robin. While she would miss him, she felt happy because she believed he’d found true love. When she shared the news with Francois, the young artist painted a grand-scale portrait of the two men together. Some people were outraged by the implied homosexuality and the idea that a human would couple with a fey. Others hailed the painting as a masterpiece. Francois’s fame was assured, and he and Lila grew wealthy.
Unfortunately and inexplicably, the huge painting titled, Going off with Snowdrop, disappeared from the museum that housed it, despite heavy security.
About the Author
AUGUST (GUS) LI is a creator of fantasy worlds. When not writing, he enjoys drawing, illustration, costuming and cosplay, and making things in general. He lives near Philadelphia with two cats and too many ball-jointed dolls. He loves to travel and is trying to see as much of the world as possible. Other hobbies include reading (of course), tattoos, and playing video games.
For more info, visit Books by Eon and Gus: http://www.booksbyeonandgus.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.