A Glimmering Girl (27 page)

“Yes!” Boadicea said. “Max, think. It’s
Mistcutter
. She can break the curse. I don’t want to be ugly. It’s
Mistcutter
!”

“No!” Max bellowed the word.

“Eep!” Morning Glory spun up to the ceiling in a fright.

Everyone appeared stunned into silence, hanging on what was to come. Cissa pursed her lips, her eyes wide.

Max let go of his sister and stood away from her. His anger was palpable and real and almost terrifying. Lilith’s heart broke for him. She picked up the sword from the floor. Some part of him wanted her to do it. The weapon’s power surged out and into her.

While she held
Mistcutter
, she was connected to the mystic. She could do anything with it—even break a curse laid on by the high gods.

“I can do it, Max,” she said. “Trust me.”

“I can’t let you.” The goblin held up his hand. “Not like that. It would be… wrong.” His shoulders hunched, and he turned away.

“Max.” Cissa went to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Did you bring my present?”

What the…
How could she bring up presents at a time like this? But that seemed to be just the thing to cheer the poor guy. He laughed his short, cut-off goblin laugh and pulled a carved box from his long pouch.

She lifted the box’s lid and withdrew a diamond bracelet, delicate and amazing. When she put it on, it looked like sparkling dewdrops were dancing around her wrist.

“So pretty!” said the queen of the Dumnos fae.

“And what do I get in return?” Max said.

“What?” Cissa stopped. “But you never…”

“Yeah, I never,” Max said. “This time I do.”

“What… what do you want?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” he said.

Cissa seemed consternated, but Lilith saw the corners of Max’s mouth turn down in a goblin grin. He was teasing her. He was going to be all right.

“Now.” Lilith turned to Boadicea. “Your part in the bargain. Tell me what you promised. How can Cade’s transformation be accelerated?”

“It can’t,” Boadicea said.

“You… lied to me?” Lilith glanced at Max. He was the only goblin she’d ever met until now, and she’d assumed all goblins were honorable. “How… how ungoblinlike!”

“I told the truth. I didn’t say I could speed up Cade’s transformation to fairy. I said I know how you can stay in the same time line.”

“That will do. How?”

“You must revert.”

“Revert?”

“Revert to human. Give up being fairy.”

“Done!” Lilith said without a second thought.

“No!” Morning Glory said.

“How?” Lilith said.

“One who loves you must use
Mistcutter
to cut off your wings. Then you’ll be human again.”

Ouch.

Lilith looked at Cade. “Are you
sure
you don’t feel any powers?”

“I feel overwhelmingly powerful love. For you.” Cade smiled with the corners of his mouth turned down. “I always have.”

Yes, he had. Cade had wooed her from the beginning. He’d always known what was enduring and true, and what he wanted.

That’s why he wasn’t changing. It would never suit him to be fae. His intrinsic nature was human—loving, nurturing. A true husband in the old-time sense of the word: a man who nurtures, cares for, and sees to the well-being of those in his charge. To be fae would sever his tethers to all that he cared for. To be fae would be to kill
that which made him Cade.

“True love is a power,” Beverly said. “A superpower. I pity the fae for their general lack of it.” She was looking at Cissa.

The lines on Max’s face darkened, and his shoulders hunched a bit more, but the fairy queen remained oblivious to her sister-in-law’s meaning.

Poor Max,
Lilith thought
. I don’t want to be like Cissa. Life would be meaningless without my love for Cade.

“Look at it this way.” Cissa brightened. “As your humanity dwindles and your fae nature blossoms, these
feelings
you treasure for my nephew
will fade away. You won’t care. In no time at all you’ll be free.”

“You call that a feature?” Lilith took hold of
Mistcutter
at its guard, her hand covering the twisting dragon design. She hadn’t truly appreciated before—being so caught up in the excitement of it all—how light the thing was, how easy to wield. “That won’t happen.”

She handed the sword to Cade. Maybe this was what Velyn had been talking about. Maybe this was Cade’s chance to get it right this time,
whatever
it
was.

“No.” He spread his hands apart, refusing the blade, and shook his head. “No.”

“It’s the only way.” As she pressed the mystical weapon against his chest, she felt her wings pop out and unfold and heard the admiring murmurs of the fairies who hadn’t yet seen them. “Do it, Cade. Please.”

He nodded, as if in defeat, and accepted the sword. He asked Boadicea, “Any words?”

“Not that I know of.” She had the decency to speak somberly.

Lilith bent over to give him access. She felt her wings spread—and a tug of regret at the thought of losing them.

Cade raised the sword—and as she closed her eyes, she heard it clatter to the floor.

“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. I love you. I won’t destroy part of what you are just to keep you bound to me. Life is unpredictable. No one knows anything. Well, no one knows
everything.
I believe we have to take the leap of faith—I don’t know—trust the high gods.”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Without thinking, she retracted her wings. She had to admit they were less of a pain when she could control them.

“We’ll figure it out.” Cade crushed her to his chest. He whispered in her ear, “We have all the time in the world.” And then his lips found hers and he kissed her, ignoring their audience.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Glory said. “In all the excitement, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Imagine that,” Goldy said drily. “But what do you mean?”

Lilith broke off the kiss and looked at her mother. “What are you talking about?”

“Look!” Glory made jazz hands and showered Lilith and Cade with a sparkling fanfare of multicolored fairy dust. “We haven’t had a baby to play with in ages.”

“You don’t mean…” Lilith said. But she knew.

“You’re pregnant, silly,” Morning Glory said. “It’s obvious.”

Beverly and Cade frowned with skepticism… while every full fae in the room nodded knowingly and grinned.

« Chapter 26 »
A Simple Choice

“This is all so wrong,” Cade had to pull the seat belt out as far as it would go to get it around Lilith’s expanded girth. “I should be snapping piccies of your baby bump. Instead I’m worried whether your water will break before we reach our hotel.”

He’d wanted Lilith to stay at Faeview while he was in London, but she wasn’t having any of that. Besides, she was mad to get away from Moo and Glory’s hovering. So he’d booked a room at the Dorchester overlooking Hyde Park. He knew she liked it there.

While he was at the board meeting this afternoon, fending off the Sarumen contingent, she was going to deliver Bausiney’s Abundance, the fairy cup, to the V&A for their new exhibition.

The morning sky over Faeview was unseasonably clear, but for the drive to London he put the top up on the DB5. “The V&A isn’t ten minutes from Lowndes Street,” he told Lilith. “I’ll collect you after the meeting. We can have dinner back at the hotel or wherever you like.”

“I missed everything when I was in London,” she said. “I’d love to go up in the Eye and see the city lights.” 

“Your wish is my command—if you don’t pop beforehand.” Cade started down the drive. “I’m trying to be cool about this, but you must admit it’s a bit terrifying.”

“You’re probably right. Not a good idea to be stuck in a gigantic Ferris wheel when my water breaks.”

How could she be so blasé? In ten weeks, Lilith’s transformation to fairy had slowed to nothing, but the baby was on the fast track. It was the first week in January, and she looked due to blow.

Lilith touched his arm. “Is that Goldy in the peonies? What’s he doing?”

The fairy was hovering on the side of the drive at the end of the peony bushes. The plants which had been cut back to nubs yesterday were now lush and green and loaded with flowers.

Cade rolled the DB5 to a stop and put down the window.

“Ta-da!” Goldy picked two fat blooms and handed them to Cade.

“What’s all this?” Cade said and passed the flowers on to Lilith.

“Beverly said you were going to town,” the fairy said. “I’ve brought you something for the trip—but then I saw these poor things, ugly as goblins and so lonely for flowers. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

“They’re lovely, Goldy. Thank you.” Lilith held the blooms to her face.

A wave of affection washed over Cade, and he felt a twinge in his heart. He loved her so much.

“Hats!” Goldy said, reaching into his long pouch. “Hats for London. I know how you love a hat, Cade. A leprechaun friend of mine made them.”

He produced two hats, one far too big to have fit inside the pouch.

“Thank you,” Cade said. “I think?”

The black slouch for Lilith was great, but the dark violet bell crown topper didn't quite lend the aura of formidability required of his appearance at the Clad’s board meeting.

“For the cold iron,” Goldy said, crossing his eyes at Cade and Lilith’s bewilderment. “To keep the headaches away.”

“Ah! Now it all comes clear,” Cade said. “Great call—and Goldy, anytime you want to come up to the house, wander around, look at the pix in the rogue’s gallery, just come on in, yeah?”

The fairy blushed and went silent.

“I always felt sorry for my dad,” Cade said. “Mom was gone, and he was alone. But he wasn’t alone, was he? He had you. A part of James will always live in you, Goldy. And that’s wonderful.”

Egad. He was on the verge of a jag.

“This isn’t a tear.” Goldy sniffed. “The fae don’t cry.”

“Of course not.” Cade put the engine in gear.

“Ta, now.” The fairy wiped his eyes, touched his tether jewel, and popped out.

Lilith was a good traveler, meaning she didn’t talk much, and Cade had the chance to collect his thoughts on the drive. This afternoon’s meeting was crucial. Duncan Edan had discovered even more bad news.

The Sarumens still planned to push through the military contract at this afternoon’s board meeting. Bad enough. Worse, they had managed to gain control over forty-seven percent of the Clad’s shares against Cade’s forty-nine percent.

The remaining four percent block of shares, though independently owned, had always been safe, always voted as the Bausineys voted. According to Duncan, that block had recently changed hands through inheritance. The new owner would be at the meeting today, but Duncan had no idea which way the man intended to vote.

It was crucial Cade be at that meeting. At a quarter past noon, he pulled in to the Dorchester, right on time.

“Are we there yet?” Lilith sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Did I fall asleep?”

London was gray and a cold mist haunted the air, giving the cars’ headlights and taillights the look of dancing fairies. It was lovely, but Cade would always prefer the mist and rain of Dumnos.

They left the DB5 in the Dorchester’s garage and took a cab together as far as the V&A. He helped Lilith’s gargantuan self out of the taxi, then handed her the box containing the cup.

Arranging Goldy’s black slouch hat over her head, he said, “Shall I come in with you?” He couldn’t resist kissing her on the nose.

“No need.” she said. “I’ll give the docent strict instructions on the deployment of salt and holy cakes, and then I’m going to tour the whole place until you come for me.”

“Lilith…?”

“Good lord, don’t you sound serious.”

“I am. You know that if I’m successful today the shares will plummet.”

“No doubt,” she said. “The markets love a military contract.”

“It means we’ll be poor again. Do you mind?” The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. “You probably think I’m a terrible provider.”

“You silly man.” She just laughed. “As long as I’m with you, Cade, I’m wealthy beyond my dreams. Besides, I was poor all my life. I have a feeling your idea of poverty will still be pretty posh to me.”

“But the baby…”

“Our child will be proud to have a hero for a father,” Lilith said. “Go get the Sarumens. They’re evil and must be destroyed. The well-being of all Dumnos is at stake.”