Betrothed (31 page)

Every aspect of the environment was used to display the enticing items on offer. Clothing was suspended from branches; vines running between tree trunks held glittering jewellery created from silver and gold and gemstones. Crystals, bells and wind chimes glittered and sang and shot sparks through the trees where the light fell on them. Silver trays wedged into branches held flowers and perfumes and tiny bottles and jars. There were baskets too, covered with the sheerest netting and loaded with mouth-watering displays of biscuits and pastries and bowls of berries and candy. And thrown onto the constant blanket of leaves were large pieces of cloth, filled with cushions and pots and baskets and small items of furniture. In among this magical sight the Fae either sat on the colourful splashes of fabric working their particular art or craft, or flitted about looking at what was on offer.

I was overwhelmed by the beauty of everything, but felt like a bag lady in Leif’s enormous clothes when I saw how the other girls
were dressed. They wore tiny dresses, diaphanous and backless in gorgeous colours, or silky, gathered skirts with crystals sewn into the waistband and no top at all. And bare feet—everyone had bare feet. There wasn’t a shoe in sight.

Leif attracted interest everywhere we went. Everyone knew who he was and the females in particular sought his attention. Ravishing little things they were, beauties every one, their pretty faces alight with a hunger to please my man. They curtsied low before him, quivering with excitement to be in his presence, but not daring to speak unless spoken to. They clutched at his big hand when he offered it, sighing, kissing, pressing his fingers to plump cheeks and soft foreheads. They dropped to their knees before him, eyes glistening with adoration. My belly clenched at the sight of it. I couldn’t see how I would ever get used to it. And then after this show of tender subservience they each wished to claim a piece of him, to talk with him or meet his betrothed. Through tight lips I greeted them, and then felt awful when they demonstrated to me an admiring affection. They offered him whatever it was they were making, begged him to take it—it would be such an honour! But save for a little thing now and then to give to me, he graciously declined, explaining that he already had enough of everything.

‘You’re like a movie star or something,’ I said, trying hard but failing to keep the mean edge out of my voice as I dragged him along, excited at the sight of everything, despite this prickly new feeling.

‘I am the Johnny Depp of Telophy.’

I wondered how Johnny’s girlfriend coped. I wound my arm around his waist. ‘Johnny’s got nothing on you.’ He smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of my head as I became distracted by the tree we were passing. The limbs—heavy with leaves that shone like coins—seemed to reach all the way to heaven. But the
lowest branches were what had my attention: each was laden with baskets heaped high with nuts.

‘You have walnuts in Faera?’ I asked, picking one up and wondering if I could eat it without enduring a near-death experience. On closer inspection I realised the shell was too dark, the texture too rough. I put it back in the basket.

‘They’re firelights,’ Leif said, taking my hand. ‘The pod of the fire bush.’ He turned to the provider, ‘May I?’ he asked, reaching for one.

‘My honour, Highness,’ the man said with a bow.

Leif lifted my hand, palm up, and placed the pod inside. ‘See the star in the middle?’

‘Mmm hmm.’

‘Watch.’ He tapped the star with a finger and the pod burst open, the woody shell peeling apart like petals, revealing a soft pink flame in its centre. The firelight rose from my hand.

‘Oh, pretty!’ I cried, prompting smiles from both Leif and the owner of the firelights.

The dancing flame continued its ascent, eventually coming to rest just above our heads. Leif stood below and blew on its underside and the firelight climbed higher still, stopping to hover around the branches.

‘It won’t set fire to the tree will it?’

‘No, it will stay there for a few hours until it begins to burn out. Then it will come back down as slowly as it went up and the seeds will be scattered on the breeze.’

After learning that the baskets all contained a different colour, we picked a pod from each and soon the tree flickered as though it were filled with multi-coloured fireflies. Then we carried on until I was dazzled yet again, this time by a display of jewellery strung between two trees.

‘Oh Leif, look at those necklaces.’

‘Would you like one?’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. That one with the red stones would look pretty on you.’

‘It’s so nice, but I don’t think that it’s right you just let these people give you things.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, just because you’re . . . you, and every girl here feels like she
must
present you with her handiwork, doesn’t mean you should get everything you want for nothing.’

‘Did I not tell you, Marla? There is no money in Faera.’

‘Well, there must be trade instead. But, Leif, you just take and give nothing in return. I’ve been watching you do it.’

Leif moved me away from the jewellery. ‘You think that applies to me alone? Look around you, Marla. You will see that everyone is doing the same. There is no trade here. If you need something, you ask for it. It is given with pleasure and received with gratitude.’

I gave him a dubious look. ‘Gratitude won’t pay the bills and put food on the table.’

Leif laughed out loud. ‘What bills? There are no bills. And if it is food for the table you want, then you need only go out and get it.’

I wasn’t convinced. ‘If everything is just available to take, what’s to stop people taking too much? What’s to stop me taking ten of those necklaces? Are they ruby, by the way?’

‘Yes, they are ruby, and I’m sure the woman who made them would think you very strange if you asked for ten. What would you do with so many?’

With no answer, I just shrugged. Leif smiled and we returned to the jewellery.

‘My betrothed would like to try on a necklace,’ he said to the small group of women who’d risen to greet him and were busy
hyperventilating and curtsying at the same time. I felt like telling them all to sit back down and get a grip.

‘It would be an honour, my prince,’ one of the women said.
Her prince!
It was an effort to smile when she took down the necklace and handed it to me.

Leif fastened the chain around my neck.

‘Oh it’s lovely,’ I said, admiring my reflection, momentarily distracted from the snarky feeling inside. ‘Did you make it?’

She nodded, pleased. ‘It is yours if you wish it.’

It felt wrong to just take it.

‘Well, thank you. Is there anything I can give you?’

‘I don’t need anything,’ she said, giving me a curious look. But then she shifted her attention to Leif and her eyes went all dreamy. She might not need anything, but she sure did want something. She wanted to touch my man!

Leif smiled and offered her his hand. She took it into both of hers with a long sigh and pressed it to her face before kissing it. My insides were all in knots. I wanted to tell her to go away in the nastiest way possible.

‘Why are these women so obsessed with you, Leif? And why do they all want to kiss your hand?’ I asked after we’d walked away.

‘You like to kiss my hand, do you not?’ He grinned. ‘You do so often enough.’

‘Yes but . . . ’ It felt so personal and I was about to tell him so when I remembered my reaction to King Aren. ‘I don’t like it when they do it.’

‘It is a blessing I can give them, Marla. Would you deny them that?’

‘Yes,’ I said without hesitation.

Leif chuckled. Did he think I was joking? ‘You should not worry so.’

‘Why not? It’s not exactly fun to watch.’

He touched my lips with his fingertips. He flowed into me and I would have collapsed with the intense pleasure had he not held me up with his other arm. ‘Because the best is only for you,’ he whispered as I recovered.

‘What is it, Leif? Is it magic?’

‘I suppose it is a kind of magic—a magic of kings.’ He smiled. ‘Our hands are the main conduits of our power. We can use that power in many ways, some pleasant, others not. Our hands can heal, give comfort and strength or they can cause pain and punish. They can connect others to what is divine. And—’ he leaned close till his lips touched my ear, ‘—my hands can give a taste of me.’ Shivers ran up and down my body.

‘Well I don’t want you giving
that
to anyone else.’

‘That last is only for you. But the rest . . . I am prince, Marla, my power is my gift to share.’

I frowned. ‘I don’t see any men lining up to share your gift.’

Leif just laughed and said, ‘You mustn’t worry, what I give means little to me.’

I didn’t quite buy that last bit, but I let it go. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.

We strolled on, stopping to choose clothing. I selected a dress the colour of butter from a rack that resembled a rainbow and Leif chose a skirt in shell pink. I looked at him, one eyebrow lifted.

He smiled. ‘You will become accustomed to our ways, Marla.’

‘Unless there’s a top to wear with that, I wouldn’t bother,’ I told him.

His smile widened as he folded the scrap of skirt and tucked it into his pocket before giving out his gifted hand for yet another pair of quivering lips.

Display of affection over, we left the prince-intoxicated girl to her clothing and carried on. We’d not gone far when I stopped
again, clutching Leif’s arm to stop him with me. He looked to me and smiled, asked what wonderful thing I’d found this time.

‘Look,’ I whispered and pointed towards the blond guy who’d captured my attention. He looked very young. Of course there was no way to know his real age in this place of constant youth, but he could not have reached his immortality yet. He sat cross-legged on one corner of a throw rug, his head inclined to his task. On a low table before him was a smooth wooden box on which he was painting an image. A girl, his model, sat on the opposite corner of the rug, and displayed on the fabric between them was an assortment of unpainted jewellery boxes of various shapes and sizes.

Leif looked at the guy and must have made the same connection I had, because he walked over and crouched before him. The guy looked up. He was seriously adorable. With his wild blond curls, big blue eyes and Cupid’s bow lips, he looked just like I’d always imagined a faery should. When he realised Leif’s identity, he put down his brush and inclined his head over the table he was working at.

‘My prince,’ he said simply.

‘These are impressive pieces,’ Leif said, sweeping his hand across the area. ‘Fine workmanship.’

‘I am most honoured,’ he said keeping his head bowed.

‘What is your name, sir?’

The young guy lifted his face to look at Leif. ‘I am Asher, Highness.’

‘Asher,’ Leif repeated and, watching him carefully, introduced me. ‘Asher, I’d like you to meet my betrothed. Her name is Marla.’ I sat down beside Leif.

Asher’s eyes darted to my face and he looked at me for a long moment. I thought I saw his big blue eyes mist over.

‘Marla, an angel’s name—my granddaughter’s name. You could almost . . . ’

‘Almost what?’ I asked, as I studied him. I could not believe this man who looked like an adolescent could possibly be a grandfather.

He shook his head, his eyes not leaving my face. He was as captivated by me as I was by him.

‘I’ve got one of those boxes—back at my place. It’s my most treasured possession,’ I told him.

‘It is a great pleasure to know my work is so enjoyed,’ Asher said with a smile.

‘It’s beautiful, Asher, oval shaped and made of this unusual honey-coloured wood with streaks of gold in it. And there’s all these gorgeous flowers around the outside, made from little coloured stones. And the painting is lovely. I think it might be my parents but I can’t be sure. They’re standing in front of a river. She has pale blond hair like mine. His is a little darker. And the way they look at each other! You can tell they’re in love.’

Asher was quiet for a moment, studying me closely before he spoke. ‘The box you speak of sounds like one my father and I made for my son and his wife. He crafted the box and I painted it. It was a wedding gift. I remember well the day they posed for the painting. They were so happy. Who could know . . . ?’ His words drifted into silence and he looked to be immersed in a memory for a moment. His face was closed as he looked at Leif again. ‘Highness, my child and his family vanished.’ He turned back to me. ‘I don’t know how you came to be in possession of the box you speak of. For a moment I suspected you may be . . . But it’s not possible, both my son and his family are lost, most likely dead.’

But I knew—the words that denied it to him had confirmed it to me. This arresting creature, Asher, who sat so near to me, was my grandfather. I took the bangle from my wrist and opened the locket that dangled from it to reveal the photos inside. Taking his
hand, I dropped it into his palm. His eyes remained on the photos as I explained.

‘That’s a photo of my parents. They left it for me inside the box I described to you with a letter to explain their identity. My parents are called Tobias and Finelle. They gave me up for adoption when I was a baby.’

Asher put his face into his hands and wept.

‘Marla has spent her life in the human world. I called to her. She answered,’ Leif told him quietly.

‘Ah, only one of the royal line could achieve such a thing. To summon across so great a barrier would be impossible for common Fae,’ Asher said, looking up. ‘But what of the other child?’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Your brother, your twin—what of him?’

‘I don’t have a brother,’ I said, but a little seed of hope had been sewn inside me, a tiny thing, fragile and refusing to flourish at the risk of being crushed.

‘Yes, my darling, you do. It is
his
photo you carry in your locket.’

‘That’s a photo of me.’

‘No, it is your brother. I only saw you for a moment, but I remember you both well.’