Roses & Thorns (15 page)

"There
will not be another." Angelique studied Drew's tense, closed face.
Darkness churned in the depths of her eyes as she repeated, "There will
never be another."

A
small glow lit in the corner of Angelique's heart. "Not even a faery
maid?"

Drew's
eyes flashed surprise at Angelique's perceptive guess. "Not even a faery
maid."

"Have
I your word, my Liege?" Angelique's voice was touched with possessive
mischief.

Drew
bowed her head. "You have my word, my Lady."

Their
eyes met for a moment as Drew admitted with a grin, "Even the lure of the
faery lands grows thin after a time, especially if you do not succumb to the
wines. Faery maidens have no real attachments except for their music. Nor does
their touch break the curse."

"That
is just as well," Angelique assured her, sliding an arm into Drew's and
dragging her off toward their tethered horses. "Married or not, my Liege,
your dancing eves are done unless I'm included!"

Days
drifted into weeks as Angelique found her beloved's resistance slowly ebbing,
and their habits began to settle into routines. She seldom spent the mornings
with Drew, but with Culdun's aid she had begun an experiment with a new sort of
garden that was a mixture of wild and domesticated plants, and it consumed a
good deal of Angelique's energies. Afternoons, however, brought Drew to her,
and they shared the more leisurely affairs of picnics in hidden meadows or
rides through the cool forest. Angelique found herself growing into something
of a philosopher, as well, an interest Drew encouraged, and often tea was
accompanied by animated discussions. The questions raised nearly always spurred
Angelique back to the libraries before dinner.

Her
magickal skills continued to grow, but Angelique was still very much aware of
her limits. She was largely reliant on the magickal energies of her environment
and found out early that a trick easily done in the palace worked less well in
the forest, despite the presence of the faery magick and the accompanying mist.
That fey magick had nurtured the trees, and so she was certainly a better
sorceress in the woods than out on the meadows or in the fields, but she was
sometimes still frustrated with her limitations. Drew only smiled and
encouraged her to persist, reminding Angelique that it had taken her years to
move beyond the arcane restrictions Angelique was just now encountering.

Despite
this, however, Angelique took a quiet joy in magick, particularly the smaller
sorts such as the ability to place a comb in her hair and command it to stay,
the murmured word that adjusted the temperature of the bath water to the
perfect degree, or the spell that caused the fountain pool to reflect Culdun's
whereabouts. These were the talents Angelique found the most rewarding.

And
it was the reflecting spell that dominated their conversation one evening as
they dawdled over a half-finished game of backgammon. "Despite what it
seems, that is not a simple spell. There is more to it."

"I
thought there must be!" Angelique exclaimed. "I stumbled upon it in
one of your older books, the ones bound in red leather. I tried for an hour
before I could get the pool to show me Culdun, and then only if he were on the
palace grounds. It wouldn't show me you at all."

"No,
it wouldn't have. I am another magickian. You would need to tailor it very
precisely to find anyone else versed in the magickal arts."

"Whereas
Culdun is not so versed?"

An
easy smile came to her companion, bringing a touch of youth with it. "Not
as you and I know magick, my Lady. The Old Ones work with the earth and with
the netherworld. They are part of everything and everything is part of them.
The only real spells you have seen Culdun do are palace magick — the spells
which answer to 'I wish' or 'I need.'"

"But
I've seen him simply appear from nowhere. I've seen him do it between the
village and the gardens as well."

"Ah,
but that is different. He does not use the portals as I do. Between here and
the village, he steps into the faeries' mist. Time does not exist in a forward
motion there. It is much more convoluted. He understands those currents and
eddies even better than I do and uses them to hurry between places in the
valley when he has need. He and the others travel there with my talismans and
beneath my protection."

"Then
the reflection spell lets me find him because he's not warded against it.
Whereas you are."

"Yes,"
Drew nodded, pleased at Angelique's insight. "Early in my exile, I took
the precaution of guarding myself against any secret observations. Initially, I
worried my stepmother would return to wreak more havoc, especially if her
daughter were truly as marred by my so-called abuse as she'd claimed. Later it
was useful in avoiding the clumsier enchantments of the occasional witch hired
by the poachers."

"And
now you hide from me as well?"

"Actually,
I seem rather incapable of that," Drew admitted with a wry smile.

"Can
you teach me?"

"Although
I can guide you, Angelique, I cannot actually teach you magick, for it is a
personal thing to be learned alone. But I can tell you that when I was first
studying, I kept a journal. You will find it among the loose parchments in the
black leather folders."

"The
ones in your study?"

"Yes.
You will find help with the reflection spell. And much more. They will warn
against the more common, awkward mistakes."

"Do
they address the seeking of another sorceress?"

"No."
Drew sat back with a faint shake of her head. "Wards are intensely
personalized to each spell caster. Although you will be able to use the same
basic knowledge to help you, they must each be broken differently."

"Oh."

"But
the notes do address some of the other matters which concern you, such as
greater distances," Drew encouraged. "When you are adept enough to
find Culdun or his nieces in the village, you should also be able to see your
mother back home."

"That
would be wonderful, Angelique admitted. "But I wish you would quit
referring to Aloysius' house as my home. This is my home, Drew. In this place.
With you."

It
took longer for the haunted shadow to appear this time, and Angelique noticed
the brief moment of pleasure which lit Drew's eyes before the doubt closed in
again. She rose and rounded the small table, smiling with fond amusement as
Drew's chair scraped in her haste to rise politely.

"I
am going to bed now," Angelique announced, calmly, looking up into those
pensive eyes. "I intend to dream wonderful dreams of magick and love. I
know that look on your face, my Liege. And I refuse to stay and allow you to
torment us both with all that noble nonsense about not marrying me." Drew
opened her mouth to protest, but Angelique lay a slender finger against the
other woman's lips and said, "I will hear no argument from you tonight.
Now, give me my good-night kiss."

Drew
bent, brushing her lips across Angelique's. Angelique sighed happily, brown
eyes shining as Drew straightened. Unexpectedly, Drew pulled Angelique close
and kissed her again, much less cautiously this time.

The
sheer possessiveness of it stole Angelique's breath. Desire parted her lips,
and she moaned as she felt Drew respond in kind. The kiss deepened, and Drew
slipped her hand under Angelique's thick hair to cup the nape of her neck. The
world spun as Angelique lost herself in the sudden, surging rise of desire.

Drew
pulled back very slowly, but she did not release Angelique when she paused once
more to draw breath. One hand was still buried in Angelique's hair; the other
cupped her cheek. Angelique gazed up into the unreadable depths of Drew's gaze
as she waited for the other to speak.

Angelique
expected another denial of the love they shared, but instead was rewarded. Drew
whispered, "With each passing day it seems..." she faltered.
Angelique held her breath. For a moment she thought Drew would simply shake her
head and take her leave, but Drew took a slow breath and continued, "It
seems more possible."

Angelique
did not have to ask what seemed possible. There could only be one response. A
tentative smile of encouragement played about her lips as Angelique replied,
"Each time you hold me, I find myself praying this will be the time you
will not let go."

Drew's
eyes narrowed and her smile became a little strained. But she did not move
away. For a long moment, they stood together, held in a kind of limbo, an
unspoken question between them. It was Drew who shifted first. She bent again
to kiss Angelique, but this time it was almost chaste.

"But
this is not the time. Is it, my Liege?"

Drew
shook her head. She lifted her hands to hold Angelique's face between them.
"Will you wait for me, Angelique? Can I beg yet a little more of your
patience?"

"For
you, my love, I would wait forever."

The
summer air was thick with the scent of roses. The fountain sang and a pair of
wrens fluttered and fluffed in the shallow waters, adding their cheerful
squabbling to the afternoon.

But
the tea had grown cold on the little white table, and Angelique was mournfully
dangling a hand in the fountain pool. Her thick hair was pulled back by only a
single comb, one side left free to hang as its hairpiece lay forgotten beside
her. The soft lines of her face were marred by a faint frown.

"I
have never seen you quite so unhappy," Drew murmured, appearing from one
of her magickal portals. "I am sorry I am so late. I did not mean to upset
you."

"You
haven't." Angelique withdrew her hand from the water, shaking the droplets
free. "You said you would be delayed." She retrieved the comb and set
about fixing her hair. "Are you ready for tea?" Angelique rose and,
with a few words, warmed the pot again. "There is soft cheese and black
bread as well. Or if you would prefer —"

"That
will be fine," Drew broke in. She settled at the table, watching Angelique
pour the tea. After a moment she asked, "Have I done something to offend
you, my Lady? Or forgotten something? I know it is not your birthday, but
perhaps your mother's?"

"No.
It's not that." She smiled wryly and looked at Drew. "It is not a
birthday. It is a wedding day."

"Yes,"
Drew began cautiously, "Culdun's niece. It—" She broke off as sudden
understanding dawned in her dark eyes, and looked away. "You are unhappy
because it is not
our
wedding day." She paused and then added
dismally, "Whatever I do, I seem bound to hurt you."

"You
do not hurt me on purpose, Drew. I understand your fears. But, sometimes, that
doesn't make the hurt any less." Angelique raised her eyes to Drew's face,
her disappointment plain. But when she saw the pain her own words had caused,
she regretted her selfishness. "Now I've hurt you. Oh, Drew, I don't seem
to be able to do anything right today."

"The
tea is good," the other offered with a shy smile.

"Can
you forgive me?"

"Of
course." Drew brightened. "Not only can I forgive you, but I can also
at least try to lift your melancholy. Let me escort you to the wedding feast?
It would be an honor to have you on my arm."

Angelique
came around the table and answered her question with a kiss.

The
wedding was more a village celebration than a ceremony, and Angelique was glad
she had not missed it. Everyone was there, even babes too young to walk, held
by fathers and mothers throughout the gleeful dancing. Elders and youths shared
tankards of ale together, spun tales, and ate with great gusto at many of the
heavily-laden tables of food.

Angelique
settled down at the edge of the festivities. She'd lost sight of Drew some time
ago now amid the shouted greetings.

Drew,
it seemed, was a popular dancing partner and had been whisked away even before
Angelique had been able to protest. She scanned the crowd, but of Drew she saw
no sign.

"I
see you've found yourself a safe place to watch all the going on."

"I
feel so out of place here, Culdun!" Angelique admitted with a grin, as the
small man slid onto the bench next to her.

"You?
Don't be silly. You look like you were born here!"

She
laughed. She was taller than his folk by more than a head and clumsy as a
drunken bear compared to the willowy faery folk.

"Nay,
wave me off like some shallow youth," he snorted, then finished his drink.

Angelique's
brows lifted, a thought dawning as she peered at him more closely.

"Your
dress, my Lady, is what I'm referring to. Colors of autumn bright — harvest
bright." He waved to the dancers. The faery folk jumped the bonfire,
slivers of twilight dust scattering with the orange sparks as they cleared the
flames' summit. "Just like any of us."

"Culdun."

Obediently,
he turned huge, gray eyes toward her.

"You're
drunk."

A
shout of laughter and a hand clasped her knee as he rocked in his seat, almost
slipping to the ground, but he didn't seem in the least concerned. He wiped the
tears from his eyes and, still gurgling a bit, answered, "You're right
there. But that's what a wedding's for, mistress." Culdun paused, and
added carefully, "Sure you won't have a taste?" He waved back at the
dancers.