The Iron Locket (The Risen King) (19 page)

"Yes," Aiofe said, tossing a thankful smile at the man across from her. "I really would."

Arthur's relaxed grin returned. "Of course, m'lady. My apologies." With one more glare in Kay's direction, he turned his attention to the man at his right. "This is my closest friend and confidant, Lancelot."

"Lancelot?" Aiofe couldn't stop herself from gushing. "
The
Lancelot? Like the one who tried to steal Guinevere from you?" She slapped a hand to her mouth, green eyes going wide as her cheeks flushed pink.

Arthur's hearty chuckle rolled across the table as he clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It would appear our little squabble was more public than we would have cared to know, my friend. What other secrets of our court have you heard, my dear?"

"Um..." Aiofe glanced around the table. Six knights were seated there, and she had their full attention. Kay's smirk was quickly returning as the thief of his chair was suddenly on the spot. "Well," she said, trying to figure out who was who. "Some of your knights were very famous.” She laughed a little. "I'll have to tell you guys the stories sometime so you can tell me what was real and what was just a myth. Like the Holy Grail? Was that real?"

Arthur cocked his head at her. "But of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard to tell these days what's real and what was made up over the years by storytellers. Anyway, who is who?" She waved a hand toward the three knights who hadn't been introduced.

"I am Bors." The blond knight next to Lancelot bowed his head slightly, an endearing smile crossing his face. His hair was cut shorter than most of the others and he had a serious look about him. "Anything you need, my lady, I am at your service."

"Always the servant, never the served," came the bitter grumble beside her.

Aiofe gave Kay a sideways glance. "Are you always so rude?"

Bors cut off any retort the knight might have had, his chin held high. "In life, I took a vow of celibacy, my lady. I have chosen to renew it. Other knights prefer to take advantage of their station. I do not."

"Oh," said Aiofe.

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed until Arthur spoke up. "To Kay's left is Gawain and the young knight to Bors's right is Percival. He was with Tristan when they rescued you."

Images of the chaos that surrounded her arrival in Faery flashed through her mind. She remembered seeing a young blond man and the one sitting at the table matched the description. "Oh, yes," she said, smiling at him. "Thank you so much for that. I think I kind of pissed that faery off a bit."

Mouths gaped. Aiofe looked around the table, confused by their sudden shock. "What?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "It is nothing. My knights are just not used to ladies who speak so, shall we say, freely?"

"I don't... wait, you mean 'pissed'?"

He coughed a little and moved a cup that was sitting in front of him a few centimeters to one side. "Yes," he said. "In our time, women of breeding did not use such language."

Aiofe laughed, partly embarrassed, but mostly entertained. She almost wanted to see how they would react when she got really worked up and started dropping less courteous language. "I'm sorry," she said. "You boys are going to be in for quite a shock, I think. There aren't really women of 'breeding' anymore. We're all just kind of the same. Classes still exist to an extent, but not nearly the way they did back when you were first alive. I can't wait for you to see the way most of us dress!"

Her mirth was met by confused and uncomfortable shuffles until the door opened and several servants entered. They were each bearing trays with plates on them and they set the dishes in front of the knights and Aiofe. The plates were covered with a silver lid, but Aiofe could smell the food underneath. As they ate, she asked questions about their previous lives, trying to separate the myths from truth, and answered strange questions about hers. Questions such as "What exactly are groceries?"

"Next question," said Aiofe as she stuffed the last chunk of chicken from her plate into her mouth.

"What was that thing that fell out of your pocket when Arthur carried you up the stairs?" Lancelot asked. His plate was already cleaned, as were all the men. They ate much faster than she had.

"What?" Aiofe stopped chewing and stared at the man. "Out of my... my phone! You have my phone?" She sat up straight, her eyes darting between him and Arthur. A look of concern crossed their faces as Lancelot pulled the black object from his own pocket and placed it on the table. She half stood to reach across and grab it.

"Several of the faeries were very upset about it and some ran away. Why? What is it? What is a phone?"

The plastic casing was cracked and Aiofe feared the worst as she flipped it open. "A phone is a telephone. It lets you talk to whoever is on the other end instantly." She breathed a sigh of relief as it lit up.

"But it is so small. And there is no one on the other end."

"Well, no, not right now. I can't get a signal."

The young woman looked around the table. All the men were looking at her as if she had just missed the train to crazy town, only they had no idea what a train was. She blew out a puff of air. "It's kind of like magic but not really. Say Arthur was in France and Lancelot was in Camelot. They could talk to each other without having to send letters. Instantaneous." She snapped her fingers to prove her point.

Heads nodded in false understanding, but their eyes remained mini canvases of befuddlement. She gave up. "Arthur," she said, her happy mood at the entertaining afternoon gone with the mention of her phone. "Can I talk to you alone?"

He paused briefly. "Yes, m'lady." Then he rose and held out his hand. "We will go to the gardens."

She took it and stood up herself, feeling very medieval and almost wishing she was wearing a dress. Almost.

*~*~*

TWENTY-TWO

*~*~*

Arthur led her through the castle, down a short hallway, and out a wooden door. At the foot of a set of stone stairs, a rock path disappeared behind a tall hedge.

"I have yet to visit this part of the grounds," Arthur said as he picked up her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. "I am happy to be seeing it for the first time with you."

Aiofe blushed and bit her lip. "I'm not used to someone talking so sweetly," she replied as he led her into the garden.

"Oh? The men where you come from do not say such things?"

She snorted. "Not usually, no. Not unless they really want to get in your pants."

His eyebrows knit together. "I am not familiar with that term, but it sounds like the desire of some unsavory creature."

Aiofe grinned. "Most of the time, yes, they are very unsavory."

The garden was not large, but it was well maintained and beautiful nonetheless. Flowers of every color lined a maze of stone paths that wound between trees and swaths of bright green grass. Intricately carved stones benches were scattered around, most of them next to topiary statues trimmed into shapes of faeries. She spotted an green satyr next to two cherubs holding up a slab of rock. Across the way stood a motionless centaur, his ivy ax poised precariously over a lounging sprite whose legs made the perfect place to rest. She stopped and sat, patting the stone beside her. Arthur smiled and took his place, slipping on arm around behind her.

"It's very nice here," she said, gazing up into his blue eyes.

"Yes," he murmured as his face lowered toward hers.

A shock wave rippled through Aiofe's body as their lips met. Fire dance across her face, creeping down her skin into her extremities and other parts of her body. She brought a hand up, tangling it in the blond hair as their lips pressed tighter together. Hers parted slightly with the prodding of his curious tongue and she happily welcomed it into her mouth. Her own tongue shot out to dance with his, twirling in a sloppy embrace.

His other hand slid around her, dropping from her waist down to her bottom, pulling her onto his lap. A hard lump pressed against her leg and she felt herself growing moist at the thought of it. She pressed against him, her body aching for more. She let a hand trail down his chest until it reached his pants. Tucking her fingers into them, she began tugging gently at the strings that held them up.

With a cough, Arthur shoved her gently but firmly back onto the bench and stood. His hands shook as he retied his pants tightly and straightened his shirt. For several long seconds he stared away from her, taking deeps breaths to compose himself, then with a smile, he turned. "I apologize, m'lady. Please, let us continue our stroll." He held out a hand and she took it, both thankful and irritated that he stopped before it went further.

They continued wandering through the maze of hedges and patches of grass until they reached a wide stone courtyard. In the center of the garden was a masterpiece. A large fountain took up most of the open area, water bubbling happily from the mouths of marble mermaids resting along the outer rim into the pool below. In the middle were four women facing outward.

"They're beautiful," sighed Aiofe as they approached.

"They are the Four Queens of Faery," said Arthur, awed at the almost perfect likeness the creator had captured. "They each stand facing their lands." He pointed to one. "That is Isobel, Queen of the West." He moved around the fountain so they were standing in front of another. "Mab, Queen of the North. Oonagh, Queen of the East." He paused in front of the last, glancing at Aiofe before he spoke. "Titania, Queen of the South."

Aiofe's hand went to her throat, her fingers finding the locket still tucked there. She pulled it out and looked at the front. It did indeed look like the statue, so much so that they could have been carved by the same hand. "She's my boss, but yesterday was the first time I ever met her."

"But she is your..." Arthur stopped himself. "She is your boss?"

Aiofe raised an eyebrow at him. One of the tricks of the hunting trade was knowing when someone wasn't being truthful and she was quite certain that what Arthur had said had not been what he wanted to say, but she nodded.

"Yes, she was the one who enlisted The First." She watched the water bubble for a moment before she realized he had no clue who The First was. "The First was the first hunter, the first to be selected by the queens to help them keep rogue faeries under wraps. They imbued her with special powers, making her stronger, faster, smarter than a normal human. The power gets passed down through the line. It weakens the further you get from the direct line of The First, but it's still there." Her fingers tightened around the locket.

"What happens if the direct line dies out?"

Aiofe frowned. She had never thought to ask that question. "I have no idea."

"The power dies with it."

Arthur and Aiofe turned in unison toward the new voice. A young blond woman who looked very much like the statue sauntered across the stones toward them. She wore a long billowing pastel pink dress and her hair trailed out behind her. Her skin glowed with the kiss of the sun and her blue eyes shone with brilliant intelligence. She was gorgeous and Aiofe could feel the power emanating off of her. The red head tightened her grip on Arthur's arm, moving closer to her knight.

"Zela," he said. "A pleasure. You remember Aiofe?"

Zela gave him a look that almost made Aiofe laugh. "Yes, I remember her well. I did save her life, after all."

Aiofe grinned. "I almost didn't recognize you without all the blood. Thank you for your help yesterday."

Zela waved a hand, her hard face melting into a loving smile. She reached out and pulled Aiofe into an embrace. "Think nothing of it. I see you are well again. I am happy to see it. For awhile there, we feared for your safety." She turned her attention to Arthur. "We recovered one of the banewolves. They have indeed been mutated, their essence crossed with a banshee's. This does not bode well. We must stop her before she can cause irreversible corruption."

"What do the Queens say?"

"We are to gather a force and hit her castle hard. Tear it down, leave nothing alive."

Aiofe's hands gripped Arthur's arm. "When?"

"As soon as possible." Zela patted Aiofe's shoulder. "You will remain here, in the safety of these walls. You are a hunter, not a warrior. The battlefield of Faery is no place for a child of The First."

Aiofe found herself shaking her head. "I can't stay here," she blurt out. "I have to go home."

"You cannot." The long blond locks danced as Zela denied Aiofe's request. "Leanansidhe knows who you are. You are not safe anywhere but here."

"I have to leave. I have to check on my grandparents. They don't know where I am and if she knows where I live..." Her voice trailed off. She felt faint as her heart began to pound, images of what could happen to her family racing through her mind. She gripped Arthur's arm tighter and she looked up at him, pleading. "Please," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes unbidden.

He brushed her cheek with a rough thumb before appealing to Zela. "We will take her home. I will leave one of my knights. If we are assaulting Lea's castle, she will not waste time trying to attack some innocent humans."