Gossamyr (49 page)

The unicorn's forelegs stomped the ground. The bass pulse of the
earth echoed with each stomp. Verity, frozen in place, smiled as a
soft wet nose nudged her face and a rough tongue lapped her chin.
Kissed by Enchantment.

The last taste she might ever know.

To her side, Ulrich threaded his fingers into hers and Tor moved
to stand before the soul shepherd. The unicorn bowed its head and
pressed the length of its nose to Ulrich's face, a strange communion
that held the man in a shuddering reverie. Shaking minutely, Ulrich
stretched out both arms, releasing—and gaining. With a snap of
its head Tor pulled back.

Ulrich collapsed forward onto the ground, palms catching in the
grasses. In the next moment he exclaimed in effusive gasps, "She
is alive! My Rhiana! The unicorn bid me see her. She is—not
safe—but yet lives! Oh, my, such dragon fire."

The unicorn turned and, going down on one leg, bowed before
Dominique. A dust of white-plumed mouse flies sifted skyward. The
beast bristled and shook its head. Dominique bowed.

In a storm of lofting butterflies and bees and scuttling field
mice the unicorn took off at a gallop. It charged the meadow then
turned and cantered toward Shinn and Avenall. Powerful forelegs
beating the earth, the sound of its pace drummed the air. A leap
passed the white stallion over the Faery lord's body. But it did not
land the ground. One moment the unicorn beat down the grasses with
powerful legs and dancing head—

—the next moment it was gone.

Returned to Faery. Re-Enchanted.

Shinn had gone to rest in the place of his origin. Avenall would
be returned to Rougethorn.

Iridescent wings fluttered over Gossamyr's head. She tilted back
her head, catching the sharp tinks of her crystallized tears upon her
eyelids and cheeks. Contact softened them and salty liquid slid over
her flesh. The sound of love lost cried out across the meadow.

Verity turned to find she stood before the blue marble castle.
"Oh."

Flutter of the fetch's wings glittered in her peripheral view—
but began to fade. All began to blur and soften at the edges like
ripples on a pond distorting a reflection. Time here would be
limited. Soon she would lose all sight of Faery, and in turn Faery
would rob her of life.

Now, to find Desideriel.

"I have worried a pacing trail across the room!" Mince
scampered out from the castle entry. "You are home."

Home, yes, in Mince's arms. And in her father's closed eyes.

The same, this castle. The same, her maid.

Mince fussed and tugged at her motley clothing and commented when
she saw her burnt hair. But Gossamyr could only wrap her arms about
her and hug. Close, here in Faery, and better for it. Ever the same.

"Lord de Wintershinn?"

Gossamyr gulped at the heavy air. "He has had the final
twinclian,
Mince."

"Oh, blight!" The maid faltered, but Gossamyr caught her
by the elbow and walked her toward the castle.

Never had she truly belonged. She believed in the Otherside now.
Her side. "The wedding must go on. Shinn would have wanted that.
Though I doubt I shall live long after. Time will make that decision
for me."

"Nonsense!"

"I am mortal...you know. The rift has been sealed. My time is
limited."

"Oh? Oh, yes, yes." Mince clasped her arm tight to
Gossamyr's and leaned upon her as they walked. "Oh, Gossamyr?"

"Verity."

"Oh?"

"My mortal name—"

"Nay, you must not speak a Name from the Otherside or you
will—"

Perish. The unspoken word.

"You may be safe—hold back Time—if you do not
utter your mortal name complete." The maid nodded effusively,
and then...

"Mince? I cannot see you."

"I'm right here, precious one. Oh, we must hurry you to
Desideriel!"

Desideriel Raine stood in the cloistered tower, looking out over
the rose garden. He wore battle gear, armored gauntlets, a leather
cuirass strapped across his broad chest, and greaves on his shins.
Brilliant periwinkle wings folded down his back and thighs.

Gossamyr, quite in a hurry, but slowing her approach, paused some
good distance from him and bowed. Still garbed in the tattered
fur-trimmed gown and Dominique's hematite-rimmed cape, she had
allowed Mince to untwist her plait to survey the damage from the
flame. A perfect mess, she appeared.

If Desideriel took notice of her he did not show it.

She hadn't time for his refusal to recognize her as a viable mate.
Her staff, it was not to hand, and she felt not whole without it.
With immense regret for what she planned, Gossamyr stepped right up
to Desideriel—close enough for Faery.

"Lady de Wintershinn," he offered, looking down upon
her. He did not move, but neither could he summon a bow. But his eyes
did widen and his nostrils flared. Disgust. "It has been many
moons."

"But a few mortal days," she said. There was no time to
wonder about the erratic effects of Time.

"Shinn left a full moon cycle previous," Desideriel
said. "The revenants, they have ceased. I have waited for Lord
de Wintershinn's return."

"He is dead."

Desideriel stepped back, obviously taken with her abrupt
announcement.

"Forgive my rude manner," she spoke quickly, but with
the authority her position afforded. "I am not long for Faery.
Before my father died he explained much about...my origins."

"He is dead?"

"Sacrificed himself for me."

"I see." Was that genuine concern in the violet depths
of Desideriel's gaze? "Then you have returned to take the
throne?"

"Listen to me, Desideriel." She approached the
crenellated marble and swung to face him as bravely as she could
muster. No, bravery was not required, she had that. It was fortitude.
"I cannot rule Glamoursiege, nor do I wish to. Shinn chose you."

"To stand at your side as your adviser."

"No, to rule Glamoursiege."

"I don't understand."

"Despite your lack of regard for my half blood—"
Drawing up straight, she settled into her mortality with ease. This
is who she was. Mortal, and not about to regret that fact. For so
many she had loved because of it. "—you were the only
choice to take control of the Glamoursiege reign. Will you do as the
former Lord de Wintershinn desired?"

"I...yes. I will. And I do not hate—"

She put up her hand again. "I see your truth in your eyes. Do
not make it peccable with falseness."

He nodded. Not about to admit what she claimed to know. It only
made what she must do all the more trying.

"We should marry quickly. As I've said, I've not time. The
rift has been sealed. I should not have returned, but to see
Glamoursiege crown a new lord I have risked it. You will gain a wife
who puts the disgust to your eyes, but worry not, I shall perish soon
enough, leaving you to reign."

"We shall wed this evening."

"Splendid." So cold, his quick plans. But not
unexpected. An excellent commander Lord Desideriel shall make. "I'll
have Mince gather fitting vestments for we two, and you shall see the
proper authorities are summoned...Desideriel."

Yes?

"We must both enter the agreement knowing the other's truths.
I know you do not favor me. I find you a fine and powerful warrior,
well qualified to stand in my father's wake—but, my heart
belongs to another."

He lifted a brow.

"As well, I have learned I am mortal complete. An exchange
taken to appease a changeling birth. I cannot stand upon the throne
of Glamoursiege. It would be sacrilege. But my marriage to you will
grant you that reign."

"I begin to understand—"

"Far more quickly than I could, I guess. As well I have
learned my real name." She touched the hard leather curve of
Desideriel's armor chest plate, carved on the dextral side with the
Glamour-siege crest, and on the sinistral, a smaller version of his
homeland crest, the Wisogoth. "I will tell it to you as a trust
to honor our vows."

Both knew to Name her complete—a mortal in Faery—should
condemn her to the Otherside evermore.

"I will never utter it, my lady, as my trust to our vows."

"Thank you." And she went on tiptoe and whispered her
mortal name to him, then begged he begin to arrange for the evening's
ceremony.

Gossamyr looked over the blue marble balustrade to the Passage
below. Bright crimson toadstools formed a perfect circle within the
vibrant emerald grass. A passage to a land she would recall with
pride and such wonder. Her home. Ever a part of her heart.

An evening breeze perfumed with scythed grass and primrose hushed
over her face and lifted the long trailing sleeves of violet
arachnagoss as she spread her arms out to her sides. Faery, filled
with memory, times she would not trade for even a glimpse at the
mortal life she might have lived.

Vows had been spoken beneath the splendid light of a thousand
beeswax candles carried aloft by a muster of violet-tongued piskies.
A bronze circlet grasping rose crystals had been placed to
Desideriel's head where the smooth tips of horns were just beginning
to sprout. He had kissed Gossamyr beneath a swag of fragrant
laburnum, merely display to those who witnessed, she knew. For she
had not felt a thing during that kiss.

No, that wasn't right. In that moment she had felt much. Loss.

So many she had truly loved—Shinn, Avenall, and yes, Ulrich—
all to remain only in her heart, never again in her arms.

A great feast had been brought in upon crystal platters. Minstrels
had fluttered over the keep, dancing and singing praises of the new
lord. Those fée who had ever looked upon Gossamyr with disdain
had not changed their looks now she was the new lord's wife. It
mattered little; Gossamyr knew who loved her, 'twas enough.

They were delivered to a flower-bedecked bedchamber and toasted
with mead. And now the revelry was but a minute pulse to the beating
of Gossamyr's heart.

"I will never lose you, Ulrich. For you live here." She
pressed a hand over her heart. "Next to my father and Avenall."

Behind her, Desideriel approached, the ceremonial evening garb of
crystal-trimmed arachnagoss revealed his bare chest and wide sweeping
wings. He carried an applewood staff—one Gossamyr had not
before seen—and displayed it across his palms for her.

"It is very fine." Tracing the carved design with a
finger, she noted the inlaid crystal. "This pattern looks
familiar."

"It is your father's blazon."

"Oh." Bewildered by Desideriel's kindness, she, with a
look for permission, accepted the staff and turned from him to spin
it thrice. The applewood sang brilliantly in her hand. It was who she
was, this warrior wielding a staff. And it felt right. "A very
fine piece."

"It is yours," he offered as she leaned against the
balustrade and he joined her side. "You will need it."

"Certainly, I shall cherish it. As for
needing
it, the
revenants have been defeated. With the rift sealed, Faery is no
longer threatened. I have but to serve as your wife now, no matter
how far in the background. You won't even notice me, I promise."

He tilted up her chin with a finger. In Desideriel's violet eyes
she saw her own reflection. The proud warrior remained defeated even
after triumph. But this is how it must be.

"The vows have been said. The Glamoursiege throne has been
seated," he said. "You, my lady, are quite unnecessary."

She tried to look away, to hide her bruised integrity, but he held
her firm.

"Would that I could keep you here," he said. "But I
know your heart belongs elsewhere."

"My heart desires to do Shinn's bidding."

"And you have. You must return, Gossamyr."

Verity,
she thought. "But—"

"You deserve a long, rich life. Already I have noticed..."
He traced the corner of her eye where even Gossamyr had noticed a
crinkle in the flesh. Age, racing quickly against her mortal heart.
"Though I would offer you my attention, my care, my trust and my
admiration, I could never give you my heart. I will never succumb to
the mortal passion."

"I know that. I should never ask so much. I have explained I
will turn my cheek when you seek another."

"Gossamyr, you are a princess. You should not have to turn
your cheek. You deserve love and respect. I think you might find it
in the Otherside."

He would allow her to return? Never to find her way back to Faery.
"Mayhap."

"There is a man, yes? A mortal man who interests you?"

She shrugged.

"I am jealous."

"You are not."

"Oh, but I am. That a mere mortal can attract my lady wife?"

Did he work to make his voice sound so teasing? Almost
flirtatious. Impossible.

"Who is but a mortal herself and who only draws pity from her
husband's gaze. But my leaving will change nothing—we will be
married still."

"As it must remain. It is not a requirement that the lord of
Glamoursiege has a wife to stand at his side. I vow to you I shall
not interfere in your mortal affairs."

"You do?" That this man would sacrifice for her? How he
had changed! "It is too much to give, I do not deserve—"

He pressed his forefinger to her mouth, silencing her protest.
"Return you, to find love and a long life."

Gossamyr clutched the staff, wanting to hug him, to let out a cry
for joy. To simply thank him for understanding. For no longer did she
belong. Yet she knew his truth in her heart; to release her was not a
sacrifice—he put her from his sight as would please him.

He gripped the staff and stepped up to kiss her. A kiss goodbye,
an acceptance of sorts. A seal to their agreement to join hands
across the distance.

"I should ask to visit you from time to time?"

"Whatever for?"

Desideriel laid both palms to her shoulders. Not a single tingle
in that touch, Gossamyr noted. "You are everything your father
is. I looked up to Shinn, almost as my own sire. He lives within you
and in your strength and fire."