Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More (14 page)

“But, no! That is not what I was speaking of. I meant when we first rewarded him with all we could after the battle. He was very much less than gracious.”

Jenni could understand that and words began welling into her mind and left her mouth low and rusty. “You moved up the dimensional opening.” She hadn’t been there, and that had been the basis of her guilt, why she couldn’t forgive herself.

The queen’s fingers clenched into the grooves in the ends of the chair’s arms. Jenni thought she saw steam rising from the djinnfem’s fingertips. Her voice, too, held more fire and the emotional hissing. “You understand that neither I nor my mate were party to that decision. We were not of the Eight. We were only the prospective Fire King and Queen, nor was the present Queen of Air, the elffem, consulted.”

Keeping her eyes on the queen’s face, seeing blue flame dance in the woman’s pupils, Jenni nodded.

“But had I been asked I would have agreed with the decision.” She inhaled and her expression smoothed as she controlled any emotion. Jenni fought memories and hung on to her temper by a fingernail.

“We’d just heard the Darkfolk were preparing an ambush. All of the Eight had arrived, the Four who were leaving were anxious to be gone. I must admit that I was impatient to become the next Fire Queen. We were worried about the stability of the portal, how much power it would take to open it, how long we could keep it open to ensure the safe passage of the Four to a new dimension.” The queen’s wide mouth twitched up. “Cloudsylph, the current King of Air, who was then the head of the warriors, wanted all done as quickly as possible. He cut the ritual—the pomp—to skeletal necessity. Your family assured us that they could gather such magic as to accommodate us, provide us with rich elemental energies to carry us through the situation. Not all of our retinues—those strong in magic who would support us—had arrived, including you.”

Jenni shuddered, bit her lower lip to keep her mouth clamped shut as she recalled running flat out toward the portal and her dying family after she’d heard her mother’s scream. The day in France had been lovely, the sun had shone from a soft blue sky, wind had ruffled the vibrant green grass setting the colorful wildflowers nodding.

Then there’d been the stench of Darkfolk and blood and death. Sweat beaded at the back of her neck under her hair just thinking about it.

“We had no sooner gotten the portal up than the Darkfolk attacked. They broke our dancing circle! Blurred the lines of the wheel. We fought. My mate, I, the warriors who were there.” A wintry smile. “Not all the warriors were there, either. There had just been a shift change, and some lingered. Lucky. Especially since some showed up early, an hour before the ceremony.” Her blue-white gaze shifted to Jenni. “Like your family.”

Jenni flinched.

“What saved us all was that the Darkfolk were not organized, as usual. Some of the minor fiends attacked before the five remaining great Dark ones ordered the charge. Cloudsylph had a few minutes to form our strategy and defense. The portal held as the Four leaving rushed through, draining much of our energy and power. I, my mate and the elves claimed our magic, but it was not as much as it should have been. We were distracted, fighting, focused on surviving, not becoming royal.” The queen’s voice had become an edgy drone. Neither did she have good memories of her ascension to the throne of fire. “Then the portal began to waver….” Another slide of the queen’s flame-blue stare to Jenni. “Your family was in trouble.”

An understatement, they’d been dying. A wave the color and scent of blood rolled through Jenni, tinting her vision from the inside. All she saw was red liquid dripping.

The sound of the door opening had her blinking and blinking again. Aric walked in, aimed a short bow toward the queen and came to sit beside Jenni. She wanted to lean into him. She didn’t.

The queen watched her with eyes cooled to her regular brown. “The portal was wavering, then it vanished. The earth bucked under our feet. Fighting became vicious as the Darkfolk poured onto the field. Magics were flung. More warriors, guests, Lightfolk joined the battle.”

“Then…?” The queen lapsed into a silence that stretched and stretched and Jenni surreptitiously moved her fingers in a spell to stop memories from coming.

“Then?” Aric prompted.

A TREMOR WENT THROUGH THE QUEEN
. “Then there was more elemental energy, magical power around me than I’d ever felt. I had a surfeit of fire energy to work with, funneled some of the magic that could overcome me to other djinn on the field.” The queen looked down at her hands, flexed them, and her smile grew wide and sharp. “I had the pleas-sure of des-stroy-ing one of the remaining five Dark ones-ss mys-self. I soaked up all the magic I could, everyone did, especially the new Four, but I feared for my life. There was too much energy.” She inclined her head to Jenni. “You know.”

“Yes,” Jenni whispered from a throat that felt seared.

“You came, ran into the mist.”

I will not remember,
Jenni chanted mentally.

The queen continued, “We fought with wild magic all around us, both Darkfolk and Lightfolk, spells and weapons conjured that I’d never seen before, never imagined. Even the slightest finger-flick reaped death.” The djinnfem leaned against a wing of the chair, her voice lowered to a bare whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Those of us who survived did so because of luck, of fate…except we Eight. We survived because we were the best.”

“And the elf and dwarf guardians helped,” Aric said. “As did I and others, putting our bodies and magics and lives between you and the Darkfolk.”

The queen sat straight again, frowned at Aric, let out a hissing sigh. “That is true.” She turned to Jenni, dismissing Aric. “Now you know how it was, from my point of view. Do you wish to interview the other kings and queens? I can arrange it.” An undertone in her voice screamed warning to Jenni and she wanted and feared to say yes. “No,” she forced from her dry and hurting throat.

Aric relaxed next to her.

“Everyone at the portal opening, the ambush and battle dictated or wrote our accounts…except you.”

Heat of humiliation rushed to Jenni’s face, but she kept her gaze level with the queen’s. A dwarf scholar had come to Jenni soon after the event and she’d sent him away. “I lost my whole family. My sole remaining brother disowned me.” And none of the kings and queens had offered support.

The queen tapped a finger on the arm of her chair. “We have Rothly’s record of what happened when he was in the interdimension. We believe his account is…unreliable. Only you would be able to correct that.”

Curiosity pulsed from the queen—and the very walls. Others were listening.

“Would you like to see the archived stories of the ambush and battle during the dimensional portal opening?” the queen asked.

“Yes,” Jenni said.

“And perhaps you will add yours.”

“Perhaps.”

“There are, of course, scholars studying the event.” The queen waved a hand. “All aspects and from all the major Folk—djinn, elf, dwarf and mer.”

“Scholars will study it forever,” Aric said. He wasn’t looking at Jenni, but at the queen, and had shifted closer.

“Also true.” The queen stood.

Aric did, too, taking Jenni’s hand and pulling her up.

“I will have the volumes of the records brought to you.” The djinnfem inclined her head. “A gift.”

Jenni was torn between gratitude and dread. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps now that Rothly’s arm and magic have been restored, his memory will be better and he can amend his record, too.”

Aric jerked beside her and Jenni sensed that he hadn’t heard about Rothly’s magic. She didn’t correct the queen about Rothly’s talent.

The Fire Queen gazed down at Jenni. “I would like to extend an invitation to you—” her gaze flicked to Aric “—and Treeman Paramon, to dinner tonight. Informal, in our suite. We dine late, in three hours.” Her gaze flicked toward the huge window and the dark sky of full night.

Jenni seemed stuck to the floor, her feet wouldn’t move. She didn’t want to go to dinner, but she sensed the queen hadn’t actually discussed what she wished. Another thing that Jenni didn’t want to do that she would. So many in the last few days!

She’d been reacting a lot, been manipulated. But now was not the time to dig in her heels. “Very well.” She forced the words from her mouth. The day had already been too long, but she could nap again.

The queen nodded and glided from the room.

Staring at the door, Jenni stiffened her spine. She’d not only reacted, but had
acted,
too. She had freed her brother…
she
had formed a circle and influenced the second creative bubble, had used her gift, had said goodbye to her old home—all actions she could be proud of.

Aric squeezed her hand, then dropped it and moved to the center of the room. There he began a slow-moving dance involving wide gestures and stamping feet. The atmosphere seemed to thin and clear. She could almost feel listening spells sliding off the walls.

She scrambled to think of other spells she could add to safeguard the place from words wafting through the cavern to waiting ears, images coalescing in the flames of the fire and being shown to watching eyes. Nothing came to mind. She would have to rely on Aric.

Something else she’d been doing the past two days.

Her life had changed and with all that had happened to her, it seemed like hours had lengthened into weeks. She was out of her home, her sanctuary where she’d lived with her guilt and grief. Now forced to interact with those who knew her, her family, her history, her brother. Those who had lived through the same frightening and wrenching event.

The queen hadn’t said, but Jenni knew to the last drop of magic in her cells that the djinnfem had lost friends she’d cherished during the ambush, maybe even family…as had the other royals. A fact that Jenni should consider.

“Done, now,” Aric said, and came and drew Jenni into his arms.

Startled, she looked up, only to see his head bend, his deep green eyes glitter with intent. His lips touched hers, pressed, and she opened her mouth on a gasp and breath passed between them, infusing her, touching her with nearly unbearable tenderness. The deliciousness of his magic, his power, his virility.

Then his tongue slipped between her lips and greedy craving tore through her like a firestorm. All the past and present need for this one man coalesced in her. Her arms came up and wrapped around his shoulders, she leaned against him until she could feel his every hard muscle. His body was tougher, more honed than when she’d kissed him last. Incredible. Wonderful. Fabulous.

His arm was a bar behind her waist as he curved her into his body, bent her back. There was nothing but the sensation of the kiss, heat warming her from her core to every nerve ending as her body readied. He tasted of wild forest, deep woods where anything could happen. Where they’d made love the first time.

The door slammed and the chatelaine with five keys marched in with a stack of books. She let them fall thumping onto a sturdy table.

Dazed, Jenni’s arms dropped and Aric took a pace away from their embrace, looking amused.

“Written and translated to
English
.” The dwarfem tapped five large, leather-covered volumes. She slid the five aside with easy strength, then curved her fingers around five much thinner books. “Spoken word, with a spell for
English
.” A sniff.

Jenni blinked at the final books, much thinner, before she realized they appeared like a Lightfolk version of video, only insert and bound like books.

Sure enough, the woman said, “Video.”

Were they 3-D pages? Projected holograms? Jenni wasn’t sure she wanted to open one and find out.

“Thank you, Druka,” Aric said, bowing.

“Thank you, Lady Chatelaine Dwarfem of the Granite family.” Jenni hastily remembered her manners and bowed deeply, too, a little more deeply than the chatelaine’s rank demanded, but Jenni was sure that she didn’t want to make an enemy of this woman.

One more sniff, then a smirk and glinting brown eyes at Aric. “Regarding the princess’s previous lodging. A brownie was suborned to carry a message to one of my assistants. The message stated Jindesfarne Mistweaver should be put in the weeping-wall cave. Some like that ambience.” The housekeeper clucked her tongue and her round cheeks hardened, looking menacing instead of cheery. “The brownie has been dismissed and banned from working in any palace….”

“What?” Jenni asked. That sounded bad.

The dwarfem ignored her, still focused on Aric. “The brownie was bribed by the djinnfem Synicess,” she said with gleeful malice. “Word is that djinnfem princess is not happy at being abandoned. Again.”

“Again?” Jenni frowned.

“Her parents were the old fire royals who left for the other dimension.”

The chatelaine turned and her long skirts twitched as she headed for the door.

“A second, please!” Jenni said. “What was the brownie’s name?”

“Fritterworth.” One. Last. Sniff. “And he lived down to his name.”

“Names are powerful things,” Jenni said, but the dwarfem was gone. Running her hands through her hair, Jenni scanned the room for a crystal-ball communicator. She didn’t see one and an itching between her shoulder blades told her time was important—and short. She strode to the center of the room, where a wheel was woven into the thick hand-knotted silk rug, and flung out her arms. “Hartha!”

The brownie woman popped into existence, frowning. “And what would you be wanting with me that is so urgent that you must call me so rudely?”

“A brownie has been dismissed and banned from the palaces. I want you to take him under your wing.”

“I am not a wretched sprite. I don’t have wings to travel quickly, I have to come through earth and use much magic to do so.” Hartha’s arms were crossed, then curiosity shone in her eyes even as she frowned. “Which brownie?”

“Fritterworth.”

“Fritterworth!”
Hartha rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “
Fritter worthless,
more like. What did he do now?”

“Please, Hartha, he needs a home, like you and Pred did….” Jenni hesitated. “And a new name.”

“I’m not naming any browniemen. You name them and they are yours.” Her chin jutted. “And you can’t name him, ’cause you don’t know him, and can’t meet him here.”

Jenni glanced at Aric. He shook his head. “No. I do not care to be responsible for the creature.”

Hartha sniffed. “Creature.”

Jenni said, “Take him home. Chinook can name him.”

“Chinook, the cat!” Hartha laughed. “Fritterworth owned by a cat.” She grinned.

“Please tell Chinook to be kind, to give him an honorable name to live up to. Maybe you could suggest one?”

Hartha was shaking her head, still smiling, but Jenni knew she’d get her way. She lowered her voice. “And maybe, if all goes well, I can name him something even higher after all this is done and send him to my brother Rothly.”

“You are one optimistic fem,” Hartha said, and Jenni understood that the brownie woman had already heard about Rothly’s healing and his continuing grudge against Jenni.

“Fritterworth, hear me!” Jenni shouted, hoping the brownieman could.

Aric moved over and joined hands with her, squeezed her fingers. “Say again.”

“Fritterworth, hear me.”

“I hear,” sobbed a small voice. “I was wrong. I did wrong. I didn’t think. I threw the gold away. Bad gold.”

Hartha flinched at that. Minor brownies or major dwarves, Earthfolk hated losing gold.

“I give you conditional house space in my home,” Jenni said.

“Who?” The voice sounded perkier.

“Jindesfarne Mistweaver.”

“Oh! I accept.” There came a short pause and the joy in the voice soured as if the impulsive brownie had recalled something. “Hartha.”

“That’s right. You will be renamed. Hartha will join you and show you the way.”

A huge sigh. “All right.”

“Fritterworth!” Hartha said sternly.

“Thank you,” said the brownieman.

With a huff of breath and a scolding glance at Jenni, Hartha said, “I hope you don’t regret this.” Then she vanished.

Jenni stumbled back and sank into the plump love seat. It had cost her power to call Fritterworth, and both Hartha and Fritterworth had used some of Jenni’s magical energy to transport themselves.

Aric was watching her, head tilted. “You have grown…matured…and are not as bitter as I’d thought.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “Not as sweet as you were, but some sweetness left…spicy…nutmeg and raw sugar.”

A ripple of sensuality flickered through her. She lifted her chin. “We’ve just seen the consequences of being together. We’ve made an enemy of a royal djinnfem.”

“Say thank you to the compliment, Jenni.”

“Thank you. But I don’t think—”

He sat down opposite her, lounging against the corner of the love seat. “Let me worry about Synicess.”

Jenni stared at him—he was revealing that same manner he’d used when she’d met him. Was the sympathetic and tender man his true self, or the more confident warrior-businessman? “The consequences—”

“You were slighted and given a poor room.” He lifted and dropped a shoulder.

She narrowed her eyes. “Slighted enough that I considered abandoning this stupid mission.”

He sat straight at that, his hands clasped between his knees, and leaned toward her. “How can you say that? You experienced the bubble event yourself.”

She’d been too focused on herself and Rothly to ask about his family. She clutched Aric’s forearm—it was ridged steel. “Your mother?”

“She has survived.” He shrugged again with a casualness she knew he didn’t feel. His feelings for his family had always been mixed.

“And your sisters?”

“Which ones? Of my three full sisters, one is missing. Who knows? Of my twelve half sisters, three have lost trees and have pined to death, one fought the shadleeches and lost and she and the tree are dead.”

Jenni gulped. “You tried to send the creative elemental energies of the bubble to the dryads and redwoods.”

His hand fisted. “Someone has to do something. I have been talking myself green to have the Eight act for the redwoods.” His lip curled, he shook off her hand, stood and paced. “Just like the human logging situation, no one acts, not soon enough, not directly enough.” His gaze bored into her own. “Do you think I like working at the beck and call of the Eight?”