The Fairy Gift (3 page)

We stayed that way for a few incredibly long moments, my hand outstretched and tense, his body pulled taut toward it, as if on an invisible string, and our eyes locked with all manner of unspeakable, unsaid things passing between us. I knew then that I could have Adam, take from him whatever I wanted, and own him completely.

For a moment, I considered it; thought about moving close to him, touching him, ordering him to take his clothes off …  Then my guilt surged back in full force, and I ran.

I didn't dare look back until I reached the castle, and then I bent over double, raggedly gasping, my legs shaking. What was wrong with me? How could I think those things? Of course it had been fine to think about them before, when there had been absolutely no chance of them ever happening, but now … everything was different. I had to be careful. I had to be careful, or else I might …

I shook my head violently and ran in through the front gates, intending to lock myself in my bedroom and seriously reconsider my plan to stay there for the rest of my life. That's when I noticed the carriage stopped in front of the heavy wooden doors. More similar to a covered wagon, it was made of weathered wood, painted in different, faded colours, and garishly decorated with hanging trinkets and jingling chimes. Perhaps I was simply not in the mood to like anything, but I found that I disliked it intensely. I rather thought I disliked its owner as well, despite never having met him. I would soon, of course, and the sinking feeling in my gut was not at all unfounded.

"Marcus!" I heard my mother call, as I attempted to sneak past the meal hall to my bedroom. "Marcus, Master Dante has arrived! Come and meet him."

I sighed and slumped into the meal hall, only to have my mother do a double take, and exclaim, "Marcus, are you alright? You look like you've been running!"

"I have," I said, still a little out of breath. "Um. I was exercising." She was staring at me, and I realized that I had lost my coat, and the top few buttons of my shirt had come undone. I hastily did them up and reached up to smooth my hair down, before turning to Dante.

He was an old man, but still seemingly quite healthy, dressed in formal long wizard's robes of a gaudy blue. His off-white beard was scraggly, as if he had been trying for several years to grow a long thick one and failing, and his hair fell in long unclean-looking ringlets over his shoulders and was thinning quite drastically on the top to reveal a shiny spotted scalp. If he was indeed the owner of the motley cart outside, then I had been quite correct in assuming that I wouldn't like him. Something about him made me intensely wary—the way he bent over to invade my mother's space as he spoke to her, the way his eyes slid nervously over me as he introduced himself. I made eye contact with him a few times as we spoke, but had no trouble controlling my powers—the very thought of feeling into his mind disgusted me horribly.

I was mercifully left alone at dinner, the arrival of Dante being the new and exciting event. My father questioned him about life at the palace and the state of affairs in the capital.

"Is it true they've made prostitution legal?" my mother asked, causing me to gape and drop most of the soup from my mouth back into the bowl. Luckily, no one noticed my momentary lack in manners.

"Oh, prostitution has been legal in the capital for several years now," answered Dante, carelessly slathering butter onto his bread (didn't he know how hard the maids worked to make it?!). "It's male prostitution that's recently become legal."

"Oh, dear," said my mother.

"Yes, and the next thing you know they'll be allowing male prostitutes to service other men!" my father grumbled. "Disgusting."

There was a collective murmur of agreement, and then a moment of silence for the lost propriety of the capital. I felt sick to my stomach.

"Oh, Marcus, could you please pass the gravy?" Dante's voice startled me from my self-loathing reverie.

"Oh, um." I looked around for the gravy boat. It was at the far end of the table, obviously nowhere near me.

"Ah!" said Dante. "Never mind, then!" He delicately lifted a hand, and the gravy boat slowly rose into the air to float down the length of table, before setting itself down neatly next to Dante.

There was flurry of appreciative gasps from around the table, and several people clapped.

"Did you see what he did, Marcus?" my mother gasped at me. "What strong magic he must have!"

After what I had seen Draeden do the night before, I was utterly unimpressed. Granted, Draeden was a fairy and Dante a seemingly normal human being, but still—the self-satisfied smirk on Dante's face seemed entirely unwarranted to me. I glared at him, and he caught my eye.

"Don't be jealous, young Marcus," he said, loud enough for the whole table to hear. "I'm going to attempt to teach you some magic on our journey. Perhaps by the time we reach the capital, you, too, will be able to make gravy boats float to you."

"Oh, won't that be wonderful?" my mother gasped, beaming at me.

"Yes," I said. "Brilliant."

Still smarting from being called 'young Marcus' and treated like a jealous child in front of the entire table, I escaped up to my bedroom as soon as dinner was over. As I lay on my bed with my eyes closed, I began to think about Adam again. I could picture him very clearly—his shaggy dirty-blond hair, his strong chin, and those big, beautiful blue eyes, full of desire … desire for me.

I jumped up when the door opened, and for a moment, thought that my daydream had formed itself into reality. Adam was indeed there, bare-chested as usual, with a couple of thick logs in his arms, but his face was lowered, and he looked up at me cautiously as he shuffled in and set the logs down by the fireplace.

"I was delivering the wood," he said, by way of explanation. "They told me to bring some up here—and to tell you that Lord Dante wishes to leave at sunrise tomorrow."

I realized I was staring at him. "Um, alright," I replied. "Thank you."

He turned to go, but then turned back suddenly. "Ah, Marcus," he started. "About today … "

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Yes, Adam, I'm so sorry."

"No! No, it's me who should be sorry, I shouldn't have—"

I wasn't aware of standing, but suddenly, I was right next to him, holding a finger to his lips. "It was my fault. I'm sorry."

"Yes," he said. "I—"

I shushed him. "Don't talk." I had never been this close to him before. I wanted to look at him, just to take in his perfect, smudged face, to run my fingers over his jaw and his cheeks and forehead. I leaned forward, breathing in his scent. Then, without really realizing what I was doing, I said, "Kiss me."

I could feel the power in the command as it slid from my lips, and I knew that he couldn't resist—and didn't want to. He leaned in, pressing our lips together. I clung to him, wanting him, needing him urgently. His lips and tongue moved over mine, devouring me, and I knew he felt the same way.

"Moan," I commanded, the power I was feeling making me light-headed and selfish. "My name."

Adam gasped, coming up for air. "Marcus." His voice was rough, and he moaned again when his lips returned to mine, his body pressing heavily into me. "Marcus … "

I backed toward the bed, pulling him along with me. I couldn't think­.

I didn't want to.

"The bed," I breathed. "Push me onto it."

He obeyed, shoving me down, and I pulled him down on top of me. He was ridiculously heavy and warm—I couldn't bring myself to care that his weight was painful and that I couldn't breathe. I gasped as his mouth covered mine again, smothering me with dry, urgent kisses.

"Adam!" I gasped, arching into him.

He cried out and pressed against me harder. His body was completely out of his control, but he managed to gasp out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Marcus, I don't know what's happening to me. I've never wanted a man this way before. I—"

He broke off as another moan of pleasure escaped his lips. For a moment, I was in pure ecstasy, wanting him, wanting him to take me, wanting to make him feel things he had never felt before with anyone …

Then the meaning of what he had said made it through my clouded mind, and I knew that I couldn't go through with it.

"No!" I gasped, and tensed, shoving at him with all my might. "No, get off of me!"

Adam backed away immediately, hunched over with uneven gasps, his eyes hazy.

"What?" A hand covered his mouth as a little of the reason returned to his eyes, the realization of what he had been doing slowly creeping into his consciousness.

"Get out," I gasped. "Don't tell anyone."

He nodded and fled the room, leaving me completely alone and panting on the bed.

I wasn't alone for long.

"What was that?" Draeden's voice was disapproving.

"You!" I spat, sitting up and glaring venomously at the fairy perched lightly on the end of my bed, his legs crossed in front of him. "How long have you been here?"

His dark eyebrows rose slightly, but he declined to answer my question. "Why did you let him go?"

"What?!" My voice was as loud as I dared without raising suspicions downstairs.

"Why did you let him go?" Draeden repeated, in a slightly clearer voice. "I thought you liked him."

"I did. I do." My mind was a jumble. "You!" I shouted again, standing and striding toward him. "How could you do this to me?! Take it back! I don't want it!"

Draeden leaned back on his arms, away from my invasive accusations, and smiled at me. "You don't?" he asked, the smile even more evident in his voice. "Seemed like you wanted something there."

"Shut up!" I yelled, no longer caring if anyone heard. "Take it back, right now!"

"I can't," he replied. "Learn to live with it."

"No!" I leaned in to grab him, foolishly hoping that I could somehow physically bully him into doing what I wanted. But it was too late—he was gone, and all that was left in his place was a light sprinkling of deep blue, sparkling dust, settling slowly onto my bedspread.

I let out a loud frustrated cry and struck at the bedspread, sweeping the shimmery powder to the floor, and then fell face first onto the bed. I buried my head in the hard, patched fabric and stayed that way, fuming, for the rest of the night.

I hardly slept that night,
so I had no trouble getting up before sunrise and packing my few tattered belongings into an old trunk. I took a last longing look around my room, and then shook myself. It was stupid to act as though I would never return. I would probably get to the capital, explain to the king that I had no powers, and be sent back home. The whole thing felt rather like a large nuisance. More troubling was the situation with Adam.

I knew that the only thing that had kept me from sleeping with Adam was the knowledge that he naturally had no interest in men, and that I was forcing him to do something that went against everything he had thought about both of us. I wondered what he was doing then, if he was alright, if he felt guilty.

But I had no way of speaking to him before I left. In the dim light before dawn, I bid my parents farewell. My mother cried and exclaimed about how proud she was of me, and how handsome I had become. If she only knew, I thought cynically. But I allowed her to kiss me goodbye and accepted a stiff hug from my father, and then we put my trunk into the back of Dante's cart. With a final goodbye, I lifted myself into the back of the wagon and found my way in the darkness to the hard, unfamiliar bed and, lying upon it, fell fast asleep.

I awoke to the late morning light
slipping through the dusty orange curtains. The cart was jostling and jolting over the uneven road, and now that I was awake, it was horribly jarring, and I knew that I would be unable to fall back asleep.

I sat up and looked around. It was only a small wagon, made all the smaller by the presence of a cot and a writing desk. The space between the two was hardly large enough for one man to walk without turning, and every available space along the walls and on the floor was taken up by shelves upon shelves of books, complicated-looking devices, and stacks of paper. Everything was extremely dusty and worn-looking, and smelled of Dante. It was not pleasant.

I stumbled toward the front of the wagon and pushed the curtain aside, emerging into the  blinding morning light. Dante was sitting on a cushioned bench and loosely holding the reins of the old horse solely responsible for pulling the heavy weight of the wagon. It was a mark of my dislike for Dante that I actually felt worse for the animal having to be owned by the wizard, than for having to drag his wagon all over the country.

"Finally up, eh, boy?" said Dante without looking at me. "You won't be able to sleep in like that at court."

I opened my mouth to let out a retort, but found I didn't have the resolve to bother. Dante wasn't finished talking, anyway. "Since you're up, you can get a start on your magical education. There are several books in the back on the topic. Go and read one, and report back to me when you've finished it."

He pulled out a book of his own (it did
not
look like one on the topic of magical theory) and proceeded to ignore me until I went back into the wagon. Inside, I pulled open the thick curtains that had previously been covering the opening at the back of the cart and let the sunlight spill in, illuminating the dust motes which were settled stagnantly in the air, despite the jostling of the cart.

I went to the largest bookshelf, situated across from the writing desk. It was full of books with titles such as
Advanced Magical Theory
and
Encyclopaedia of Influential Magic-Users
. I was surprised to find myself actually quite interested in reading them. That is, until I took one down and attempted to do so.

The prose was impossibly dense—it seemed to be the intent of the writer to fashion the most convoluted sentences possible and force the reader to attempt to decipher them. By the time I had gotten a vague idea of what the first few sentences meant, I had forgotten what I was reading about and had to go back to the beginning, repeating the process again and again, until I thought I was going insane or had forgotten how to read.