Gossamyr Part 35

Ulrich sat back, his legs bent, forearms propped on his knees. The single candle's flame, set on the floor before the window, shadowed long lashes across his forehead.

"You have no answer for that."

"I don't know what to think. You have a relations.h.i.+p with this pin man that you call him by name? You know him well enough to trust his word?"

"I did once. We were...in love."

"Oh?"

"Mv father would not allow him to court me because he was not Glamoursiege but rather a Rougethorn, I told you that. The two tribes have warred against one another. And yet, they were to wed..." Impossible to imagine that s.h.i.+nn might have once agreed to marry the Red Lady. And yet, she knew so little, mayhap it had been an easy agreement.

"But he did not marry her. Instead, he took a mortal wife. This mortal pa.s.sion makes one do crazy things."

"Indeed. It will set a man on a deadly quest to find a hornless beast of myth."

Gossamyr sniffed and, only now realizing she cried, pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. "You see I have emotion. Mortal emotions that run afoul with the merest of problems. Don't look at me."

"Be you mortal or be you fee you are still the same, Gossamyr. A beautiful warrior-"

"Sent by lies to exterminate my father's banished lover!"

Ulrich gave a low whistle.

"b.l.o.o.d.y elves, does s.h.i.+nn banish every fee who gets close to him and his own? Mayhap Veridienne was banished, too!"

"You don't believe that."

"I don't know what is truth anymore."

"You know your mother was mortal."

"Yes, but is Veridienne my birth mother or merely a foster mother?"

The clank of an iron pot below silenced them both. Armand must be to the evening meal. Counting her heartbeats, Gossamyr squeezed her eyes tightly shut to avoid the steady blue gaze bent before her.

"There is a way to know for sure," Ulrich said. She looked up at him. "Call out your father."

"To Paris? The Red Lady would scent him in a moment. s.h.i.+nn would not be so foolhardy."

"Can you send the fetch to him?"

"I haven't seen s.h.i.+nn's fetch for a time. But you!" She lunged and clamped her hands upon Ulrich's shoulders. "You can work a spell to see my truth? Yes?"

"I am but a mere shepherd of-"

"You can! You studied with a mage. Your spell in the cathedral was successful."

Vacillating with a noncommittal shrug and then a defeated sigh, Ulrich offered, "You are quick to use magic now."

"If I be mortal, it is my right."

"I would have to check my leech book."

"Then do it! Where is it? Here!" She dived for the saddlebag and upended its contents. The mortar and her sigil scattered. A small book of folded parchment slid out beside the candle and she paged through the st.i.tched sheets. Black lines of flowing text darted from side to side of each page in a tilted manner that made it difficult to decipher the words. She knew the mortal script, yet this was erratic. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

From behind her, she felt Ulrich's arms embrace her and his hands move over hers, closing the book in her lap.

"Does it truly matter, faery princess?"

Do you know the truth of yourself?

"I am not fee. It was...is, and always has been, a mortal love."

"I understand now, the mortal pa.s.sion you speak of."

"What of it?"

"It is love, Gossamyr. Love is the mortal pa.s.sion!"

"I-" But it made sense, so much sense. s.h.i.+nn's mortal pa.s.sion for Veridienne. Her mother's love for her home. And she, she had always known that she could love, but had pressed it back as the mortal pa.s.sion. "I think you are right, Ulrich."

Silence pounded in her ears. Her mortal soul beating within, seeking escape? Your truth will be your end. "But I must learn the truth. Help me, Ulrich."

"Very well." He drew her onto his lap and, looking over her shoulder, the two paged through the leech book. "There must be something in here."

"We must hurry. The pin man will tell his mistress who I am."

"Think you?"

"Yes. Though I did leave him with the truth of us, I wager he shall not remember. If only I could recall his name complete I might break the erie. Ulrich, as Faery slips from me, so too do my memories."

"You remember your father."

"How could I forget s.h.i.+nn?"

"It is akin to asking how he could not love a child he has raised as his daughter." Turning in Ulrich's lap, Gossamyr looked into his truth. Her Dancer.

His presence in Faery had forged her curiosity for the Otherside. Had he not danced, she might never have attempted to convince her father to allow her this mission. It could not be coincidence that had placed them together on this path to change their futures. Or be it the mortal pa.s.sion that held her in its thrall?

She waited in the attic, twilight s.h.i.+mmering a thin silver line across the window. Cross-legged, she sat, and closed her eyes. Those three words from the dilapidated castle returned to her. Vengeance, valor, truth.

What word had vengeance replaced? Charity? No, there had been a single "r." Honor? And why had she claimed valor when all along the truth had dodged her like a fetch's flight?

She had not succ.u.mbed to the dreaded fee curse called the mortal pa.s.sion. She was the ant.i.thesis of the malady. For in her heart, she already loved. A mortal who could love. So many unexplained things from her childhood could be answered with the simple statement: You are mortal.

She did never heal as did the fee; scars abounded on her legs and arms. Glamour had to be learned, 'twas not innate. No wings. Unable to twinclian. Not so tall as the lithe fee and not slender. Muscular and well formed, and as Avenall had remarked, b.r.e.a.s.t.s far too large to accomplish flight. Brown eyes. And how she had lumbered in the Faery air, not like here, where she positively fit.

Could Avenall's claim that her truth would be her end have some bearing on s.h.i.+nn's silence? It made little sense a man who had claimed to love her for so long could so easily dispose of her. Was s.h.i.+nn capable of wearing such a mask? Had he been plotting the Red Lady's demise, with Gossamyr as the weapon of destruction, since her birth? Why, if they had been affianced, had he not initially refused the betrothal? Rougethorns had always been known to dabble. Surely their union had taken that into account? Mayhap it had something to do with the rift? To combine magic with Enchantment to induce it to heal?

No, it did not seem like her father.

Every day she learned more of the lord of Glamoursiege's quick and bitter temper. What twisted reign did s.h.i.+nn walk? He had no right to toy with love and desire. Had his own tragic love affair pushed him to be so protective of her? To jealously cast away her lover?

The soft footfalls of Ulrich's boots landed the attic floor. Gossamyr heard him shuffle a jumble of items in his hands as he laid them on the floor behind her. Pages flipped in his leech book. A heavy sigh weighed down his breath. He had gathered the required supplies to work the spell -one gray mouse tail, sleep dust (from Armand's eyes), fresh thyme and six strands of Gossamyr's hair.

"You can do this," she offered, turning to catch his reluctant, yet agreeing, nod. "What betroubles you, Ulrich?"

"Of course I can work the spell. Thing is, I don't know if I want to do this."

"You would refuse me help?"

"Never."

"Then what is the problem?"

Seriousness stilled his eyes. "There is a requirement to work the spell. You must present yourself to me bared of propriety and vestments."

"I come to you open and prepared for the truth."

"As well-" another sigh and a riffle of his fingers through his hair "- vou must be naked."

TWENTY-THREE.

Gossamyr slid down her borrowed braies. She hooked her fingers at the knife-ravaged hem of the silk gown and caught the stunned look on the man's face. "What?"

"I don't know if I can do this, Gossamyr. Don't. You... I can't- "You fear my naked flesh?"

"Fear it? Blessed Mary and all her veils, you really are an innocent, aren't you?"

"I understand much more than you comprehend. Are you so unpredictable you cannot look upon a naked woman without l.u.s.t in your eyes?"

"That is about the mark of it."

"Bear up, Ulrich. Think of your wife."

"Do not bring Lydia into this, or you slay me with your unthinking cruelty."

Gossamyr tossed the gown and it landed Ulrich's head.

"Oh Hades."

"Hurry up, soul shepherd, 'tis drafty up here."

"You are naked?"

"Completely." She shrugged her hands over her arms, then down her thighs. s.h.i.+ver b.u.mps lifted in her wake. To stand naked so close to this man... "Start reciting."

"If I do not burn for my past transgressions, surely this one will cinch the deal for me. Very well! Pix, pax, abraxus!"

With the tip of the dagger Ulrich diagrammed a cross in the air above his head. Words-that sounded to Gossamyr like utter nonsense-were spoken with such command she trusted he did know the spell.

As he began to pulverize the items he'd gathered in the mortar, she stood and watched, her fate entirely in Ulrich's hands. She trusted him. They were inexplicably bonded in this quest for truth. Now, could he give her the answer she needed?

"I need your name."

"What?"

It took all his mortal strength and every moral muscle in his being to keep from turning to look at the naked woman who stood but a stride behind him. Ulrich could verily sense her nakedness. He could feel the swish of the single braid across her bare back and taste the gooseflesh coating her limbs.

"Your name complete," he forced through tight teeth. "I must speak it to make you my slave. If you are fee, the spell will work. If you are mortal, nothing I can command of you will make you act. You retain your free will."

"Yes, I... understand."

In the moment of her reluctance Ulrich felt his heart surrender. He had loved before and he had lost. Who would have thought love would once again be his to own?

Own? Be you very quick to replace your wife with any fine and pretty female who befriends you.

No, not my wife any longer. Yet how long must he honor her memory?

She is not dead, man!

"Ulrich? Yes, erm... Gossamyr Verity de Winters.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege."

He lifted a brow. Fine, pretty and a faery princess. "I command you, Gossamyr Verity de Winters.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege, to do my bidding. Be thee fee, you will grant me the truth. Be thee mortal, you will ignore my plea." He paused, and then entreated, "You ready for this?"

"Do your worst."

He had to smile at her gumption. Holding the mortar high above his head, he announced,"Kiss me, Gossamyr Verity de Winters.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege. Plant a fee morsel upon my mouth. I command thee, Gossamyr Verity de Winters.h.i.+nn of Glamoursiege!"

Silence filled the room. Ulrich tilted his head, listening for the sound of bare feet upon the creaking boards. "Gossamyr?"

"I am not going to kiss you. Not like this."

"But you would if you were dressed?"

He turned, thrilled she hadn't completely refused his suggestion. And before him stood the most gorgeous being he had ever before placed eyes upon. The mortar settled onto his foot, but he did not comprehend pain. "Gossamyr." The name slipped from his throat and became a prayer in the air.

She lifted a defiant chin. But he had fallen into her spell, an enchantment of the soul that buried itself deep in Ulrich's being. He had no desire to step forth and touch her. To taste her mouth. To touch the full and perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Nor to slide his hand down her flat stomach into the nether of her being. He wanted only to look upon her. Ever after.

"It must be so," she said on a wistful sigh. "I am mortal."