Chapter 3
Warnings and Riddles
Atlantic Ocean, 1092 miles from Ireland's Shores, 10:26 pm.
He kept his mouth hovering over Lydia's throat; his breath blew on a spot that sent pleased shivers down Lydia's spine. She briefly wondered whether or not to pull his head closer, just to see how much better it would feel if Edgar actually kissed her there instead of blowing on it. Her arms twitched at her sides but didn't rise.
"Oh, Lydia…" Edgar murmured, lips barely brushing the spot on her neck and making her shiver violently. "Why won't you let me kiss you…?" He leaned forward further, nudging the tip of his nose against the spot, and Lydia found herself unconsciously arching back to give him better access. "Promise me…"
"P-promise what?" Lydia stammered, her voice breathy.
"When we reach the Land of Ibrazel, you'll let me kiss you…" His voice was baritone, so rich, with a suave tone…
"Yes…"
The word tumbled from her lips without a thought; her mind was foggy and she wasn't even sure what she was agreeing to. Immediately Edgar's soft breath, gentle touches and cooing words were gone, and she blinked only to see him standing a good three feet away from her now, looking astonished. "Y-you mean it?"
Truth be told, now that the fog had lifted she wasn't entirely sure she meant it. But Edgar's pale purple eyes were alight with shock and hope and she just couldn't say no, not anymore. Slowly, a nervous feeling in her chest, she stared at her lap and nodded her head. He positively beamed, lighting up the room, and excited fervour dancing like firelight in his eyes.
"Wonderful, my Lydia!" he exclaimed, pure joy dripping from each word. "I shall leave you to your rest. Goodnight… I'll dream of you," he added on a purr, before practically skipping towards the door and closing it gently.
Lydia blinked in confusion and astonishment— that simple answer that she may not have even meant made him… that happy… then he just left! After seducing her, no less. She scowled at the door. That cad! That was probably the only reason he even bothered to come in and see her…
"Well, that was fascinating," drawled Nico from atop the dresser, startling her.
"Nico—" Lydia spluttered. Had he been watching? From the smirk on his whiskery face he had! She went red and threw her pillow at him, knocking him off the dresser and causing him to hiss. "Damn you Nico, you're worse than Edgar!"
Edgar, meanwhile, was already strolling down the hall, where Raven had stood waiting for him. Both were silent as Edgar made his way to his own room. The Earl suddenly paused, and were it not for Raven's quick reflexes he would have crashed into Edgar's back.
"Raven," Edgar said suddenly, his voice low and dark, so unlike what he'd sounded like not one minute earlier.
"Lord Edgar," Raven replied curtly, his face impassive.
"I know you love Lydia."
There was a silence as thick as pea soup, as stinging as the salty water they currently sailed on. Then Raven replied, rather stiffly, "I know you do."
Raven couldn't see the utterly murderous look that shadowed his Lord's face, for Edgar kept his back to him. His hands clenched into fists, and for a moment he actually was angry enough to want to whirl around and punch Raven, but he stopped himself for several reasons: one, Raven had sprites behind his eyes and was more than able to tear him to shreds had he the mind, two, this was his effing friend, for the love of God. Edgar exhaled a shuddering breath— what was Lydia doing to him? He was positive that she probably ruled him now, mind and heart; he'd probably murder his friends if she asked him to.
"Will you swear never, in any manner, small or large, to act upon these feelings?" Edgar said in a hard voice.
He almost wished Raven would say no, just to give him an excuse to vent his anger, but Raven being Raven said, "You have my utmost promise, Lord Edgar," without a second's hesitation. The worst part was, Edgar actually believed him. He knew from firsthand experience that Raven would never, ever break a promise to him, not even if his life depended on it.
Wordlessly he turned his back on Raven and strode off to his room, sinking into a squashy chintz armchair and burying his face in his hands. He knew Lydia couldn't help but attract men — hell, he knew that better than anyone — but it was a burden on his part indeed, especially when she refused to accept that she belonged to him. Between his fingers he glanced at his pocket watch, which was strewn chain and all across the coffee table. It was late, he noticed. They'd be docking early in the morning at Skerries, Dublin, and Edgar had no wish to be exhausted during the search for the Land of Ibrazel.
He slowly and unwillingly got up to change into his nightclothes, hoping they'd find the Land of Ibrazel soon so Edgar could kiss Lydia until Raven and all the others who sought after her turned to dust.
Town of Skerries, Dublin, Ireland, 6:13 am.
"Wake up, my lovely Lydia…" crooned a voice smooth as silk.
Lydia groaned in reply, rather angrily. She'd been too mortified and nervous to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and she'd finally gotten to sleep and had been having the loveliest dream before Edgar had so rudely interrupted it—
She froze as Edgar's sultry chuckle wafted around the realisation that he was in her bed. Her eyes snapped open and saw with horror a half-dressed (again) Edgar sitting on the edge of her bed, one tapering hand playing idly through her hair.
"Edgar, wh-what the hell are you doing here?!" she half shouted, trying to sound furious, but the fact that she stammered diminished that a bit.
Edgar grinned, clearly unfazed by her less than welcoming reaction. "Waking you. We've docked in Ireland, love." He peered over at her nightgown, before she yanked up the covers and shot him a look. "Everyone's dressing now. We're going to head through the town to pick up supplies."
Lydia scowled at him. He'd woken her up for that? "Out now, Edgar. You're not watching me dress."
"Very well, Lydia, but next time I—" he began cheerfully before Lydia hit him in the face with her pillow.
"Out!" she ordered irritably, watching him scoot out the door with a silly grin on his face. She shoved the covers off and slammed the door, saying all the while, "And there won't be a next time!"
Lydia was fuming all throughout the time she freshened herself up and donned a lacy dark green velvet gown. She was tying the laces of the dress when Nico peeked out from behind the dresser. "Did you know that you snore?"
"I do not," snapped Lydia.
"I take it you're still angry with me?" Nico said slightly uninterestedly, prowling out into the open now that he was certain there would be no pillows thrown at him.
"For being such a voyeur, or being downright rude?" Lydia said indignantly, grabbing her reticule. "I can't remember which infuriates me more."
Not letting Nico retort Lydia strode across the room quickly, hurling the door open and knocking into Raven. He looked sullen as ever, unaffected as Lydia looked up at him and said, "Oh, sorry Raven."
"Lord Edgar and Paul are waiting for you in the dining room," he said darkly in reply, turning his back on her and strolling down the hall. Lydia followed him quickly, wondering what was eating him— he was acting colder than usual.
Paul was leaned over the table studying his father's painting/map, frowning, which subsided when Lydia entered the dining room. "Morning, Lydia!"
"Good morning, Paul," said Lydia, looking over his shoulder at the map as well.
"No good morning for me?" grumbled Edgar.
"Technically you already forced it from me when you showed up uninvited in my room," Lydia scowled, and Paul flushed embarrassedly. They discussed their plans as Raven served them their breakfast.
"We're docked at the moment in Skerries Harbour, a little town in Dublin," Edgar was explaining. "Colt Island is just off the coast from here. We're going to find supplies for our journey to the Land of Ibrazel. It might take a while, maybe even a few months."
"There are three points on the map," Paul said, showing Lydia the map. "The first indicates Skerries, where we are now. The third shows Colt Island, of course. The second…" Paul pointed to one of the star-crossed lines that seemed to be on the far left shoreline of the town, "… looks like it's a part of the town. It could be a historical landmark we'll have to examine to find clues for the Land of Ibrazel, or it could be an archive of information."
"Ah, my Lydia, pleasant mornings," drawled Kelpie from behind her, absently reaching over her shoulder with one hand and stealing Paul's bun, which he stuffed into his mouth.
"What the hell did I say about coming on my ship?" Edgar fumed, clutching his fork and knife as if fantasising about plunging them both into the water horse demon.
"Time to go, I think," Lydia said with a frightful pair of glances at Raven and Paul.
They walked down the bridged plank onto the wooden dock of the harbour; a pair of burly fisherman hauling a large net of fish across the deck greeted her with a nod and a thickly-accented, "Welcome, little lass!"
Lydia thought it was polite of them, but Edgar frowned clearly and actually slipped his hand into hers, as if staking a claim. "If the dock is too wet, Lydia, I can carry you," he said suavely.
"You most certainly will not," Lydia hissed, trying to free her hand.
She failed, and he half-pulled her towards the cobblestone streets, which were bustling with tradesmen in stalls, the chatter of happy folk and the cries of seagulls over the whooshing morning tide. Lydia's eyes widened to the size of saucers— she'd never been to Ireland before. It seemed so different from England. The houses that lined the bay looked more like quaint little colourful cottages, and nobody here was forced into high-class suits and gowns; everyone seemed to be peasants here, and seemed happy in comparison to London's peasants. A pair of children and their father sold fish to passers-by. A woman in a stall was selling handmade embroidery, a diamond-patterned quilt with expertly done stitches spelling out 'Na Sceirí'.
"What does that mean, Edgar?" Lydia said earnestly, squeezing his hand and forgetting to be petulant about him holding it.
"It means 'the Rocks'," he said with a sideways glance. "The name of the town comes from the Norse word 'skere' and then descended into the Irish word 'na sceirí', hence 'Skerries'."
Lydia wondered where Edgar learnt all of this, but before she could ask Raven approached seemingly out of nowhere. He looked unbelievably out of place with his crisp black suit and dark-tanned skin. "Lord Edgar, I've found several stalls that sell non-perishable foods. Paul is talking with one of the commoners, trying to find the location of the second point. And Kelpie is eating the locals' fish," he added without a change in tone.
"Excellent," said Edgar, dismissing Raven's last sentence while Lydia giggled at it. "Please excuse me, my love— I must begin charming the prices down with my suaveness!" With a swift brush of the lips on her knuckles he dashed off into the crowd with Raven, leaving Lydia by herself.
Frowning and rubbing the hand he'd kissed, Lydia turned around to find a stall that sold fruit or satchels, which they'd need come future, before not seconds later Paul bounced up to her, looking positively thrilled.
"I've found the second point!" he beamed, looking even more proud of himself when Lydia too smiled. "Apparently it's an inn, called the Ox and Lamb, run by a part-Merrow called Finnigan."
"Paul, that's fantastic!" Lydia gasped, hugging him without thinking. "This part-Merrow man must have information regarding the Land of Ibrazel! He might even know where it is!"
She and a now stiff and red-faced Paul combed through the crowd, looking for Edgar and Raven, who seemed to have disappeared. Along the way Paul purchased a collection of sturdy fruits that wouldn't bruise easily and would take a while to rot — things like apples, plums and even a slice of watermelon that Paul practically begged her to allow him to buy — and a collection of canteens.
"Are yeh lot goin' on one of them couple's adventures or summat?" a beefy looking man had grunted in their direction, upon buying a pair of moleskin satchels. "Only you've got about an 'undred of survival stuff."
"Actually she belongs to me, not him," Edgar said smoothly, striding up behind the two red-faced friends and leading Lydia away with one hand on the small of her back. "We've found all that we could for now— I see you have as well," he added, clearly impressed at the merchandise Lydia and Paul had found. "Lovely."
"Paul found the second point on the map, Edgar," said Lydia, with a proud grin towards Paul (who flushed again). "It's an Irish inn run by a part-Merrow. I'd say that's our next stop."
"Fantastic," beamed Edgar, echoing Lydia's original praise. "We're that much closer to the Land of Ibrazel already— I can't wait to kiss you!"
Lydia's excited grin blanched. "Edgar that's not what I meant—"
"Of course it wasn't," said Edgar dismissively, grabbing her hand with his free one, as the other held up bags of non-perishables. "Onward, my angel!"
"Don't call me that," Lydia hissed, but went 'onward' nonetheless.
Raven and Kelpie waited for them in the centre of the bustling market square, standing next to a coach and horses. A man with a bushy beard and a kind face sat atop on the bench, gripping the reins and tipping his hat in their direction.
"He's agreed to take us to the second point on the map," Raven said sullenly.
"The Ox and Lamb, please," said Lydia, with another grin at a bashful-looking Paul.
"Will do, lovely lass and gentlemen," the man said in his Irish burr.
Edgar scowled yet again and escorted Lydia into the coach with one hand still tightly gripping hers. "Edgar, let go, I don't need your hand," Lydia muttered.
"I need yours to live," said Edgar almost simply, and Lydia huffed as he, Paul and Raven clambered in as well, leaving Kelpie behind as he'd, "Rather stay behind with the fish."
The Ox and Lamb, Lydia saw in utter astonishment, was a positively beaming little building painted brilliant white, with intensely green ivy snaking its way up the walls. There was a garden round the corner, almost completely obscured by the inn itself, but what Lydia could see was beautiful, with blooming flowers and twittering birds.
"Thank yeh, gentlefolk," said their coachman graciously as Edgar tossed him a whole pound.
"Everyone in Ireland is so nice," Lydia beamed as they climbed up the rickety steps and opened the inn's door.
The inside of the Ox and Lamb could only be described as 'clean'. Abnormally so. All the inn's Lydia had ever dared to enter in England were dirty and reeking of stale beer and hops. This one radiated cleanliness and class, and smelled pleasantly of jasmine. An extremely old man stood behind the counter, absently rummaging through shelves. He looked up when the bell on the door rang at their entrance.
"Welcome!" he said, in a voice so serene and calm Lydia was startled; she'd been expecting a croak from someone as ancient looking as him.
"Are you Finnigan?" she asked, and couldn't help but smile when he positively beamed with joy.
"Aye, comely little lass, I be Finnigan!" he said happily.
Edgar looked sullen again— Lydia tried counting the times he'd gotten jealous from the polite Irish folk that day, but had lost count.
"We come because of the Land of Ibrazel, kind sir," said Paul, handing him the map.
A look shadowed over Finnigan's face. His smile had disappeared. "Upstairs. Quickly. We'll talk there."
Lydia and the group followed him as he struggled to climb up a set of steep white steps, leading to a series of bedrooms. Finnigan leaned heavily against the railing; his face looked rather sunken in.
"I'm assuming you have information for us regarding the Land of Ibrazel?" Edgar said.
Finnigan grimaced. "Aye, the Land o' Ibrazel indeed. Was me home a good couple o' decades ago, till the Merrow banished us to Europe. 'Half-breeds', they called us."
Lydia felt a stab of sympathy. "Please, sir, Edgar here is the Blue Knight Earl. He—"
"No he ain't," Finnigan interrupted, frowning at Edgar. "Yeh don't have the sight."
"The Merrow and the sword have accepted him," said Lydia with irritation. The way Finnigan had denied it had made him sound a bit like Ulysses.
"Yeh're a fairy doctor," Finnigan abruptly changed the subject, staring at her green eyes.
"Yes," she said, trying not to sound impatient.
There was a roundabout pause, in which Paul fidgeted nervously with his lapels and Edgar huffed.
"The Earl and the Fairy…" Finnigan muttered, sounding almost amused, before he turned to a cabinet and pulled out a scroll. "I have Ibrazel's riddle here fer yeh."
Lydia and Edgar leaned in together, reading the spiky black writing clearly done with an inkwell and quill.
"These walls we built are crumbling down
We're forced to live deep underground
One X and two I's across the stance
We are earl and fairy; shall we dance?
Our way is lit by fallen stars
Caged in lanterns like iron bars
Our fairy green and spark of red
Her Majesty of Wings is dead
Our legend says the end is soon
Thunder clouds and a black paper moon
Unlock the torso with unseen eyes
And find the source of Ibrazel's cries."
Lydia and Edgar looked up at the same time and found their faces far too close for comfort— their noses were almost touching. Lydia looked away, blushing, and Edgar simply stared down at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Earl and fairy…" Edgar echoed Finnigan, looking inspired. "Well, at least we know we're the right people for the job." He frowned down, rereading the poem-riddle. "What could this mean?"
"Well, it's like the riddle for the Merrow's sword," Lydia said earnestly, smiling up at him, leaving the fact that he swooned a bit at her smile unnoticed. "We know where to start in a broader sense. Colt Island isn't that large— we'll figure it out."
Edgar's previously tensed face softened into something reminiscent of gentle adoration. "Ah, Lydia, I love you."
Lydia flushed and was about to tell him off before Finnigan interrupted. "Yeh're all welcome teh stay the night."
"What's your fare?" asked Raven, as Edgar was now busy trying to nuzzle his nose into Lydia's ear.
"I'll let yeh stay fer free, if yeh take me with yeh."
"To the Land of Ibrazel!" exclaimed Lydia, trying to fend off Edgar and talk at the same time.
"Aye. If yeh really are the Blue Knight Earl, the Merrow will let me go back home," said Finnigan, looking hopefully sad.
"Of course," smiled Lydia.
Finnigan beamed again for a brief moment, before he said, "I'll be right back with yer keys," and hurried crookedly down the steep steps.
They were that much closer to the Land of Ibrazel, Lydia realised, and in that moment while Edgar was playing idly with her hair she tried to block out a fantasy of Edgar dipping her back and kissing her with all the passion she knew he had.
A/N: Yeah I know it's been ten months but come on my lovelies: was it worth the wait? I've had a lot of angry people on my back about Earl and Fairy's Secret, but I've kind of got a lot on my plate right now: my book's being published (Second editing stage :D) I've got like 4 other ongoing stories and I'm in my last year of high school... and the last time I posted a chapter, I was two months away from being shipped to a group home that doesn't allow laptops or internet. I'm out, thank god, but I'm still swamped. Anyway, I had a BLAST writing that riddle - soo much fun! - this story's only going to have like 10 more chapters, 13 in total, and the smut isn't gonna come till like chapter eight... thank yous go out to phantom-san, Little Miss Haine, Maiden Marvel (STOP STARING AT ME! ps i hope this chapter answered your question), ShiningPurpleStars, Emerald, girlie, LoverGirl71793, OfBrokenGlass (Awesome name), MadGirl03, ICanCYou (haha), Lydia, MeatAngel, Sarah Juska, shadowkitten11, Guest, See Through the Mist, kurage-ichigo-chan, NarutoMangafan, A-Source-Of-Hope, kookie-monster, Brithany twice, xSapphirexRosesxFanx, Makoandkorra, another Guest and hahahas. Christ you guys reviewed a lot! XD love you!