Katie simply sat, dazed, for she didn't know how long, looking down at the sad, stained ruin of the Godmother's gorgeous dress. Somehow, I dinna think this was what she had in mind when she gave it me. Gradually, she realized that some of the twinkles in the grass were not dewdrops, but the jewelry she had brought with her. Slowly, she gathered it up. Her fingers encountered quite a few hazelnuts, too, and she gathered them as well. She finally bit down on the one she'd been holding in her mouth all night, and chewed and swallowed, and muttered a few choice oaths that she'd been wanting to loose for some time. The rest of the nuts, and the jewels, she tied up in a bedraggled flounce that had been torn loose from its gathering stitches.
Everything ached, including her head, but she slowly realized that the pounding noise was hoofbeats, and looked up to see the black horse galloping away. She felt a moment of panic and then sighed. It wasn't as if she would have been able to just put her old clothes back on and pretend nothing had happened. Not with all these new scratches and bruises. She stood up, discovering several more sore spots, and made ready to trudge back along the path the horse had taken. Just now, she was glad that the remains of her fantastic gown hid a pair of walking boots, and not dance slippers. She remembered Hugh's story about red-heeled riding boots, and smiled, despite everything. She started walking.
She'd only gone a few steps when something slammed into her, almost knocking her off her feet again. After a startled moment, Katie realized it was Trina, hugging her and gasping almost exactly as she had the day the curse had struck, all that time ago. She was even babbling in the same way, though, thank the Saints, happily this time: "Katie! Oh, Katie, you're safe after all! We saw Prince Hugh ride away alone, and we were just terrified that you were still trapped in the knowe, or worse, but then I heard you and Argent smelled you, and—"
Before Katie could ask what her sister was doing there, or what an "Argent" was, another voice interrupted. "Trina, you can talk later. Katie needs to hie back to Cullane fast as may be to— to do whatever there is to be done. Here, Mistress MacLaird, you can ride Fleet. He'll not gallop like that insane black nag, but he kens the road home well enough and he'll be faster than walking." Katie hadn't even gotten herself turned around to look at this newcomer properly when a pair of hands grabbed her and boosted her onto the back of a horse – almost as large a horse as the fae mount, but with a worn-looking saddle and a very reassuring horsey smell.
Katie looked down at the man who had lifted her, and at her sister, and tried to think of something to say – something like, "but there's nothing tae be done – I didnae get the fruit, after all." She hadn't got as far as the first word before the horse trotted off, and Katie concentrated on staying in the saddle for a while. Myimp didn't make things any easier by choosing that moment to land with a thump on her shoulders again. What was she going to do with the creature? Perhaps nothing for a while. Perhaps the Sisters at St. Unweigh's would have some idea. "Dinna let yourself be seen by anyone else until I say so," Katie ordered. At the very least, she wouldn't have to explain it along with everything else. By the time she thought to wonder again what Trina had been doing by the knowe and who the young man was – she'd seen him somewhere, hadn't she? – the walls of the castle were looming up, and the horse was making for the gates, which still stood open and unguarded, as far as she could see.
Lauds was ringing. The bakers and the dairy folk and the other early risers would be about their business soon, and there were probably watchmen somewhere about. Katie left the obliging horse standing in the stableyard and hurried through the kitchen doorway. She could smell smoke and raw dough coming from the kitchens as she hurried past, trying desperately to remember all the twists and turns that led to the prince's rooms. She could grab Jem if she saw him, she supposed… but here was the "gallery."
Katie sped up to nearly a run. There wasn't much time 'til Prime, and—well, there were going to be difficult explanations to give all day today, most likely, but she wanted to start with Hugh, whom she had not been able to save after all. She heard a few creaks and footsteps now, but by the time she got to the carpeted corridor outside his door, it was silent. No one would have the temerity to disturb the Family until nearly Tierce. The few servants about, including the ones who would come to the door with Nanny Kirk all too soon, would go as softly as they might.
The room was silent, too. Hugh was in the depths of the deep sleep he managed only immediately after returning from the knowe. Katie bent over him, more closely than she had dared before when he was like this, for fear of waking him when it was the last thing he needed, and saw that even now, there were faint tension lines in his forehead. Even in the depths of exhaustion, it seemed, he was not at peace. And the best Katie had been able to manage hadn't won that peace for him. Maybe, with what she had learned, for his nephew, some day… but that was a cold comfort. He sighed, and muttered something inaudible. Katie thought it was "cherimoya" again, but she wasn't sure. Tears pricked her eyes again, and this time she didn't worry about them. No one was going to force her to eat anything while she sobbed, and her face was a mess already – a little more salt water wasn't going to change anything. "I'm sorry, Hugh," she whispered. "I did try, I really did. I wanted tae bring you something from the knowe for the daylight hours, and the Folk would put their wares nearly anywhere but into my hand, and I came away with nothing… I'm so sorry."
She didn't suppose he heard her. He hardly ever did seem to hear anything anybody said when he was like this. But the words needed saying, and if the other Cullanes decided to throw her in the dungeon after all… Well, that wasn't too likely, she supposed. Bless Trina for fetching that young fellow with the horse, whoever he'd been; there'd be at least one witness who could say he'd seen the Prince leave the knowe, and Katie too. But some suspicious minister or other was bound to accuse her of being in league with the fae, and it would all get… political. And Hugh wouldn't last much longer. So this still might be the last time she saw him alive… "I'm so sorry, Hugh."
His face still didn't move at all, and so Katie was completely unprepared when one of his arms did, whipping itself out of the covers as fast as the willow-things had lashed their hair, grabbing hold of Katie, and pulling her down beside him. The bed was just a little higher up than her waist, and this sudden attack left her bent over and balanced on the toes of one foot. While Katie was still trying to find her footing, Hugh's other hand found the back of her head, and then he was kissing her full on the mouth.
Katie found herself incapable of doing anything whatsoever. She couldn't have said if she was standing or sitting or had somehow got on the bed herself, but she knew her limbs had gone slack with surprise, and a great, tingling heat roared through the core of her like sparks up a chimney. Do you dream of lovers, lady? But any lingering desires she might have had for that fae lordling who had offered himself last night were overwhelmed and annihilated. I was right, the best I can dream of is nothing compared to the best there is! And then words were lost again in the feeling of Hugh's lips on hers. He kissed her over and over, grazing her upper lip, just pecking the corners of her mouth, spending long, lingering moments in the hollows just under her cheekbones, tickling the hairs just in front of her ears with his tongue. Muzzily, Katie realized that some of the ringing in her ears was the bell for Prime. Hugh was kissing her eyelids, and running his tongue down her collarbone. Katie wondered whether she was going to melt or ignite. A faint message from one of her hands told her that it had found its way under Hugh's shirt collar and was exploring his neck and shoulders, and that there were little curly hairs there that tickled nicely, and that the skin between the hairs was amazingly soft and smooth, compared to the men's hands it had previously touched. All right, Hand. Carry on.
Now he was working his way slowly along her hairline. Katie realized with a sickening lurch that he wasn't kissing her out of love. Or even because he wanted her. Oh, Saints, it's that misbegotten fruit!
Of course. The fae swarm had smashed the stuff all over her face, trying to get at her mouth, and the juice had just stayed there, except where her tears had washed it away. It seemed Katie had managed to bring some of the goblin fruit with her, however unconventionally stored. And Hugh wanted the fruit above anything else in the world or out of it. Katie's internal fire went out as quickly as if a snowbank had fallen on top of it. She found herself wondering what had become of Nanny Kirk. She was usually here at the stroke of Prime and that had been, well, a time ago.
Hugh jerked away from her suddenly and sat upright, panting. Katie discovered that her legs still hung off the edge of the bed and that the floor was only a few inches below her feet, and she stood up to look at him. His eyes were wide and staring and brimming with tears, as her own had been not so long ago. "Burns!" he gasped, his voice gone high with pain. "Oh, it burns! Water, please! I need water!"
After a brief scramble, Katie managed to fill the cup on the nightstand and hand it to him. Hugh drained it in three gulps. "More!"
As Katie was lifting the pitcher a second time, she heard a familiar, and rather ominous, sound behind her. She dropped the cup on the carpet (sparing a moment's relief when it didn't break) and instead pulled the basin out from under the pitcher and spun around quickly as she could manage. She got the basin into Hugh's lap almost before he was spectacularly sick into it. Well, about half of it ended up in the basin, and the other half splashed onto her sleeve and her skirts, and a corner of the blanket. Katie re-positioned the basin a little and held Hugh's hair back from his face with her clean hand, thinking, I really am no good at all with ballgowns. Hugh must have eaten a great deal of fruit in the course of the night for there to be this much … stuff… coming back up. It shone a dark, oily green-black in the lamplight. Katie supposed that was better than bright red. Dear Saints, have I poisoned him? If I were Nanny Kirk, coming in this moment, I would surely think so. The smell was also horrible, of course. As soon as she got a moment, Katie was going to find a window to open.
But it seemed Hugh wasn't about to die just then. The spasms slowed, and eased, and for the last one or two, he was able to hold the bowl steady himself. And then he sat nearly upright, turned his head in Katie's direction, and saw her. Katie ducked down and retrieved the cup she had dropped, and poured a little water into it. "Here," she said. "Dinna try tae swallow this just yet. Swish it about in your mouth and spit it out again. 'Twill take some of the taste away."
He took the cup gravely, murmuring, "Katie," and followed her instructions with a slightly puzzled expression.
"All right, then," Katie said softly, "If you think you'll do on your own for a few minutes, I'll take this mess away and tip it down the privy, so we dinna have tae keep smelling it. Here," she ducked again and came up with the slop pot, "If your guts rebel again while I'm gone, you can use this. And Nanny Kirk will be here any minute, now. She's usually here before this, and I dinna ken what's keeping her." It was strangely comforting to be talking quietly of such ordinary things, as if the man had nothing worse wrong with him than a hangover.
"Katie?" The voice came floating over her shoulder as she started to turn away with the basin, "This is my room at Cullane, is it not?"
She turned back. "Aye, H- yes, Your Highness."
The worried look about his eyebrows deepened. "And you're here?"
"Yes…" do you wish I wasnae?
"Do you… were you under the Knowe, as well?"
"Yes, your Highness. Mrs. House hired me tae keep an eye on you o'nights. So I followed you there, and back. Three times now, it's been. I suppose I'll gang again tonight, if it's needful. Or maybe not," she added thoughtfully, "The Fair Folk were none too pleased with me last night, and they might not let me in again."
"Katie?"
"Yes?"
"Was I… kissing you, just now?"
She couldn't look at him. And she couldn't look down; she didn't want to see inside the basin again... There were plasterwork curlicues on the ceiling, after all... "Yes."
He sighed. "Oh, good. I've been wanting tae do that."
Something bitter that had nothing to do with the basin welled up in the back of Katie's mouth. "Even when I havenae been doused in fruit juice, first?"
Hugh sat bolt upright and stared at her. "Fruit j- Put that down and sit here." He twitched the dirtied blanket aside and swung his legs so that they dangled off the bed. "Dear Katie, what are you talking about?"
"Mangos," said Katie, staring back. "Cherimoyas and papayas. You dinna remember?" Katie shook her head, and then obediently set the basin down on the seat of the chair beside the bed. "I've seen you give your own heart's blood tae a green-bearded goblin for the sake of the fruit he sold. And I've heard you crying for more when you were back in your bed and there was none to be had… I wanted to bring – and they'd smash it on my face but they'd put nothing whole in my hands…" she had to stop. She didn't want to cry again yet. Later, when she was in her little room with Trina, she could cry then.
"You… I do remember. I remember thinking I'd never had such delicious fare in my life, but – well, I think I remember it tasted sort of like vinegar pie, but then, most fruit does, sort of… I don't want any now. I could fancy a mutton sausage, though." Hugh shrugged, lightly, and then went still as he heard his own words. "I don't… want to go back!" It came out in an amazed whisper. "I remember – I think I remember, fine lords and ladies and lights and music and the goblin market, but… and I remember you singing, and that story about powdering your hair, and I want to hear more about – Brucemuir, was it? But all the rest of it… I don't want it! I don't- Katie! I'm free!" He was still whispering, as if he were afraid to say the words aloud.
He had looked so handsome under the knowe, when his smile had masked exhaustion and fear, but that smile to this one was… well, vinegar pie to fresh ripe apples. And he'd said he wanted to talk to her again… hadn't he? Katie felt the tears spill over. Hope and joy and relief, on top of everything else she was feeling, were too much.
Hugh was instantly solicitous and worried, asking her what was wrong and please don't cry, my dear, taking hold of her shoulders gently, running his fingers ever so lightly along what he said was a bruise on her cheek – Katie wasn't aware of having one, but then, she'd been busy – and Katie kept crying. She managed to get a word out here and there, in answer to questions he put: yes, she'd faced the goblins, yes, that was where the bruises had come from, probably, yes, Hugh, I did it for you… but mostly, she cried, while the part of her that had been cool and logical all the long night under the knowe let itself relax and enjoy the feel of his arms around her, and the love and the wonder in his voice.
They were still sitting there, and the reeking basin was still in the chair, when Nanny Kirk came in at last, at the head of a whole crowd of people: King Andrew and Queen Gwynn, Prince James and Trina, Mrs. House, Jem the footboy, and even, to Katie's amazement, the Silver Fairy, who looked a little bewildered. After the first babble and jubilations were over, Katie understood that Trina– or Trina and James, as it had been James who'd lifted her on the other horse that morning– had gone to the others and told them everything they knew, and in the midst of the telling and retelling of it all, the Godmother had put in an appearance, though she hadn't quite said why, and all of that together was what had kept Nanny Kirk from her post so long.
They went on talking and laughing and explaining things all out of order, Katie with the rest, until Hugh raised his voice above the others and said, "Have done, will you! We've time enough and more for tales, but I want breakfast first. Nanny, Mrs. House, our poor Katie here has to be worn to shreds, and she needs a bath and a gown that nobody's been sick on. Jem, take that godawful basin away, will you? And tell Garth I need a shave. And somebody bring me a plate of mutton sausage!"