At the Bottom of This Chapter:
Author's Note
Concerning the Chapter Title
References Made in This Chapter
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Author's Note: I know! I know! I'm suuuuuuper late (by like, a whole week). I know. I'm soooooo sorry. I needed my beta to get back to me because I had to rehash one scene in this chapter a bazillion times and we finally got it fixed on the 6th but then I couldn't get to the internet on the 7th so here I am on the 8th with an update. Sorry! I'm so sorry. But here's the 2nd of our 3 birthday chapters. I hope you like it.
And good news! I got a job! It's only 1-2 days a week (sigh), but it's still better than nothing. I got a job as a maid. Woot! I started a week ago. Plus my rather limited hours give me time to both work on my latest novel (which only has 2-3 more edits to go before it's up for publishing) and to write fanfiction for you guys! And my roommate got a job as an afterschool teacher. She just started yesterday. Excitement! Heavenly Father is looking out for us, yay!
But you guys should still buy my books because they're awesome! Hopefully Glass and Their Forever Family will be available for the Nook/eReader soon. I'm having issues with the formatting, blargh. And Obsidian, the sequel to Glass, will be out in December through CreateSpace and on Amazon in like, February or March. Same with my second inspirational romance novel, Where the Heart Is, and my high fantasy novel, The Shepherd's Daughter. So yay! Double-yay!
Hope you guys had an AWESOME Halloween, by the way. Loves to you all! Enjoy the chapter! =)
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Chapter Eighty
Birthday (Pt. 2)
that is
A Short Tale of Bogeymen and Hellhounds, a Request, a Confrontation, an Awkward Conversation, a Teardrop of the Moon, Music and Bearding the Lion
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After seeing the king, Dylan got a couple other errands out of the way.
First, she went to see Lóegaire. The elderly Elven mind-healer happened to have a moment just as Dylan arrived, so the two women sat down and talked for perhaps forty or fifty minutes about how Dylan was handling being back on her meds, how well the mortal was sleeping since starting the human and faerie medicines, and how she was handling the current political situation. Lóegaire was appraised of Dylan's engagement to Nuada, as well. She didn't tell the Elven woman about Nuada kissing Dierdre, however. Dylan had no idea if the other woman answered to the king or not, and had no clue what Balor might do if he discovered his son's mistake.
After seeing Lóegaire, Dylan managed to find out from one of the "upstairs" maids where Moundshroud was staying in one of the guest wings of the castle. To her surprise, the entire wing housing the Keeper of the Halloween Tree was empty of maids, pages, or even guards.
"What in the world?" Dylan mumbled as ice skittered down her spine. Suddenly something dropped down from the ceiling above. Dylan shrieked. Her guards drew their swords and started forward. "Wait!" She cried, glaring at the thing that had tried to drop on her. "I know him. Don't hurt him. He's Master Moundshroud's..." Searching for the proper term, the mortal finally settled on, "Doorman."
The creature was squat and chunky, covered in mangy gray fur. Its dark eyes burned at their centers with the same eerie green fire as most of the fae from Moundshroud's kingdom. White scars striped its short muzzle and black nose. A silver chain hung around its thick neck. Hanging from the chain glinted a pendant in the shape of a carved pumpkin. The bear-like faerie grinned at the human, revealing jagged yellow teeth slick with spittle. It lifted a paw and waved its knife-sharp claws one at a time.
"Almost had ya that time, luv," the creature said, giggling. Dylan crossed her arms.
"I hope you get drop-kicked in the head by a kangaroo," she muttered in exasperation. Uaithne made a questioning noise. Dylan explained, "This is Lord Santelmo. He's a drop-bear." Seeing her guards' confusion, she clarified, "A carnivorous faerie koala from Aboriginal areas that drops out of trees to attack and eat innocent bystanders." The drop-bear giggled again. The mortal glared at him. "Why can't you eat eucalyptus leaves like a normal koala? Why do you have to eat people?"
"Because," the thing gurgled in what might have passed for an Australian accent, "I may look like a koala bear sometimes, when I'm glamoured, but you should always remember, luv, I'm a bit more dangerous than that. Now what's a pretty lil' sheila like you doin' in a place like this?"
She didn't roll her eyes at the term "sheila," but she wanted to. "I want to see Moundshroud, please."
"Eh? The old geezer?" The drop-bear chuckled. Putting his claws to his wrinkled black lips, he let out an ear-piercing whistle. "Oi! Ayame! His Nibs has a visitor! Be a love and come on out."
Dylan's eyes widened as something tall and skeletally thin in a shabby black kimono embroidered with copper jack-o-lanterns limped out of the shadows that had kept it hidden. Hanks of matted black hair covered its face and fell to its waist. The ragged hem of its kimono dragged on the floor. Dylan thought it was female, but she couldn't be completely certain. A large bucket of rotted wood trailed behind the faerie creature on a damp hemp rope, leaving a trail of dark water on the stone. The faerie woman stopped at the drop-bear's side. One puffy, blue-mottled hand lifted toward the wet, matted hair in her face. Dylan started to glance up.
"Don' look in her eyes, Lady Dylan," the Australian faerie cautioned with a wry laugh. The other fae creature hissed. Dylan swallowed and hastily dropped her gaze. She'd only dealt with a couple of Moundshroud's servants before, but never this one. "Tsurube-otoshi aren't called 'monsters' for nothin'. This is Ayame, one of the old geezer's maids. She'll show ya the way, luv. Just keep yer eyes on the floor."
That wasn't as difficult as Dylan had thought it would be, since every time she so much as lifted her head an inch, the towering Onibi monster at her side growled and snarled. The sound of the wooden bucket scraping against the floor behind them like dry bones on flagstones made Dylan's neck prickle. At a door at the end of the hall, Ayame grunted and gestured with one scabby blue hand. Dylan knocked.
The door creaked open. Dylan jumped and gave a little gasp before forcing herself to calm down. After all this time, you'd think I'd be used to all of Moundshroud's bogeymen, she thought, surreptitiously eyeing the hunched, raw-fleshed woman in front of her. The stench of blood and raw meat hung heavy in the corridor so that Dylan had to breathe through her mouth to keep from being sick. The boo-hag in the doorway cackled, a sound like dead leaves and empty tree limbs rattling. Her smile revealed the blackened stumps of her teeth.
"Good afternoon, dearie," the old fae woman drawled, her voice heavy with an accent that made Dylan think of magnolias and cotton plantations. "Ye'd be here to see His Lordship, I 'spect." Blood-red eyes twinkled with mirth. "Ye're Lady Dylan, ain't ye? Come in."
"Thank you, ma'am," the mortal replied softly, automatically ducking her head so she wouldn't have to look at the exposed veins and muscles that should have been covered by skin, but weren't. Uaithne and Fionnlagh preceded her into the suite, and the other four Butchers followed her. To their credit, the guards didn't react to the sight of a woman with no skin dripping blood on the floor. Nor did they react to the dogs lounging at the feet of the man in a high-backed chair in front of the receiving room fireplace.
There were four dogs draped along the floor at Moundshroud's feet. Dylan knew them all, and so didn't hesitate to approach and kneel a few inches from the big sprawling puppy-pile. The dogs blinked and yawned at her. One of them heaved itself to its feet and deigned to drop its head and half its massive body into Dylan's open lap. This was Akut, Moundshroud's adlet. When the black-furred dog, which looked an awful lot like a Siberian husky except with oddly human-looking eyes, yawned again, he revealed a very long forked tongue and vampiric fangs with tiny barbs along the side. Akut nuzzled Dylan's belly. She rubbed behind his ears until his tail beat a steady percussion against the floor.
Jealous of the attention their pal was getting from the much-adored visitor, the other three dogs came over and plopped their heads into the mortal's lap as well. The largest of the group, Zorro (Pipkin had named him), was still a puppy. Despite his young age, the cadejo was the size of a large calf. His little goat horns were still soft with baby fuzz, and his long legs ended in a mix between paws and cloven hoofs. His eyes were the bright yellow of a goat's. Like all of Moundshroud's animals, his fur was thick and shiny and black.
The other two dogs - a Yorkshire barghest, or black dog of death, nicknamed Archie; and a black-furred pesanta, or nightmare-dog with flaming crimson eyes, that Pipkin had inexplicably named Pez, after the candy - whined for attention from the human as Dylan made sure to scratch behind ears and under chins for a few moments. Dylan's guards struggled not to stare. Moundshroud, used to this ritual after nearly ten years of knowing the human psychiatrist, merely smiled.
"Hi, Pez," Dylan cooed at the pesanta. "Hey, boy. Who's a good boy? Archie, you're such a good boy, too. Oh, my gosh, Zorro, you're such a big boy now, yes you are." The cadejo gave a bleating sort of bark. Akut yawned again, showing off his barbed fangs, and rolled onto his back, temporarily squashing Pez and Archie in the process. "Akut, you big bloodsucker, you're so greedy." Dylan began rubbing the exposed belly. The long brush of a tail thumped against the ground again. "Oh, you like that, huh? Good boy." His forked tongue came out to lick her hand. "Oh, you're all such good boys."
"I've always wondered why you do not have a dog, my dear," Moundshroud said. "You like mine well enough."
"Of course I like them. They're so sweet." Dylan dropped a kiss on Zorro's muzzle. He turned his head away and sneezed. Although lacking human-level intelligence, the fae hounds were vastly more intelligent than regular dogs. "Bless you. And I actually have two dogs now. Nuada gave them to me."
The air grew noticeably cooler. "Ah, yes. His Highness Prince Nuada. Has his attitude improved at all?"
Dylan got Akut, who was the warmest and softest of the four beasts, to sit up so she could drape her arms around his neck and lay her head against his back. He, in turn, settled his head on the human's shoulder with a contented sigh. Only once she was situated did she answer her old friend.
"We've made up, if that's what you mean," she said softly. "But I need to talk to you about that."
Moundshroud leaned forward in his chair, propping his bony elbows on his equally bony knees. "Oh?" The old fae king asked, "Have you decided to take me up on my offer to castrate him?"
"No!" She glared at her old friend. Moundshroud merely smiled and shrugged, as if to say, Can you blame me, dear? Dylan sighed. "Did you find out who Nuada kissed?" The eldritch fae pretended to be wholly focused on buffing his long nails on his velvet tunic. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' How?"
"I have my ways, my dear. However, I promise not to kill her... unless she causes you anymore distress."
"Moundshroud, he's allowed to talk to her."
"Don't be ridiculous, Dylan, of course he isn't. That's being a bit too generous and forgiving."
"I... Akut, no." She pulled back from the Inuit faerie hound. "No licking my neck. No. Bad dog." Akut whined and hunched his shoulders. To Moundshroud, Dylan said, "They have something they need to hash out."
"Oh, you mean such as the time and place of their next assignation?"
She sighed. "Look, I know Nuada messed up. He knows it, too. We're trying to patch things up between us, okay? But I told Nuada I'd trust him to handle this other thing with Lady Dierdre without interfering. I have to give him the chance to earn back the trust he's lost. So I'd like your word that you won't interfere."
He feigned being affronted. "Interfere? Would I do that?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Well, then. I suppose... if it means so much to you, my dear, I'll keep my big beaky nose out of it."
Dylan smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Moundshroud."
The old fae king sighed. "I'm going soft, I tell you. First Pipkin and now you, ordering me about, making demands, acting as if I'm supposed to be some kind and generous monarch instead of the terror of Faerie." He sighed again. "Ah, well. Consider it a birthday gift."
Her smile morphed into a grin. "Whatever makes you happy, Mr. Moundshroud."
"Impudent girl," he said, grinning back. "You're lucky I'm fond of you."
"Yes, sir. I know."
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It was just as Dylan had traversed the last step before she reached the third floor and the Royal Wing when the shushing of heavy skirts dragging on stone caught her attention. Her guards didn't react, though, so she knew it wasn't someone preparing to attack. She caught a glimpse of gray and garnet from the corner of her eye. Ice skittered down her spine like insect legs. When she turned, Lady Dierdre was sweeping toward the stairs.
The Elven woman slowed when she caught sight of the mortal. Dylan studied the Fomorian noblewoman even though looking at her gave the human woman a headache and made something frigid coil like a snake in the pit of her stomach, a sharp warning. Nuada had said Dierdre was in trouble and that he needed to help her. Was that why she was on the third floor? Had Nuada been helping her? Or had they been-
Stop it, Dylan chastised herself. Stop it right now. He wouldn't do that.
Except he already did, a low voice hissed in the back of her mind. Why wouldn't he do it again?
Because he promised, she retorted.
He promised to never play you false, yet he kissed another woman behind your back. What is Dierdre doing here while Nuada is supposed to be working? Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean your prince wouldn't tryst with someone when your back was turned. Perhaps he took her to bed as soon as you were gone-
Shut up, Dylan snapped at the slithering voice. I'm not going to think like this; it's just the Adversary screwing with me. I'll just ask her what she's doing here. Cripes.
As the scarlet Fomori drew close, she dipped a curtsy to Dylan. Because Dylan outranked her - albeit only technically, and only on Nuada's say-so - the mortal was only required to nod in acknowledgment. "Lady macAengus."
"Lady Dylan," Dierdre murmured, then frowned. "Er... Lady Myers?"
"Lady Dylan is fine," Dylan said, suppressing a shiver. This woman was dangerous, Dylan thought. Just as dangerous as Bres and Dierdre's brother, Lord Cíaran. Well, not as dangerous as Cíaran. No one was as dangerous as Lord Cíaran macAengus. But the same icy cold that had struck Dylan when she'd walked into the healing chamber with Nuada, Bres, and Cíaran struck her now as she looked into Dierdre's eyes. But this was also the woman who'd enjoyed liplocking with Nuada. Dylan refused to be intimidated by her in any way. "May I ask what you're doing here?"
The Fomorian noble blinked. "I... was coming to see you."
Dylan frowned. Unease slithered down her spine to mingle with the ice. "See me? What for?"
"I..." Emerald green eyes flicked to the mortal's guards before returning to rest on the scarred countenance. "About His Highness," she said softly. "I want you to know, Lady Dylan, that I never... I never meant... that is, I-"
"Uaithne, can you guys step back a little bit?" Dylan asked. But it would only be a little bit, and Dylan kept her hand close to where her courtship knife nestled in its sheath at her hip. After a moment's hesitation, the Butchers obeyed their charge's request, moving off a few paces to offer the two women a semblance of privacy.
"All right, Lady macAengus," Dylan said coolly. "Nuada's explained what happened. Apparently he put out mixed signals, you made a move. He rebuffed you, you backed off. I appreciate that. You need his help with something. I understand and sympathize. However," and here the mortal's tone, brisk up until now, became positively frosty, "I want to make a few things clear." Dylan held up her left hand, flashing the sapphire and white-gold ring. "The prince and I are betrothed. The formal announcement is slated for tomorrow night. And he knows - and I hope you do, as well - that if I find out anything else inappropriate happens between you two, neither of you will like the outcome. He said you two just kissed. Fine. It's over and done with, so I don't need to hurt anyone. But if you try to push him for anything else, you're not going to like my reaction."
Dierdre's eyes were fixed on the sapphire ring on Dylan's left heart-finger. It seemed almost as if she'd stopped breathing. So many emotions flashed across the Fomori's poison-green eyes so quickly that the mortal couldn't discern any of them. Dylan shivered as a sudden fresh chill iced her spine. Then Dierdre inclined her head almost imperceptibly and dipped another curtsy.
"You are to be congratulated, Lady Dylan," Dierdre murmured, eyes downcast. "And I understand you perfectly. Excuse me."
Just as the other woman was brushing past, the human added, "Dierdre." The noblewoman paused. Dylan hesitated, then reminded herself that as a doctor, she was obligated to help anyone and everyone, no matter whether their moral compass pointed north or not. "If you ever need to talk to someone about whatever trouble you're in... all this stuff with His Highness aside, I'm available. Prince Nuada and I will help you if you truly need it. I promise you."
For a long moment, Dierdre said nothing. Dylan wondered what she could possibly be thinking. The bitter cold freezing through her, warning of danger, had yet to dissipate. Then the Fomorian nodded once. "I understand. Excuse me."
Dylan briefly considered following the other woman. Trying to talk to her and get her to open up. She discarded the idea, however, when that warning cold suddenly increased drastically. Dierdre was willing to talk to Nuada about whatever trouble she was in. That was enough. Dylan didn't think it was a good idea to become too familiar with Dierdre, at least while the mortal was still struggling with her feelings over what had happened between the Fomori and Nuada. She'd forgiven her prince... but she still wasn't sure how she felt about Dierdre - except that the other woman was dangerous and did not like her.
Shrugging off the uncomfortable thoughts, Dylan pasted a smile on and slipped into her suite. It took her all of five minutes to locate Nuada in his study. When she knocked and the prince bade her enter, she found him putting away whatever paperwork he'd been dealing with all day.
"All done?" Dylan asked, smiling brightly. It became easier when Nuada smiled back.
"I am, yes. You have perfect timing."
She canted her head. "Why, thank you, Your Highness." Feeling the king's offer weighing on her, the words sitting like stones on her tongue, she added, "Um... so before we go and do... whatever... we need to talk about something."
Nuada raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah, so... the thing is... I sort of went to go see your dad while you were busy."
"You did what?" Nuada rose to his feet, staring at her with incredulous eyes. "For Danu's sake, why? Why would you do that?"
"I needed to talk to him."
Still wide-eyed with surprise, the prince demanded, "About what?"
Here goes, Dylan thought. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out before replying, "About our sleeping arrangements." The Elf frowned. Dylan drew another deep breath. "I asked him if we could have separate beds again. I can't... I can't keep sharing a bed with you."
Stung, unsure if he even had a reason to be, Nuada sank into his chair again. "You can't?" His lady shook her head. "But why not? Did I do something, or perhaps say something that made you uncomfortable? Or feel unsafe? I would never pressure you-"
"No, no!" She hastened to take the empty chair at his desk. "No, I know. I know you'd never do that. I don't feel pressured. It's not that."
"Then why did you go to my father, alone, without even telling me, to ask him if we might sleep apart?" A sudden thought turned his blood to ice-water. "Is this about last night? Our argument? Is it because I kissed Dierdre?" Was she attempting to draw back from him, pulling away at a snail's pace in the hopes that he wouldn't realize he'd lost her until it was too late? "Dylan, I'm sorry. I thought we were all right. You said we were all right. Do not withdraw from me, mo duinne, I-"
"It's not that," she said softly. "It's not the Dierdre thing. I just... I can't be that intimate with you right now, Nuada. I'm sorry. I just can't handle it."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I do not understand. What happened? What has changed?"
She sighed. "This morning happened." How to explain it to him? How to explain that she couldn't share a bed with him because if he kissed her or held her while they were in bed together she wouldn't have the strength to stop him from doing anything else? Not only would she not have the strength, but at this point, she was on the verge of asking for it, of inviting him to break all of her rules.
Confusion flickered in topaz eyes. "Dylan, I... I don't understand. I meant no disrespect. I only intended to kiss you good-morning. What have I done that offended you? Tell me and it will not happen again, I swear it."
"You didn't do anything," she murmured, struggling for words to adequately express her problem without sounding like a slut. What am I supposed to say? She wondered, fighting not to bite her lip while she thought. "Sorry, Nuada, but because you look so good in the mornings when we're all cuddled up together, it makes me think about you in ways I shouldn't and want things that will get us - or at least me - in heaps of trouble but you're so hot I can't keep my head on straight?" Because that doesn't make me sound like a sex-addicted bimbo, oh no.
"Forgive me for repeating myself, but I don't understand."
"It's not you," Dylan confessed. Fighting back a wince at the cliche about to escape her, she added in a small voice, "It's not you, it's me. I... I keep snuggling up to you when I'm asleep."
He frowned. "And this is a bad thing?"
"Yes!" Exasperated with herself for not being able to find the right words to explain, for feeling embarrassed, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Yes, it's a bad thing. A very bad thing."
"Dylan, you are asleep when this happens. Surely your God would not condemn you for something you have no control over."
"It's not the snuggling."
"Begging milady's pardon, but you just said it was."
"Well, it is, but... it's... I can't keep waking up draped all over you!" She cried. "Especially in my pajamas!"
Now it was Nuada's turn to rub the bridge of his nose. "Dylan, it's not as if you were in something revealing or, by the Fates, naked." That would have been his undoing. "I do not see why this is suddenly an issue for you."
"Because I don't like the way I feel when I wake up cuddled up to you!" She snapped, dropping her head back to rest against the back of the armchair. A sigh escaped her. "I would feel really uncomfortable being that close to any man in bed," the mortal confessed, "but it's worse with you because-"
"Is this about Zhenjin?"
Dylan lifted her head back up to blink at him. Nuada's voice, so open and obviously confused, had suddenly turned strangely cold. Distant. Not as if he were angry with her, but as if... She tried to put her finger on it. It was as if he were trying to distance himself from something painful. Dylan frowned at her prince. "About... Zhenjin? What about Zhenjin?"
"Does this sudden discomfiture with lying beside me have anything to do with him?"
The words were all in the right order and Nuada was speaking plain English, she thought, but that didn't mean he made sense. She shook her head. "No. How did Zhenjin get into this conversation?"
"You are comfortable with him."
Her eyes widened. "Not that comfortable."
Ignoring the conflicting twinges of triumph and irritation pricking behind his breastbone, Nuada inclined his head. "All right, then. Why are you suddenly so uncomfortable around me?"
"It's not that I'm uncomfortable. I mean, I am. Not with you. I... I don't know why this is so hard to say. I feel stupid. I don't like waking up cuddled with you because it's hot, okay?" She sighed and shoved her hair out of her face. "I mean, I actually do like it. I like waking up pressed against you, all warm and sleepy. It makes me feel..." She made a vague gesture with both hands. A blush burned in her cheeks. "I mean, you're really hot. Especially when you just wake up. And I love how it feels to wake up with you. How it feels when you hold me to you. And that's the problem."
Comprehension clicked in Nuada's eyes. "You worry that we'll overstep your boundaries and break one of your rules." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway, relieved that despite her fumbling, he understood. "Mo duinne, I would never do that to you."
She smiled a little wistfully. "You'd never seduce me, huh?"
"Of course not."
"Even if I asked you to?" That startled him. He opened his mouth, found he had no words. Could think of no possible way to respond. So he closed his mouth. Dylan's smile turned rueful. "You remember I said I couldn't resist you if you really turned on the charm? You can't really resist me, either, can you? Not if I said, 'To heck with the rules, let's just go for it.' Would you be able to resist? If I was in full control of my faculties and there was no magic or anything involved?"
It took him a moment to find his voice. "You would never do that. You value your commitment to the Star Kindler too highly."
Dylan scoffed, more at herself than at him. "I was thinking about it," she replied, and was rewarded by raised eyebrows. "I was thinking about it this morning, when you leaned in to kiss me. I thought, 'Just one little kiss won't hurt. One kiss... or two... or twenty.' And suddenly I knew if I let you kiss me I'd be gone. I wouldn't care about anything but you and me. Because right then I really, really wanted to... um... I wanted you. A lot."
Nuada blinked, taken aback. "Oh."
"Yeah. You kinda have that effect on me. Which was bad, because what would you have done if I'd let you really kiss me this morning? Think about it."
He didn't need to. He knew what would've happened. He'd have kissed her, reveled in the taste of her while using those kisses to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than he'd ever thought possible, that nothing could make him stop loving her. And if she'd succumbed to his kisses and invited him to do more, where would it have ended? With her beneath him, warm and soft and willing... at the time. But afterward? After the haze of desire faded and the sweet glow of lovemaking dimmed, she would have regretted what had occurred between them, and he did not want that. Ever.
"I understand," Nuada murmured. "I do. All right." He ignored the pang of disappointment in his chest. Sleeping beside her had been a privilege he'd intended to cherish. Waking up to her... except for yesterday morning, waking up to Dylan - or, on those mornings when she'd somehow risen before him, waking up to the warmth and the sweet scent of her left behind - the last few days had been wonderful. But if she was not comfortable, he would do what was needed to put her at ease. And he did not have to quash that glow of pleasure brought on by her confession of wanting him. "So you went to my father and asked him to rescind his order."
She nodded. "He was really nice about it, too. Didn't make fun of me or anything. He did put a condition on it, but I said I had to talk to you first before I could agree to it, since it affects both of us."
The prince settled back in his chair. "What was the condition?"
"He wants to shorten our engagement."
Intrigued, Nuada quirked a brow. "By how much?"
"Um... he wants us to get married in February."
He nearly choked on his tongue. "What?"
"I know, I know, it's way soon and probably inconvenient for you, and I know there are tons of things we have to do beforehand, which is why I said I'd have to talk to you about it first. Because I didn't wanna just blithely say, 'Oh, yeah, I'm so there,' and then it turns out I'm offending someone or ruining an important political event or-"
"I want to," Nuada interrupted, cutting off the stream of nervous babble. Dylan's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. She stared at him. "I would marry you today if I could, Dylan. I was ready to wait a year and a day, but if I can wed you sooner, I will do so. The Frost Moon falls on the seventh day of February. Marry me then. Become my wife then."
She blinked, trying to process that. "Wait... you want to marry that soon? But I thought we had a bunch of stuff-"
"I don't care," he said simply.
"But it's a royal wedding. Won't it take time to-"
"I don't care," he repeated.
"But that's not even two months from now," she protested.
"I don't care."
"But... but you... but I... what will people think if we marry that quickly?"
Nuada pinned her with a gaze of hot, feral amber and enunciated very slowly, "I. Do. Not. Care." Never taking his eyes from her face, he added, "Marry me, Dylan, on the night of the Frost Moon. The seventh day of February. Forty-seven days from now. Exchange vows with me that night. Become my wife, my princess."
Dazed by the sudden revelation - Only forty-seven days? Less time than they'd spent together in his underground sanctuary! - she stammered, "I... Nuada, I... this is all so sudden. Oh." She made a face. "I did not just say that. I sound like an airhead. I, um... you know what?" Running her fingers through her hair to push it out of her face, Dylan suddenly smiled. "Why not? February seventh. Forty-seven days. Let's do it."
He surprised her by grinning. "Very well, then. The seventh of February." He rose to his feet and came around the desk, offering his hand. When she laid her hand in his, he pulled her smoothly to her feet. "On that day you will become my bride."
She threw her arms around his neck. "So you're not mad about the whole same-bed thing?"
"No. I would never be angry over you feeling uncomfortable, Dylan," he said. Disappointed, yes. He would miss the comfort of her presence in the darkness. Knowing she was near soothed away most of his nightmares, though not all of them. But it was what she needed. "Now, was there anything else? Because if there's nothing else, I have someone I want you to meet."
"Ooh. I'm intrigued."
"You're also improperly dressed. You will need jeans, I think. And a sweater. Muted colors."
Dylan cocked her head. "Muted colors? Why?"
"It is a surprise."
She rolled her eyes and grinned. "Of course it is. Isn't it always?"
As she went to change, Nuada's eyes followed her. His chest felt tight and yet oddly hollow as he watched her slip out of his study. Marry Dylan in less than two months? Oh, how he wanted that. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he would wed her that very day if possible. To make her his wife so soon... it seemed almost too easy. How could something he'd wished for, for what seemed like such a long time, suddenly be almost within his grasp?
Yet it wasn't that easy, Nuada knew. Dylan was human. Mortal. Yet so very necessary to him. How was he ever to keep her in his life? If they wed, and then the war came, she would leave him, but... but might she come back eventually? Nuada thought that, given enough time, Dylan might forgive him. Might return to him. But how much time? More time, he imagined, than a mortal had. Yet if she were immortal...
He couldn't do as his father had suggested, though. He could not trade the lives of his people, of all the fae throughout the Mortal and Twilight Realms, for Dylan's life. Not even for her life could he do such a thing. It was a betrayal of everything he stood for, everything he believed in. A betrayal of his people, treason against his kingdom. No, if Nuada wanted to give his truelove immortality, he would have to be the one to do it, not his father. Which meant, if things came down to the wire, there was only one choice.
Nuada had told her it was foolishness. A suicidal idea, the forlorn hope of the desperate. But was he not a fool for loving a mortal? And was he not desperate? If he had no other options, if he had no other choices, he would consider going to the kings of Mag Mell. But in order to do that, he would need the help of one of the three kings of Ireland. He couldn't count on his father to aid him, and he couldn't count on Elatha, Bres' father, either.
Which left him one other option. He would write to Rennan mac Dela, king of Eirc, when he and Dylan returned to their rooms that night. Rennan was neutral on the subject of humans - unlike Elatha and Bres, who thought them vermin. Rennan would help him, Nuada was certain. If the Elven prince was that desperate, Rennan would help him.
.
Dylan couldn't figure out what it was Nuada wanted to show her as he led her to the stables, their guards in tow. Her prince had changed out of his velvet and silk into a dark linen shirt, canvas tunic and trews, and worn leather boots. Working clothes, it seemed like. A little-boy smile tugged at the corners of his dark mouth as they entered the large out-building. Nuada called for the Master of the Royal Stables.
Nils dropped down from a hayloft as easily as a drop-bear descending from a tree. He wore a nicer version of his normal work clothes, but nothing so fine as what he'd worn to church earlier that day. Dylan understood. Some jobs didn't stop just because the Sabbath had come. Working with animals was often one of them.
"Your Highness," the tomte murmured, bowing low. "Lady Dylan. You are here to see Shang?"
Nuada canted his head. "How is he?"
The tomte smiled and his single eye lit up with pride. "The little one is doing very well, Sire. He's been a bit restive today, but I think that's because he's lonely. Wants someone to play with him."
The prince sighed. "He is that age."
"Who's Shang?" Dylan asked. Nuada flashed her a grin.
"The person I want you to meet. Come with me."
Her prince led her through the massive stables, unerringly finding his way through the stalls and tack-stands and bales of straw to a series of stalls in the very back of the Royal Stables. They were larger than most of the stalls she'd seen up until this point. Most of them were unoccupied. One, however, almost double the size of a normal horse stall, was not.
Dylan paused with Nuada at the stall door that came up to her forehead and studied the strange green wood. She touched it with curious fingers. Nuada rapped on it with his knuckles, and the mortal realized the wood was hollow. She shot him a look.
"It is bamboo," the prince replied. "Specially made. The animal inside is from Dilong. We've found that mounts from other kingdoms do better if they have something from their homelands nearby. Now, no sudden or sharp movements. Keep your voice soft and soothing, the way you would speak to a small child. Shang is still a baby, and he's easily startled. Bright colors make him nervous," the prince added.
So that's why he wanted me to wear muted colors, Dylan thought. She nodded to show she understood. Nuada opened the door and they slipped inside.
"Ohhh," Dylan breathed as a sweet sort of joy spread through her. "Oh, Nuada, he's so little." She gazed at the small four-legged animal in front of her, enraptured by him. "He's so little and sweet."
The spindly-legged lóng mâ colt in front of her, whose head barely came up to her waist, looked a bit like Zhenjin's mount, Qín, in the physical build: the same muzzle, like a Chinese dragon, complete with catfish whiskers; the same slender legs and serpentine neck. Only this little creature was so small and helpless looking, and his coloring was different. His mane and tail gleamed like pearly threads, darkening as they went from iridescent ivory to a deep sapphire. His scales glittered like a thousand tiny opals across his slender body until they reached his legs. Scatterings of hematite scales protected the delicate forelegs. Identical scales masked his upper face. A pair of fawn-like black horns - more like fuzzy bumps than horns - peeped out from between his cream-colored ears and mane.
When the colt gazed up at Dylan, she found herself transfixed by a pair of brilliantly blue eyes that faded out to black at the edges. A baby's curiosity sparkled in those beautiful eyes. Shang took a step forward. The fresh, clean straw beneath his cloven hooves rustled. He opened his mouth, flicking out a long, forked blue tongue.
"He doesn't have any teeth," Dylan blurted.
Nuada smiled. "He's only two days old."
"Really?" She glanced at Nuada, who nodded, before looking back at the small colt. "He's so little. How does he eat, then? Isn't he a reptile? I thought reptiles were born with teeth."
"He is a dragon - of a sort. They are a breed above reptiles or mammals. Right now, until his baby teeth grow in, he gets all he needs from a mixture of goat's milk, fish oil, and animal blood." Then Nuada's voice softened, taking on a sweet coaxing tone Dylan had never heard from him before. "Come here, little one. Let me get a look at you."
Shang approached Nuada without any hesitation, butting his nose into the prince's palm and making that warbling sort-of humming sound like a bamboo flute that Dylan had heard Qín make the previous day. Nuada rubbed gently beneath the colt's chin until a filmy third eyelid slid down over the baby's bright blue peepers. With an ease Dylan envied, the Elven warrior inspected every inch of the baby lóng mâ, offering soft words of praise and gentle pets since the colt didn't attempt to resist. All the while, Nuada told his lady about the lóng mâ colt.
"Only male lóng mâ have horns," Nuada murmured, running his fingers over the fuzzy knobs on Shang's head. The baby hummed in pleasure. "They're like a deer's antlers. Every year he lives, they'll fork, until he reaches full maturity. They also have a third eyelid, like cats. You'll only see it when they are either very, very happy, or when they're trying to sleep in a dangerous environment. However, they also have brille - clear scales to protect their eyes from the elements." Nuada brushed his fingertips over the baby's impossibly long eyelashes. Shang gave a little humming snort. "They like to be tickled, as well. It's part of their play - they'll tickle each other with their whiskers. Would you like to touch him?"
"Can I?" Dylan asked breathlessly. She'd never been this close to an animal that was so young before. "I won't hurt him, will I? Or scare him?"
Nuada took her hand and held it very carefully in front of Shang's muzzle. "Let him smell you. Wait until he licks you. Then you'll have his permission to touch him. You must be careful," he added as the lóng mâ's blue tongue flicked out and rasped against Dylan's wrist. "His scales have not hardened yet. They're not as delicate as a newborn's, but they can be bruised if you are too rough. Stroke him like this down his muzzle. That's right."
"Ohhh," she breathed. Her eyes were bright with wonder. "His scales are fuzzy." Running her fingertips ever so lightly along the ebony and ivory scales on the baby's nose was like touching suede or very soft leather. Qín's scales had been hard and smooth as jewels. "Why are they fuzzy?"
"Have you ever touched a stag's antlers?" Nuada asked, rubbing his hand along Shang's neck. The baby leaned into the caress while pushing his nose into Dylan's hand. "Antlers are spongy and soft at first, then they calcify and turn to bone. A lóng mâ's scales are the same. When they're first born, their scales are as soft as velvet and covered in a very short, very fine layer of hair. They're used to the warmth of the egg, you see. Dragon eggs have to be kept hot or the babies will die. Once they hatch, the layer of hair atop their scales helps to keep them warm until their bodies become accustomed to the outside world. They shed the hair at around three or four moons."
"That is so weird. And so cool. Do they breathe fire?"
Nuada laughed. "No, they don't. Most dragons don't, actually. I think they all once could, which might be why their bodies run at such high temperatures, but no longer. They're very susceptible to the cold, though. That is one reason Shang is all the way in the back of the stables, far from the doors, so he won't fall ill."
"Where's his mother?" Dylan asked while the lóng mâ gently gummed her fingers. "She could keep him warm, couldn't she?"
After a short silence, Nuada said softly, "She died birthing him."
"Oh, no. He's an orphan?"
"Not an orphan exactly," the prince murmured, "if the one he's intended for agrees to take him." Dylan paused in stroking beneath Shang's chin to stare at Nuada with wide eyes slowly filling with realization. "He is for you," Nuada added. "For your birthday. If you'll have him."
"But I... I can't take care of a baby dragon-horse," she protested, even as her heart was yearning to do just that. "I don't know how. And I don't have time. It wouldn't be fair to him..." She trailed off when Nuada smiled fondly at her. "What?"
"Do you honestly think that I take personal care of all my horses and all my dogs? I have a hand in their upbringing and training, but I have other responsibilities, as well - just as you do. But it's good that you thought of what is fair to Shang first. Dylan, he is a member of the Royal Stables. He has his own groom to care for him already. If you accept him, all you need do is pay him a visit once or twice a day, even if it's only for a few minutes, to bond with him. To allow him to become accustomed to you. He'll not be rideable for several years yet, but by then, he will be wholly yours, and be devoted to you. You'll not need to break him to ride him. He will be yours and yours alone, loyal to you. I gift him to you to bring you joy, not to add to your burdens."
Silvery blue eyes met Shang's brilliant mazzarine gaze. Then the lóng mâ stretched out his sinewy neck and nuzzled Dylan's shoulder and neck with his nose. The slender catfish-like whiskers, two long pearlescent ribbons like indigo-kissed moonbeams, came up to tickle the mortal's cheeks with feathery caresses. Shang hummed with contentment and pleasure.
"Oh," Dylan murmured, petting the soft scales of the lóng mâ's neck. "As if that isn't loud and clear. All right, baby," she cooed at the little colt. "All right, then. Looks like we're a team, too, huh? Looks like I'm your new mommy. Okay, baby." She pressed her cheek against the soft neck while the baby whiffled against her hair. "Thank you, Nuada. He's beautiful. I love him. Is Shang his real name?"
"Tian Shang Yue - roughly translated into English as Teardrop of the Moon."
"Teardrop of the Moon, huh?" Dylan let the colt nuzzle her cheek while she crooned to him, "You have such a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty boy, huh? My pretty boy. That's right."
Nuada showed her how to take care of the little dragon-horse: how to lightly buff his scales and oil them so they didn't itch; how to comb out the long mane and tail and brush them until they shone; how to play tug-of-war with him, using a soft silk rope that he could grip between his gums and hold onto with his surprisingly strong tongue; how to check him over to make sure he was healthy. Nuada even showed her how to feed Shang.
The feeding bottle was stiff leather, but not much harder to handle than a modern baby bottle. The lóng mâ colt guzzled the bottle's contents in greedy slurping gulps. A few tiny rivulets of something that was pale, pale orange trickled down his neck. Dylan gently wiped the scales clean when the baby was finished. Shang made an odd gurgling sound, then a squeak. Dylan grinned.
"What was that?"
"The lóng mâ equivalent of a burp," the prince replied with a smile. Shang settled himself down into the soft straw with another gurgle-squeak and closed his eyes, heaving a contented sigh. His little belly bulged from his lunch. "He'll sleep now," Nuada said. "Most animals this young do little else but eat, sleep, and enjoy being the center of attention. Come, milady. I have other plans for us today."
Dylan got to her feet slowly so as not to disturb the baby drifting off in the straw. She dusted chaff from her jeans. Miraculously, there was nothing on her sweater but a strange, dust-fine glitter. As she and Nuada slipped out of the stall and closed the door behind them, she swiped some of it onto her fingers. It was silky as pollen or powdered makeup when she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, and it looked familiar, though she couldn't place where she'd seen it before.
"What is this stuff?" The human woman asked, showing Nuada her fingers.
"Scale residue," he said with a shrug. "Nearly anything fae with scales leaves some sort of residue behind, just as bird fae molt and furred fae shed. It's nothing to worry over; it will not hurt Shang. Now come on." Lacing his fingers with hers, he murmured, We have to be in New York City within the next two hours.
Her eyes widened. New York? Why New York? Are we allowed to go to New York? Did your dad say we could?
No, the prince said with a sigh. But I have been planning this for weeks. My father need not know.
Are we gonna get in trouble?
As you might say, not if we don't get caught. Which we will not. Trust me, mo duinne. Please?
Okay, Dylan murmured, giving him a bright smile. I trust you. So where in New York are we going? Because we can't go out to eat or anything, that would break the Sabbath.
I am well aware of your customs, my love. Nuada leaned in to kiss her temple as they walked to the stable doors. Don't worry. You will like what I have planned for tonight, I promise you.
.
It didn't take either of them long to wash away the smell of the stables. Dylan, sensing a real date looming, changed into a more mundane dress-and-shirt ensemble of dark blue velvet and white silk, slipped on her best winter boots, and grabbed her leather coat. At the last minute, she ducked back into the bathroom to put on some mascara and eyeliner and a touch of crystalline lipgloss. She dabbed honeysuckle essence at her wrists, behind her ears, and at the base of her throat. Finally, she loosely braided her hair and tied it off with a blue velvet ribbon.
Was she trying to make a point by dressing up? Dylan wondered suddenly. Was she trying to make sure she had Nuada's attention? After this morning's wake-up, she was fairly sure she had it. But it never hurt to be certain, she decided, and stepped out of the bathroom.
Nuada was waiting for her in his room, gazing out the window as night's velvet shadow slowly blanketed the palace grounds and the township beyond. He, too, had changed - into a dark blue velvet tunic and white silk-wool shirt and black trews. His black leather boots had been polished. He was trying to make an impression, too, Dylan realized. Showing her that he valued this excursion, this time with her, by dressing up. And he matched her. Had that been on purpose?
His eyes warmed when he caught sight of her hovering in the doorway. "My lady," he said, straightening, "if I may... you look beautiful."
She smiled, blushing. How was it he could make her blush just by saying she looked pretty? "Thank you, Your Highness." She bobbed a playful curtsy that made him grin. "You don't look so bad, yourself."
"I have another gift for you," he murmured. A grin spread across his face when her mouth fell open. "Why so shocked?"
"It's not a... an elephant or a baby pegasus or something, is it?" She asked, laughing. "Why do you buy me so much stuff?"
He picked up a white velvet box from the table beside his bed. The firelight brought out the sheen of the silver ribbon tied around the box. "I have answered this question before, but as it's your birthday, I'll indulge you by answering again. I want to give you all I can, because I know there are things you wish for that I cannot give you. Although I didn't buy this. I made it."
Surprised, she accepted the box. "What is it?"
"Open it and find out."
A gasp of utter delight escaped her when she drew off the lid of the velvet box. Nestled inside on a white satin cushion was a necklace. Delicate, graceful white-gold filigree as intricate as any snowflake gleamed with tiny diamonds and sapphires. It was gorgeous without being tacky or clunky, understated without being plain. It looked as fragile as gossamer. Every tiny link in the necklace chain was as finely woven as if it had been made of spidersilk. Each diminutive stone seemed to hang suspended amidst expertly woven wisps of silver. It was, she thought, breathtaking.
"You... you made this? For me?" Dylan whispered, awestruck. Nuada nodded. "Oh, it's beautiful."
He held out a hand. "May I?" She nodded mutely, and with a deft touch and nimble fingers, he clasped the necklace about her neck. Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips like a whisper across her cheek. "How very lovely you are, my darling," Nuada whispered. He brought Dylan's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah." She brushed her fingertips along the royal scar carved across his face and smiled. "Let's go."
.
"I cannot believe you did this," Dylan whispered, ducking as Nuada helped her through the open window. "I cannot believe you did this! Isn't this trespassing? We're gonna get in trouble! Morally if not legally."
The prince chuckled. "We have permission from the true owners of this place to be here. Mind your head."
She ducked to avoid something hanging from the low ceiling - she couldn't quite see what it was in the dimness of the room. "Who gave us permission to sneak into Carnegie Hall, may I ask, Your Highness?"
"The fae who work and live here," Nuada replied. "They live in this space up here. No one who actually works in the Hall itself has cleaned it up or been up here in years. I should think the workers who dwell here have as much right to invite us here as anyone else."
"There are fae living here? In Carnegie Hall?"
"Of course. Watch your step, don't trip." He helped her step over some stowed - and probably out-of-date - electrical equipment. "A few gremlins mind the lights and electrical wiring for the stage, I've been told. A few klabautermann, tired of life at sea, have come with their house-sprite wives to help mind the place and enjoy the music." She could tell by his tone that he didn't like the idea of fae serving humans, but she also knew he understood that not all the Shining Ones disliked the children of Adam as much as he did. "There are even some drow and a curupira around somewhere," Nuada added.
"What's a curupira?"
"You'll see. Ah, here we are." Nuada led her to a space that had obviously been recently cleared of debris and cleaned. The wooden floor even gleamed with fresh polish. Two velvet-cushioned chairs flanked a small table covered by a clean white tablecloth. Tall, thick white pillar candles on crystal dishes graced every available surface surrounding the table and cleared space, close enough to give a beautiful golden glow but not so close as to be a problem. Two slender candles in gold candlesticks illuminated the table itself, and the elegant meal laid out on it. Standing off to one side were three small fae, who bowed low before the prince.
One of them was a grizzled, gnome-like little man in a yellow sailor's dress uniform without shoes. He swept off his bright yellow woolen cap and offered a second bow to Dylan. She noticed a small tool, like a hammer, tucked into his belt. "Your Highness, Sir," he said to Nuada, and to Dylan, "M'lady. T'is an honor to host ye both. I'm Herr Erskine Klabautermann. This is Tristan Drow." He indicated a short, brown-skinned fae with Elf-like ears and black hair in a dark wool shirt and trousers and well-worn boots. Tristan bowed. "And this young lad is Alejandro Curupira. Bow, lad."
The lad was the same height as the two older fae, but looked to be only about six or seven years old. He was one of the most fantastical creatures Dylan had ever laid eyes on before. He wore a tunic that looked as if it had been sewn from leaves, and short brown trousers. He wore no shoes, and the mortal could understand why - his feet faced the other direction, as if someone had stuck them on backwards. The single eye in the center of his forehead was the vibrant green of sunshine through leaves. When he grinned, revealing sharp teeth the same vivid green as his eye, he also wiggled his enormous ears at Dylan. She grinned back.
"Take off your hat, lad," Herr Erskine ordered. The curupira's grin slipped away.
"I'll scare the señorita," he protested.
Dylan smiled. "Don't worry about scaring me. I've seen a kishi before," referring to the African fae with two faces, one handsome and charming and the other the hideous face of a bloodthirsty, man-eating hyena. "It can't be anywhere near that bad."
Hesitantly, the boy reached up and removed the leafy cap he wore.
Dylan's mouth fell open. "Whoa. That is so neat!" Instead of hair, shocks of dancing scarlet flame licked along the boy's scalp. No heat emanated from the fire, and it did no damage to his skin. Surprised by Dylan's obvious delight, he smiled. "I've never seen anything like that before," she added. "Wow. That's amazing."
Alejandro tugged a bit of flame the way another boy might've tugged diffidently at his forelock. "Gracias for the compliment, señorita. We'll be looking after you and His Highness while you're here tonight."
"Yes," affirmed Tristan Drow. He had a husky, gravelly voice that reminded Dylan a bit of Wink. "If there's anything you need, just let us know."
"Thank you," Nuada said. "That will be all for now."
The three fae bowed and melted away into the shadows.
Nuada got Dylan's chair for her. Seated at the table across from a crown prince, bathed in the golden glow of the candlelight, dressed up and wearing diamonds and sapphires, she felt like a princess. It was impossible to keep the smile off her face.
"You know what I was doing on my last birthday?" Dylan asked Nuada suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"Taking care of you," she answered with a laugh. "I was in the sanctuary on my birthday, and you know what? I hadn't realized I'd turned twenty-nine until after I left. We were so wary of each other back then. You thought I was evil incarnate," she added teasingly.
He laughed. "And I terrified you," the Elven warrior said as he poured sparkling cider into their wineglasses.
"Only at first," she said, and took a sip of cider. "Oh, I love this stuff. Anyway, by the time my birthday rolled around, I'd figured out you wouldn't hurt me. Even if you despised me, I knew you wouldn't hurt me. Your honor wouldn't let you. But still, it was like having two wet, feral cats in the same itty bitty room, always circling and eyeing each other. And now look at us. This year's been full of surprises. Good ones. Wonderful ones."
The prince inclined his head, and raised his wineglass. "To another year of wonderful surprises, then." Dylan touched her glass to his. The crystal chimed sweetly when it touched.
"Another year of being crazy in love," she said, and took another sip. "Now, I am starving, so let's eat."
The meal was perfect, and simple enough - a rich meaty stew with crisp vegetables, fresh white bread, and a fruit salad of strawberries, sweet raspberries, and red grapes. There was soft cheese, creamy yellow butter, honey, and preserves to put on the bread. The stew was delicious, but Dylan couldn't figure out what kind of stew it was. She finally asked Nuada.
"Muscaliet," the prince murmured.
Dylan cocked her head. "What's muscaliet?"
"A fae beast that resembles a boar, but with a bit of desert hare and squirrel."
She blinked for a moment, then looked down at her spoon. "I can't even imagine that. It makes my head hurt. But it's good, so I don't care. Can I ask you a question, though?" Nuada had just popped a strawberry in his mouth, so he raised a brow, inviting inquiry. "Why did you bring me to Carnegie Hall?"
He smiled. Swallowed. "What time is it?"
"Um..." She checked her phone. "Six-twenty-nine. Why?"
His smile widened. He looked like a little boy with a wonderful secret. "Wait one more minute and you'll see."
The required minute seemed to take forever. Dylan filled the time by eating more stew. It really was good. A bit spicy, which she normally didn't like, but the blend of spices here was delicious. Had Herr Erskine or Tristan or Alejandro made the stew? She'd have to compliment them on it regardless.
Suddenly, from beyond the nearby wall, where the wiring for the stage lights escaped through a wide rectangular panel to hook up to the lights themselves, came the sweet, clear song of a penny whistle.
"What's that?" Dylan asked her prince as violins took up the melody as well.
"Keep listening," Nuada said.
When the singing first began it was too faint for her to make out the words, but she recognized the tune nonetheless. Her heart leapt into her throat as she laid a hand to her chest. "Homeward Bound." One of her favorite songs ever. The singing, a chorus of strong masculine voices backed by soft feminine harmonizing, grew stronger and the words became clearer.
"Bind me not to the pasture.
Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling,
And I'll return to you somehow."
"I love this song," Dylan cried, straining to hear every note of the music. The penny whistle gave such a sweet, innocent little trill. She adored it. As the song began to wind down, she turned to Nuada. "How did you know?"
"I asked Becan."
More music continued to pour through the open panel in the wall. Songs Dylan adored, others she'd never heard before. "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and "Be Still, My Soul." Purely instrumental pieces, beautiful solos, and breathtaking choral arrangements. She listened with rapture to the music while she and Nuada enjoyed the rest of the meal.
The final song came just as they were finishing. A slow, haunting melody of strings and woodwinds, familiar as her own heartbeat. The one and only song she could play perfectly on the piano from memory. She closed her eyes and simply listened with all her heart to the song.
Nuada watched his truelove as the quiet joy suffused her face. He watched her lips form the words, "Death shall not destroy my comfort." The words sent a shaft of sharp pain through his chest. Death would destroy his comfort, his solace, his truelove, if he did not find a way to save her from a mortal fate. He couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't allow death to claim her.
Dylan opened her eyes to give him the most grateful look. She mouthed, "Thank you." He inclined his head in acknowledgment. To see her so happy, knowing he had been the one to give her such joy... it firmed the resolve within him that he would not lose her to mortality and death.
He would not lose her.
.
"Oh, Nuada!" Dylan was practically skipping as they walked down the snow-dusted path through the Park to her cottage. "Oh, it was wonderful! I can't believe you planned all of that for me. I loved it!" She grabbed his hand and tugged playfully before lifting his arm and pretending he was spinning her as if in a dance. Enjoying the game, the Elven warrior pulled her in before spinning her out again. She laughed in delight. "It was perfect."
"I am glad of that, my love," he murmured as she came back to his side, her arms wrapped around one of his as they walked. "I strive for perfection often. It's nice to know I have succeeded at last."
Dylan laughed again. "I love you. Oh, my gosh," and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, nuzzling him. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
Pleasantly surprised by her exuberance, he grinned down at her and pressed a fervent kiss to the top of her head. "And I love you, mo duinne. I did well, then?"
She bounced a little, then winced when her knee protested. "Yes. You did splendidly. Tonight was wonderful."
Nuada relished the feel of her slender fingers lacing with his, her thumb sliding along his own in a feathery little caress. It was as if nothing had happened between them the last two days. As if the world were back to the way it ought to be, the stars back in alignment. Her head against his shoulder was a reassuring weight.
"I just realized," the mortal said. "Why are we going to the cottage?"
He smiled. "The night is still young."
"What are you planning?" She asked, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.
"I had hoped to be your escort for a private dance, since I only danced with you twice the night of the banquet. If I may," the prince murmured. "Your choice of music. Just a few dances, though. I don't want to put too much strain on your bad leg. But I would very much like to dance with you, Dylan." To hold her in his arms as they moved to the soft music drifting around them.
An unholy light suddenly kindled in Dylan's eyes. "Sure. I don't mind dancing - as long as you let me teach you how to slow dance."
"Slow dance?" Thinking of the simple two-step Dylan had explained to him some time ago, Nuada scoffed. "Darling, I don't consider that to be dancing."
"Well, then it shouldn't be too hard to learn, should it?" She asked, grinning.
Little imp, he thought, but said nothing aloud. Merely offered her an indulgent smile and allowed her to tug him toward the cottage. Only as they were passing through the front gate and traversing the garden path did they slow down, for the cottage door hadn't opened upon their crossing the magical wards laid by Becan. Dylan frowned. She sensed nothing amiss, but...
There was a flutter at the front window. Then the heavy granite door swung open a little and John darted out into the night, pulling the door closed behind him. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he offered Dylan a sheepish smile.
"Hey, Sis. Didn't know you'd be back before tomorrow."
Bewildered, she said, "Um... okay. What are you doing here?"
Exactly what Nuada wanted to know. The whelp was interrupting his evening with Dylan.
"Okay, so... it's like this. Since it's our birthday, Petra and the girls wanted to do something for us both, but I said you were so busy, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. So they threw me a party instead. But then Francesca had this idea of everybody picking up presents for you and dropping them off at your house after my party. Petra wanted to see you, so she came, even though I told her you wouldn't be home. And of course Francesca and Tori came because they think your cottage is amazing. And Mary came because she wanted to see if the reason I told her not to come is because you were passed out drunk on the couch or something."
Dylan stared at him for a minute in stunned silence. Then she yelped, "Petra, Mary, Francesca and Victoria are in my house?"
"Um... yeah. We were just leaving, but then Becan pulled me aside and said you were coming, so I figured I should warn you that we had invaders."
"You think?" Dylan raked a hand through her hair. Her carefree jubilance had vanished at the news. "Oh, my gosh. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? I had a date planned for tonight, John. Gah!"
"I'm sorry, they wouldn't take no for an answer. But hey, if Nuada glamours himself, he can meet some of the family."
Before Nuada could reply, Dylan muttered, "I think he'd rather drop dead." Well, the prince certainly couldn't argue with that assessment. However, he was reminded that his lady wanted her sisters in attendance at their wedding, which meant the Elven warrior would have to meet them eventually. He considered cowardice briefly, then reminded himself that this was for Dylan, and would therefore have to be undertaken despite his wishes to the contrary.
"Tonight is as good a night as any to meet your sisters, my lady," Nuada murmured. Dylan turned to gape at him. "It will have to happen sometime, will it not?"
"I... but... but..."
Her twin turned to her and said in a conspiratory stage whisper, "I think he's suffered a blow to the head."
The only reason Nuada didn't beat the whelp for his insolence was because he was Dylan's brother and thus, such violence against him would upset her. But the Elven prince briefly fantasized about doing just that, anyway. Aloud, all he said to his truelove was, "Once introductions are made, we can roust them from our haven so that we may enjoy our time with each other in private."
John narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure I like what you're hinting at, Your Highness."
"Shut up, John-Boy," Dylan grumbled. "It's not what you think. And even if it was, it's none of your business, regardless." She drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "All right. They're going to find out we're engaged soon enough anyway."
Her twin went very still. His eyes widened. Dylan wanted to smack herself in the forehead.
"You guys are engaged?" John demanded. "Since when?"
"Since a few days ago," his sister replied, holding up her left hand. The sapphires gleamed in the glow of Dylan's Christmas lights. "You like it? It's an heirloom. Stop making me nervous. Petra's gonna strangle me," she added with a slightly panicked expression. "How is it she can make me feel like I'm thirteen instead of thirty? Oh, whatever. Let's get it over with."
"Bearding the lion in his den should prove no challenge to you, Dylan," Nuada said encouragingly as he cloaked himself in glamour. She shot him a pitiful look.
"It's my den. You think that would make it easier, but no." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she slid her hand into Nuada's and began the walk toward the door. John followed behind them. She paused at the door. Took a deep breath.
Then she pushed the door open and stepped into her cottage.
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Author's Note: oh, boy. Nuada's finally gonna meet some of Dylan's sisters. Who's nervous? Hehehe. My references are shorter than normal because I don't have time to do them all (my aunt's in town, we're chillaxin') so some of them are missing. I'll post them later, I promise. I love you guys! Read and review?
1) Moundshroud's got quite the retinue of scaries working for him. What do we think of his subjects/servants?
2) So does anyone have any thoughts on the conversation in Nuada's study between Dylan and Nuada?
3) OMG Shang! Does anyone else love Shang and think he's totes adorable?! (On a random note, the scale residue on Dylan's hands is important)
4) The wedding of the century takes place in 47 days (in story-time). Who's excited?
5) So the birthday date with the music and dinner - thoughts?
6) Dun-dun-DUNN! The sisters! How do you guys think this is gonna go?
7) And of course, favorites. Love you guys!
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The two songs Dylan listens to - "Homeward Bound" and "Death Shall Not Destroy My Comfort" are BEAUTIFUL and can be found here:
(colon) / watch ? v = 1Ds2le (underscore) poKo (Homeward Bound as done by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir)
(colon) / watch ? v = PH - xhnHrDyg (Death Shall Not Destroy My Comfort as done by the BYU Men's Chorus; live audio)
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References Made in This Chapter:
- There really IS such a thing as a drop-bear in Aborigines mythology. And they really are carnivorous and dangerous and scary.
- The term "shiela" can be used in Australia as a general term for a girl or woman, similar to "jennies" in England and "colleens" in Ireland. Example would be a line from the Irish song "The Black Velvet Band," which goes, "Beware all the pretty colleens [Beware all the pretty girls]."
- Ayame is the Japanese name for the iris flower.
- Tsurube-otoshi (pronounced Tsoo-roo-bay Oh-toh-shee) is a Japanese monster that drops out of the tops of trees or drops or lowers a bucket from the top of a tree to catch people. I made this one a little more humanoid, basing her looks on the girl from The Ring (which is based on a Japanese comic). The thing about the bucket spoke to me of a more water-fey nature than tree-fey, but it IS a tree creature, so I combined the two.
- A Boo Hag is a mythical creature in the folklore of South Carolina's Gullah culture. It is a regionalized version of the Hag myth. Boo hags are similar to vampires. But unlike vampires, they gain sustenance from a person's breath, as opposed to their blood, by "ridin'" you. They have no skin, and thus are red. In order to be less conspicuous, they will steal a victim's skin and use it for as long as it holds out, wearing it as one might wear clothing. They will remove and hide this skin before going ridin'.
- An adlet is a vampiric human/dog hybrid from Inuit mythology.
- A bharghest is a black canine death spirit from Yorkshire, England. This particular bhargest in this chapter is named after Archibald Craven from The Secret Garden, which takes place on the Yorkshire moors.
- A cadejo is a South American, cow-sized dog-goat hybrid in two varieties: benevolent and white, and malevolent and black.
- A pesanta is a Catalan nightmare-demon in the form of a cat or dog.
- So I did not invent the long-ma, the dragon-horse hybrid. That's a real mythical creature. But how they look, what they eat, all that stuff - I came up with it all. Just so you know. =)
- Although Shang's name does not translate literally as "Teardrop of the Moon." It's actually something like "Raindrop-Sorrow-Moon."
- The scale residue on Dylan's hands is important. See previous chapter for possible clues.
- The necklace Nuada made for Dylan's birthday was first mentioned/alluded to in chapter 40, the first time Nuada goes to Erik's place.
- So I found out that Carnegie Hall has this little space above it from the movie Home Alone 2. The place Kevin goes with the homeless lady is in Carnegie Hall, apparently.