Stronger Than Magic, page 33
“What? What do you mean he’s stopped talking?” she ejected, taken aback by his words.
“Like I said, he don’t talk no more. Sometimes he don’t even blink. He just lays like a lump o’ clay in the west tower, staring up at the ceiling.”
Alys gasped, horrified by the dreadful picture he painted. “Are you telling me that he’s ill?”
“Course he’s ill,” he retorted, eyeing her as if she’d just asked the world’s stupidest question. “He’s dying, ain’t he?”
“But how can that be? I mean—” She shook her head as if by denying his words she could render them false. “I’ve always heard that when a fairy’s essence expires that he simply ceases to be, without pain or illness.”
“Ye seem to be forgetting that Tight-Arse is made of flesh and blood, and that the fairy part of him is cleaved to a nearly complete mortal soul. That makes him almost all human. And it’s human nature to suffer in the wake of death. Don’t ye remember how much Lucan suffered in dying?”
Anguish, raw and savage, clawed at her heart at the reminder of Lucan’s torment. That Lucian too might be suffering such unspeakable pain was more than she could bear. “Hedley, please,” she begged, her banking tears at last spilling from her eyes. “Please, tell me that he’s not suffering as terribly as Lucan did.”
To Alys’s surprise, the hob reached out and laid his tiny gnarled hand on top of hers, as if to comfort her. “His body don’t seem to hurt him, not bad like Lucan’s did him. It’s just getting weak and stopping to work. Everyone’s saying that it’s because ye broke his heart, and they think they can coax him into getting better.”
He made a face showing what he thought of their ignorance. “Course, ye and I know they can coax till they’re blue and that it won’t do no bloody damn good. Not unless they can find his true love and toss her into bed with him.” He gave her a wink that was nothing short of lascivious. “Bet she could coax him back to life quick enough.”
Alys sniffled and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “If he’s as ill as you say, I doubt he’s up to the sort of activity you’re suggesting.”
“A bit of billing and cooing, and he’d be up to it in no time.” He cackled at his own double entendre.
She glared her reproach through tear-swollen eyes. “How can you jest at a time like this, especially in such a tasteless manner?”
He looked as wounded as she felt. “Who’s jesting? It worked for Esmund and Mertice, ye know.”
“Esmund and Mertice?” she echoed blankly.
“Ain’t no one told ye that story?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“Would’ve thought Aengus or Allura would’ve told ye about ’em,” he grumbled. “Oh, well. Guess I’ll tell ye then,” Muttering something about having to do everything himself, he hopped up onto her lap. Lounging across her knees as if they were a particularly comfortable sofa, he recounted, “Esmund were a half-fairy fellow that lived, oh, more ’n a thousand years ago. I think”—he frowned—“I think he were the son of Aengus’s great-uncle, Rinan, and some Celtic princess.” He considered for a beat, then nodded. “Yea. Rinan. Anyhow, this Esmund fellow ended up in the same fix Tight-Arse is in now. Seems he couldn’t find his true love either.”
“You mean that this has happened before?” Alys exclaimed, hardly daring to believe her ears.
He made a rude noise. “I just said it did, dinna I?”
“And was Esmund saved?”
“I’ll tell ye if ye’ll shut yer trap long enough to let me finish.” When she’d remained silent for several moments, he continued.
“It so happened that his true love, Mertice, were a peasant maid who worked in the manor kitchen. Like Tight-Arse, he were a high-and-mighty muckity-muck who never noticed no one below his station. Mertice, though, noticed him right off and loved him from afar for years. Course she were distressed when he sickened unto death.”
“Did he sicken in the same manner as Lucian?” she cut in.
He nodded. “’Tis said that he lay like a lump o’ clay in front of the great hall fire, wasting away. Anyhow, late on the night he were to die, she were sent to the hall to stoke the fire. While she were tossing the fagots onto the hearth, she noticed that Esmund was shivering like he were freezing. Being that she loved him and all, she slipped beneath his blankets to warm him.” He paused to cackle. “The muckity-muck didn’t have no choice but to notice her then. After that, destiny took over. And when Rinan appeared the next dawn to mourn his dead son, he found him humping Mertice, as hale and hearty as a man could be.”
“He recovered so quickly?” Alys murmured in wonder.
“Just said he did, dinna I? Same’d happen to Tight-Arse if his true love was to pop up and give him a tumble.”
“Ah! Hedley. Good. You’re here. We might need your help.”
Alys jumped to her feet at the sound of Allura’s voice, ignoring Hedley’s squawk of protest as he was tossed to the floor. “What news? Did you find anything in the scrolls?” she cried, rushing across the cell to where the fairy stood.
Allura regarded her gravely for a moment, then slowly inclined her head to the affirmative. “I found something, yes, though I can’t promise that it will save Lucian Warre.”
“But there is a chance?”
“A slight one, very slight you must understand.”
“Even if the odds are”—she gave her hands a dramatic flourish for emphasis—“a million to one against us, we must try.”
“You must try,” the fairy reminded her. “And you might not be so eager to do so once you hear what is involved.”
“I shall do it, no matter what is required,” she declared, raising her chin and squaring her shoulders in a show of determination.
“Even if the requirement is that you sacrifice yourself?”
“Even that,” she vowed, her gaze unflinching as she met Allura’s intense stare. “I truly mean it when I say that I love Lucian. And because I love him so, there is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to keep him safe. Nothing. Not even myself.”
The fairy smiled then, sadly, but with a pride that Alys had never thought to see. “After all these centuries, you’ve finally learned the meaning of love,” she murmured.
The corners of Alys’s lips curled faintly in return, “Yes, it seems I have. And I now know the answer Aengus sought when he asked me what my matchmaking experience had taught me of love.”
“Gibber-jabber! Bibble-babble! Ye gonna tell us what we’re supposed to do to save Tight-Arse?” Hedley interrupted, scampering across the room and hopping up onto the only chair, a rough, rickety affair with one leg shorter than the others.
Allura shook her head, her gaze never wavering from Alys’s. “No. I’m going to tell Alys what I found in the scrolls and let her decide what action to take. I can only give her knowledge, I cannot advise her.”
“I know that, and I am ready to hear what you’ve discovered,” she replied, ignoring Hedley’s less than flattering mutterings about her mental abilities. “Please begin.”
The fairy nodded. “The first thing I learned is that all humans have only one destined true love, no matter how many lives they live.”
“You mean that mortals don’t go straight to heaven or hell when they die?” she gasped, taken aback by the fairy’s revelation.
“Oh, no. Most haven’t accumulated enough good or bad deeds to qualify for either place after just one lifetime. It usually takes several. That being as it is, true lovers are reborn over and over again, and in most instances are reunited in every life. True love means love for eternity.”
Hedley emitted an exaggerated yawn. “That’s all fine and jolly, but I don’t see what it’s got to do with Tight-Arse and his problem.”
“If what I suspect is true, it has everything to do with it,” Allura countered, her gaze still boring into Alys’s. “You see, I have good reason to believe that Lucian Warre has been unable to find his true love because she wasn’t reborn with him.”
“Not reborn?” Alys frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Apparently neither did Aengus. If he had, he might have stopped to consider the possibility that you might be his son’s true love before taking you captive.”
“Me?” Alys mouthed, pointing to herself in mute surprise.
“Yes, you. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. It would certainly explain why it took Lucan’s half soul so long to be reborn.”
“It would?” she croaked, still too stunned to see logic in anything.
Allura nodded. “Of course. God was no doubt waiting for Aengus to come to his senses and release you to the earth, so that you might die a human death and be reborn with Lucan. When Aengus failed to do so after all these centuries, He was left with no choice but to return Lucan’s half soul to earth, though He knew it was most probably doomed.”
“But if Aengus had released me and I were reborn as you say, how would I have known that I was to mend Lucan’s chain of destiny?” she asked, growing more bewildered by the second.
“You wouldn’t have needed to know. All that is required for you to mend it is to provide him with the true love your selfishness deprived him of in his first life. By loving him in this life as you failed to do in his last, you would have spontaneously done so.”
“I do truly love him in this life,” Alys whispered, though she knew that it counted for naught under the circumstances.
“I know,” Allura commiserated. “And if your mortal state weren’t compromised by Aengus’s spell, he would no doubt be saved by now.”
The sinking sensation Alys had experienced earlier returned with a vengeance. “But it is compromised, and—” She broke off abruptly, tears of impotent frustration spilling down her cheeks as she did so. “Oh! What’s the use in even discussing this? The whole situation is impossible.”
“I said there is a chance, didn’t I?” Allura calmly reminded her.
She cast the fairy an incredulous look, sniffling on her tears as she did so. “Unless you’ve found a way to break Aengus’s spell and return me to my mortal state, I don’t see that there’s any hope of saving him.”
“No, unfortunately the scrolls were of no help in regards to the spell. But”—she held up her hand to silence Alys as she opened her mouth to interrupt—“I did confirm something I have long suspected: if a human is able to escape the otherworld before he completely loses his soul, he again becomes mortal. It is true, however, that without his physical form being restored by his fairy captor, his body will deteriorate to whatever its present state would be. You, of course, would turn to dust at dawn.”
Alys’s heart seemed to still in her chest as she finally saw the chance the fairy had hinted at. “If I was to escape and spend those mortal hours before dawn loving Lucian, I would save both his life and soul.”
“If you really are his destined true love, yes. If I’m wrong and you’re not, well”—she shook her head gravely—“then you would have sacrificed yourself for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” Alys quietly corrected her. “For Lucian. And I cannot think erf anyone or anything more worth such a sacrifice. Besides, what am I really losing? Just centuries of misery in the otherworld.”
“You could be forfeiting a chance at being properly restored to the earth. An excellent one, I might add.”
Alys stared at the fairy as if she’d lost her mind. “Aengus isn’t going to release me. Not after the dismal way I failed Lucian. You know that as well as I.”
Allura shook her head. “Don’t you see? If what I suspect is true, you didn’t fail him, Aengus did. When I tell him what I’ve told you, he’ll no doubt blame himself for his son’s loss and release you back to the mortal world. You shall again be Alys Faire, darling of the ton, free to live the rest of your life as you choose.”
“But it will be a life without Lucian,” she whispered, tormented by the very thought.
“True. It would be too late to save him,” the fairy grimly agreed. “Which means you must decide which life to chance saving: his or yours?”
Chapter 19
“I’ll be leaving ye now,” Hedley muttered, coming to a stop before the moat bridge.
Alys halted as well, gazing wistfully down at the hob as she did so. He stood as she’d seen him stand a hundred times before, with his head bowed and shoulders squared, kicking at the dirt road as if offended by its very presence. Though he tried to hide his feelings behind a mask of indifference, it was clear by the gruffness of his voice that he found this moment every bit as difficult as she did.
And it was difficult, for despite the fact that neither had expressed as much in words, over the weeks they had become friends. Good friends.
Her eyes stinging with the threat of tears, Alys crouched down before him, resolved to confess her feelings before death and destiny parted them forever. Not quite certain what to say, knowing only that she must somehow tell him of her fondness, she reached out and lay her fingertips on his small hunched shoulder.
“Hedley?” she murmured, wishing that he would look at her. He’d barely spared her a glance since leaving the otherworld. By the way he continued to stare at the growing pile of dirt at his feet, it appeared that he wasn’t inclined to do so now either.
She sighed inwardly. Ah, well. As long as he listened to her, what did it matter? Swallowing hard to ease the aching tightness of her throat, she said, “No matter
where I go, should it be to heaven or hell, or walking the earth as a ghost, I believe that I shall always miss you, Hedley. You’ve been a good friend to me these past weeks … the best! … and I want you to know that I love you.”
“Ye love me?” He emitted what was no doubt supposed to be a snort, but instead came out sounding suspiciously like a sniffle. “Yer daft, woman! I ain’t never done nothing to make ye love me. Well, nothing but help ye escape from the otherworld, and that ain’t nothing to get all drippy over.”
She smiled faintly at his halfhearted protest. “The love between friends isn’t created or demonstrated by grand gestures or deeds. It’s built slowly with tolerance, understanding, and acceptance, and proven by small acts of kindness. During the past weeks, you’ve given me all of that and more. So how can you possibly say that you’ve done nothing to win my love?”
He kicked at the road so hard that the resulting spray of dirt splattered her white muslin skirt. For a brief instant he stood gaping at the mess as if it were the world’s worst tragedy, then darted forward to brush at it, cursing over and over again, “Oh, bloody, stinking damn! Bloody, stinking damn!”
“Shh, Hedley. It’s all right. Leave it be,” she said, laying two fingers over his hand to still its frantic motion. “These are our last few moments together, and I wish to spend them bidding each other farewell.”
He scowled and slapped her restraining fingers away. “Don’t wanna say frigging farewell,” he growled, the word farewell punctuated by an unmistakable sob.
Had he been of human size, she’d have drawn him into her embrace then and soothed his obvious distress with a hug. Instead she had to satisfy her urge by lightly stroking his hair and back. “Oh, Hedley! Please don’t be sad,” she begged, stricken to feel his shoulders heaving beneath her touch. “Be happy. I am. My greatest wish is to love Lucian, and I’m going to get to do so for the next few hours.”
“Then go!” he snarled, jerking away from her touch. “Go love yer blasted Lord Tight-Arse and leave me be!
I ain’t sad, and I don’t care if ye turn to dust.” He stamped his foot. “Do ye hear me? I don’t care!”
“Hedley, please—” she implored, reaching for him again.
Again he slapped her away. “Are ye deaf or just stupid? I said go! I’m sick to death of ye and yer dratted yackety-yammering. Yer nothing but a bloody nuisance and I can’t wait to get rid of ye!”
Alys opened her mouth to reason with him, only to close it again in the next instant, softly sighing her defeat. What was the use? Once he was in one of his pets, only time could coax him out of it, and time was the one thing she couldn’t give him.
Though she hated leaving him so, she saw no choice but to whisper, “Farewell, my dear friend. I love you, and pray that by some miracle we shall meet again.” With that, she rose to her feet, aching at how badly they were parting.
As she turned away, she heard, “Alys.” The word was more choked than uttered.
She paused.
“I love you too,” he sobbed.
With a sob that echoed his, she spun back around and fell to her knees, holding out her arms as she did so. For several seconds he stood staring at her, tears tracking down his ruddy cheeks, then he practically flew up onto her lap. Burying his face into the folds of her skirt, he wept in earnest, his whole body trembling and jerking with the violence of his grief. Her own cheeks damp with shared sorrow, Alys stroked his back, murmuring mindless words of comfort.
When, at last, the fury of his tears had eased, he clumsily hauled himself to his knees and sat back on his heels, gazing up at her with anguish-filled eyes. “I’ll pray for ye,” he declared, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ll pray hard, I promise, though I doubt God’ll bother to hear a fairy’s prayers.”
She smiled down into his tear-streaked face, touched beyond words by his vow. A fairy pray? Unheard of! He must care for her very deeply indeed to do such a thing. Her heart melting with tenderness, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “God hears everyone’s prayers, even fairies’, if they are uttered with true faith,” she assured him.
“For ye, I’ll find faith.” With that, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Godspeed, my friend,” he whispered, then vanished into thin air.
