The Faery Godmother, page 27
“What happened?” she asked in an urgent undertone, putting the pitcher down. “I can tell that something’s wrong.”
“He said it has to be tomorrow,” Morath replied in a strained whisper. “The wedding.”
Stef clapped a hand to her mouth. “So soon.”
“It’ll be dangerous if we wait any longer.”
Her friend nodded, eyes huge. “What can I do to help?”
She took Stef’s hand. “Will you watch over Verath for me?”
“Of course I will.” Stef squeezed her hand in return reassuringly.
“I’m so sorry that you won’t be able to come to the ceremony after all, but it won’t be any kind of a celebration. I won’t even have a new dress,” she said, trying to make light of it and feeling like a miserable failure.
“There are more important things to think about now,” her friend assured her. “Do what you have to do for the sake of our country. I’ll keep Verath safe for you.”
Morath had to turn away so that the tears running down her face wouldn’t alarm the patrons of the Tabby. “I’ll be back as soon as… it’s all taken care of,” she said, feeling as though she was discussing some disagreeable chore instead of planning her own wedding.
That sense of taking care of an unpleasant duty hung over Morath all through the next day like a smouldering storm cloud waiting to break overhead. Even as she found herself walking through the nave of the Summer Palace’s beautifully-restored Sun Cathedral, the sparkling lights dancing off the stained-glass walls failed to lift her spirits.
She looked at the unfamiliar faces surrounding her in the pews, where the Faery Court who had come to see their King wed watched her with knife-sharp smiles, and her nerve failed her a little. These will be my people now.
Athavan waited for her at the front of the apse, confidence radiating from him to rival the sunshine. His attendants stood behind him at a respectful distance. There was no one waiting on the bride’s side for her. The Council members were ranged across the front pew. None of them had taken it upon themselves to stand up as her attendant.
It’s just as well, she thought dismally. I don’t need cowards by my side .
Morath walked slowly up the steps toward where her future spouse awaited her, feeling like her limbs were made of lead. The smile on her face trembled, and she gave it up as a useless effort. The shaking of her hands was less easy to hide, but she tried to tuck them into the folds of her black gown out of sight.
The Sun-Priest smiled at her, and Athavan gave her an encouraging nod as she made it to the top of the platform. He won’t treat me poorly, she assured herself. He’ll be kind. He’ll keep the country safe. There’s no reason to be afraid or upset. Everyone has to do things they don’t want to, sometimes… it’s not the end of the world, even if it feels like it…
As she continued to lecture herself in her head, a disturbance rustled through the seated guests. Several of them stood up, and Morath realized that some of the menagerie had retained their human forms after the close of the ball.
Led by Ariane, they trooped up the stairs to the altar in a single-file procession. She nodded at Morath before taking her place at the head of a half-ring that flanked Morath on her right like a guard of honor.
Oh, bless you–all of you. It makes such a difference to feel that I’m not alone.
The Sun-Priest opened the tome on the altar and began to drone something about fidelity and fruitfulness. Morath’s ears were ringing, a high-pitched whine that seemed to fill the entire space of the cathedral.
Even so, she heard the crack of the doors hitting the wall as they were flung open wide.
She froze, unable to look. In her bones she knew that something terrible was about to happen–that the thing she had been dreading was not just the marriage about to take place.
When Morath turned around at last, she saw with a sickening drop of her stomach that she was right.
There stood the king of West Ellian, surrounded by his own court and wearing the most evil of grins. “What a happy day!” he cried, clapping his hands together to punctuate the word happy .
The ring of her attendants drew protectively closer around Morath. Athavan’s sword-hand flew to the burlwood wand at his belt as Jadu stepped out from behind the king.
Something was wrong with the king of West Ellian’s pet sorcerer–badly wrong, by his greenish pallor and dragging walk. Morath suspected magical misadventure when she viewed him with her magic-sight and saw that the aura of power surrounding him had turned a ghastly gray.
Whatever he had done, it boded ill for Ket Alaa.
He’s undone the protections on the Summer Palace somehow, she realized. They never would have been able to find it otherwise, let alone cross over the bridges!
“We are not insulted by the lack of invitation, fortunately,” the king added, coming down the aisle toward them with his hands held wide as if to advertise his lack of weaponry. “We realize that such haste could indicate… any number of things.”
His court tittered obediently, and she flushed hotly at the insinuation.
Reaching behind him, he shoved his brother forward.
Padgett’s hands were bound behind him with rope. Morath’s hands flew to cover her mouth.
“But…” The king drew out his sentence, dragging Padgett up to the dais by one arm.
“We understand that one of our number became your assistant. Naturally, you would wish your royal servant by your side on this, your most important day.”
He shoved Padgett toward her, causing him to stumble. Then he leaned in very close to Morath’s ear so that only she could hear him. “...Princess.”
The king drew back, clearly relishing her anguish.
A sudden surge of absolute fury blazed up and displaced her horror.
This is still only a man–and a man can be defeated, even if he is a king.
But I will not allow him to defeat us.
Defiantly she turned to Padgett where he stood at her side. In an instant, Morath magically destroyed the bonds that held him prisoner. Yet he did not move a muscle even when she reached out for his hand, surprised at how it hung limp in hers.
She turned to look at him and was shocked yet again to see tears running freely down his face. Still he remained silent.
Why doesn’t he say anything?
There was no time to spare for questions. Morath turned back to the other two men who faced her, and caught Athavan gazing at her speculatively.
Fear shot through her, but she tightened her grip on Padgett, happy to feel his fingers twined through hers even if mortal danger threatened them both.
I thought I would die if he witnessed me saying vows to someone else–the vows we should be saying to each other. But now that he’s here, I can say them to him in my heart, even if the words spoken out loud are to another.
The Faery King nodded at her again, in a much different manner than from when he had first greeted her at the altar. As if he was finally seeing her, and understanding something important for the first time.
Then he turned to the king of West Ellian. “My fellow monarch. You honor us with your presence. I would have you stand at my right side for the ceremony.”
Clearly, Danyel had expected his provocative display to disrupt the wedding. Awkward now that the moment for grandstanding had passed, he didn’t seem to know what to do. Once more Morath saw the impetuous childishness of his true nature, so dangerous in a cunning adult man.
She looked a little further and saw that while Athavan’s expression had resumed pleasant neutrality, his right hand was resting casually on his stomach… within a finger’s reach of the wand in his belt.
There was nothing for it but to carry the ceremony to its close.
With Padgett’s hand still in hers, she faced the altar and the Sun-Priest, who looked wildly back and forth between the four people who now faced him on the dais. It might have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so disastrously, fundamentally all wrong.
“R-repeat after me...” he faltered.
As Athavan spoke the words which would bind them together, Morath’s attention was taken up by Padgett squeezing her hand. She slid her eyes toward him, wondering what he meant by it.
Athavan noticed her wandering attention, and faltered in his vows momentarily. The lapse alerted Danyel that something was amiss, and he craned his neck, trying to see what was going on.
The Sun-Priest turned his attention toward Morath. “Repeat after me…”
Her mouth was so dry that she wasn’t sure she could speak.
I must finish this. I have no choice.
Now Padgett’s grip on her had become painful. She turned to look at him, wondering why he would deliberately hurt her. Surely he can see that I’m doing my best to get through something I don’t want to do!
The pleading in his eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t understand why he remained silent. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said in the barest whisper.
Then the tapestry at the front of the cathedral was ripped down as Syndaryan soldiers streamed into the arcade.
Athavan was the first to react. “An attack!” he shouted. “To me!”
He whipped the wand from his belt as the members of the Faery Court leaped up from the pews. The Syndaryan soldiers with their spears and arrows looked shocked as their weapons clattered uselessly against invisible barrier-wards.
As the Faery Court brandished their own wands, the soldiers fell back. The king of West Ellian snatched at his brother, who had still not uttered a sound. “Treachery!” he shouted.
“This woman…” He pointed a dramatic finger at Morath. “Has dared to challenge the rightful rule of kings!”
From within his doublet he brandished a scroll. With dismay, Morath recognized one of the letters she had sent begging for assistance with the ball.
“She is the former princess of this country. And she thinks to take over all our countries by force.”
“No!” she cried.
What is this? What is he playing at?
Crocodile tears glistened in his eyes. “I have here proof that she has been conspiring with not only the former nobility of this country, but my own brother. ” His retinue gasped on cue.
“I discovered that the two of them were lovers. They planned to overthrow me and steal my crown.”
“That’s a lie!” she shouted, hands in fists.
“Is it?” He turned to her with a silky smile that made her nauseous to see. “I hereby sentence him to death by dragon.”
What can that possibly mean? Dragons don’t exist.
Athavan clearly knew what it meant. With a bleak look at his fellow king, he shook his head. “You make an enemy of us all with these words.”
“Oh, you’ll protect your bride now that you know what she truly is? A fornicator, a liar and a thief of what does not rightfully belong to her?”
Suddenly Athavan roared. “Morath eld Dhuttar aed Ket Alaa is heir to all that surrounds us. Your greed blinds you to claim otherwise.”
Pointedly, he picked up Morath’s free hand and kissed it ceremoniously. “As for all else that she is… I see a woman grown, making her own choices. I cast no blame nor shame on her for that.”
Grateful for his unexpected support, she thanked him with a tremulous smile. The country’s safe with him backing us up… but what about Padgett?
Danyel grimaced ominously. “So be it.”
With a snap of his fingers, there was a short, pained scream from Jadu. For a moment his robes hung in the air before collapsing to the floor, empty.
Then the king, the soldiers, and all the members of his court disappeared too, as if they had never been there at all.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of Athavan’s mouth. “I anticipated that Danyel might do something like this, but I was not prepared for…”
Morath looked at him, unable to keep the sadness from her eyes. “Prepared for what?”
Looking regretful, he said bluntly, “I did not know you were in love with him. The brother.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t think of any other response to make. Explanations seemed pointless.
“I would have… I would not have…”
It was strange to see Athavan fumbling for words, so unlike his usual lithe cleverness. Finally, he finished. “I should not have done what I did at the ball.”
She pressed her lips together. “Yes, you should not have done that.”
He looked shaken. “You knew?”
“I realized later that you released the spell of forgetting early. How else would the king have known about us? It’s why he tried to humiliate his brother like that,” she added darkly. “Only too bad for him that Padgett’s talent couldn’t be denied, and his nasty plot backfired.”
“You knew,” Athavan repeated. “And yet… you agreed to marry me anyway?”
She looked up at him dully. “I have a duty to protect my country.”
With a slow shake of his head, he looked at Morath with that same expression which said he had seen something unexpected in her. “I had thought that a life among the glamour of the Faery Court and a restoration of your former status would be to your liking. To my way of thinking, I was merely in competition for your attention that night and the game was in play. I had no idea I was taking you away from someone you already loved, or risking his life because of it.”
Her sore eyes overflowed yet again. “Would it have mattered?”
Athavan clasped her hand. “Yes, cousin–yes! What matters more in life than true love?”
She laughed through her tears. “A great many things, I’m afraid.”
Solemnly , he shook his head again. “Then your life has been unkinder than you deserve. Allow me to make it up to you.”
“How?”
“Come with me.”
He tugged her along by the hand, rushing her out of the cathedral. “Where are we going?” she panted.
They stopped at the fountain. “Here.”
With his hands outstretched, he began drawing shapes in the air. “One of the trees here will call your name,” he said. “Find it, and it will make a gift to you.”
“What?” she said in confusion.
“Go!” he urged impatiently, as ribbons of magic rose up out of the fountain and began to wrap around him. “There’s little time!”
Morath ran–not sure where she was heading, or what she would find when she got there.
In the flush of eternal summer that laid over the Palace grounds, a number of flowering trees bloomed without end. She looked up at the lacy boughs of cherry, plum, and willow that formed a natural aisle across the meadow. No great gift was hanging from their lacy branches, nor lay beneath the shade of their arms.
She ran on.
Morath found her feet taking her to an old, gnarled oak that had stood on the palace grounds as far back as she could remember. Its branches hung in a gentle, drooping arc, nearly touching the grassy field below.
She stopped in front of it, breathing heavily. “Do you…”
Feeling foolish, but determined to discover what Athavan wanted her to find, she spoke again. “Tree, do you have something for me?”
When nothing happened, Morath stamped her foot in frustration and despair. “Please–help me! I can’t do this alone.”
A breath of wind rustled among its leaves. Something dropped to the ground with a thump.
She stooped to pick it up. It was a length of wood, perfectly-sized to fit her palm.
Athavan means to give me a wand!
Morath flew back to him as fast as her feet could take her. When she reached the fountain, she gasped to see the Faery King levitating, his entire body aglow with light.
“Bring it to me,” he said in a voice not his own as though he was speaking from inside the dome of a great bell, sonorous tones that pealed through her body and seemed to shiver right down into the earth.
Tentatively, she extended the oak branch toward him. When he seized it, a great line of light trembled down the wand toward her.
“Morath eld Dhuttar aed Ket Alaa,” intoned the creature of shining light that Athavan had become. “My honor compels me to help you claim your birthright and save your beloved. In kinship, in recognition of the great service you have already done for your country and my own, and in repayment for the debt which I owe you, I grant you this.”
The light parted ways with him. For a moment it radiated all through Morath herself. She saw her own bones light up through her skin made transparent. Then it blazed up in one great flash and was gone.
Blinking dazzled eyes, she looked down at the branch in her hand to realize that it had been transformed into a beautifully-polished wand, etched over with a pattern of tiny oak leaves.
Morath raised it to eye-level and saw that a network of barely-perceptible fine lines of light hummed along the surface. She swung it low in an arc, wondering at the sound it made as it passed through the air. More bells; this time the high, wild clarion call of a woodland revel.
Athavan, who now resembled his normal self, leaped backward. “Take care!”
She frowned. “How do you mean?”
“That is an extremely powerful wand. It is one of the Faery Court’s greatest and most ancient treasures.”
One of their most ancient treasures? But I just watched him make it for me.
Morath suddenly had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but there was no time to delay. She asked the single most important thing that came to mind. “What must I do?”
“First you must decipher where the dragon resides. That is where your beloved is being held. I fear that Danyel has made a satyr’s bargain with one of the creatures. Oh,” he added, seeing her confused look. “It’s from a faery fable we tell the young ones, about a foolish satyr who… nevermind. Time enough for that if you succeed.”
Morath gulped at his if.
He continued, “You must ride your horse, for any magic you do outside of here will be traceable if the king has other magicians and they are looking for you. Which they almost certainly will be. Along with every Syndaryan soldier inside the country.”
