Lone Star Magic (10 page)

“Yes.” The older man tilted his head. “She
asks for you.”

Alrick’s heart skipped a beat. “Why didn’t
you say so?” He started down the hall without a backward look.

* * *

What now? Gazing at glittering walls that
appeared to be carved entirely from ice, Carly shivered. A cold,
cold place. Where was she? Had she died in the explosion and gone
to some sort of purgatory? Or perhaps the Warlord had finally
gotten her, and taken her to his stronghold? Everywhere she looked,
she saw sparkling glitter. Diamonds or ice, crystal or frost. Where
was this place?

She had no idea. Worse, Alrick wasn’t around
for her to ask. That tended to make her think the worst. When she’d
opened her eyes and croaked Alrick’s name, the wizened old man
bending over her had hurried off.

Closing her eyes, huddling under the white,
down quilt for warmth, it seemed a second slipped by, though it
must have been longer. When she next opened her eyes, squinting
into the overly bright room, Alrick stood at her bedside.

Relief flooded her. “Alrick? What happened? I
remember the explosion, but…” she tried to sit up and failed.
“Where’s Kayo? TM?”

“Safe.”

“Not hurt?”

“No.” His dark eyes seemed warm. “Not like
you.”

“Where are we?” Her lips felt cracked and
chapped.

“Rune.” He handed her a cup that appeared to
have been made from ice, though it was warm to the touch.
“Drink.”

Ah, water. She was so thirsty. Gratefully,
she raised it to her lips and took a deep drink. And nearly
sputtered all over the place. “What the… wine?”

Alrick took the cup and peered into it.
“Well, it’s common here, and good for healing. I forgot you didn’t
drink it.”

“I drink it. Just not when I’m sick. Or in
the morning.” She said grimly. “Do you have any water?”

He looked horrified. “No.”

“Juice?”

With a slight dip of his head, Alrick
motioned to someone standing just outside the crystal door. “I will
have some brought here for you.”

“So this is Rune?” Trying to raise her hand
to gesture at the shining wall, she found to do so required too
much of an effort and let her hand fall back to the bed.

“This is Rune. I brought you here for your
own protection.”

Again she licked her lips. “Thank you. It’s
er, awfully bright, isn’t it?” Then, she tried once more to sit up.
Again failing, she swallowed. “Where are Kayo and TM? I know you
said they were safe, but…”

“I brought them with us. Don’t worry.”

“Good,” she managed. Thirsty, so thirsty.

An instant later – or was it a few minutes –
someone handed Alrick a goblet. Moving closer, Alrick held it to
her mouth. “Drink.”

Gratefully she did. Cold and sweet, the
citrus juice soothed her parched throat. She drained the goblet
greedily, unable to identify the fruit. “What was that? Not orange,
not tangerine. Whatever it was, it’s wonderful.” Even her voice
felt restored. She pushed herself up on her elbows, feeling a bit
of her strength returning. “So, I’m in Rune.”

“Safe.”

“What about the Warlord?”

“He killed your pickup. And TM’s horse
trailer. He was attempting to finish you off when I brought you and
the animals here.”

She looked away, trying to force her mind to
digest his words. “You say he’s trying to kill me, and I believe
you. But in the process it seems like he’s trying very hard to make
sure I’m penniless. He’s burned my barn, ruined my home, and now
he’s blown up my truck and trailer. What next?” Drained from such a
long speech, she allowed herself to sink back into the pillow.

“At least you’re safe.”

“True. Rune, huh?” She looked around
again.

He nodded.

“Damn. You really are a… Faerie.”

“Fae.”

“And you really are a prince too?”

He looked injured. “You didn’t believe
me?”

“Not really.” She studied him. “You’re what,
like that guy in Lord of the Rings.”

“Lord of the what?”

“It’s a book. And a movie.” When his frown
didn’t clear, she touched the back of his hand. “Never mind. So
you’re a Fae Prince.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be. Then I have a question.”

“Go ahead, I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Why send a Prince? Wouldn’t any Fae warrior
do? I

mean, you all have magic, right?”

“The Mage came here from the future and
requested help. My father sent me, as a test.”

She studied him. The way the light reflected
off the crystal walls hurt her eyes and made her head ache even
worse. “Why test you?”

“Cenrick and I are twins. He could name
either one of us heir, though I was born first and am the eldest.
He claims he’s testing me to make certain I’m worthy.”

Bitterness and bewilderment rang in his
tone.

Before Carly could reply, a wizened old man
peered around Alrick to look at her. “Your strength returns,” he
said. His voice sounded surprisingly strong for a guy who looked to
be around ninety years old.

“The Mage of the future Rune,” Alrick
said.

Ah,
that
mage. The one who’d started
all this with his predictions and tales.

The old man stepped closer, his light-colored
gaze intent. He grabbed her fingers and lifted them to his mouth,
where he blew a papery-thin kiss before releasing her.

“I am glad to see you recovering, young lady.
Your health is very important to our future. Do you like your
accommodations?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Narrow-eyed, she
studied the room. Rather than ice as she had first supposed, the
walls, floor, and ceiling all appeared to have been hewn from
multi-faceted crystal. The effect was steal-your-breath-away
beautiful, all the glitter of a fairy tale. Carly found it cold and
uninviting. “Are all your rooms made of this crystal or whatever it
is?”

The Mage chuckled. “The entire palace is
hewed from one precious stone. The actual construction took
centuries, even with magic.”

“Nice,” she said, aware her voice lacked
enthusiasm. Finished with checking out the unusual room, she let
her gaze travel back to the mage and Alrick. And blinked.

Now two Alricks stood at her bedside. The
mage was nowhere in sight.

She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Still
two Alricks. “What kind of medication am I on?” she wondered out
loud.

Both Alrick’s laughed. Carly could have sworn
she heard two distinct, masculine laughs.

Suddenly exhausted again, she rested on her
soft pillow and let her eyes drift closed. When she opened them
once more, both Alricks had gone and she was alone. Just the way
she’d always liked it.

WHEN NEXT she became aware of her
surroundings, Carly felt stronger. Hungrier too. The wrinkled old
man was back, seated in a chair at her bedside, watching her
intently through eyes the same opaque colorlessness as the
walls.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

What had Alrick called him? The Mage? No,
that had been his title, not his name. Fine, she’d start out by
re-introducing herself.

“Good morning. I’m Carly Roberts.” She held
out her hand. When he took it and raised her fingers to his mouth
to kiss, she frowned, suddenly remembering. “We’ve done this once
already, haven’t we? Introduced ourselves, I mean.”

He looked pleased. “Yes we have. You
remember?”

“Sort of. But I can’t remember your
name.”

“Most call me the Mage of Rune.”

“No.” Crossing her arms, she shook her head.
“That’s your title. What’s your name?”

Bless his heart; he appeared touched by her
question. His thin lips curling in a smile, he beamed at her. “You
really are the special one. I’m glad we found you.”

“Special one?” She snorted. “Not hardly. I
still am not entirely sure I entirely buy into this story you guys
have cooked up.”

He reared back, his nostrils flaring. “Story?
Cooked up? How can it be that you’re not aware of the prophecy?
Especially since it concerns you?”

“I don’t believe in fairy-tales.” When he
would have argued the point, she held up her hand. “Now come on, at
least tell me your name.”

“I…” With a mulish expression, he shook his
head. “I’d rather not say. You may call me Mage, like everyone
else.”

“No.” She smiled to take some of the sting
out of her bluntness. “You know my name. Everyone seems to. It’s
only fair I know yours.”

He glared at her down the length of his
impressive nose and said nothing.

Carly sighed. “What, did your mother give you
some awful name, like Harold Snaggletooth or Willie Wanker
Snodgrass?”

She’d startled him into a smile. When she
smiled back, his smile became a grin. Odd how such a simple thing
erased years from his face.

“No, that’s not why I hesitate. I jest not.
For decades I have been called the Mage of Rune, or Mage for short.
I barely remember my given name.”

She wasn’t letting him off the hook so
easily. “No one forgets their own name. Come on, what is it?”

“You won’t let this go?”

“No.”

“Very well.” He sighed. “As a boy I was
called Mort.”

“Mort.” She tested it on her tongue. “As in
Mortimer?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I was always
called simply Mort. Until I began to study magic. Once magic
recognized me, I was called the Mage.”

“Once magic recognized you?”

“Yes. While there are many who can cast
simple spells, few of us commune with the magic. I am one of those.
Alrick is another.”

“Alrick?”

“Were he not crown prince, he could take the
title of Mage if he wished it.”

“Then he’d be called Mage too? Not
Alrick?”

“That would be his decision to make.”

“Kind of sad, not to have your own name.”
Thoughtful, she studied him. “Have you ever though of combining the
two? Mort the Mage. I like it – it has a nice ring.”

“The Mage is fine. I’m used to it.”

There was no sense in arguing with some
people. At least she knew his real name. “Fine. Have it your way.
But I’m probably going to call you Mort.” Her stomach growled,
reminding her of her hunger.

Mort heard too. “Do you wish to break your
fast?”

“I’d love to. I could really go for a big
juicy hamburger, though some fried chicken would be fine. Heck,
even some baked or grilled chicken would hit the spot.” At Mort’s
horrified look she broke off. “What?”

“For a moment I’d forgotten you were
human.”

“So?”

“I am Fae.”

“What’s me being human got to do with my
wanting lunch? Or breakfast?” Then she realized. “Faeries don’t eat
meat.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Goodbye hamburger. “No fried chicken for me
then. Okay, that means I have to eat… what?”

“Fruits and vegetables are plentiful here, as
is the nectar you tried yesterday. We have a bountiful feast with
which you may break your fast, whenever you’re ready.”

“What about protein?”

“Legumes.”

“Beans.” She made a face. “No eggs?
Technically, I know they’re meat, but…”

This time he didn’t even bother to
answer.

“I guess that means fish are out too. Vegans.
Fruit, huh?” She sighed. “How about pastries? Like donuts.”

Looking relieved, Mort nodded. “We have
breads and preserves of many types. And honey.”

Her mouth watered at the thought. “Sounds
good.” She looked around for her clothes. “Um, where are my—?”

“You have none.” Mort sounded so
matter-of-fact, she didn’t know what to think.

“I have none? What do you mean? I was wearing
clothes when I got here, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” He made a grimace of distaste. “I
burned those.”

“Burned tho— Why on earth would you burn my
clothes?”

Hands steepled in front of his lined face, he
simply stared back. “They were torn and filthy, stained with blood.
Even if I could have cleaned them and sent them off to attempt
repair, they would not have been serviceable.”

“So I have no clothes.” Raising herself up to
a sitting position, she wrapped the sheet around her nakedness – oh
God, had Alrick seen her like this? “What am I going to wear?”

Instead of answering, Mort rose and went to a
silver chest at the foot of her bed. The latch clicked with a touch
of his finger. He withdrew a shimmering gown of a pale, moss green
and held it up for her inspection. “Will this do?”

“A dress?” It was the most gorgeous thing
she’d ever seen, like something from a fashion show. Grumpily, she
resisted the urge to reach out and feel the soft material.
Ironically, the thought of wearing a dress made her feel sad. “Do
you know when I last wore a dress?”

“No, when?”

For the first time since he’d died, thinking
about it didn’t bring tears to her eyes. “My husband’s funeral.
Over a year ago. The last time I wore a dress, it was black.”

“I’m sorry.” Sympathy in his voice and face.
Still, he held the impossibly frothy dress out to her.

She resisted. “Don’t you have anything
else?”

“No.” Then, the ultimate incentive. “Alrick
will be here soon. You wish to be dressed to greet him, yes?”

“Fine.” Gingerly she took the gown. “Where
can I change?”

He pointed to a door she hadn’t even noticed
in the glittering wall. The handle appeared to be made of the same
crystal – or diamonds. “In there.”

Wrapping the sheet around her like a robe,
Carly slipped out of bed and stood on wobbly legs. Then, doing the
best she could to stalk to the door, which wasn’t easy without her
full strength or clothing, she slipped inside and closed the thick
door behind her.

The thing fit. Surprisingly well. Though she
couldn’t find a mirror to see how it looked on her, the dress clung
to her shape like a second skin. A gossamer, filmy, utterly
transparent second skin. Carly frowned. Hopefully the layered cloth
in the long skirt would hide enough. She owned one slip – and it
was back in her dresser drawer in her ant covered home.