Mistweavers 01 - Enchanted No More (13 page)

Nor was the smear of her passage across the room evident, though she thought the women had taken care of that themselves. “Thank you for cleaning up after me.”

She got a few passing glances and nods but the dorm was noisy with brainstorming and career planning and Jenni liked that. Life options should be considered every now and then…not that she’d done so lately. She hadn’t even known that magic was infusing downtown Denver.

More halflings should be claiming their place in the world, proud of being Lightfolk and human. Again, as she had
not
been, but she was learning.

Her feeling of satisfaction had faded by the time she’d donned a formal gown and left the dorm. She opened the door to see Aric, also dressed formally in a silk tunic embroidered in gleaming green thread and black raw silk trousers, leaning against the wall.

Though she sensed his body still hummed with energy and his underlying optimism remained, his face was impassive.

She adjusted her shawl over her shoulders. “We’re in trouble, huh?”

Aric stepped close, fiddled with her shawl himself. “Probably. The Eight don’t care to be thwarted and they wanted to experiment with that bubble. Time to pay for our actions.”

Jenni blew out a breath. “I didn’t call the bubble.”

Framing her face in his big hands, Aric stared into her eyes and she felt as if she were stepping into a deep and ancient forest…with pockets of secrets she’d never been aware of before.

He spoke to her, mind-to-mind, his words all the clearer because of their connection skin-to-skin.
But I think the magical elements, the bubble, came to you anyway. For once, you sped things up. I FELT your desperation to help Rothly, and the bubble did that. Somehow. I had my own desperation. To make things better for the dryads and greenhome.

His fingers stroked her face and the remembered touch, echoing all the tender loving in the past, whispered through her, bringing tiny yearnings for the future.

Jenni, I have been so lost without you, without your family. Praised by the Eight, all I knew was to strive to please them. I had no balance. Everyone else around me was also determined to serve the Eight—advance their careers, forward their own goals.

Then, the shadleeches began to hurt greenhome and the dryads and I thought I was in a position to help with the Eight. I DID help…but not enough. Until today. Today I was desperate for the greenhome and I know the bubble will help. Because of you. In just a day, you have realigned my thinking.

He was moving closer and closer until his mouth was touching hers. He kissed her. The press of his lips, inhaling the scent of him—his breath, his body—whirled her mind away.

Only the feel of him existed, the solidity of him, the shape of his aura as it blocked everything else, seeped into her. Magic. Acceptance of her uniqueness, of
her
as a woman, individual from all else. His woman.

His hand slid from her face to her hip, squeezed, and she leaned into him as his arm came around her back, pulled her into him.

A harsh, rocky cough hit her ears…with the punch of magic behind it. Jenni shuddered.

“The Eight are waiting for you,” a dwarfem said. She wore the colors of the Earth Palace and a golden chain around her waist with three dangling keys, but Jenni didn’t know her status.

“We’re on our way,” he said to the dwarfem.
We’ll face them together.
He tugged on her hand and Jenni knew he spoke the truth. The bubble magic had worked on him, too. She wondered how it might be affecting her, but couldn’t separate it from all the other events of the past few days.

Several minutes later they were standing before the thrones of the Eight again. Etesian, her father’s friend, was there, but he wasn’t talking much and didn’t seem to be in trouble. But then he’d only given his best estimate as to when the bubble would arrive and burst. And he was a full elf.

The Water King made a disgusted noise that Jenni thought was aimed at her, so she stiffened her spine. This had not been the right moment to be distracted.

The merman leaned forward, smiling enough that Jenni could see his sharp green-yellow teeth. “Perhaps it was the arrival of the halfling and the Treeman that accelerated the rise of the bubble.”

With glinting eyes, the Earth Queen said, “Maybe so.”

No one else spoke. They all frowned. Jenni went very still. This was not going well.

The door swung open and there was an outcry from some of the Eight that abruptly stopped. The elf Jenni had met in Yellowstone glided in. He walked to her, inclined his head at her and Aric a quarter-inch, then faced the eight thrones. “The Mistweaverfem and the Paramon comported themselves in an excellent fashion.” He turned on his heel and left.

Jenni heard the veriest whisper in her mind from her father’s friend, Etesian.
A guardian who watches the royals…

“I think he said enough,” the Water Queen said.

Jenni stood in silence, slid her eyes to Aric, who had relaxed into his balance. So the old elf was one who watched the kings and queens? How much power did he really have? Enough to shut them down in mid-rant.

“Welcome to our family, Princess Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake.” The Fire Queen swept to Jenni, took her hands, even as Jenni was instinctively and blank-mindedly sinking into a deep curtsy. Warm lips brushed one of her cheeks, then the other. “Welcome.” The Fire Queen cast a glance over her shoulder to her mate. He glanced at the rest of the Eight and stalked to her. To Jenni’s surprise he hugged her, smelling a little like lava. “Welcome.”

When he stepped back, he took his lady’s hand.

The Water Queen was there, too. “I think you would like to see your brother again?”

“Yes.” Jenni’s voice was strangled from too much fluctuating emotion. “I’d like to sit with him.”

“It will be interesting to see how the creative elemental energies that were released from the bubble affected him. You may go.” The Water Queen gestured to the door.

“Yes.” That was a safe enough word.

Aric opened the door and held it for Jenni, then followed her out.

Princess Jenni.

Just what she always wanted? So very much no.

But now she needed to concentrate on Rothly. He’d probably wake soon, and what would he say? What would she?

AFTER SHE AND ARIC WERE OUT OF THE
door guards’ view, Aric let out a long sigh that would have fluttered leaves throughout a grove. He kept her hand in his, steady and solid, all the way to Rothly’s door.

“Do you want me to come in, or do you want privacy with Rothly?”

Jenni winced, shrugged. “Seeing us together…”

“Are we together, Jenni?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

A corner of his mouth kicked up, his eyes lightened from deep to misty green. He shook his head, bent down and brushed his mouth against hers. “We have come a long way already…in a few short hours. I can wait.” Squeezing her hand, he straightened.

“Aric, the Eight want to ‘debrief’ you.” The same dwarfem with the keys was there again. Her mouth went sour at the “new” word, and Jenni felt a density from her that told her the woman was old…older than the combined ages of Aric and Jenni.

Aric’s eyes flashed green with irritation; he inhaled deeply. “I am the Eight’s man.” He kissed Jenni on the forehead.
For now. We shall see how much they support the Treefolk.

He turned and strode back down the corridor and Jenni watched him. That was his priority now, the Treefolk. She couldn’t fault him for it, but how far would he go to save them?

She glanced at the door to her brother’s room. She’d gone far, far to save her brother. Left her home and job. Accepted the pain of her childhood home and being with Aric again. Begun to put aside the bitter grief and guilt at herself and Aric. Far.

But as she put her hand on the door latch, she was pretty sure that even with the trauma he’d suffered, and her rescue, Rothly hadn’t forgiven her. She opened the door and went in.

The room was warm, and a small browniefem sat unhappily in the corner. Probably ordered to watch Rothly. Jenni crossed to his bed and her breath stopped and throat closed and eyes stung. He was so thin! She stroked his hair, then his face. He had no beard, a lucky chance from his djinn-elf Lightfolk heritage.

“He stinks,” the brownie woman said, scowling with disapproval at Rothly’s tattered dress shirt and cords.

Jenni sent her a cool glance. “You wouldn’t smell so good, either, if a shadleech had feasted on you for two weeks.”

The brownie’s ears rolled down tight against her head, her hands came to her mouth. “Is that what happened to him?” Her eyes were so scared that black leaked into the usually brown pupils.

That’s right.”

“I didn’t know.” The browniefem’s mouth flattened and she twisted her hands in her apron. “We had heard that the crippled Mistweaver had returned, but not what had happened to him.” She ducked her head, but studied Jenni from a sideways glance. “You brought him back here?”

“Yes, I’m his sister.”

“Jindesfarne Mistweaver.”

“Yes.”

“The halfling who gave houseroom to Hartha and Pred.”

“Yes.”

The browniefem sniffed. “They have boasted of your house, of how it is a magically balanced place. Like
this
place is now. You did that this morning?”

“I did.”

“Pred says he’s made a beautiful gathering hall under a cul-de-sac for all the inhabitants of the wheel of houses.”

Jenni winced.

“Ah!” The little woman pounced. “I knew he was wrong to do so. Humans don’t like Folk messing with their cities without a lot of rules.”

Feeling like she should defend Pred, Jenni shrugged. “Most people in the cul-de-sac have magical blood, and even the humans are open-minded.” She considered the browniefem’s words. “I never thought of the cul-de-sac as a sacred wheel…a wheel of houses.”

The brownie nodded. “You thought of it as a sphere.”

Jenni wasn’t sure of that, either, but it seemed to resonate.

Rothly shuddered and moaned. Jenni touched her lips to his forehead and he subsided. Studying the small woman, she said casually, “Hartha and Pred are honored by me. I am fond of them. But my brother is all alone and I visited his home and he needs—”

“No.” Shaking her head, the browniefem continued. “He is a very sour man. No brownie would like to live with him. He has a bad reputation.” Once again she sniffed, then whisked to the door. “I will let the browniemen know that he needs bathing.”

“And feeding, he needs feeding,” Jenni said.

Now the woman looked sympathetic. “He does.” She shuddered. “Imagine surviving shadleeches draining you—and you saving him. You must be very courageous.”

“He’s my only family.”

“I’ll bring his food after the healers inform me of what his diet should be.” The browniefem walked through the rock wall.

Jenni stared at Rothly’s filthy clothes, frowning. The interdimension wasn’t dirty…though you could certainly sweat in it, of course, if you were working hard. She picked up his hand and turned it over, examining it. You could bleed in it, too.

The shadleeches had feasted well on Rothly’s blood and magic. She glanced at his other hand, the crippled hand and arm. His fingers weren’t the red and shiny skin with dark patches that she remembered. The bone didn’t look warped by Darkfolk magic.

She stared and her heart started thumping hard in her throat. He didn’t look crippled. She leaned across him, picked up his arm, ran her hand up and down the ulna and radius. They felt straight.

Rothly snorted, woke, looked up at her. “Enjoying the view of what you did to me, sis,” he taunted.

Jenni flinched. His acidic words seared and burned all the way to the bone. She dropped his arm, forced herself to meet his eyes. Hot, angry blue eyes that matched his words.

He looked ugly, his warped emotions twisting his face. Yet a trace of the haunting of his eyes, the bitterness, Jenni had seen in her own. Was she that ugly, too?

She tried to speak, couldn’t until she’d cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m looking at what I did to you.” She grabbed his arm again, ran her fingers up and down his lower bones. “They’re
straight.
”

Shock came to his eyes, he struggled up, stared at his arm, ripped vainly at his filth-encrusted sleeve. Jenni pulled the cuff open, popping the button.

“Your arm is healed,” she repeated.

Rothly shook his head as if disbelieving, then she saw memories filter into his head, his eyes. His nostrils flared, he tilted his head arrogantly, enough to look down his nose at her. “You didn’t do this. I did it
myself.
I asked for help and it was granted to me.
I
mended my life that you wrecked.”

Jenni stood. Hearing guilt thrown at her like mud and vitriol, sticking and boring into her, guilt she’d used as her own whip, sickened her. These came from outside her own mind and they were as ugly as Rothly. Did she still deserve so much hatred? From him as well as her own self? She didn’t know. She
did
know that she didn’t need to sit here and take it.

Standing, she said, “You’re welcome for the save, bro.” Staring at the pitiful man, she wondered if his magic had healed, too. She curled her tongue to taste his magic.

“Don’t you do that to me! I threw silver and salt at you and you are dead to me. You are nothing to me, and I don’t want you here, anywhere near me. I don’t
permit
you to test my magic.”

Permit or not, she’d done it. She trembled, but answered him. “I don’t know what kind of gift you have now, but it isn’t elemental balancing.” She curled her lip. “Your magic seems strong enough, not crippled—except by your own attitude. I wonder how much more that will taint it. Goodbye, Rothly.”

Her whole body ached from holding it so stiffly.

The door whooshed open as the browniefem entered, followed by six other brownies carrying a huge wooden tub and a naiader—a minor Waterfolk man—who sauntered after them. He’d be providing the water to fill the basin.

The browniefem stared at Jenni. “I told you he is such a one that no brownie wishes to live with.” She waved to the center of the room, the carpet rolled up and settled itself against the wall under a lush tapestry and the browniemen put the tub down.

As Jenni left she caught a glance at Rothly, who’d flushed an unbecoming red, making him even uglier.

She walked unsteadily down the corridor, her legs weak with reaction, but her mind busy with fleeting thoughts of how negative emotions—guilt and grief—could work on the attractiveness of a being. Guilt and grief were useful now and then, but even with her long life, fifteen years was probably too long to spend flagellating herself. Time to let them go. If she could. But she knew all too well that deciding to do something with her mind didn’t always mean it was easy for the heart to follow through.

Jenni stopped at a cross-corridor, blankly staring at the rock walls. She was lost, wasn’t sure where the dormitory was.

Once again the dwarfem with the keys whisked up, frowning, as usual. Her breath snorted from her nose in a huff of dust. “Come with me to your new quarters.”

Unwilling to argue, Jenni accompanied the woman in silence. She was led to a small, windowless room. Her bag and backpack huddled in a corner. Jenni didn’t know whether her poor accommodations were because she had encouraged the dorm women to leave the Earth Palace and strike out on their own, or because the Eight were angry about missing the second bubble event.

Sure didn’t look like a princess’s room to her. She sat on the lumpy mattress atop a cot and stared at a drip running down the opposite wall. Suddenly everything was Too Much. “Why should I stay?” she asked the air, pretty sure that her words would be heard. “I’ve rescued my brother. He’s not likely to change his feelings about me. I’ve accomplished what I wanted. No one has bothered to tell me any more about the mission and the third bubble event, so I am thinking my help isn’t needed. Especially since the Eight didn’t appreciate what I did with the second bubble. They probably want to handle the third bubble completely by themselves.”

She stood. “This room sure isn’t any indication that my input is valued. Obviously, I am still the dissed halfling. Seems like others’ promises aren’t being kept, either. No reason to follow up on my statement to see this through—a statement that was made when I was desperate.” She shrugged elaborately into her backpack, fastened it around her waist, thought about how she could leave. One last irritated murmur. “May as well take off. Not needed here. The Eight have enough power to handle that last bubble.”

The Earth Palace must have a sacred space. If she went there and concentrated hard, she could probably draw enough fire through her to be able to lightning away. If she had the energy, but she’d have to leave her belongings. They should be safe in a sacred space.

Aric…well, she thought he’d help her get home, or bring her stuff to her.

She did need rest first, and sure wasn’t going to get it here, but figured she could crash in the dorm.

When she opened the door, it was to see the Fire Queen. The royal lady looked into the miserable room. “There has-s been a mis-stake.” She hissed it with such power that three small fire sprites popped into existence to circle her head. A brownie in the hallway disappeared into a rock wall, and a round dwarfem with
five
keys strode into view, her black hair in meticulous sausage rolls down her skull.

The Fire Queen turned to the housekeeper. “What is the meaning of this lodging for my kinswoman?”

Curtsying, the dwarfem didn’t glance at the room or Jenni. “I will investigate the slight.”

From her peeved tones, Jenni understood that the chatelaine really would.

“We need a suite.” The Fire Queen gestured with a graceful hand.

“A suite!”

“A suite with a sitting room, so that I might sit and speak with my kinswoman, Princess Mistweaver Emberdrake.”

“Of course.” The dwarfem held out her hands to each of them, seemed to brace herself. “With your permission I will transport you there.”

Through rock. Making a moue, the royal put her hand in the dwarfem’s. Jenni did the same. The next moment they were in a magnificently appointed living room done in light blue and silver. A fire roared in a lapis lazuli fireplace. The opposite wall had a huge window that appeared to be very fine rock crystal instead of glass. Jenni caught her breath at the frozen waves of white mountain peaks tinted gold and pink by the sunset. She yearned to study the view. There was a door to a rocky outcropping that might be a disguised balcony.

“Please sit, Jenni. May I call you Jenni?”

Jenni turned and curtsied, but didn’t meet the queen’s gaze. The dwarfem had already gone. “Yes.”

Queen Emberdrake sank into a wing-backed chair with wooden arms, crossed her legs gracefully. Jenni sat, too, sinking into a feather cushion on a love seat with the thought that she’d have to thrash around to get out.

“The years since the ambush at the dimensional portal have been hard on you,” the Fire Queen said sympathetically. “You lost your family. Your brother…was not wise enough to share his and your grief, support and succor each other.”

“No,” Jenni whispered. She risked meeting the melty chocolate-colored eyes of the queen. No glamour snagged her. It seemed at least one of the Eight would be straight with her…or at least not bespell her.

Raising her hands palm out, the queen said, “I do not manipulate my kin.”

Jenni didn’t believe that for a second.

After a small hiss, the queen smiled in a way that made Jenni miss her mother. “Very well, not quite the truth, but I do not entrance and bespell my kin. You should never fear that.” Her voice rang with promise.

There was a little silence as they measured each other. The queen spoke first. “We all—the Eight—heard what you said. I understand your discouragement. I have heard Rothly is not behaving well.” Another few heartbeats of quiet. “Indeed, Rothly has been difficult since we contacted him.”

Jenni felt a smidgen of pride in her brother, yet wanted to defend him at the same time, then the implication of the queen’s words actually sank in. Blood drained from Jenni’s head. “You were part of the plot to send him, crippled, to deal with the bubble event.”