Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (27 page)

Robin looked
down at the woman he held. Her head dangled over the edge of his arm,
stretching her throat taut, and he could see the fluttering of her slow pulse.
With one arm still supporting her, he raised the other, and cupped her face in
his hand. Then he leaned down and touched his lips lightly to hers, sending a
stream of energy through her mouth, breaking the golden barrier and letting the
grey curse plunge with gleeful malice into her body.

Her heart
faltered, and her back arched as the curse began to finish its work. Robin felt
a surge of fear. Perhaps she was too far gone. Perhaps it would not work. He
pushed the thoughts aside and focused instead on Bianca. Not her shell, which
was so close to death, but the kernel of energy inside, the source of her
compassion and strength and endless capacity to give. He reached out gently,
trying to find that warm, gentle core, and felt the first trickle of energy
seep into her.

What began
as a trickle was soon a stream. Robin felt the life flowing from him and into
Bianca, filling the well that had been all but depleted by the curse in the
poisoned apple. The well spilled over, flooding out into every part of her
being, running along the secret paths of bloods and humors, chasing the grey
muck from where it clung to her life, sucking it dry. In the onslaught of such
light and life, the curse had no foothold in Bianca, and it shattered to
pieces. Even the remnants faded away, yet still Bianca absorbed the energy. Her
body was cleansed, but it needed more than to be cleansed. It needed to be
reborn.

The stream
flowing from Robin became a torrent, and then a flood. His life was cascading
out, creating a void as it went. He felt his heart beating in her chest, his
blood running in her veins, his days and months and years offering themselves
up to be hers.

His arms
grew weak, and he lay her on the ground, leaning over her to maintain their
connection, to keep the flow steady. He felt his pulse slow and his lungs labor
to breathe, but beneath him Bianca’s body shone with a radiant light, replete
with life force, humming with vitality. He was dying, and he knew it, but still
he pushed energy into her quiescent form, willing her to open her eyes. To
gasp. To come awake to the world.

Beneath his
mouth he felt her lips soften, and mold against his own.

What had
been mere contact became a kiss. Bianca’s hands rose and she framed his face,
while her body rose up to press against his own. He no longer had the strength
to support them, so he sank down against her, content to spend his final
moments in her arms.

Then the
energy began to flow back into him.

His eyes
flew open, fearful of the effect it would have on her, but Bianca laughed up at
him. He could see the dancing motes swirling around her, as they would around
one of the Fae. She fed life into him freely, pulling it from herself, only to
have it replaced when he gave it back. They floated together in a warm ocean of
life, fed from the same fount, the same source.

***

Bianca drew
Robin’s face back down. As their lips met, she could feel every part of him, as
though it were an extension of her own self. The arms embracing, the hands
caressing, the hearts racing; they were like one. She felt strong and whole,
full of the golden light that Robin had poured into her dying body. Waves of
emotion crashed through her soul—love, and delight, and a joy so profound she
had no name for it.

He pulled
away from her. She could see the reflection of her feelings in his eyes, feel
it pouring from him. She almost didn’t need to hear the words.

Almost.

And, of
course, he knew. He held her tenderly, and gazed deep into her eyes.

“I love you,
Bianca.”

She twined
her arms around his neck, and returned his gaze. “As I love you.” She kissed
him again, fiercely, hungrily, then drew back. “How can I repay you for this
gift you have given me, Robin?”

He laughed. “I
do not need thanks. I have realized that my soul can not survive without you.
It is a small thing to share it. I only wish I had seen it sooner.” He cradled
her close against him.

She snuggled
even deeper into his arms. “Still, I will think of a way.”

He sighed. “If
you really wish to repay me, Bianca, you might try not dying for a while. I
find this habit of yours to be most distressing.”

Bianca began
laughing, and Robin joined her. The sound of their mirth floated out among the
shifting mists, entwined, as they were now, in all things.

In the great
crystal chamber of the Accords, Merriweather looked down on Leanan’s face. It
looked the same now as it had so many hundred years ago, when she first lay
willing down upon the bier, allowing her enchanted sleep to keep the peace
among the Fae.

Behind her,
there was a rustle of skirts, and then a voice spoke.

“Where are
they?”

Merriweather
turned. Carabosse had never been Leanan’s equal in beauty, but her voice was a
glorious thing indeed. It could inspire your heart or flay the skin from your
bones, depending on how the prideful Fae woman chose to use it. Even now, with
such a simple question, it made the crystal chamber ring like a bell.

“They are
awaiting our decision.”

The elder
fairy descended the steps, down to Leanan’s bier. She, too, gazed on the lovely
face. Then she reached out and gently stroked the hair back from the forehead
of her most bitter enemy.

“I miss her.”
The magnificent voice was rich with grief.

“As do we
all.” It was as though an autumn breeze formed the words, blowing them through
the chamber. Both of the Fae turned and bowed low before their queen. Mab’s
power was such a wild thing, she kept her mouth closed, lest it slip between
her lips and run free. All of nature spoke for her, instead. The wind turned
colder, and took on the bite of winter to form the next phrase. “Would that I
could set her free.”

“Would that
she had not charted her course in folly.” Carabosse leaned down and kissed the
still forehead, then straightened, smoothing the coverlet over the mound of
Leanan’s pregnant belly. “But we are not here to discuss my sister. We are here
to speak of Merriweather’s errant grandson, and his new-made bride.”

The three
turned and paced away from the bier, seating themselves on the row of risers
that stretched back into the dark, cavernous reaches of the crystal chamber.

Merriweather
nodded at Carabosse. “What would you have?”

“Death,
Exile, or Sleep. Those are the only true options.”

Merriweather
regarded the more powerful Fae. It would have been so easy to hate her, but her
voice throbbed with real sorrow as she spoke the words. Whatever her faults,
Carabosse was not malevolent. She did as she did out of conviction, nothing
more.

Of course,
that made her all the more dangerous.

“That is too
harsh,” Merriweather stated her own case. “After all, Robin would never have
violated the Accords had one of your own not done so first.”

Carabosse
practically vibrated with shock. “We have not!”

“You have.”
Merriweather was firm. “Prince Anders swears that he wandered in a wood for a
mere quarter of an hour, but for weeks his doppelganger courted Bianca and
attempted to kill her. That cannot be explained by mortal means.”

“This was no
doing of mine.” The anger in the other Fae’s voice flayed Merriweather’s ears. “I
did not approve that.”

“It makes no
matter. A member of your faction violated the accords, in an attempt to kill a
mortal who bent the lights of fate around her. A member of mine violated the
accords to save the same girl. I propose we call it even and all go home.”

Merriweather
smiled to herself as both Carabosse and Mab stared at her. Her years among the
humans had given her an odd sense of humor that the elder Fae never seemed to
understand.

“It cannot
be.” The stone they sat upon rumbled out. “There must be punishment for the
infraction, to hold the balance.”

Merriweather
sighed. She hadn’t expected her gambit to work. Carabosse merely nodded. Of
course, given how she felt about rules, her pride would require her to find the
Fae that had broken their side of the agreement and do something horrible to
him.

“This then,
is my decree.” The stone still rumbled, but the breeze joined in, and the fires
along the walls flickered along. “You and your followers, Carabosse, broke the
Accords to take a life. In return, I shall demand a life from you.” Carabosse
gave a wary nod. “Merriweather, your grandson acted to save a life. I also
demand a life from you.”

Merriweather
held her breath. The queen wasn’t finished yet.

“The girl
was mortal. For all her part in this, she has broken none of our laws. I give
her to your care, Merriweather, to instruct in our ways. She must choose to
give her blood to the chalice and agree to the Accords, or she must return to
the mortal world.”

“I am sure
she will agree, my queen.”

Mab nodded,
while the room spoke her words. “Robin, however, broke our law, and his word,
in the full knowledge of what he did. I am sorry, Merriweather, but I must
remand him to Carabosse for justice.”

Merriweather
hung her head in grief. She had feared this outcome, but known it was likely.

“Now—” Mab
raised one hand, and mist poured in the door of the chamber. “Let us tell them
their fate.”

The mist
withdrew, and left Robin and Bianca standing in its wake. They clung to each
other, and stared at the three before them.

Mab nodded
at Merriweather. Apparently she was to be tasked with giving the verdict. She
turned to Bianca first, putting off the painful moment she must tell Robin.

“Bianca, do
you wish to return to the mortal world?” Bianca shook her head without
speaking. “Then you are offered this alternative: give a drop of blood to the
chalice, and agree to follow the Accords henceforth.”

A relieved
smile crossed the girl’s face, and she stepped forward.

“Gladly.”

A prick of a
pin, a few spoken words, and it was done.

“Come stand
by me, child.” Merriweather beckoned her. “For the time being, I am responsible
for your care.” Bianca obeyed, and, with a heavy heart, Merriweather turned to
Robin.

“My boy,”
she paused, collecting herself. “Our queen has judged that your life must be
offered up to Carabosse, in payment of your violation.”

At her side,
Bianca gasped in horror, and Merriweather had to grab the girl’s elbow to keep
her from sinking to the floor. Robin nodded slowly. He had known this might
happen. Carabosse stepped forward.

She looked
at Robin. Then at Mab. She sighed, and the sound sent out waves of exhaustion
along with it, a hint of the weight of the years and the grief carried by the old
Fae.

“Robin
Goodfellow, for your willful violation of the Accords, I judge that you owe
your life.” She reached out, and placed her hand upon his face. A Fae of her
power could pull the energy from Robin whether he willed it or no. Merriweather
caught her breath, unable even to say goodbye. But Carabosse did nothing.
Instead, she looked at Mab.

“My queen. I
believe I owe you a life.”

Mab nodded,
a pleased smile on her face.

“Will you
accept this one, as payment of my debt?”

The breeze
swirled around them. “I will.”

Merriweather
laughed, as her tension broke. Then she took Bianca’s hand and placed it in
Robin’s. “Well, your majesty, you might as well have the matched set. Will you
accept this woman, given into my care, as payment for my life debt?”

Mab nodded
again, and the whole chamber purred with delight.

“I will.”

Robin and
Bianca looked at each other, bewildered, but relieved.

Mab walked
to stand between them, and the mists began to gather them in. Carabosse and
Merriweather stepped back, as their queen’s final thoughts flickered in the
fires around them.

“Now,
children. I have a task for you.”

Vivienne sat
back in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. Fain came and rested his hands
lightly on her shoulders, massaging at some of the tension there, and Felix
poured her a cup of tea. She took it with gratitude and stared at the table
before her.

It was
heaped with papers. One stack was nothing but pardons, officially releasing all
the Toldans Brannon had imprisoned over tax payments or “resisting the
authority of the crown.” Another stack was decrees, stripping away many of the
new laws he had imposed on the country. Yet a third stack was letters of state
from neighboring kingdoms. Some offered aid, others offered treaties, and a few
held thinly veiled threats. Those were, oddly enough, some of the easiest to
deal with. Bianca had left her nation a number of powerful supporters. Vivienne
took a great deal of glee in writing the aggressive rulers and reminding them
of that fact. It was one of the few things she enjoyed, these days.

Robin had
disappeared with Bianca’s body, and Vivi was dreadfully afraid that he was dead
as well. She had sent a letter to Merriweather, but had heard no response. In
fact, the Fae community had been oddly quiet of late, just when she most needed
their council.

Bianca’s
death had created a logistical nightmare. Her followers had spent the night of
her death camped on the plain before the city, and Vivi had brought the people
of Inisle out to join them for a vast wake. They gathered around campfires and
sang songs, and told tales, and mourned their queen. The next day the city folk
slunk back to their homes with pounding heads, and the common folk of the land
began slowly to disperse home. The farmers spoke together as they went:
sometimes crying, remembering Bianca; sometimes laughing, as they pitied the
poor nobles who would choose the new ruler.

They couldn’t
have known, but the choice turned out to be easy, because no one actually
wanted the job. The dukes, earls, counts, and barons looked at the smoking
wreckage of Inisle and suddenly developed a longing for their own, far-removed,
estates. In a display of unanimity that she was sure would never be seen again,
they elected to follow the bloodlines, and dumped the problem of ruling the
impoverished, stricken country squarely in Vivienne’s lap.

Officially,
she was only the country’s regent. As Brannon’s cousin, her mother was now the
queen. But Isabelle flatly refused to leave her husband again, and told
Vivienne that she might as well practice governing Toldas, since she’d rule
both kingdoms someday. Albion and Toldas would, at last, be joined as one.

It was a
horrid mess of rulership, but, honestly, it was the type of problem Vivi
normally enjoyed. She would have thrown herself in with great relish, but the
logistical tangles seemed almost insurmountable, weighed down as she was by her
grief over Bianca. Her sweet, gentle cousin did not deserve to die so young,
and Vivienne could not seem to stop crying. The anger and loss were so hard to
bear.

Fain and
Felix helped her. They shared her grief, Fain for his sister, and Felix for the
friend he had come to know and love in such a short time. They also shared her
work. She didn’t know what gods had blessed Toldas, the day Prince Felix had
been chosen as one of Bianca’s suitors, but she thanked them daily. She could
not have managed without him.

She sighed
and finished her tea. She never had time to wallow long. Too many things
required her attention.

“What’s
next?”

Felix held
up three papers. “You could look at any of these, but you might want to take a
moment and fix your hair.”

“Why?”
Vivienne reached up. True, she’d made a mess of it, bent over, scribbling away,
but there was no one to see it.

“You’ve a
meeting with the Ambassador from Dule.”

Dule’s
ambassador was the real Prince Anders. He was a nice enough fellow, but not
very strong-hearted. He’d fainted dead away when he’d discovered that Bianca
had been assassinated by someone pretending to be him. Of course, it likely
didn’t help that he’d had so many swords pointed at him, at the time.

Vivienne
stretched and went over to look in her mirror. She really was a wreck.

“Felix,
could you ask one of the servants for a basin of water?” He nodded and left the
room. Vivi stared at herself. Her hair was bad enough, but she also had ink
stains on her fingers, and something odd had happened to her nose.

No, on
second thought, it wasn’t her nose that was odd. She frowned at the mirror. Had
it been damaged? There was a ripple in the center, distorting her image. She
peered closer, and her eyes widened. The ripple was spreading out from the
mirror’s center.

“Fain!”

She felt him
come up and look over her shoulder.

“What is
going on—”

Two shadowy
figures began to emerge in the glass. The ripples stilled, and as they did, the
faces of the figures became clearer.

“Bianca.”
Vivienne felt her heart stop. She leaned forward, reaching out to her cousin.

“Do not
touch the mirror,” Robin warned. “If you break the image, the sending will end.”

“But, what
are you—How are you alive?” Fain demanded.

“Robin saved
me.” Bianca looked up at the hunstman, love written plain on her face. “He
linked our lives together.”

Vivienne
gaped at her. “He did what?”

“I shared my
nature with her.” Robin wrapped his arms around Bianca, while looking seriously
out of the mirror. “It was the only way to save her.”

“But, the
Accords…”

“I know.” He
nodded. “We have been assigned a penance, of sorts.”

“I don’t
care about the Accords,” Fain said firmly. “I’m just glad you’re alive.” He
smiled at Bianca. “I can’t tell you how glad.”

“As am I,”
Vivi hastened to add. A huge smile broke across her face, and more tears, this time
ones of joy and relief, rolled down her face. She wiped them away, and laughed
in sheer delight. “You’re alive!” Another thought occurred. “Why didn’t you
come back?”

“I can’t. I
have to stay here. Besides, how would we explain it? The whole kingdom thinks I’m
dead.”

“But we need
you. You’re the queen, for goodness sake.”

Bianca shook
her head. “You’ll be a far better ruler than I would, cousin, and both kingdoms
will prosper by this joining. Besides, I will have other duties, now.”

“What will
you be doing?”

Bianca
smiled sadly. “Better, perhaps, if you don’t know.”

“Will you be
safe?”

“Probably
not.” They looked at each other. “But we will be together.”

The ripples
began again, and Vivienne could see them fading away. Fain leaned close, past
her shoulder.

“We love
you, Bianca.”

“And we love
you, Fain. And, in the end, that is truly all that matters.”

***

Robin and
Bianca followed Mab through the winding passages of her palace in silence. The
Fae Queen drifted before them, her bare feet skimming along the cold stone
floors, the ragged hem of her gown floating like mist on the breeze that
stirred at her passing. The walls themselves seemed to vibrate with the power
trapped inside Mab’s flesh, and as they descended deeper into the earth, the
pressure built in the air around them, causing Bianca’s flesh to creep.

Even before
they entered the crystal chamber, Bianca could hear the humming. The entire
room was ringing with a clear, vibrant tone. It almost hurt, the sound was so
pure. The pitch rose, and Mab gave an almost imperceptible pause and then
hurried her steps, moving rapidly into the torchlit chamber of the Accords.

Before them
lay the bier which, for thousands of years, had been the resting place of
Leanan the lovely. The stone slab was the central focus of the chamber, as
Leanan’s enchanted sleep was the fulcrum on which the Accord’s balance had been
achieved. Her willing submission to this stasis was what had allowed the two
warring factions among the Fae to hammer out a peaceful agreement. It was what
kept the conflict from tearing the Fae asunder and shattering their world.

Which was
why it startled Bianca so very much, when Leanan arched her back and let out a
guttural moan.

Mab flew
down the stone steps that led to the floor of the chamber, leaving Bianca and
Robin to follow on her heels. When the queen reached the bier she gently
brushed the golden curls back from Leanan’s face, laying a kiss on the smooth,
snowy brow.

Bianca
clutched Robin’s hand. “What is happening?”

The torches
on the wall flickered out Mab’s words. “It is time.”

“Time for
what?” Bianca was bewildered.

The fire
hissed. “Even I cannot stop time. Not completely. Not without shredding the
fabric of reality. Time has passed with glacial slowness, but still, it has
passed.”

Leanan
moaned again, throwing her head to one side.

A wind
whipped through the chamber, coming from nowhere, blowing words in their ears. “I
have eased the bindings of time, so that she can bring forth the child.”

Bianca gaped
at the queen. “You mean she’s in labor?”

“Yes!” The
entire chamber sang it out in beautiful joy. “It is time!”