Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 4) (22 page)

“—I was referring to your affection for me.”

Gemma blinked, disarmed by the direct question. “What?”

“It seems to me like you
don’t
want me to love you, even though you just admitted you feel the same way I do. Why?”

“I find it hard to believe in people,” Gemma said.

“With your background, I can understand that, but I’ve never done anything to make you doubt me,” Stil said, edging towards Gemma as if she were an easily frightened deer. “I have come to your rescue whenever you need me. I won’t let you fall,” Stil promised.

“I’m afraid,” Gemma whispered.

“Of me?” Stil asked, resting his arms on her shoulders.

“No,” Gemma said as Stil pulled her in to hold her. “I don’t know. It’s so confusing, and that is unacceptable,” she said, glaring into Stil’s shirt.

Stil chuckled. “I’m afraid, too,” he said.

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid something will happen, and you’ll feel the need to run off and sacrifice yourself,” he dryly said. “I’m afraid you will keep pushing me away, and that I’ll never get to see that firstborn child.”

“
Stil
,” Gemma hissed.

“But most of all, I’m afraid you will never let me love you. I choose you, Gemma. I love your loyalty, your practicality, and those rare smiles you will occasionally shed. I love
you
. Please, let that be enough,” Stil whispered in Gemma’s ear.

Gemma moved her arms to embrace him back. They stood together for a few silent moments that seemed to stretch on for ages.

“And I love you,” Gemma finally admitted, her shoulders hunching in defeat.

“You sound so enthused,” Stil said.

Gemma gave Stil a wan smile.

“Gemma, I
love
you,” Stil repeated.

Gemma raised an eyebrow, wondering at the response, when Stil abruptly kissed her on the lips.

Although the movement was sudden, the feeling behind Stil’s kiss was anything but. It was passionate and warmer than the heat charm. It reminded Gemma of the starfires at their most brilliant—overwhelming but beautiful.

They parted when the white canine wriggled its way between them, making the pair chuckle.

“What now?” Gemma asked as Stil adjusted his hold on her waist to bring her closer to him.             

“Loire? I still need to meet with Prince Severin and Princess Elle.” Stil said.

Gemma thought for a moment and shook her head. “I can’t leave Verglas yet.”

“Why not?” Stil asked, stiffening.

“Lady Linnea. I can’t leave her like this.”

“Won’t she be coming to Loire as well?” Stil asked.

“Maybe…but I don’t think that’s what she really wants,” Gemma said.

“I see,” Stil said. He kissed Gemma’s lower jaw. “Is there nothing I can say that will change your mind?”

“Does it bother you that much?” Gemma asked.

“I will miss you fiercely, but I won’t begrudge you this time. I only wish I could stay with you,” Stil said.

“You can’t?” Gemma asked.

“The fight against darkness,” Stil sighed. “I have to leave tomorrow with Angelique. It is cruel to part from you so soon, but I’m afraid I don’t have a choice.”

“I trust you,” Gemma said.

“And I will wait for you. When can I return for you?” Stil asked, pulling Gemma closer.

“In a year?”

“A month.”

“Eight months, no less.”

“A month and a day.”

The pair bantered for some time before they finally agreed that Stil would come for Gemma in early summer, or sooner if she wrote to him.

“I feel I should have you negotiate with merchants for any purchases I need. Arguing with you is tiresome,” Gemma frowned.

“Good,” Stil said, pressing his cheek to Gemma’s head. “I will miss you,” he repeated.

“I’m sure that lock of my hair you have tucked away somewhere will aid the pain in your heart,” Gemma dryly said.

“I was wondering if you would pick up on that,” Stil said.

“Mmhmm. There wasn’t really a price to your magic, was there?”

“There is, but only for pieces of magic I deliberately perform for a person. The thimble wouldn’t have counted,” Stil admitted.

“You
are
a hack,” Gemma said.

“It could be worse. I could have made you play the question game with me.”

Gemma raised her eyebrows in an expression of apathy, but she couldn’t help but laugh when Stil soundly kissed her again.

The pair settled on the settee and laughed and chatted late into the night, petting the transformed hellhound and enjoying each other’s presence. (They did stop to hold a brief celebration when Angelique returned and Stil told the enchantress in training that he finally won Gemma over.)

Gemma rested her head on Stil’s chest and listened to his heartbeat. “You have to go tomorrow,” she said.

“I know.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

Stil kissed the top of Gemma’s head. “Me too, Gemma. Me too.”

Chapter 19

In spring, the wedding all of Verglas had waited for was
finally
held.

The bride was beautiful, dressed in a gorgeous white dress—the likes of which had never been seen before. The groom was a dashing figure, waiting patiently for his bride with a smile as she walked down the aisle of the same cathedral that, months ago, had witnessed a battle.

The crowd gathered on this spring day was very different from those gathered for King Torgen’s and Gemma’s near-wedding. Today, the witnesses wore smiles and waved small replicas of the Verglas flag. The citizens of Ostfold were particularly overjoyed, and they cheered and hollered with abandon as the bride joined the groom on the dais.

“Stick a quill in my head and call me a rooster, but that savage miss of yours looks right beautiful today. You did fine work on that dress of hers,” Grandmother Guri said, elbowing Gemma and speaking loudly to be heard over the joyous cheers of their fellow civilians.

“Lady Linnea has always been beautiful,” Gemma loyally said, watching her close friend curtsey to the priest and her future husband—King Toril.

“Perhaps, but she doesn’t look so false,” Grandmother Guri agreed, “like her expression is carved from marble.”

“Yes,” Gemma said, smiling fondly as her eyes rested on the beautiful but serviceable dagger strapped to Lady Linnea’s waist.

In the middle of winter, after he was crowned King and had ruled for a little time alone, King Toril—to the shock of no civilians and all Verglas nobles—asked Lady Linnea to marry him. Lady Linnea put aside all of her dreams of meeting military leaders and studying foreign armies to say yes, only to be surprised when King Toril modestly asked
her
to take charge of the Verglas military once they were married—which would, of course, mean she would need to travel and observe what other countries were doing and, most importantly, answer the summons of nations from the Commanding General of Loire, Prince Severin.

That particular request shocked everyone—except for those who lived near Grandmother Guri and pressed close to the walls of her house when, for one week straight, King Toril called upon the legendary seamstress, Gemma Kielland, and sought her advice.

He is one of the few men who could understand her, and she will make his reign even better
, Gemma thought, smiling at the pair.

“I wasn’t sure the bumpkin could tame her, but he managed,” Grandmother Guri said, as if she could hear Gemma’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Gemma agreed, sitting down when the priest motioned for the congregation to be seated.

Gemma and Grandmother Guri were separated from the crowd, seated in chairs of honor near the base of the dais rather than the pews. Since Stil’s public vow, Gemma had become something of a local legend, known as the girl who brought about King Torgen’s demise.

Lady Linnea used the excuse to give Gemma special treatment, but truth be told, Gemma wished everyone wouldn’t treat her so reverently. She missed haggling with the merchants—who would now give her whatever price she asked for cloth—and holding dislikable people, like Malfrid and Mrs. Hagen, in distaste. (Mrs. Hagen hadn’t dared to criticize her chosen occupation since her return to Ostfold society, and Malfrid immediately married a farmer and moved away when the dust settled from Gemma’s adventures.)

But most of all, she missed Stil.

She wished she could talk to him about fine craftsmanship and show him her work on Lady Linnea’s wedding dress. She missed his handsome smiles and even his stupid, wretched, question game.

“We are gathered here today for a beautiful event and occasion: the wedding of our monarch, King Toril, to the honorable Lady Linnea Lovland,” the priest said when the cathedral had quieted enough that his squeaky voice could be heard.

His declaration brought about more cheers, and he was unable to continue as the civilians whistled and rejoiced.

The priest bore it well, smiling and folding his hands as he waited.

Before this winter, we have had precious little to celebrate
, Gemma thought as she, too, clapped.
But it is different now
.

“Verglas is coming back, my girl,” Grandmother Guri said, her voice just above a whisper.

“Why do you say that?” Gemma asked.

“You can feel it in the air. It’s crisp and clean—finally. People smile more—which is a scary sight in some cases. No one fears to stick out anymore, and there’s
laughter
. Yep, everything is right again. And your lady up there will make sure bumpkin keeps it that way,” Grandmother Guri nodded.

If anyone deserved to call Toril bumpkin, it was Grandmother Guri. When the young king called on Gemma to ask for advice about Lady Linnea, Grandmother Guri had smacked the monarch upside the head a number of times when he was particularly slow to understand a point about the battle-crazed lady.

“So, that means you can finally leave with that mage of yours,” Grandmother Guri added.

Gemma gaped at the elderly woman. The fact that they were witnessing the marriage of their monarch and Gemma’s close companion was forgotten. “
What
are you talking about?” Gemma hissed.

“You’re sighing all the time and looking off into space like Jo-Jo when she’s about to urp up her cud. You miss your mage, and that’s fine. Now things have settled here; you’ve got your barbaric lady taken care of, and there’s nothing left for you to do. You can go,” Grandmother Guri whispered.

“How did you…?”

“My girl, all of Ostfold was treated to a public performance of your love with that man. You can’t think I didn’t know—that everyone in
town
doesn’t know.”

Gemma adjusted her posture in her chair and fixed her gaze on Lady Linnea and King Toril, ignoring the astute observations of Grandmother Guri.

Within a few minutes, the ceremony was over.

“On behalf of this country—civilians and nobility—it is with great joy that I announce the marriage of our King Toril to Lady Linnea!” the priest said. Even he could not contain his enthusiasm as he raised his hands in the air.

Church bells clanged, and everyone in the cathedral roared so much the floor vibrated. The citizens who could not cram their way into the church with the nobles cheered outside. When the doors opened up, Gemma could see that they threw rice and flower petals.

King Toril and Lady Linnea—soon to be Queen Linnea once the royal couple arrived at the palace for her crowning—swept down the aisle. Their faces were bright with happiness, and they laughed and clasped hands as they emerged from the cathedral and into the street.

Verglas had good, valiant monarchs once again.

“Thank you so much for making my dress, Gemma,” Queen Linnea said, embracing Gemma when she caught her sneaking towards a table of drinks.

“It was my pleasure, My Lady,” Gemma smiled.

Queen Linnea beamed and glanced over her shoulder at King Toril, who was seated at their table, laughing with one of his advisors.

The wedding feast was barely halfway over, and everyone was still exuberant and filled with joy and laughter. Well-wishers were lined up out the door, hoping to congratulate their king and new queen.

“I know I asked you right after I agreed to marry him, but, what do you think of Toril?” Queen Linnea asked, shyly looking at Gemma from under her eyelashes.

“I think he’s a gallant gentleman who loves you very much, and I know the two of you will be wonderful rulers,” Gemma said.

“Do you really think so?” Queen Linnea asked.

Gemma raised an eyebrow. “Have I lied to you before, My Lady?”

“I know, I’m just so
happy
. I can’t believe it!” Queen Linnea laughed, squeezing Gemma in another embrace that was so tight Gemma’s spine cracked.

“You deserve this happiness.”

“Thank you, Gemma. No, I mean it,” Queen Linnea said when Gemma started to curtsey. “None of this would have happened—none of this would have been
possible
without you.” The new queen hesitated, her hand lingering on her dagger. “I know I asked you to stay with me before this all began.”

Gemma nodded in acknowledgment.

“I realize now that’s not possible,” Queen Linnea continued as she shifted her gaze to her husband. “I don’t have the right to stand between you and that
mage
,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she mentioned Stil. “And I will miss you terribly,
terribly
much. When he comes to take you away, you must promise to write!”

“My Lady, Stil is busy aiding Prince Severin and his allies. In all likelihood,
you
will see him before I do when you answer Prince Severin’s summons,” Gemma soothed.

Queen Linnea shook her head. “Gemma, the man faced down a
monarch
and a
country
for you. The truth is, as soon as he thinks Verglas will not mind your absence as much, he’s going to come for you,” she said, speaking the secret desires of Gemma’s heart.

Gemma smiled. “Perhaps,” she said. “But it is your wedding feast—a time to rejoice.”

“I know, I know,” Queen Linnea sighed, looking down to adjust the skirt of her dress. When she looked up, her eyes landed on King Toril, and she smiled again. She turned to look at Gemma, her smile still in place. “All I wanted to say is that…I understand. I understand why you will leave, and whenever you come back, I will put aside everything—even the
army
—to welcome you home.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Gemma said, deeply touched by her friend’s words.

“Linnea,” Toril called.

“Right. I should return to the rest of the guests. Enjoy the food—take some back for the furball!” Queen Linnea called over her shoulder as she headed for her husband, her magnificent dress dragging behind her.

Gemma shook her head at her friend’s retreat and turned herself in the direction of her table. Grandmother Guri was holding court with a number of villager ladies. They were eagerly swapping gossip and stories as they crowded around the table that was specially prepared for Gemma, munching on dried fruit and krumkake—thin cake rolls filled with whipped cream. A passing villager bowed to Gemma as he would to royalty, and a servant bearing a platter mimicked the motion when she noticed Gemma.

The heat of the hall beat on Gemma’s shoulders like a giant, and all the laughter and shouts of celebration made her head throb. She cautiously inspected her surroundings to make sure she was not being watched before she slipped through a servant door.

Her head eased the instant she closed the door behind her, but Gemma walked on, navigating her way through the palace—which she now knew quite well. She found her way to the courtyard and gardens that overlooked Lake Sno and breathed in the cool, spring air.

The tranquility of the lake and the silence of the gardens soothed Gemma.

When a cold, wet nose bumped her hand, Gemma did not scream in surprise, but smiled. “Sorry, Hvit. I didn’t bring you anything,” she said, kneeling down to run her hands through the luxurious fur of her hellhound-turned-guardian.

The wolfish creature panted happily, his tongue hanging out as he twirled his curled tail. Somehow, the canine always knew where Gemma was and found her—even if she locked him in Grandmother Guri’s cottage. (Thank goodness Jo-Jo was even less impressed with Hvit than she was with Grandmother Guri!)

“It’s finally settled,” Gemma said, resting her head on her companion’s shoulder. She was sure to get white hair all over her clothes, but she didn’t care. With King Toril properly crowned and Lady Linnea married, there was little else Gemma had left to see to in Verglas. She was free. Free to travel and, hopefully, find Stil.

She missed him so much, even though they hadn’t been together long. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the way his blue eyes gleamed when he teased her. Winter in Verglas was beautiful as usual, but Gemma was surprised by how
deeply
she felt Stil’s absence. It was like a piece of her left with him.

Hvit went completely still for a moment—going so far as to collect his tongue into his mouth. Then his nose twitched, and he returned to his happy pants, smearing his cold nose in Gemma’s ears.