Song of the Fairy Queen (68 page)

Without a look back, Morgan and Caleb rode away, leaving Patterson to dismount and get his sword.

This camp was smaller and tighter than Detrick’s and Robert was indeed a small sharp man barely taller than herself, but without the attitude many short men had.

Kyri met the same reception at his camp as she had at Detrick’s, a growing excitement, a sense of an impending climax to their years of waiting.

She turned north again, staying high as promised.

In the distance as night closed in she got a clear sense of Morgan, without rock and iron between them, to the north of her.

Morgan
.

She caught a thermal and rose…

Morgan shifted on his bedroll, trying to find a comfortable position. He’d grown accustomed to Kyri’s presence, to curling up around her, to her feathers warm against his stomach, her legs tangled around his, or his around hers. If he was right and Haerold moved on them then the time they had remaining was short. Every moment they had together was precious.

There was no help for it, though.

He sighed, tucking one hand behind his head as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the stars.

Caleb and a man by the name of Watson had agreed to take the first watch, both in the shadows looking away from the banked fire where the rest of their people had settled down to sleep.

He only had the warning of a slip of a shadow against the stars before a very substantial Fairy landed on his stomach, planted her hands on his shoulders and a very fervent kiss on his mouth.

If he’d had the air, he would have laughed.

Someone had missed him, too, it seemed.

Caleb called, chuckling. “Stand down, Watson, she’s a friend. Good to see you, Kyri.”

Lifting one hand in greeting, Kyri devoured Morgan’s mouth.

Morgan took a handful of her lush hair, dragging her mouth harder against his for long enough to truly enjoy it, before pulling her head back.

Kyri grinned. “Surprised?”

Laughing, Morgan said, “Very. How do you do that? I know why, to drive me mad, but how?”

“It’s a matter of the shape of the wing,” she said, opening hers wide behind her, “like an owl. And do I succeed?”

“In what?”

“Driving you mad?”

With her lithe body spread over him, he could only say. “Yes. But this isn’t good for morale…”

She arched her wings, closing around them both, concealing them behind them. “Is that better?”

With a smile, his hands skimming up her thighs beneath the little shift, Morgan said, “Much.”

A voice in the darkness whispered, in amazement, “She’s Fairy…”

“Good guess, lad,” Caleb said dryly. “Was it the wings what gived it away? And she’s his Fairy, the Queen of them all.”

“Are you my Fairy?” Morgan asked softly.

She tilted her head. “Didn’t you know that I’ve always been your Fairy?”

“I thought the Fair bowed to no man,” he said smiling.

Archly, lifting an eyebrow, she replied, “What I’m doing to you is not bowing.”

“No, indeed it isn’t” he had to admit.

He brushed the hair back from her face. As dangerous as it was for her to be here, he was glad she was.

“How did you do?” he asked.

“Detrick comes,” she said, “and another rebel leader named Robert. And you?”

“I had a little bit of a problem. It seems that not everyone is glad to see me back from the dead.”

Studiously unbuttoning his shirt, she smiled as she slid it open and devoured his chest. “I for one, am very glad to see you back from the dead.”

Morgan couldn’t say he minded much, except when her mouth trailed over his abdomen, found a particular spot and settled in, her hands moving on and over him as he bit back groans of outrageous pleasure.

“Gods, Kyri,” he whispered.

Morgan could just see her face in the faint moonlight, touched only lightly by the light of the fire yards away refracted through her wings. No one stirred as her wings arched around them. Her large liquid eyes were fixed on his face, a small smile curving her lips.

“You did say to use you,” he said, his voice strangled as she pleasured him. “Didn’t you?”

A whisper. “Yes, Morgan.”

Satisfaction rushed through him.

Bending closer, resting her forehead on his, she looked at him, her eyes sleepy and satisfied.

“This time,” she said, “I’ll make sure that you’re relaxed and stay relaxed.”

He chuckled a little weakly, his blood still running hot. “That will do it.”

Kyri’s eyes twinkled.

She settled over him, her wings closing around them with a little rustle of feathers and he knew then that she was staying.

Curling his arms around her, he pulled the blankets over them both.

Sleep came easily.

They took the last watch, he, Kyri and a man named Borden, Morgan’s arms around Kyri, her head laid back against his shoulder, content simply in each other’s presence.

As the sun peeked above the horizon they released each other reluctantly. For a moment he simply held her close.

The others were stirring. They stood for a moment looking at each other and then she nodded, her wings unfolding.

“Borden,” she said, politely, in farewell, with a nod and a sweet and gentle smile.

The man smiled back.

She backed away, until Morgan held only her fingertips, then she turned and ran, reaching for the sky. Looking back once, she smiled, blew him a kiss, did a quick loop in the air, her body arching and then she was gone.

“Show off,” he said, softly.

It was beautiful to watch, though.

The King’s tent had survived so far, Kyri noted, as she flew down into the clearing, closing her wings to drop the last few feet. For all the urgency, it was a surprisingly serene setting and then a rider rode up at a gallop, jumped off his horse and ran inside Oryan’s tent.

On a rock in the sun not far from the tent, Galan taught Gawain the fine skills needed to use the wind to move objects, starting with a simple twig. It was a difficult exercise. Both looked up at her arrival.

“Good morning,” Galan said, echoed by Gawain. “Any luck?”

“Detrick and a rebel band led by a man by the name of Robert are on their way, with their people,” she said, “not many, but more than we had. I saw Morgan, with five or six of his people. Another group comes this way.”

Frowning, Gawain said worriedly, “That’s not many.”

“For each day, five more, by our month Morgan alone will have brought one hundred and fifty,” Kyri said. “Every little bit helps. These are also skilled fighters. Most of the people in Haerold’s army are conscripts with little training.”

Gawain went quiet. “A friend of mine, Stephen, went to take some grain to market. He never came back. The Hunters had conscripted him.”

“It is such with war,” Galan said, sadly. “There is a tale, oft told, of two men who found each other on opposite sides in battle, each believing firmly in the right of their side. Yet still, they’d been and were still friends closer than brothers. They died within feet of each other, both knowing the other was there, never knowing that they were so close.”

Dropping a hand onto Galan’s shoulder, Kyri squeezed it lightly and briefly, before smiling at Gawain. “So, how does he do, Galan?”

“Very well,” Galan said, “he’s even done some Healing. We had a few wounded come in.”

She looked over at Oryan’s tent, but the messenger hadn’t come out.

“However,” Galan said, grinning, “We did have some visitors…”

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of wings, as Fairy dropped out of their hiding places in the canopy of the trees above them, laughing.

Familiar faces…Kyri tried to count….

She looked up in astonishment, her eyes going bright… “So many…”

Landing Solon said, with a smile, “We’ve been too long away.”

Their fingers touched.

Dismissing the messenger, Oryan came out of the tent where he’d been waiting, with Dorien at his shoulder, both of them grinning.

“We thought to surprise you, my Kyri,” Dorien said, his eyes twinkling.

Kyri looked at all the faces and knew some measure of what Morgan had felt with his Marshals, some sense of the gratification and the honor they did her. They came to her, to touch fingers, each one of them.

“The Deep Forest is our place,” Miiri said, her hand on her sword, “but it is not our
home
. This is.”

“Orders, my Kyri?” Solon asked.

With a sigh, Kyri looked over all the beloved faces and then she nodded.

The numbers were almost overwhelming.

“I need three each to go south,” she said. “There are two sets of rebels coming to join us, Detrick leads one and a man named Robert the other.”

Grinning, Gaia said happily, “I know Detrick, my Kyri.”

“Can you find him again?”

The grin spread, Gaia’s eyes sparkling. “I can, my Kyri.”

It had been hard for Gaia to leave him, Kyri knew. This would be a very good surprise for Detrick.

Kyri shook her head, smiling.

“Then you and two others go to him. He needs eyes in the sky, to keep him clear of Haerold’s patrols. If we can, we must prevent Haerold from knowing they’re coming. Solon, take a squad and work with Deandra to do the same here. They must have enough warning for the King to move. The time will come when Haerold forces us to make a stand. It must not come before we’re ready. Two more of three each, to go with John of Orland and Philip of Dorset.”

In a flutter of wings, they took off, the sun glittering on gossamer wings in a multitude of colors.

With a sigh, Gawain said, watching them, “It’s like watching a rainbow fly. Kyri, how come they don’t call you by title, like people do with my father?”

She laughed. “Because my name is my title, Gawain. I am Kyriay, which in our tongue means Bright one or Brightness, which for us means Queen. For I was born to be Queen and nothing else – like bees, in a way, I suppose, although we can and have had Kings – and so I was born to be Queen as you were born to be King.”

“So,” Oryan said, “your journey was successful.”

She nodded. “Detrick is on his way, with his people. Morgan also is having success. Where next?”

With a gesture, Oryan waved her into the tent ahead of him and over to the map table. Brushing her hand over it, she remembered the day they’d first created it. Now there was a lot more detail.

“I’ve heard from another rebel band here,” Oryan said, pointing. “My sources and Detrick’s confirm that it’s good, but still, be careful. First, though, go to Mormont, his given name is Patraic, but have a care. He may be playing both sides. He swore an oath to Haerold when forced to it, but he’s also sent representatives to approach me, with funds and sometimes supplies. As I have little to offer and less threat, he may simply be keeping his options open, in case we succeed.”