WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (16 page)

“I call to order this meeting of the Elder Council of White Fey Court.” High Councilman Evenspring grabbed a wooden gavel that appeared to have been torn directly from the tree. He knocked three times and set the gavel down. “Please welcome our esteemed guests, General Rowan Windstorm, Lord Cerne Silverwing, and Princess Rhiannon Nightwind.” Each member nodded and gave General Windstorm, Cerne, and Rhiannon a customary welcome.

“The reason I’m calling this emergency meeting is—” He turned to Cerne with grave eyes.

“Our informant is missing.”

Cerne’s heart fell into his stomach. His mind reeled. This wasn’t happening. How could he have ever suggested to his brother to take the mission? “Are you sure?” he asked with as little emotion as possible.

“The last message was received a fortnight ago,” Radan stated. He slid a paper in front of Rhiannon and down toward Cerne. “This was what was transcribed.” Peering at the paper, Cerne’s heart clenched. With great reluctance, he read the message.

Korrigan has managed to join forces with the Ogre nation. Three hundred ogres will be
arriving at Dark Castle in a sennight. Battle is imminent. I wish I had better news to report. Alas,
it is not so. Please send my brother my affection.

SS

Cerne pushed the paper away. “And you’re just telling us now?” He glared at Radan. His poor brother, little Sionnach, wasn’t gone. He, Cerne, would know. “He’s not dead!”

“The connection has just recently been severed, Lord Silverwing.” Radan’s eyes searched Cerne’s, his voice grim. “He knew the risks when he took the assignment.”

“I still feel his life energy,” Cerne replied, refusing to accept Radan’s word. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Rhiannon grabbed his hand and gave him a comforting gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Cerne snapped his hand back. “I don’t need consoling,” he said coolly. “My brother isn’t dead.”

Rhiannon bit her lip and turned her head away.

Ahh, deities, Cerne thought to himself. There he went screwing up everything with Rhiannon even more.

“I told you what would happen if you sent an inexperienced faerie into Korrigan’s castle.”

General Windstorm huffed and drummed his fingers on the table.

Maeve stood. “Thank you, General, but please have some consideration.” She pressed her hands together as if she planned to zap the voice from him.

“I apologize, Lord Silverwing. I didn’t think before I spoke.” Windstorm raised his hand in truce.

Cerne nodded, throwing up his hand. “Accepted.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s continue this meeting, shall we?”

Rhiannon turned to face him, a look of concern filling her beautiful emerald eyes. “Are you sure you want to continue?”

Cerne sucked in a breath and lifted his chin. “Sionnach would want—and still wants—it this way.”

“I’m only trying to help.” Rhiannon’s lip twitched.

“Mayhap I don’t need your help.”

“Fine. Sorry.” Rhiannon turned to Radan. “Let’s proceed.” Cerne shivered at the ice in her voice. He reached down to grab her hand. “I’m sorry,
mo
cridhe
.”

Rhiannon whipped her hand back. “Don’t be sorry, consort. I should not have cared.” He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. He had taught his brother the art of mind-talk at an early age. Sionnach had become a master, but even he had limitations. If he were dead, how could Sionnach’s mind bond remain so strong? His brother was alive! He had to convince them!

He turned his attentions back to Rhiannon, whose face washed over with concern. He would not let her see him weak. He gave her an irritated huff and tuned his ears to Radan’s speech.

“I have reports from the South Shires. Dark Faerie troops line the lower plains. They keep growing stronger.” Radan turned to General Windstorm. “And if Sionnach Silverwing’s final message holds any truth, I fear a battle is imminent.” Windstorm’s eyes flickered. “My troops reported similar findings. It’s in the White Plains’

interest that we prepare for the worst.”

Maeve spoke up. “I’m willing to fight.” She turned to Belenus. “As is Bel.” Belenus nodded in agreement. “But we need to train more soldiers. Windstorm, how many men do you have?”

Windstorm sighed. “Not enough. We need at least five hundred more faeries. Most have

witnessed Korrigan’s wrath first-hand or heard the stories. They are afraid. I won’t stand by and watch my kingdom get overrun by evil.” He slammed his fist on the table.

Rhiannon lifted her chin, her eyes glowing with determination. “I want to help.”

“But you’re the princess. You need to stay at White Court, safe from harm,” Fiona stated.

“Your parents would never allow such a thing.”

Rhiannon pulled her chair back and stood. “I have military experience.” Radan and Windstorm both raised a quizzical brow.

Rhiannon’s chin remained firm. “I lived the first fifteen years of my life moving between army bases. I know a little about how the military system works.” Windstorm huffed. “Humans fight for fun. We fight for survival.”

“So you think humans enjoy killing each other?” Rhiannon gave them a stony glare. “I guarantee human warfare isn’t all fun and games.”

“I apologize, Princess Rhiannon,” Windstorm replied. “I forget your human upbringing.” Rhiannon’s jaw twitched. “Whatever, General. Not all humans are vile warmongers.”

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Maeve interrupted. “Perhaps we need to consult the Queen?” Jonas Swiftfox rose from his seat. “The Queen is too weak. She should not be bothered with such daunting decisions.”

“Maybe I should speak with her?” Rhiannon prodded. “She’s my mother, after all.” Maeve nodded. “Actually, we plan on introducing you this afternoon, after your magic session.” Maeve turned to Radan and rose. “I don’t believe there’s any harm in Princess Rhiannon discussing the situation with the Queen. After all, the lands will eventually be under her rule.”

“Is that wise?” General Windstorm shot out. “She’s only been here a week. She still needs to learn our customs and culture.”

Belenus stood. “She’s a quick study. I haven’t seen anyone embrace their instruction as she has.” He gave Cerne and Rhiannon a knowing grin.

Rhiannon’s face brightened a rosy red. Cerne wanted to trace his finger across the flush of her cheeks, but now was neither the time nor the place. “She’s a fast learner,” he said lamely.

“Is that so?” General Windstorm said, his eyes perusing Rhiannon inquisitively. “Show us your magic, Princess.”

Rhiannon gulped. “I haven’t officially started my magic tutorials,” she said, “but I can do a

mean trick with my hair.”

Radan raised his eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Cerne grabbed Rhiannon’s arm and gave her a stern gaze. “You don’t need to prove yourself,
mo cridhe
.”

Rhiannon’s emerald eyes sparked. “It’s more than proving myself. Please let me go.” Cerne loosened his grip. “As you wish.”

Rhiannon stood, pulling her pins out of her hair, causing a cascade of rich auburn curls to frame her face. She raked her hand through her hair, scrunching the strands between her fingers.

Gods’ blood, there he goes again, Cerne thought at the familiar tightening of his breeches.

As if sensing his discomfort, both Belenus and Maeve gave him sly winks.

Rhiannon tapped her head and spoke. “Oh, unruly hair, I command thee. Coif.” As her hair had done earlier, each tendril swirled and twirled with each other. The pins floated from the table and weaved themselves through her hair. When the last pin was affixed, she turned to General Windstorm and bowed. “I know it probably seems petty, but it’s impressive to me.”

“And me, as well.” Cerne gazed at Rhiannon and smiled. “She has come far in her studies.” Radan huffed. “Child’s play. Human witches and wizards can perform spells just as strong.

Some dabble with even stronger enchantments.” He crossed his arms. “What’s not to say some old crone did not teach you that small insignificant trick?”

“Insignificant?” Cerne clenched his fists. “What makes you the judge of insignificance?”

“Gentlemen, please stop this squabbling.” Aileana Brightstone’s fern-green eyes sparked at both Cerne and Radan as she slowly rose to her feet. She gripped the side of the table, struggling to keep her balance. Even for a faerie as old as she, Aileana exercised a commanding presence.

“This will get us nowhere except divided and ripe for Korrigan’s picking.”

“Princess Rhiannon is a rather intelligent woman,” Jonas added. “I don’t see any harm in her speaking to the Queen either.”

Radan steepled his fingers and flitted his wings in obvious irritation. “Fine. I was only concerned for the Queen’s health is all.”

“Understood,” Maeve said evenly. “I think you all will be pleasantly surprised.”

“I’ll agree. On one condition.” Radan folded his hands together.

“Your condition?” Jonas replied.

“That the Elder Council and General Windstorm be present.”

“Done.” Maeve clapped her hands. “It’s settled.”

“Thank you, High Councilman,” Rhiannon said.

Cerne raised his eyebrow. Did she not know a princess doesn’t need to thank those beneath her? “You’re the princess,
mo cridhe
. They should be thanking you,” he whispered in her ear.

Rhiannon stared bemusedly at him. “I’m sorry—oh wait I can’t apologize either, I assume.” She sighed. “Sorry—gah! Whatever. I was raised to be polite to someone, no matter what their station in life.”

Cerne shrugged. “They won’t take you seriously,
leannan
.” Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Fuck ‘em.”

Cerne didn’t realize he had such a sex-fiend on his hands. “And what will fucking them prove?”

Rhiannon broke out into a giggle. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s another figure of speech.”

“Interesting figures of speech the humans use.” While no one was looking, Cerne snuck his hand down to her delectable rump and pinched. Rhiannon gasped as a blush swept across her cheeks. Perfect. He loved making her squirm—especially in the crowded Elder chamber.

“Are you two done chitchatting?” Kieran Goldtree asked with an upturned brow. “We have a meeting to adjourn.”

“Very well. Is there any new business?” Radan asked, looking around the table. At the shake of everyone’s head, he rose. He grabbed the gavel and rapped on the table. “I call this meeting of the Elder Council dismissed.” He turned to Maeve. “Send the princess to her magic lessons, and meet me when the sun is between midday and dusk.”

Maeve nodded. “You’ll be most pleased, High Councilman Evenspring.” Not as pleased as I’ll be, Cerne thought. With an impish grin, he took Rhiannon’s arm.

“Shall we go,
mo cridhe
?”

Cerne led Rhiannon out of the council chambers.
Did he just stand up for me?
No man had ever done that for her in her life. He was smart, kind of funny in a weird sort of way, and sexier than sin. What she wouldn’t do for a man like that back home.

“I hate not being able to read your thoughts anymore, my sweet.” He rubbed her arm and lowered his mouth to her neck. “Perhaps I can coax them out.” He darted his tongue against her throat.

Rhiannon shivered and her heart beat quickened. “Maeve commented that my mind was as strong as a stone fortress. Nothing will get coaxed anywhere.”

“I guess I’ll have to try harder.” He traced his fingertips against the contours of her breast.

“You’re overconfident, methinks.” Methinks?
Wow,
the more time she spent in Fey, the more she became at ease with the language. She glanced up at Cerne and bit her lip, attempting to find the right words to say.

“What is it, my sweet?” He brushed a curl from her cheek, his jade eyes heating her insides—as always.

“How evil is Korrigan?”

“Her faerie minions rape, plunder and burn our villages.” Cerne’s matter-of-fact reply left nothing to her imagination. “She’s power-hungry and will stop at nothing to control every kingdom.”

Lovely! The evil dictator of Fey? Just my luck!
Then again, most evil dictators ended up defeated. What’s not to say Korrigan couldn’t be defeated either?

“What about your brother?” To keep denying the inevitable wasn’t healthy at all.

“They’re wrong.” Cerne stopped and jerked her to face him, clenching her arms in his large hands. “And I don’t want to talk any more about Sionnach.” Damn. He was worse than she thought. “Okay, buddy,” she said in her most comforting voice. “Fine, no more talk about...” His grip grew tighter. “Ouch...sorry. I promise, okay?” Cerne’s expression washed into one of deep concern. “Did I hurt you?” Rhiannon shook her head “I’ll be fine.”

She needed to change the subject. “So what sort of magic am I going to learn? I’m sure it’s not the human idea of magic.”

Cerne raised an eyebrow. “So what sort of spells do human wizards cast?”
Duh!
Now would be a good time to slap her forehead, but she refrained. “Oh, I always get confused. There’s magic, and then there’s
magick
. Human magicians are actually called illusionists. You know, sleight of hand and all that?” Cerne nodded. “Trickery is what it is, plain and simple. There is nothing false about the magic you’ll learn.”

Rhiannon gave her best pout. “Blast it all.” She huffed for good measure.

“What’s wrong?” Cerne searched her with those damn jade jewels again. She felt like melting right into the ground. No wait, not the ground—in his arms.

“I wanted to learn how to pull a rabbit out of a hat.” Cerne arched his brow in quizzical fashion. “I don’t think I want to know.” Rhiannon snickered. “One of those human magic tricks.”

“Then I
really
don’t want to know. Here we are.” He led her to a set of ornately carved double doors.

He went to knock on the door, but before his knuckles touched, the door swung open. An old faerie stood in the middle of the room, wearing a tall coned hat similar to the one a human wizard would wear. He held a gnarled wooden staff in one hand and a heavy book in the other.

His long, billowing, violet cloak surrounded him as his oddly short golden wings fluttered.

Maeve stood next to him, wearing an equally stunning cloak of midnight blue. She held in her hand a wand with almost as many knots as the wizard’s staff. “Your Highness, Lord Silverwing, welcome. Please come in.” She turned to the old wizard who hunched over his staff as he walked toward her. “This is Ethelred, the royal wizard.” Ethelred bowed, leaning over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He wobbled on unsteady legs. Rhiannon reached forward to grab him before he fell.