Lovers' Veil

Glass fractured and shattered, falling in glittering shards to the floor of the moonlit balcony beyond. She swept the stool around, knocking jagged talons of glass from the frame. Half turning, she tossed the stood toward the doorway connecting her sitting chamber and bedchamber.

One more obstacle for guards to step over at least.

Careful not to step on the broken glass, she slipped through the opening and into the night air. Without pausing, she went over the stone guardrail and onto the trellis, taking a firm hold of the flowering vines.

She was only three quarters of the way down when she heard the shouting from above. Looking up as she climbed, she saw a pair of guards peering down from her terrace.

"She's getting away!" one elven guard shouted.

His comrade turned slightly, yelling, "She's going down the wall again!"

The moment she judged herself close enough to the ground, she let go and dropped the final few feet. She bent her knees to absorb some of the shock of landing and staggered awkwardly, off balance. She was already racing for Gnomehearth Forest before her legs were even steady beneath her.

No time to try to get a horse from the stables.

She ran, slim legs pumping, eating distance as quickly as she could manage. The baying of hounds behind her urged her to even greater speed.

Not wanting a repeat of her prior escape attempt, she steered well clear of trees until they were too close together to be avoided. She ran swiftly, trying to look in all directions at once, dreading another appearance of Leurre, dreading his touch on her skin.

The forest closed in around her, the interwoven boughs and foliage above blocking the vast majority of the moon's pale light.

I made it! They can't see me now. If I can just reach a stream, the hounds will be confused. While they're trying to pick up my scent again, I'll be putting more distance between myself and them!

She ran, not slowing, ducking low-hanging limbs, ignoring the scrapes and scratches the clawed fingers of small branches gave her.

If I can get to the clearing, maybe I can find out how my human made it through the Veil. Maybe I can escape into his world and find him.

Zigzagging through the woods, she made her way to the clearing. The hounds still bayed behind her, their yapping mingled now with the clip-clopping of hooves.

The guards are on horseback! No!

Rhyannon plunged into the clearing and ran ahead, half falling down the embankment to the stream she had bathed in when she discovered the human watching her. Splashing through the watercourse, she scrambled up the far bank, lunging for the scrub where the human had stood. She searched frantically.

Nothing!

All appeared as it should, with no visible sign of a way through the Veil. The air was still and damp with the night.

This can't be! There's not even a tingle in the air that might mean a rift in the Veil. How is this even possible?

The sounds of horses and dogs grew louder by the moment. After another anxious look around, she chose a direction at random and fled, hoping to hide herself in deeper woodlands.

She ran until she knew she would collapse soon and chose a tree. She scurried up the trunk quickly, concealing herself in the mesh of leaves and branches. Putting her back to the trunk, she took deep breaths, trying to dispel the stitch that had formed in her side.

Quiet! she mentally screamed at herself, terrified that the bellows of her lungs would give her away.

Hounds charged the tree, forming up at its base, baying and leaping. Moments later, mounted guards rode in to join them. She remained still, praying that they wouldn't see her and would go on, thinking that the dogs had simply treed a raccoon or opossum. Her heart sank when Leurre rode in, reining his mount beside the guards. The changeling stared up into the tree, seeming to be staring directly at her.

"Come on down, Princess," he said, voice harsh despite his attempt at a soft tone.

She held still and did not reply.

"Last warning," Leurre said a moment later.

Still she made no move and did not speak.

The changeling drew out a long, thin tube of hollow reed and loaded something into it. "Have it your own way. I'd hoping to spare you this, bride-to-be." As he spoke, he brought the reed to his lips and blew into one end, a sharp, quick exhalation of breath.

Something jabbed Rhyannon in the leg. She cried out involuntarily and plucked the thorn from her flesh. Vision already blurring, she cursed the changeling.

"Catch her," she heard the changeling order as her vision grew dark.

She knew nothing else until she woke again, with no idea how much time had passed. She was flat on her back, stretched out on a wooden table. Silver chains bound her wrists and ankles. The only light came from dim, flickering torches that were secured to the stone walls with copper sconces. She cried out, cursing Leurre.

A creature that resembled a serpent with arms and legs stepped into her view.

Attorcroppe!

Recognition of the reviled thing made her scream. The attorcroppe hissed sharply, thin lips peeling back from sharp teeth and long fangs. Then Leurre was there, dragging the thing away and standing in its place.

"You're awake," he said, voice chilly. "Good."

"Let me go!"

"No. Twice now, you've tried to run away. Your father, the King, ordered you imprisoned in the comfort of your own chambers. That wasn't enough. After I brought you back this time I spoke with him again."

"Leave my father alone!"

Leurre went on as if she had not spoken. "He agrees that this time something more forceful is in order. You do know where you are? Don't you?"

Her heart sank as she muttered, "In the dungeons."

"Yes. And here you shall remain until Samhain night when you and I are wed. The attorcroppes are friends of mine. They will keep you company and provide you with food and such for the duration of your stay down here. They are your keepers and your guards. They have orders not to kill you, but, short of that, to do whatever is needed to prevent you from escaping yet again."

As he spoke, Leurre placed a hand on her stomach and slid it gradually down until he reached her thigh. He caressed her inner thigh, lifting the hem of her diaphanous wrap.

She shuddered, hating the feel of his cold, rough hand. "Don't touch me!"

"Get used to my touch, bride-to-be. Your life will be so much better for you if you do." He slid a finger into her sex, working it inside her body.

Rhyannon spit out a string of curses as she tried to pull away. Her bonds held her fast.

"Princess, really! What would your father say if he heard his little girl speaking in such a manner?" He withdrew the finger and locked his gaze with her own as he sucked the tip of it, tasting her on his own flesh. "I hope you will still taste as sweet on our wedding night."

Wishing that her hatred of him alone was enough to kill him, she spoke through gritted teeth, saying, "Bring my father down here. I wish to speak to him."

"No."

"Why not?"

"He has no wish to see his only child, his beloved daughter, in such a state. But believe me when I say that he knows your predicament full well."

"I wouldn't believe you if you told me that trolls stink! He may know you have me down here, but I'm sure he doesn't know how I'm being treated!"

The changeling leaned closer. She tried to draw away but was held firm.

"There are many, many ways to influence the mind, bride-to-be. My kind knows them all. You shall remain where you are until our wedding night. After the ceremony, you shall belong to me. At that point, nothing can stop me from taking you, figuratively and literally, anytime I want." He placed a hand on her chest and fondled her small breasts through the thin layer of silk that covered them. "I'll be part of the Royal Family. What happens after that will be determined in large part by your behavior. But, until then, you'll be held here by my attorcroppes to ensure that you neither try to run again or carry through on your threat to take your own life."

Tears blurred Rhyannon's vision and she blinked them away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her weep.

Leurre backed away slowly, saying, "The attorcroppes are not to touch you unless necessary." He turned and left.

She blinked more tears from her eyes, then let her eyes close, blocking out the sight of the attorcroppe guard who had crept close once more. Feeling silent tears flowing, she began to recite her prayers to her patron Goddess in the solitude of her own mind.

Chapter 9

Prince Leofrick Wykeham woke just after first light, groggy, exhausted after so little sleep. Light pressure held him down. He looked to find himself lying amid the lascivious tangle of Maerwynn and Gussalen, their arms and legs interwoven with each other's and his own. The women were warm and soft, gorgeous and stimulating even in sleep. He gently extricated himself from them to find Bryce lying naked across the foot of the bed, snoring softly.

Quietly, Leofrick washed and dressed, picking up his sword and buckling it on, fearful that at any moment he might wake Bryce or one of the women and that they would further complicate his attempts to leave.

The sun is up. My father's orders have been obeyed. But why take chances?

He slipped through the sitting chamber and out the door, into the hallway beyond. Inaudibly as possible, he closed the door.

Foregoing breakfast in his haste to be away, he left the castle proper and made his way directly to the stables. The moment the stable boy on duty had readied a horse, Leofrick mounted and rode out. He left the same orders as before, stating that the boy was to tell no one of where he went unless he had not returned by dark.

Turning his steed toward Knavesmire Woods, the Prince rode directly to the clearing where he had first seen the woman he sought. In spite of his desire, his need, to find her, he was still unsettled by the realization that she was a being of Faerie. He worked to push such thoughts away as he crossed the brook she had bathed in, once again searching the other side of the clearing for some sign of her passage.

At least I know now that I wasn't imaging things. She did just vanish. From my point of view, at least. She went back through the Veil to Faerie. Or, if I was simply seeing through the Veil by some means, I lost that vision and sight of her with it.

He rode back and forth along the tree line, seeking for some way to reach her. However, he had no idea what to look for.

I must cross the Veil. But how? How was I able to see her the first time?

Urging his mount ahead, he rode into the deeper forest, still searching.

Could all the people who have vanished in these woods over the years have simply stepped into Faerie and not come back?

Time went by. Still, he found no sign of the woman he sought, nor any way to cross the Veil to reach her. After a time, he realized that he was covering the same area over and again. He rode deeper into the woodlands, farther than he had on his previous exploration, and repeated the zigzagging search pattern.

Overhead, tangles of limbs and smaller branches, fully leaved out, blocked most of the sunlight. The dim light and deep shadows of the forest made him fear that he would miss what he sought so desperately.

He nearly overlooked the ring of wild mushrooms as his horse went by them.

Leofrick reined in him mount and turned, staring down at the narrow circle of pale, mottled gray-and-white fungus.

A faerie ring!

He scarcely breathed, trying not to hope too hard, unwilling to risk putting a jinx on his discovery.

Can it be so simple?

Slowly, he dismounted and stood by the ring, looking at it. Gradually, his attention wandered outward. The grasses around the ring were undisturbed but for the signs of his own passing.

I've got to try it. If not, I may never find her and I'll always wonder what might have happened...

He turned to his mount, saying, "Home. Go home," and gave the horse a light slap on the rump.

The horse turned and trotted away, on a course for the castle.

If I'm wrong, I'll have a long walk home. Regardless, the horse showing up without me is going to frighten a lot of people. But there's no help for it. If I'm right I can't just leave him tied here to graze.

After watching the horse disappear into the forest, the Prince turned back to the mushroom ring. He was relieved to find it still there, having half expected it to have vanished. He took a deep, calming breath, let it out, took another and held it. Lifting one foot, he stepped into the circle.

Nothing happened.

His heart sank. He looked around, waiting. Everything remained stable and unchanging. His hopes sank further. Not knowing what else to do, unwilling to give up so quickly, he closed his eyes.

In his mind he pictured her, tiny and petite, dainty and delicate, her long blonde hair trailing out behind her lithe, bare body. He envisioned her small, angelic features and imagined he could, once more, hear her soul-lifting, clear voice, raised in song. The visualization warmed him, tugging at his heart. But he felt nothing else. Finally, he released the mental image and opened his eyes.

He flinched slightly, unwilling to fully accept what lay before him. The scene, at its base, was the same woodland setting as before. The same trees stood before him, lush green moss clinging to the bases of their trunks. The same ground clutter ferns grew clustered here and there. At his feet, the same ring of wild white-and-gray dappled mushrooms grew.

Yet, for the sameness, it was all...different.

Everything was more vibrant, fresher and more clear. Before, the air had been quiet. Now, it was utterly silent. It lent the impression that he was the only living being on Earth aside from the plants around him. It was as if the very air held its breath, the planet itself unwilling to risk a single exhalation. He felt that he should be frightened by the subtle changes but, instead, found them intoxicating. Despite the muted hush, it felt as if the world has been energized, as if it had come alive in a way he had never experienced before.

Hesitant, he stepped out of the faerie ring and looked around.

Tracks, formed of partially bent blades of lush green grass, crushed leaves and churned soil, led off deeper into the woods.

Those weren't there before.

For the first time, the Prince felt a tiny thrill of fear worm through him.

Could it have worked?

He followed the tracks, moving slowly, senses hyperaware for any threat. If he really had crossed the Veil, there was no telling what sorts of creatures might lurk in the woods. In spite of his caution, he paid close attention to the signs he followed.

Small, bare feet. Running. Someone was in a hurry.

Other tracks convened with the first trail, those of dogs and marks from hooves that looked to be from a group of ponies.

Whomever was running was being chased, hunted.

The realization made him scowl and he worked his way forward faster.

The trail took him to the base of a large tree. The ground encircling it was a churned mess of prints from the ponies and dogs. He examined the tree trunk and found telltale chips and scuff marks on the bark.

Whomever they were chasing took refuge in the tree.

He peered up into the interlaced branches, not expecting to find anyone. He was not disappointed. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the ground. In only a few moments he discovered what he searching for and set off following the neater, more organized trail of dog prints and pony tracks.

They weren't in a rush when these were made. They caught whomever they had treed.

He glanced up, realizing which direction he was heading. He paused, wondering.

If I'm still on my side of the Veil, I'm heading home, toward the castle. But if I did make it across the Veil... What am I moving toward?

He then recalled his vision in the mirror the night before. He remembered seeing the woman he sought in a bedchamber that bore such a marked resemblance to his own.

Am I still heading for the castle? Does it exist on both sides of the Veil? Did I even manage to cross over, or am I just too hopeful?

The trail led him back to the clearing and the stream, still heading toward the castle.

This trail was not here when I came through here a few hours ago! I was paying close attention; I'd have seen it.

Trying hard to ignore his growing fear and uncertainty, the Prince continued on, following the trail. He found himself picking up speed, more familiar now with the terrain he passed through. Still, the tracks were aimed directly at the castle, unseen in the distance.

When the minuscule, winged figure flew at his face he swatted at it.

"Stupid flies," he muttered. Yet his mind was already changing tracks, focusing more intently on the figure.

"Watch it!" the tiny being shrieked, voice pitched high.

The Prince stopped, backpedaling so quickly that he lost his balance and nearly fell. He stared, eyes wide and nearly crossed, as the little figure flew into his line of sight and hovered just in front of his nose.

The being was unquestionably male and unabashedly nude. His flesh was hairless and sported a golden tan that was at odds with his long orange hair. Wings that were nearly invisible flapped briskly at his back, keeping him aloft. His tiny ginger-colored eyes were wide with shock, as was his mouth. He drifted slowly backward as he stared at Leofrick.

"Human..." the little being squeaked. "Here... How... Human..."

"I won't harm you," the Prince whispered, still not sure what to make of the infinitesimal being.

"You've already tried!" the other replied, drifted well out of reach.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were a fly."

The miniature being stared at him for a long moment, offense visibly overtaking fear.

"I'm sorry," Leofrick said again.

"What are you doing here?"

The Prince hesitated, then said, "I think I must've crossed the Veil."

"Of course you did! But what are you doing here? Humans can't just cross over!"

"I needed to."

The other stared at him without comment, fear and hesitation mixed in his expression.

Holding his ground, childhood stories of the fae coming back to him, the Prince said, "My name is Leofrick. I'm Prince Leofrick Wykeham. I know...I've been told...that to ask the name from someone on this side of Veil is very bad form..."

The small, winged man stared at him in sheer horror, braced to escape.

Leofrick went on, saying, "But if I give you my word, thrice spoken, not to use your name against you, might I please have it?"

"Why?" the other asked, openly suspicious, still tensed to bolt.

"Because I need to speak with you about something. And it would be of great help to me to have something to call you and think of you as. A name, I mean. I've already entrusted you with my own."

The pixie relaxed a bit, not moving closer, but not moving further away, either. "Promise me you won't try to use my name against me, Prince Leofrick Wykeham. Promise it thrice and with blood."

"With blood? I'm not sure I understand," he replied, growing fearful of the tiny being yet again.

"Promise thrice whilst cutting your own hand with your weapon..." The pixie's attention went to the sword hanging at Leofrick's side and his eyes grew wide once more. "Iron!" he gasped, darting backward. "You bring iron here?"

"What? Yes, my sword. I need to carry-"

The pixie uttered a string of what the Prince could only interpret as curses and darted farther away.