"Newlings are rare. Faeries generally mate for life; a pairing that sees but a single child."

"Sounds like we mortals-though we do tend to have hordes of children. So you marry and have children and settle long and happy lives?"

"Marriage is not common. It is reserved for royals and the upper caste. Commoners merely...I don't know...join and have children. I believe it is called honeymooning. But a faery's fickle heart affords much time to discover a life mate."

Desideriel was rumored to romance a new woman every new moon. A rogue who might never be tamed following their vows? She hoped he would turn true to her, but did not expect something so untouchable as love.

"Oftentimes, they never wed, and instead choose the singular life with a.s.sorted partners. A child is never born of such a situation."

"Sounds freeing. To sort through a variety of choices before finally settling?"

He shrugged at her wondering lift of brow. A soft, deep chuckle, innately male, was followed by his dazzling smile. "I am a man, Gossamyr. We men...fickle though our hearts may be, do enjoy our women. And if given the freedom to pick and choose?"

Such freedom was far from Gossamyr's reach. For Glamoursiege, as Shinn would remind.

"I should like to marry for love," she said. Trailing her fingers over the surface of the stream, she fell into the fantasy of a life she would choose for herself. "My mother loved a man who sought her out every morning merely to watch her wake. The blush of waking, Shinn had once told me, is the most beautiful color on a woman's face."

"It is true. So smooth and perfect, a woman's lips, like tiny little sweets upon a king's table." Ulrich's sigh evoked a longing in Gossamyr. How she would like a man to look upon her with such reverence. "Er, I suppose you will wed a faery man? Can you ever return?" Ulrich asked.

"Of course ."

When Shinn saw to retrieving her, for she had not an idea in all the Spiral how else to return. Without twinclian she was a literal prisoner on the Otherside.

"And...you will return?"

"Anon. When my mission is complete."

"Of course, you must. So! Are all faery warriors women, then?"

Gossamyr smirked and stroked the base of her throat. "I explained before, male and female fee are equal. I took this mission because I was the only one qualified for it. My father was reluctant to send his daughter to the very land that stole away his wife-"

"Your mother was stolen from you? Be that something like the Dance?"

"Not at all, it was the mortal pa.s.sion." She shifted on her feet, moving closer to Ulrich. The need to scent him remained fore.

"And do you have this mortal pa.s.sion?"

"I pray not."

Those words came out more quickly than the truth registered in her brain. Of course the pa.s.sion festered within her. Else she would not at this moment stand ready to enter an embattled city. And she would not be sitting so close to a mortal man merely because he intrigued. Nor, she suspected, would the air entice with every light step she took.

The mortal world lay beneath her feet. No one stopped her from seeking. Perhaps-following their defeat-she would listen to the mortal opera and watch a comedy in the theater. Ride upon the great barges floating the river and listen to the choirs sing under a lusciously arched nave in a grand cathedral. The bestiary had ill.u.s.trated the beautiful colored windows and alluded to the tempestuous religions that reigned in the center of many a war between the mortals.

And then there was the chance she may stumble across him.

But to stay? She did not wish to go rogue! And there was always Time of which to be wary.

Ulrich's open expression beseeched her to continue.

"I do not have the leisure to think on anything but defeating the Red Lady. She will not see me coming until it is too late."

"You are brave." He reached and touched her forehead, smoothing aside a strand of hair that had escaped the tight plaits. Gossamyr flinched at the touch, but Ulrich made a soothing sound deep in his throat. Ah, that throaty rumble, initially frightening to her, but now it fit in her breast- right-as she fit here in this air.

"I mean you no ill." He lingered as his fingers traveled down to her shoulder.

"It is said," she offered, "that a fee who is touched by a mortal receives a chill that cleaves to his bones ever after."

"That be mortal touched."

"Yes."

"Do you wish me to stop touching you?"

She clasped his wrist, but let it go immediately. "Your touch... gentles."

"Your hair is soft and shiny. So elegant these twists of summer sunshine," he marveled.

"Witch plaits. They keep away-"

"Witches?" He gave a soft chuckle. "So faeries are as superst.i.tious as we mortals?"

She twisted her head, tugging at the tips of her plaits, and eyed Ulrich's hand, which, in the strangest way, claimed. She regarded the touch as personal for it lighted a flame in her breast and stirred-just a little-her reasoning. What did the man want from her? She would never again wager her heart. Not for the ache that still pulsed within. You could find him. Mayhap he has thought of you?

"Your closeness causes wonder, Ulrich."

"Ah. Indeed. Not minding my own caution." He snapped back his hand, but did not change the distance between them, which was fine for Faery but far too close for his mortal reasoning. "Mortal touched aside, have you never been touched by a faery man?"

She twisted her neck, tilting her chin away from him. "Why ask you that?"

"Just a little jumpy. You don't like my being so close." A tilt of his head hushed his breath across the bridge of her nose. "How is it when you deem it fine, it is, but when I decide to, it is not."

"It is...uncomfortable."

Now he caressed her chin. Commanding fingers forced her to look back at him, yet the gentlest smile filled his eyes. "Perhaps there are a few wonders for you to discover in this Otherside, eh?"

"Mayhap you guess at something I know well?" She pushed from his touch and began to march alongside the stream. But frustration kept her from treading too far, so she turned back. She wanted to look him in the eye. To challenge his teasing. Gossamyr de Wintershinn stepped from no challenge!

"Ah, so the woman has had a lover."

"You imply very much!"

Putting up both palms to placate, he then stood and brushed off his cloak. "Just making small talk."

A slash of her staff connected just below his chin. A jerk lifted his head so he had to look down at her. "It is small when you seek intimate means with someone you know so little."

"I merely seek to know you better. I did not intend to offend."

Gossamyr followed his parti-colored strides as he paced over and stepped inside the sh.e.l.l of the mill. Tall and lithe, a quiet fluidity marked his movements. If she must sum him up he was a fine mortal man. Not so c.o.c.ksure as the fee male.

Marry your daughter, my lord? Er...

One fee man had not seen the usual in her. Exotic, he had labeled her. And his kisses, even now, stirred a longing in Gossamyr's belly. Arousal tended to show in the fee wings, turning the normally pellicle appendages a deep color. His papilonid hind wings, with elegant projections that curled and uncoiled, had shaded to a lovely violet, stirring his long black hair to elegant waves across his back...

The memory of her loss hurt, and so Gossamyr pushed back the urge to re-create their tender moments. Her father had been cruel, reacting before considering his daughter's heart.

"Faeries know little of love," Shinn had warned. "It is merely l.u.s.t you feel."

l.u.s.t was not what her heart knew. It could not be! Nor could l.u.s.t have driven a man to arrive at his wife's bedside every morning just to watch her wake. It was something more. And the only something she could summon was love.

If her father's words held truth, why had it been so easy for Shinn to marry Veridienne? Had he loved her? Should not his marriage have been arranged, as was hers? Rarely did a fee lord marry by choice. Love? Or was it merely l.u.s.t wanting to be so much more?

Gossamyr could guess. Mortal women were compelling to the fee men. Exotic and easily seduced by the Enchanted. Though, no fee would make it known, they carried on illicit liaisons against the commands of their elders. Gossamyr had not heard the fee women mention such desires for the mortal male, though it was possible.

Half mortal in blood, flesh and soul-who was she to discount a mortal man?

"Do you hear that?"

Turning to the man's voice, Gossamyr stood and strode toward the water mill.

Ulrich propped himself in the doorway beneath a surviving wood awning, one leg dangling, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Suddenly the rains increased. Now the wooden slats were beat upon by heavy drops. The fresh scent smelled good enough to eat.

"Sweet, redeeming rain," Ulrich said reverently. Then he twisted his attention to Gossamyr.

So fierce his gaze fixed to her, she stepped back. A slick of her palm erased the rain from her nose and cheeks. "What?"

"I've an idea."He gripped her wrist and tugged. "Come with me."

"But-"

Cool, fat raindrops skipped across her face and soaked into the dusty wool gown. Gossamyr raised her face to the rain and closed her eyes. She felt Ulrich move his hands over her eyelids, her cheeks and her jaw but did not protest what he was doing.

"Forgive my touch, my lady."

"Blight that. Is it working?"

"Yes. Look!"

She opened her eyes to see his palms glittered with faery dust.

"It is washing from your hair, as well."

Gossamyr lifted her thick plaits and made to brush away the offensive glimmer, but she paused. Do I really want this? The surrender of all Enchantment? Her last tie to Faery and the father she relied upon for return. You yet have the fetch.

"What is it? Gossamyr? Ah." Ulrich's voice moved close to her ear and he embraced her.

She remained stiff, fingering the carved bone clasp tipping a plait, not sure how to react, or what to say. Embraced without her consent, she initially felt violated, and yet, the feeling was immediately replaced with relief and rea.s.surance. How long had it been since she'd been embraced by a man?

"I understand," he said against her ear, his wet lips cold. "Perhaps you should take cover?"

Close, this man. Close, this mortal realm. And she but a step away from completely joining it.

Gossamyr held out a hand, palm up, to catch the rain. Pulse, pulse, against her hand. Beat, beat-her heart favored this man's closeness.

Can you do it? Wash away all trace of Faery?

Can you become a champion?

"This must be done. It is...bone." Gossamyr lifted the hem of the sodden blue wool and pulled it up over her knees and hips, exposing her braies. Striding around the windmill and toward the stream she called back to Ulrich, "Don't look!" And she pulled the gown over her head and tossed it to the ground in a tangle.

"Oh, mercy." His groan made Gossamyr smile. "Why do this to me, woman? I have not looked upon a naked woman since my wife. There you go and- Hades!"

She trusted he walked around to the opposite side of the mill, for his voice trailed off. It mattered not. With or without a watcher, 'twas splendid to stand in the rain and sluice off the dust and dirt from the road.

Shivering, she slicked her hands down her rib cage and undid the hip belt and amphi-leather ties at her waist. Kneeling, she made quick work of the leather strips bound about her ankles. She slid her fingers over the braies and they dropped at her feet along with the Glamoursiege sigil, her purse, and a clutter of arrets.

Earth and gra.s.s, soggy and thick, squished between her toes. A warty gray toad hopped to and fro along the stream bank and Gossamyr followed, plunging to her knees into the cold water. She gave a squeal and sank down and dipped her head back, surrendering to the moment and the inevitable Disenchantment.

"To mortality," she whispered and closed her eyes.

The water barely deep enough to cover her to the waist, she floated. The bone clasps closing the ends of her plaits were shucked off with a tug. Quickly, she worked the braids open and splayed out her hair. Long pale tresses took on the weight of the water, then clung possessively about her naked flesh.

The notion of a lover's possessive embrace took shape and memory filled her thoughts...

Gossamyr wrung her hands in frustration as she looked up to Avenall. He hovered outside her bedchamber but could not enter. She had not, until now, been aware of the shield of glamour surrounding the castle.

"There is no way through this."Avenall punched out a fist. The shield glimmered and wavered like ripples on a pond then stilled. "You think it is only against me?"

"Not sure." Gossamyr stepped back, a finger to her lips, and thought. "Perhaps it is merely against my room. Yes! Go around to the south side, I'll meet you in my mother's study. No one ever goes in there."

Avenall flew up and out of Gossamyr's sight. Her cobwebby robes sailing out like the wings she would never own, she scrambled down the corridor and pushed open the door to Veridienne's room. She did not need light to navigate the room, so many times she snuck into her mother's private chambers to study the bestiary.

Trailing a finger across the dustless book as she pa.s.sed, Gossamyr sailed to the far side of the room and pulled open the curtain. Silk shinged to the side. Tale twilight entered. The summer night was hot and a moth that had been clinging to the curtain, seeking refuge from a predatory root frog, stretched out its wings and fluttered inside.

Avenall descended from above and landed the rose-festooned deck of the gallery with ease.

"You are sure it is safe?"Avenall folded his wings against his back and thighs and crossed his arms over his chest in a dashing pose.

"It is. I swear it to you"

Aware now she wore but a robe and her hair unbound, Gossamyr took a tentative step toward the grinning man. Young man, no longer a boy, but not quite a warrior. His shoulders were as broad as any of Shinn's warriors, and his muscles hard. The air, tangible against her skin, brushed her nerve endings to an alertness that prinkled.

"You are beautiful this evening," he said. "I don't believe I have ever seen you, my sweet, with your hair unbound."

My sweet? Gossamyr's heart lunged up her throat.

A rush of antic.i.p.ation pressed her up onto her toes. Twilight danced in Avenall's eyes, making them liquid, a rich violet wine Gossamyr wanted to drink until she wobbled. Close enough to kiss, to smell, to taste.

"Brown,"he whispered. He held her face so she could not look from him. "I have not before noticed your eyes. They are...exotic."