WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (17 page)

“Thank you, Your Highness.” A hazy film coated his eyes while he steadied himself against his cane. There was no doubting the obvious—the wizard was blind. He turned to Cerne and bowed. “Lord Silverwing, I’m honored.”

“I’m the one who is honored, Your Wizardry,” Cerne said, bowing. “Your magic is legendary throughout all of Fey. I cannot wait for our instruction.”

Ethelred nodded. He turned to Rhiannon and smiled. “Come, my dear child. You’re as beautiful as I predicted.”

Rhiannon blinked. “Isn’t he blind?” she whispered to Cerne.

A loud chuckle tumbled from the wizard’s mouth. “Excellent observation, Princess. I still have the ability to
see
—as well as hear.”

Rhiannon blushed. “So sorry, Your Wizardry. All this faerie stuff is still a little hard for me to take in.”

“I sense much magic within you, my princess. May I approach you, Your Highness?”

“Why not?” Rhiannon replied. “I would be honored.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” With slow steps, he hobbled toward Rhiannon. His long grey beard and stringy mop of hair flitted in the breeze.

“Why don’t you fly, Your Wizardry?” Rhiannon asked.

Ethelred chuckled. “Wings give us powers, so much so that we cannot control it. Our wings are clipped when we are initiated.”

Rhiannon cringed, remembering Lara’s mom’s parrot back in Michigan. All he could do was flap his little wings. “That’s terrible.”

“Not as terrible as a spell gone horribly wrong, especially for a young apprentice.” Ethelred smiled, his withered hands running over Rhiannon’s face. “Ah, yes, my visions did not lie. The princess is beautiful.”

Rhiannon blushed at the compliment. In normal circumstances, having a complete stranger touching her face would give her the heebie-jeebies. Ethelred’s hands, however, instilled a sense of calm and contentment.

“No need to blush, my dear princess.” Ethelred winked. A funny sight, considering his blindness.

Cerne grinned. “I enjoy watching her face flush.”

“Started the pleasure lessons, have you?” Ethelred chuckled.

Cerne nodded. “She’s a master of the dueling butterflies.”

“A remarkable skill to possess, that’s for certain,” Ethelred said, raising an eyebrow.

Maeve came forward, switching her wand in her hand. “As much as I’d love to stand here and chat, we have a magic lesson to start.”

Ethelred grinned. “I’m sorry, Councilwoman. I was merely excited to see the princess again.

I still remember the day she was born.”

“Don’t worry, Your Wizardry. I understand. No need to explain yourself.” Maeve turned to Rhiannon. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Do I get one of those cool wands?”

Maeve burst into laughter. “You always manage to get the best of me. Yes, you get a wand—for now.”

“For now? What about later?”

Ethelred patted Rhiannon’s shoulder. “You’re a royal faerie. When you’re finished, you’ll not need a wand.”

~*~*~

Cerne smiled, watching Maeve instruct Rhiannon on using the wand. She’d already learned the protection spell, which she—as she’d called it—aced on the first try. Maeve, to make sure it wasn’t just a fluke, had her try again. Thrice she’d cast a perfect spell. Cerne glanced over to Ethelred, who conjured a ball of energy. He tossed the fiery globe at Rhiannon, who had her back turned. What the deities did he think he was doing?

He opened his mouth to warn Rhiannon, but nothing came out. Rhiannon stopped in mid-stride, turned around, and deflected the bolt with her hand. Holy deities! She didn’t even use her wand.

“Excellent!” Ethelred clapped his gnarled hands. “You’re stronger than I expected.” Shaking his head, he turned to Cerne. “Do you not trust me, consort?”

“I apologize, Your Wizardry. It looked—”

Ethelred chuckled. “No need to apologize, Lord Silverwing. You were concerned for your princess. I would’ve reacted the same way, if it was the woman I loved.” Gods’ teeth, he wasn’t in love. Cerne nodded. No need arguing with a sixteen-hundred and twenty year-old wizard.

The wizard shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Children,” he muttered. He turned his attention back to Maeve and Rhiannon. “You’ve certainly mastered the art of protection, my dear Rhiannon. I believe we need to move on to bigger and better spells. Do you not agree, Councilwoman Windsong?”

Maeve nodded. “I agree, Your Wizardry. Our princess is more than ready.” She turned to Cerne. “I fear Cerne is bored. Shall we include him?” Cerne raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was only to observe, until the pleasure lessons.” Maeve chuckled. “There are always exceptions to the rules, my lord.”
My lord?
She only said that when she was planning something devious. “What do you want me to do,
Councilwoman?
”

“The princess should learn mind movement next.” A wide grin stretched across Maeve’s face. “Or are you too afraid?”

How could he refuse a challenge like that? To be honest, mind movement was a serious spell—one he hadn’t quite mastered himself. He was safe. “I am far from afraid, Maeve.” Rhiannon padded her way to him. “Mind movement?” she whispered. “What is that?”

“The ability to move things with your thoughts.” Cerne lowered his lips closer to her ear, breathing softly against her skin. “That’s how Maeve and Bel were able to lift us from the water.”

Rhiannon blushed. “Oh.” A hint of curiosity filled her voice. “I can’t wait to learn, so we can return the favor.”

“I hate to admit this, my sweet…”

Rhiannon gazed up with wide eyes. “What?”

“I haven’t had much success with mind movement.” Cerne gave her a sheepish smile. How hard it was to admit his shortcomings.

“What about the towel?”

Cerne arched his brow. “What towel?”

Rhiannon punched his arm. “The one you floated to me my last night on Earth!” By Gods, she was right. He’d forgotten. “That’s the only thing I’ve been able to move.” He’d tried to push most of that night, except for the glorious release she’d given him, out of his mind. He still felt guilty for tricking her with the kiss.

“Well maybe you should try again!” Rhiannon said excitedly. Her confidence in him warmed him to the core.

Maeve nodded. “I understand how much you’ve struggled with mind movement, Cerne. It’s worth a try.”

“Fine.” He turned to Ethelred. “What would you like me to move, Your Wizardry?”

“Move my crystal ball.” Ethelred pointed toward the amber-hued orb in the middle of the room. He leaned against his staff, showing Cerne his confidence in him.

Cerne closed his eyes and extended his hand, pointing at the crystal ball. Clearing away all his thoughts, he conjured an image of the amber ball in his mind. He imagined the ball moving up off the stand into the air.

Ethelred spoke in a clear even voice. “Bring it to me. Slowly.” Cerne nodded, turning his wrist. He visualized the ball floating weightless in the air toward the wizard. It couldn’t be this easy.

“Open your eyes, Cerne,” Ethelred commanded.

Afraid to find out where he’d sent the ball, he took time lifting his lids. Ethelred stood tall with crystal ball in hand and a smirk the size of the plains stretched across his face.

“You need more confidence in your abilities, Lord Silverwing,” the wizard chuckled.

“See!” Rhiannon exclaimed with glee. “I knew you could do it.” Maeve leaned against the globe stand and smiled. “You’re now coming into your powers, Cerne. Things are finally falling into place.”

Perhaps I am.
Cerne nodded and grinned. “I never thought I would master the skill. I’ve managed to impress myself.”

Maeve chuckled. “I’ve always known, Cerne. You would never have been chosen as prince consort if you couldn’t.”

Rhiannon gave him a disarming gaze. She rushed to him and threw herself in his arms, totally taking him by surprise. “I’m so excited for you, Cerne.” Had only one pleasure lesson changed her heart? It was almost magical.

“Thank you, Princess,” he replied, not wanting her to find out how she affected him. He pulled away and turned to Maeve. “I think it’s the princess’s turn, don’t you agree?” Maeve nodded. “Yes, I believe it is.”

Cerne turned to Rhiannon, a devious smile curving his lips. “Let’s see what the princess can do.”

~*~*~

What the hell was she doing wrong? One moment it seemed he offered an invitation, the

next moment he was pulling away. Well, she had news for him! She wasn’t going to give up.

“Sounds like a challenge I don’t dare refuse.” Rhiannon turned to Ethelred who rubbed his crystal ball. “What do you want me to move?”

Ethelred crossed his arms. “I believe we should start out light, for now, Your Highness. You can move my spell book.”

Rhiannon raised an eyebrow.
Light?
The damn thing was twice as big—if not bigger—than the unabridged dictionary her parents had kept at home. Granted, it probably wasn’t as heavy as the gigantic crystal ball. It would not be easy to move.

“Do you have anything—umm—lighter?”

Ethelred clucked his tongue. “You are of royal blood, my dear Rhiannon. Moving the book should prove no challenge at all.”

Cerne gave her another challenging smile. “You aren’t afraid are you?” Damn him. She returned his smile with one just as sneaky. “Far from it.”

“Good. We can’t have a consort showing up his princess now can we?”

“I’d be careful, if I were you, Lord Silverwing.” Maeve clucked her tongue. “She has much power she has yet to tap.”

Rhiannon turned to Ethelred. “So where should I stand?” she asked, eager to put Cerne in his place.

Ethelred pointed to an old set of wooden doors that appeared as if they hadn’t been open in a century or two. “Stand over there.” He then craned his neck toward Cerne. “Lord Silverwing. Go stand on the opposite side of the room.”

“Is he involved in my lesson?”

Ethelred nodded. “Since he has called the challenge, I find it most fitting for him to take an active role in your tutoring.” His lips curled into a furtive smile.

“Am I supposed to stand here and twiddle my thumbs whilst Rhiannon attempts the impossible?” He winked at her and flashed a grin dripping of cunning.

Were these men planning something? The expressions on each of their faces said as much.

Men!
She swore they always had some sort of trick up their sleeve. It was time to find some of her untapped energy and show them. With her head held high and firmly back, she strode to the doors, turned around to face Cerne, and crossed her arms. She twisted toward Ethelred. “Is this where I stand, Your Wizardry?”

Ethelred nodded, still smiling wide. She really did not know what this ancient faerie found so damn amusing. Then again, they did have their bizarre sense of humor.

“Good, Your Highness. You’ll simply lift the book and bring it to Cerne, using nothing but your mind.”

“It’s called psychokinesis where I come from,” Rhiannon grumbled. “Well, where I was raised, at least.”

Ethelred laughed. “Humans and their strange and confusing words. Mind movement is much easier to say, don’t you think?”

Rhiannon had to agree. She’d give props to anyone who could even spell psychokinesis.

“Well they shorten it to PK, for the spelling-challenged.”

“Mind movement still sounds better,” Maeve chimed in. “Look at your consort. He’s growing bored. Shall we have some fun?”

Cerne raised his eyebrow. “I’m far from bored, Maeve. I’m excited to be a part of my future wife’s instruction.” He craned his head toward Rhiannon. “It will be most interesting, indeed.” Was he deliberately goading her? Perhaps this was his way to build up her spirit. Well if that was the case, he was failing horribly. All he was doing was making her angry. It reminded her of college and the men who thought they were better than she was.

“Close your eyes, my dear,” Ethelred said.

Rhiannon huffed. “I know the routine.” She clenched fists and slammed her eyes shut.

“Confident, aren’t we.” Cerne’s voice carried across the room.

Rhiannon laughed. She never seemed the confident type—until he dragged her to Fey. “A little, I suppose.”

Cerne snickered. “Well, you’ll need more than a little confidence to have a successful mind movement on the first try.”

“Cerne, do not goad the princess.” Maeve chuckled. “You may end up with a very large tome hurled at your head.”

“Enough,” commanded Ethelred. “Let the princess perform her magic.” Silence echoed throughout the room. “Now, Your Highness. Remember what you saw Cerne do. Lift the book and give it to him.”

Easy enough, if she was as powerful as they said she was. Rhiannon lifted her hand and pointed it at the book. She raised her hand again, willing the book to move. From the silence

surrounding her, she doubted the book had even moved a millimeter. Feeling her confidence starting to slip, she suddenly heard the loud clang of a large object fill the room. Upon opening her eyes, she spotted the book lying wide open on the table. She turned to Cerne who lounged against the wall with his legs and arms crossed.

“Losing confidence, my dear?” Cerne asked. She heard the sound of Maeve’s foot meeting with his shin.

“I was expecting some words of encouragement, as you gave Cerne.” Rhiannon gave a sheepish smile.

Maeve laughed. “You don’t need encouragement.”

Cerne narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Maeve rolled her eyes. “It means you need to shut up and be a dutiful consort-to-be.” She turned back to Rhiannon. “Shall we continue?”

“It’s obvious to me she needs more training,” Cerne said. “It’s hard to master.” She’d show him what was hard to master. Rhiannon closed her eyes, lifted her hand and commanded the book to rise. Confident that the book floated in the air, she flung her hand toward Cerne.

With a loud whoosh, she felt the book zing through the air. A loud crack filled the room as she heard the book connect with what she thought was the wall.

Until she heard Cerne’s muffled moan of pain.

She flung her eyes open and panic coursed through her. Cerne lay crumpled against the wall, clutching the book she’d so casually—at least that’s what she thought—flung at him.

“Great deities!” Maeve exclaimed.