True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse (27 page)

To have Annelise as his lady was his every dream fulfilled. From this day forward, he had to fulfill hers.

With dawn’s light, he would take her home. He would confide in her the one tale that he could tell her, and then they would go to Killairig.

This time, their arrival would not be anticipated.

This time, he would be shielded against the hatred that aimed to strike him down.

*

The next time Elizabeth went to the clearing, the sky was overcast. She hurried from Kinfairlie’s hall, surprised to find herself so fearful that Finvarra might not be there. In one way, she imagined that he merely amused himself by taunting her, yet in another, she was certain he meant to tell her some secret of great import. She had managed to best him once at chess, and he had defeated her once, as well. She felt as if all hung in the balance on this day.

She ran through Kinfairlie’s forest, her fear that Finvarra would not be there multiplying with every step.

To her enormous relief, he was there, seated by the table and chess board, waiting for her as if time had no meaning to him. Perhaps it did not. He was dressed in silver raiment on this day, his robe of deepest blue and the embroidery as bright as moonlight. He smiled and inclined his head in greeting when she took her seat, so regal and composed that she was keenly aware of how flustered she must look. Her heart was racing and she had yet to catch her breath.

“Who is first on this day, my lord?” she asked, although she knew it was her turn to make the first move. She had lost the day before, and that was Finvarra’s habit.

He gestured to the board with one hand, his move languid and elegant. He braced his elbows on the board and steepled his fingers together, his dark eyes glittering as he watched her and waited.

Elizabeth had planned for this day, for she was determined to win. She had spoken to Anthony, Alexander’s castellan, at length the night before, querying him so persistently about winning strategies for the game of chess that he had nearly become suspicious of her motives. She reached for a knight and made a bold beginning.

“Once upon a time,” Finvarra said softly. He did not move or touch the chess pieces on his side of the board. He was utterly still, only his lips moving and Elizabeth was transfixed.

“Once upon a time, there was a pair of Fae lovers,” Finvarra said. “She loved to sing and to dance, and the earth so shared in her joy that flowers sprang forth wherever her feet had trodden. He was able to shift shape to a wolf, but so favored the form that he was seldom seen in any other. They shared a determination to savor the joys of the world, and to ignore change.”

His tone hardened on that last word, which made Elizabeth sit back. “Change?” she echoed.

Finvarra frowned. “We are in a time of transition, Elizabeth. For many years, the changes were small, but now they multiple and gather with such speed that irrevocable change is inevitable.”

“What kind of irrevocable change?”

“The kind that closes portals and demands that choices be made.” Finvarra’s lips tightened and he surveyed the board. “Once, my Elizabeth, we Fae owned this realm as our own and your kind were the intruders. Once we humored you mortals, perhaps because we pitied you, but now the balance of power has shifted.” He glanced up. “Now you would exile us.”

“I would not exile you.”

He shook his head, unconvinced. “How many in Kinfairlie believe in the Fae?”

“I am not certain, my lord.”

“All?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Most?”

Again, Elizabeth had to reply in the negative.

“Few?”

At this, she nodded, although Finvarra’s disapproval was clear. “We become little better than a children’s tale or source of amusement. Yet there was a day, not long ago, when all mortals believed in the Fae, when all mortals respected the Fae, and when the intersections of our worlds were potent places.” He considered her, his eyes impossibly dark. “What we believe creates our world, Elizabeth. If you believe a thing can be done, you are much more likely to be able to do it. If you believe the Fae exist, you are infinitely more likely to see us.”

“What if people do not believe in the Fae?”

“Then slowly, we fade and disappear.” His voice hardened once more. “I cannot permit that to happen.”

“What will you do?”

Finvarra turned his attention to the game and made a decisive move. Instead of answering her question, he continued with his story. “This pair spared no consideration for change. They believed their love was timeless and that they, in loving, were timeless, too. The fact remains that we, too, can die.” He fell silent then, scanning the board although she knew he was not truly thinking of their game.

“What happened to them?” Elizabeth prompted finally.

“They avoided change. They fled from it, perhaps believing distance or oblivion could deflect its effects. They laughed and ran and savored every joy that came to them.” He lifted a brow. “But change either followed them or anticipated them, as change is wont to do.”

“They faded,” Elizabeth guessed with horror.

“He was killed, by a mortal who believed him to be a wolf,” Finvarra said with more bitterness than she would have believed possible. His eyes flashed like lightning and she drew back in fear. He leaned over the board and bit off his next words. “Then that fiend saw fit to cut out the heart of the Fae wolf and devour it.” Finvarra straightened and glared down at the board.

Elizabeth knew he was reigning in his temper, so she waited in silence.

“Meanwhile, the Fae dancer bore two daughters after her lover’s demise, one dark as midnight and one as fair as dawn. This world had no joy for her in his absence, although she lingered to see her daughters raised. She made them pledge to avenge his death, then chose to follow him into the shadows from whence no one returns.”

“What did the sisters do?”

“They were as different in temperament as in appearance. The fair one believed that their father should be avenged by the breaking of the mortal man’s heart. The dark one believed that their father should be avenged by the mortal man losing all his material goods and wealth. They argued before they parted, but time, you must remember, passes differently for the Fae. In our terms, they were young. In yours, many years had passed. By the time each went her own way, the fiend had been dead for decades and a descendant ruled the affluent estate. It had prospered and grown, and these barbarians attributed their success to each son’s hunting a wolf, then eating the heart to prove himself.”

“Was it because the first one ate a Fae heart that he was fortunate?” Elizabeth asked, but Finvarra only gave her a quick glance in answer.

He cleared his throat. “In seeking to make a mortal ally, the dark sister bore a daughter by a mortal man. As is our custom, she was obliged to choose which gift of the Fae her daughter would possess, to the exclusion of all others. She asked that her daughter have the power to shift forms and become a wolf at will, like the mother’s father. As is our custom, the half-Fae child could never confess her gift to a mortal, without turning that mortal to a pillar of stone. The dark sister’s scheme did not come to fruition, for the father of her child had no desire for a daughter and cast her aside after the child’s birth. She then journeyed to the holding of the fiend, determined to see vengeance served.

“The fair sister, meanwhile, had enchanted the descendant of the killer. She conceived his child, and when her half-blood son was born, she chose for him to hear the thoughts of mortals, so that he could better defend himself. She had thought to make the descendant of the killer love her, then break his heart, but her scheme also failed. She fell in love with him and could not bring herself to betray him. Once in his household, she did not immediately recognize her dark sister, but that sister knew the identity of her lord’s wife and resented that her sister might be happily wed when she was not. The dark sister seduced the laird and beguiled him, turning him against her own sister. The laird exiled his lady wife and she was so anguished that we intervened for the sake of the son.”

“We?”

Finvarra smiled, but it was a cruel expression. “The boy was hidden, by a Fae who had chosen to abandon her heritage for the love of a mortal man. Mhairi had sympathy for the bride and more for the son, and she raised him as her own. In parting ways with us, Mhairi had requested the removal of her marks.” He pulled back his cuff to show the dark swirls on his flesh. “She had her wish granted, but in exchange, was forbidden to conceive a child by this mortal, Seamus.”

“So, she took this half-blood child as her own.”

“She did.”

“What happened to the dark sister?”

“Her power was considerable, and I had no real desire to check her, for I, too, wished her father to be avenged. She wed the laird after she bore his son, and she ensured that her son would be made heir.”

Finvarra paused, but Elizabeth had a question. “What power did she request for him from the Fae?”

“She wished him to appear as much like a mortal as possible. He was handsome, skilled in many pursuits, and would live long. He would have a beauteous voice. Beyond that, she requested naught.” He fell silent again, leaving Elizabeth with more questions.

“What happened to them? How did the tale end? Or has it yet?”

Finvarra smiled. “The dark sister continued to seek her sister’s son, for he was the only one who could cheat her son of what she believed he deserved. She was relentless in this quest.”

“Did she ever find him?”

Finvarra nodded. “She did.”

“What did she do?”

“First, she cursed him. She increased the volume of the thoughts of others in his mind, so that the tumult was deafening. She meant to force him to become a recluse with her curse, and perhaps to drive him mad.”

“He would not have been able to rule a prosperous holding with such a malady.”

Finvarra shook his head. “But that was not sufficient for her. She dispatched her daughter to kill him.”

“In the guise of a wolf,” Elizabeth guessed. “The son would die for his forebear’s crime. As the man had killed the wolf, the wolf would kill the man.”

Finvarra did not immediately reply. He gestured to the board and the pieces came to life. A rook on his side of the board turned into a dark grey wolf, one with paws and head that were almost black. The wolf leapt at the pieces arrayed on Elizabeth’s side of the board.

She saw with horror that her queen was the very image of her sister, Annelise, and that the wolf was raging toward her with teeth bared. Elizabeth gasped, for this was no idle tale. The wolf moved directly toward its prey, ignoring the grid on the board. Annelise stood frozen in horror, her hands before her lips.

“Nay!” cried Elizabeth and leapt to her feet. A knight on her side of the board, a blond man in a kilt, stepped forward. He raised a loaded crossbow and shot at the wolf.

The wolf fell, snarling, its blood running across the board as it died.

Knight and queen embraced, and Elizabeth had a moment to believe her sister had found a man deserving of her love.

“Why Annelise?” Elizabeth whispered, raising her gaze to meet Finvarra’s.

He smiled. “Because many a Fae curse can be broken by the power of love. I thought you had the power to see such things.”

Elizabeth looked and then she squinted. Sure enough, she saw the ribbon emanating from the queen on the board that looked so much like Annelise. It was of pale blue and mauve, edged in silver. It tangled with a ribbon of deepest blue and the pair of ribbons wrapped around the two pieces as if to bind them together. “She is his destined love,” Elizabeth whispered. “Just as he is hers.”

“Thus she is the only one who can heal him.” Finvarra snapped his fingers and the ribbons disappeared from Elizabeth’s view.

The black queen on Finvarra’s side of the board lifted her finger to point at Annelise and her partner. The dark knight on Finvarra’s side of the board nodded at the queen’s gesture. He was in mail and had ebony hair, and Elizabeth was shocked to recognize him.

“That is Andrew, one of the knights who came lately to Kinfairlie!”

He pulled his knife and began to stalk across the board. The embracing pair were oblivious to the danger.

“I have to warn her!” Elizabeth cried, having no doubt this was a fair representation of Annelise’s situation.

“But how?” Finvarra murmured, leaning back to watch her. The trees rustled behind him and around them, stirring in some strange wind and the clouds seemed to seethe overhead. His eyes shone, as if he knew a joke Elizabeth did not.

“Help me to help her!” Elizabeth implored.

Finvarra smiled. He swept to his feet and his cloak blew wide and it seemed that all the world was trapped within its lining. He gestured and the air swirled more quickly around them, a wind that snatched them up and plunged them down.

Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself on the parapet of the castle, a dark tower perched on a cliff. An angry sea pounded the rocks far below and the wind was stiff. Rain slashed down upon her and she spun in place, wondering where she was and why.

When she saw a couple in the courtyard below, she knew. It was the same blond man in kilt and boots and jerkin, the same man with the crossbow, though he held Annelise’s hand fast within his own. He turned to her and Elizabeth saw the adoration in her sister’s expression. She knew that whoever this man was, he had claimed Annelise’s heart, and knew she would do whatever was necessary to ensure love conquered all.