WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (11 page)

Onora twirled a finger in her hair. “I'll remember to stay on your good side, Your Highness.”
This ‘Your Highness’ business had to go.
“I think of you as a friend, Onora. You may call me Rhiannon in private.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to cause any disturbance.”

“I'm certain.” Rhiannon took the girl in her arms in a friendly hug. “Matter of fact, I'll be even more upset if you don't.”

“As you wish, Rhiannon.” Onora beamed. “Would you like to visit the gardens?”

“I've heard a lot about the palace gardens. They sound magnificent.”

“I need to gather some lichen for the Queen anyway. It will be a most pleasant retreat. I'll show you all the magical herbs and tell you about their uses.”

Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. “Magical herbs?” She'd only tried one supposed magical herb in her life, but the effects were less than magical.
Stupid high school peer pressure.

“Yes, I love mixing herbs. I would love to show you sometime.” Not only was Onora smart, she was an herbalist too. These faeries fascinated her even more as the day went on. “I've always been interested in natural remedies.” Rhiannon climbed out of the bed and stretched her legs. She turned to Onora and gave her a huge grin. “Okay. Time to get dressed.”

“What color gown does the princess—” Onora blushed, “—Rhiannon wish?” Onora giggled and stood. “Please don't say brown.”

“Forest green.” Rhiannon raised her arms, allowing Onora to lift the dress up and over her body.

Onora padded to the large wardrobe and flung the doors open, revealing a rainbow of silks, gossamers, crepes and gauzes. Never had Rhiannon seen so many colors in one single closet.

“Holy smokes! That's a lot of clothing.”

Onora grinned, producing a beautiful forest-green velvet gown trimmed with a gold emerald-encrusted belt. The costume looked like something Rhiannon would've seen at a Renaissance faire—and absolutely gorgeous.

“Here you are.” Onora placed the gown in Rhiannon's hands. Despite the thick velvet, this gown was as feather light as the one she'd just removed.

“How come these gowns are so light? On Earth this would weigh a ton. Are we on the moon or something?”

“The fabric is woven with enchanted threads. The palace wizard blesses every yarn, string, and thread used for each garment. He also blesses the mushrooms used for the men's breeches.”

“Mushrooms?” Rhiannon, again, refused to comment.
Mushrooms and magic herbs?
The only thing missing was the patchouli.

“The breeches are made from mushroom skin. When sewn, the material is rather sturdy.”
So that’s what the strange pants Cerne wore were made of?
They were extremely soft as well as form-fitting. They showed all the ridges and plains of his thighs and calves. Rhiannon wished the men on Earth wore such eye-appealing clothing. She giggled, wondering if they were edible too. It would make a most interesting evening for Cerne and her.

“You know, we eat mushrooms on Earth, right?”

“These are toadstools. A bit different from typical mushrooms your friends on Earth partake in.” Onora assisted in pulling the exquisitely soft fabric down over Rhiannon's curves. She smoothed the velvet while Rhiannon adjusted the belt at her waist.

“You'll need your circlet.” Onora held out an emerald and ruby-encrusted gold headdress.

“It's beautiful!” Rhiannon strained to touch it, afraid the delicate band encrusted with diamonds rubies and emeralds would snap on contact. “I can't wear that. It looks too expensive.”

“But you must!” Onora placed the circlet on Rhiannon's head. “See?” Onora turned Rhiannon toward the mirror.

Rhiannon's jaw dropped. She still couldn't get over how amazing she looked. The jewels sparkled and the golden crown glowed around her head. “Wow. I'm speechless.”

“Why does your beauty surprise you?” Onora twirled one of Rhiannon's curls around her finger. “After all, two of the most handsome faeries in all of Fey are your parents.”

“So when am I going to meet these two über-attractive faeries?” The sooner she met them, the sooner she'd do what she was brought here to do. Then she’d return to Earth and get her promotion.

“The elder council will decide when.” Onora's mouth swept into a toothy grin. “But I'm sure it'll be soon. Councilwoman Windsong plans on starting your lessons tomorrow.”
Oh God, not the lessons
. From the dissertation Maeve gave her earlier, she would learn everything, including how to ignite the faerie passion—whatever the hell that meant. It was probably some bizarre and kinky sex ritual. From the brief conversation with Maeve, these faeries were extremely serious about their sexual relations. They had courtesans, sex instructors, rooms dedicated to sex and carnal pleasure, and a wide variety of massage oils, lotions, and toys she'd never dreamed of using. Yet the thought of using them with Cerne sent shivers of desire coursing through her.

“Cool! I can't wait.” Rhiannon turned to the door. “The garden beckons, doesn't it?” Onora took Rhiannon's arm in hers. “Indeed it does.” She opened the double doors and led her out. They turned the corner and made their way down the long corridor toward the palace gardens.

“How much further until we get there?” Rhiannon asked. Had she been on Earth, the pointy-toed slippers she wore would've hurt like hell, but not here in Fey. The proverbial feeling of floating on air overcame her. “I'm not uncomfortable or anything. I'm just eager to get to the

garden.”

“We're almost there, Your Highness.” Onora turned the corner, just as a bald, stocky faerie came from the north.

Mr. Clean with wings? How cool!

Onora jerked to a stop and bowed to the man. The older faerie looked down his nose to the younger faerie-in-waiting and huffed. Rhiannon would much rather suffer through a root canal than bow to some arrogant stranger.

“You may rise.” He nodded, turned to Rhiannon, and gave her a scrutinizing gaze. “Is this our princess?”

Onora, whose expression remained flustered, finally spoke. “Yes, Your Excellency.” She turned to Rhiannon. “May I present Her Royal Highness, Rhiannon Nightwind, Princess of the White Plains?”

The man offered a quick bow. “As High Councilman of White Court, I am honored to welcome you back.”

Wonderful. Someone else to remember?
“Does the High Councilman have a name?”

“Radan Evenspring, Your Highness. Please allow me your arm so we may chat.”

“Mr. Evenspring, I must regretfully decline. I've already promised Onora a stroll in the garden. She’s going to show me White Palace’s vast expanse of magical herbs. I look forward to helping her gather them.” Was it her, or did she sound like she just read a line from a Jane Austen book, save for the bit about the magic herbs.

“A princess should not be in the garden picking plants, Onora.” He gave the young maid a disapproving glare. “What would Queen Titania think if she knew you had her daughter doing menial labor?”

She turned and caught a glimpse of Onora shuddering in her slippers. The dear girl's lip quivered. “I...I...I'm sorry, Your Excellency. I only wanted to—” Rhiannon stepped forward. “Actually, High Councilman, Onora said she needed to gather the herbs, and I insisted on coming along.” She gave him her own disapproving glare. “So if you want to chastise someone, you might as well blame me.” Noticing his silence, her mouth curved into a wry grin. “Is it against the rules for the princess to learn the customs of her people?”

“No, Your Highness. I believe gardening is a task better left for lesser servants.”

Now she was officially pissed off. “Is that so? Perhaps you'd like to join us as well?” Raising his chin high, Evenspring huffed and flitted his wings with the pomposity of a peacock. “I'll speak to the Queen about this.”

She took Onora's arm in hers “By all means, be my guest. Good day, High Councilman.” With a curt nod, she dismissed him. Without looking back, she allowed Onora to lead her down the corridor.

Onora let out a deep breath. “No one besides the Queen and King themselves has ever spoken to the High Councilman with such authority. Not even Councilwoman Windsong.”

“That's too bad. It's about time, I suppose.” Her mouth fell to the floor as she took in the vast expanse of flowers and plants through the etched glass doorway.

“Is that the garden?”

The maid nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Rhiannon clucked her tongue. “Rhiannon.”

A blush swept across the young faerie's face. “I'm sorry, I forgot—Rhiannon.”

“No problem. I'll let you off with a warning—this time.” Taking in the aroma of tropical flowers mingling with the heady scent of herbs and spices, she smiled. She could definitely get used to this. She'd keep that to herself—for now.

“What’s this called?” Rhiannon ran her finger across a beautiful white flower flecked with purple.

“Eyebright. It's used by the wizards to aid in their psychic journeys.” Onora reached down and grabbed a few, placing them in her basket.

Rhiannon giggled and followed suit, placing some in her own basket. “I could use some help with my psychic visions as well.”

Onora giggled. “When the time has come, you'll not need herbs to aid in your magic. You’re born into it.”

“If I was born into it, why does Titania need herbs? Can’t she use her magic?”

“Losing you took a toll on our queen. She became weaker as the years went by.” Onora squeezed Rhiannon's hand. “But you've returned. Our future finally looks brighter.” Onora beamed, and Rhiannon couldn't help but smile. “This is all so weird to me. I don't know where to start or what to do.”

“Councilwoman Windsong will help you.”

“I'm sure she will.” Rhiannon gazed down to catch a flash of light flit in front of her. “What the heck is that?”

Onora held out her hand and clucked her tongue a few times. The speck of light floated in the air and landed in Onora's palm. She held it out to Rhiannon. “It's a wishbug. Just call it, and once it lands in your hand, you can have any wish your heart desires. But only if it's sincere.” She blew a soft breath and sent the bug flying away.

“What did you wish for?”

“Would it be much of a wish if I told someone?” Onora bent down and gathered an armful of yet another plant.

Rhiannon nodded. These faeries were more like humans than she realized. “I suppose you're right. What's that you just picked?”

“
Hus Mor
. Humans call it mullein, I believe. It’s the herb that helped Lord Silverwing find you. It's known for its ability to help locate those kidnapped by the dark
sidhe.
”

“Interesting.” Craning her neck, Rhiannon spotted a familiar plant. The bright purple flowers danced along the path. “Verbena!”

“
Crubh-an-leoghain,”
Onora replied in the faerie language. “Go get some. It aids with visions and prophesy. Gods know we can always use that sort of help.” Rhiannon nodded eagerly. She'd always had a thing for verbena. Even her favorite Bath and Body Works scent had some in it. “Cool!”

She rushed over to the plant and gathered as much as she could in her arms. “Is this enough?”

A brighter flash of light rent the garden, sending Rhiannon flying back. All her verbena spilled to the ground.

“Plenty,” Maeve said, stepping from the light. She glanced down at Rhiannon's bounty scattered at her feet “Here, let me help you, Your Highness.” She knelt down and gathered up some of the flowers.

“You need to warn someone before doing that, Councilwoman.” Rhiannon picked up the rest of the spilled plants. “And please call me Rhiannon. I order it.” She brushed a curl from her face. “All this formality drives me nuts.”

“I like you already, Rhiannon.” Maeve smiled. “Cerne has his work set out for him.

Speaking of which, how did your private meeting go?”

Rhiannon’s blush must've spoken volumes. Maeve burst into a chuckle. “Well, I assume?” Rhiannon shook her head. “Nope. Not at all.” For some unknown reason, she relayed the events of Cerne's intimate show to Maeve, as if she was a friend she'd known forever. “We argued some more. I went back to my chambers, where Onora found me. Now here I am, gathering herbs.”

Maeve nodded. “I also hear you’ve met High Councilman Evenspring?”

“Yes.” Rhiannon snorted. “The men in this kingdom need to learn some manners.”

“I apologize for High Councilman Evenspring. I believe he expected you to be more compliant.”

Compliant? Get real.
These faeries weren't that stupid. “Did he expect me to just magically accept this role you've sprung on me?”

Maeve shrugged. “The High Councilman has been one of your most vocal supporters. When he learned Cerne had discovered your whereabouts, he insisted on your return—despite Cerne's objections.”

Rhiannon's face fell. “Cerne only did this because he was following orders?” Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised. He was loyal to his kingdom.

“Oh, I didn't mean it that way. He was concerned about your human upbringing, is all. He was worried that you were tainted. But those worries are now in the past.” Maeve reached down and picked a daisy, then brushed away a lock of Rhiannon's hair and placed the flower behind her ear.

“I didn't like the way High Councilman Evenspring treated Onora.” Rhiannon turned to Onora who was busy picking berries from a tree. She plopped a succulent berry into her mouth and giggled. “From what you've told me, I thought the women here were respected. But now I realize it's no different here as it is on Earth.” Maeve sucked in a deep breath. “High Councilman Evenspring was expecting the role of faerie-in-waiting to go to his daughter, Sorcha. When the Queen bestowed the honor on a chambermaid, he was rather miffed.”

“What happened to Sorcha?”

Maeve shrugged. “She left the castle to return home. Some say she'd chosen another for her life-mate. Despite his daughter’s wishes, High Councilman Evenspring lobbied day and night to change Queen Titania's mind, to no avail. Their relations became rather strained.”

“How horrible. But he can't possibly blame Onora?” Maeve nodded. “I think his pride was injured the most. He saw it like a slap to the face.” Maeve shook her head. “And for his daughter to choose beneath her has been another wound to his pride.”