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  “I believe so. She’s strong and supportive, and filled with beauty. Serene.” This tree sheltered all manner of life, from his and Lear’s abode, the nests of numerous birds and small mammals, to a colony of peaceable honey bees. Truly a bountiful presence in the wood.

  “It’s wonderful. I’ve never been in such a marvelous place.” Hanna looked up at him with a wistful smile. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  Instead of answering, he bent his head to kiss her. Too soon he’d have to escort her away, remove her from their hearth, excise her from their lives. An ache grew beneath his breastbone and he resolutely began to imagine tomorrow: a day of duty and Lear’s companionship with no sweet and willing Hanna to treasure. What was the magic they could wield compared to the enchantment she could bestow with a simple touch or look?

  Chapter Seven

  The click of the door closing was the only indication that Lear and Garrin had left her. Hanna swallowed hard and stared at the bare, cracked wall of her bedroom. Maybe if she concentrated on the worn plaster, or the underlying smell of smoke from the fire, she’d be able to ignore the pain in her heart. She probably should have demanded that the elves cast a spell of forgetfulness on her. That way she wouldn’t ache with longing for the rest of her miserable life. The elves had returned her home as promised, but she wasn’t the same person who’d fled the night before. Now that Lear and Garrin were gone she finally had to admit to herself she’d fallen in love with them. She was experiencing the same joyous and agonizing sensations the romantic songs and tales proclaimed. The impossibility of it meant nothing compared to the painful longing that filled her.

  Phoebus wandered into the room and sat with his back to her as he stared out the door. The fur on his back twitched as he flicked his bushy tail.

  “Yes, I miss them too.”

  He didn’t even flinch at the sound of her voice. With a sigh, she rose from the bed, the tender flesh between her legs still throbbing from the attentions the elves had showered on it just hours before. Before she could hold them back, memories of their lovemaking intruded. She’d never been so physically satisfied, nor so secure in herself. Being with Garrin and Lear had transformed her. She’d discovered how strong her passions were, how she could indulge without peril, and she didn’t know how she was going to find that again among the men of the mundane world. They’d listened to her, expressed such clear happiness at her presence, and had done nothing but try to help and please her. Even the cat liked them. She would never love a human as much as she loved Garrin and Lear.

  But the elves were right, they had to separate no matter how compatible they’d found each other. She wasn’t welcome in their world, just as they would be in peril if they remained too long in hers.

  She stepped around Phoebus and made her way down the narrow stairs, trying to lift her mood by reminding herself that at least her shop and her one means to make a living had been spared by the fire. When confronted by the packed shelves and cluttered work bench, the tight feeling in her belly and throat increased to painful proportions and she clenched her jaw against the sob that wanted to rise. Instead of taking up her tack hammer and commencing work on a pair of appliqued slippers for Madame Constant, she instead turned to her kitchen. It would be easier to start in the kitchen, where there wasn’t as much to go through.

  Pushing open the slatted door, she stepped in and stopped still. A huge stack of seasoned wood filled the rack by her fireplace. On the small round table in the center of the room sat bundles, baskets and boxes too numerous to count. All were of fine design and workmanship and were clearly the product of elven hands. She’d have to hide them, else some nosy person would speculate about where she’d gotten such wonderful things. When she opened one of the lidded baskets, she gasped. Inside, lined with pale, dry grass, were rows of sealed red pots with an incised apple on each. Preserves? She didn’t dare open one. The next box held bundles of thin crackers wrapped in stiff waxed paper and bound with bright yellow twine. A stout metal casket contained long sheaves of dried lake trout, sure to please both her and Phoebus. It seemed there were provisions enough to last a winter and beyond. When she opened a linen bundle, inside she found a stack of silk and wool clothing. Gowns, stockings, a beautiful pleated cloak…the colors and textures overwhelmed her with their restrained beauty.

  The tears she’d repressed burst forth in a burning cascade and she sobbed aloud while clutching the cape to her chest. They were gone. The gifts they’d left her only underscored how much she’d lost. As she sniffled in a shallow breath, the edges of her vision faded. Then the stack of goods before her disappeared into darkness even as cold and clammy air coated her skin. She tried to scream as her legs gave way, but was instead enveloped in a roaring void.

  ****

  “Could you have enchanted her? Because I certainly couldn’t.” Lear knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t care. They’d already had this argument and yet here was Garrin bringing Hanna up and rubbing a handful of salt into a very deep wound.

  “Of course I couldn’t have cast a powerful enough spell. My talents don’t manifest in that manner. Yours do, however.” His mate gave him a glare and a frown to garnish the anger in his tone.

  “And as I explained to you at least a score of times, magic doesn’t work unless you will it. I lacked the will to veil her memory of us.”

  “You also lacked the will to stay away from her, to resist the appeal of her—” Garrin broke off and turned away to stare out the window of their bedroom. A large black bird fluttered past and Lear wished he was as free. They’d departed from Arlentown after returning Hanna at midmorning and had been sniping at each other ever since. Garrin didn’t say it, but Lear knew he too was aching over the separation from her. Even if his mind knew she was better off among her own kind and would find no welcome in the magical realm, a foolish part of his soul wished it were different. Little speculations of places they might go and find refuge kept blooming in his heart but he ruthlessly stomped them down.

  He watched his mate’s tight shoulders, and guilt washed through him. He’d been the instigator of this episode and now Garrin suffered. Walking to him, Lear brought his arm around Garrin’s waist. His mate turned and embraced him, his familiar scent and strength a comfort Lear sorely needed.

  “I wish we had never intervened in her life. Knowing she’s alone and unprotected, might suffer at the hands of her neighbors or the whims of fate, is making me ill.” Garrin’s whispered lament struck a resounding chord in Lear and he blinked back his own tears of worry.

  Before he could offer up some sort of balm, the room was suddenly pitch black, despite it being the middle of the day. Garrin stiffened and wrenched away from Lear’s grip, likely ready to fight an invader. Who had cast a spell of darkness upon them?

  The sound of rushing wind filled the bedroom, and the shadows around them coalesced into the looming shapes of wraiths. Tall, robed, faceless forms armed with iron halberds surrounded them and with a cold bolt of fear, Lear realized the queen was not amused. She’d sent her undead rangers to retrieve them. Before either he or Garrin could react, the air around them went cold and the walls and floor disappeared into a thick grey fog.

  He and Garrin materialized directly in the royal audience chamber in the middle of the assembled council of nobles. He barely kept his feet as they emerged from the shadows, and Garrin stumbled at his side. Transportation by magical means was often disorienting, and the queen’s minions had made no effort to soften the effects of this abduction. Ranks of royal elves surrounded them, their hauteur apparent in their expressionless faces and embroidered robes. Lear had played many a romp for these folk and knew well enough to avert his gaze to the floor and prayed his mate would adopt a humble pose immediately.

  Silence reigned until some subtle signal caused the elves ringing them to part and create a path toward the throne. The queen was already there, her face held immobile. Despite her apparent calm, Lear could sense the tension in the hall. It didn�
��t really matter where it originated, only that he and his mate were seemingly the cause.

  “Approach the throne of the Queen of the Wood.” Her vizier’s voice rang out and Lear and Garrin marched toward whatever judgment she cared mete out. She watched them with cold green eyes and as soon as he reached her, he sank to his knees, grateful Garrin was by his side but wishing whatever punishment she decided to mete out would be his alone to bear.

  She barely moved under her heavy court robes. She was attired in dark red, the color of blood and anger, while the crystal crown gleamed upon her brow.

  “My troubadour, my warden, how fare thee?”

  The stylized greeting inspired no sense of welcome in Lear. Her tone was as icy as a frozen lake at midwinter. “We fare well, my Queen, and wish the same for you.”

  The formalities completed, she allowed some expression to flit across her features, but it was too fleeting for Lear to guess at her feelings. She adjusted her hold on the slim oak bough she held across her lap, a symbol of her domain. “I don’t wish to prolong the suspense, as there are many matters of greater import requiring my attention presently.”

  Lear broke eye contact with her and stared at the green marble floor in front of him, anxious to appease her. His stomach roiled as he considered where they had erred. It didn’t take much thought. Their tryst with Hanna had been discovered by some means. Punishment would be severe.

  There was a sudden thump and a soft cry to one side of the room and Lear swiveled his head to discover the cause of the noise. A dark cloud lifted to reveal Hanna on her hands and knees, tumbled hair partially obscuring her face as a wraith pressed his halberd’s base to her back. A low growl erupted from Garrin and his mate coiled his body as if to leap to battle. Lear also tensed, overcome by a sudden urge to cast the supernatural being into another dimension.

  Hanna cried out in distress, and Lear gripped his mate’s arm to prevent any movement. Wraiths were notoriously bloodthirsty, and he hardly wished to provoke this one into harming the young human woman cowering before it. She gathered her legs under her and looked up, despite being prodded by the swirling ghost behind her. Her eyes widened as she took in the tall, silent elves surrounding her, but a small smile curved her lips when she beheld him and Garrin. With a tiny cry she crawled away from the wraith, which made no move to contain her, and launched herself at them both, her thin arms wrapping around them as she made breathless little sounds of what he hoped was relief rather than impending hysteria.

  “Thank you for not wasting my time denying the truth. Your bodies cannot deny what occurred. I sensed the magical barrier had been violated last night and ordered an investigation. My bloodhounds scented the human this morning and the evidence of your…swiving…was thick in the air when my guard went to investigate.” The queen had switched to the human tongue at Hanna’s arrival and Lear wondered at the courtesy.

  Several of the nearby elves moved slightly and Lear wasn’t sure if they were disgusted by the idea of coupling with a human, or merely attempting to get a better look at Hanna as she was attired in only a thin silk chemise that did nothing to disguise her voluptuous form. Garrin kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear and she immediately sank into Lear’s embrace, her body shaking as she stared around the throng. She’d probably never seen a space so large or constructed of such materials, and she certainly had never seen so many supposedly mythical beings assembled. Lear thanked fate that no centaur or manticore had decided to attend.

  Garrin stood, a breach of protocol, but considering their circumstances it was a small sin. “Yes, Your Majesty, we have erred. I should have been able to restrain both myself and my mate in this matter.”

  “You lacked the will, Warden? I find that surprising since you always impressed me as a decisive sort. Well suited to conform to the rules that protect the realm.”

  Hanna twisted in his arms, clearly trying to see the interaction between the queen and Garrin, but Lear urged her to keep her head down and attract as little notice as possible. She wriggled anyway, her slim hands colliding with his own.

  “In this case, I decided a different path.”

  “And brought the potential of human intervention to our doorstep.” The queen sat forward on the throne and narrowed her eyes. Several of the standing elves shuffled back. “Your base lust has endangered us all.”

  Garrin bowed his head and murmured agreement, but he stood firm, his body planted between the queen and his mate. His mates, Lear realized. Garrin wished to protect them both. Why else would he have tucked Hanna into Lear’s arms? It was a strident declaration that he cared for her on equal terms. Lear’s heart, already thudding with worry, now glowed with happiness. Garrin was as helplessly in love with Hanna as he was. It was a pity they’d be unlikely to enjoy it past this moment.

  “A breach of this nature hasn’t occurred in many years,” the queen said in a thoughtful tone, conveniently overlooking her cousin’s blatant dalliances. “In millennia past, the penalty was death.”

  Hanna drew in a deep breath, and Lear’s stomach plummeted. He could only hope innocent Hanna would be spared and sent back among her own kind with her memory purged of the entire episode. Garrin’s posture tightened and he squared his shoulders.

  The queen surveyed them a long moment, her chin upraised as she decided their fate. Numbness invaded Lear and he sent up a quick prayer for mercy.

  “I, however, am inclined to not tempt the fates by spilling blood for love. Foul magic would result. It is love you share, is it not?”

  Relief washed through him in a soothing wave and he found himself nodding. “Yes, Your Majesty, I love her.” Hanna turned and studied him, her lips slightly parted. With a little sigh, she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his. He tightened his grip on her and sought his mate’s gaze. Garrin was staring at the tableau he and Hanna made as they crouched on the cold stone floor, his eyes alight with the same warm affection he showed Lear. Hanna twisted her head to regard him as her fingers tightened on Lear’s shoulders.

  “I love her too. She is a delight to my soul.” Garrin’s voice was rough, but his sincere words prompted Hanna to stand and fling herself at him, pressing herself into his rough embrace. Lear lurched to his feet and joined them, heedless of appearances as he joined his true loves. What more was there to say between them?

  A slight sound from the direction of the throne tore his attention from the kisses he shared with Garrin and Hanna, and he froze.

  “Touching.” Her tone was nearly bored. “You’ll live, and together it seems, but where? Certainly not within the protection of my kingdom’s charmed borders.”

  She stroked her fingers along the branch she held, the leaves rustling. Lear wondered how he and Garrin would survive amongst humankind. Could they permanently maintain their glamour to avoid detection? Perhaps there was some isolated settlement they might find where privacy would be possible.

  The queen made a flicking gesture with her hand and a courtier appeared at her side, a raven perched on his shoulder. The messenger bird croaked and fixed a beady, knowing black eye upon them. “I have found you a refuge with the Southern King. He will accept you onto his island in the middle of the Phoenician Sea. The humans believe it lost to earthquake and waves, poor fools.”

  “With Hanna Bregot,” Lear spoke up, his need to confirm her inclusion a vital matter. If she was not welcome, he would roam the wastelands of the East with her rather than abandon her.

  “Is that her name? Yes, with your human woman. King Lynos has a much more relaxed attitude toward these matters. I attribute it to proximity to vineyards and sandy beaches.”

  “My cat. I need Phoebus.” Hanna spoke up as she met the queen’s gaze with hardly a tremor. The elves around them whispered at her audacity. To Lear’s knowledge, no human had ever seen the leader of the elves, let alone made a demand of her.

  “Come here.” The queen’s command brought Hanna up short and Lear gave her an encouraging squeeze before she approac
hed the throne. The queen beckoned her closer and as Hanna drew near, the elf woman unexpectedly reached out and grasped her chin in a tight grip. Hanna hissed out a breath and the gathered throng shifted and muttered under their breaths. For a long, silent moment, the two women studied each other; one springing from generations of privilege and magical acumen, the other a human cobbler’s daughter thrust into a world she’d never imagined.

  “I give you the gift of your life and you expect more?”

  “My cat will suffer and die if I leave him behind.” Hanna’s posture was straight and she betrayed no fear as she faced the queen. Lear’s heart swelled with pride and love as he watched her carry herself as if she belonged at court, despite wearing only a sheer chemise. With a start, he realized her lush body was visible through it and a surge of protectiveness filled him. As soon as she returned to their side he intended to remove his tunic and cover her.

  “Mercy seems to be a common theme tonight, and one I’m not used to deploying. I’ll forgive your arrogance, human wench.” With a cool smile, the queen released Hanna’s chin and leaned back in her throne as if she’d completed all the tasks laid before her for the day. “The cat will be yours, but the three of you must leave my kingdom tonight.”

  Lear began to assess what he absolutely needed to bring along and what he’d have to abandon in their beloved tree house. What manner of abode would they find in the Southern Realm? What would he and Garrin do? And Hanna, how would she fare among magical folk? The weight of what they were about to undertake pressed at him almost as much as the growing realization he’d be leaving the people he’d known his whole life and all the familiar and beloved places in the kingdom. Sucking in a breath, he promised himself he’d manage, and as Garrin slipped his hand across his back, certainty filled him.

  Hanna said her thanks quietly and bowed her head, turning and quickly returning to their sides, where Lear promptly shed his tunic and slipped it over her head. She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth as thanks, then turned to face the queen as Her Majesty bade the court attend her.