In the Witching Hour Read online

  “No veil between the Otherworld and the real—the fairy world?”

  One of the men, quiet until now, spoke. “Sir, the fairy world is our real world. Your human world and human practices are alien to us.”

  Weylyn cut into a slice of ham, unable to speak, unable to think. It was all too much, too much to take in. Hard to believe that other creatures had their own world, their own way of life.

  He looked up at the queen. “So you don’t celebrate Samhain?”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “Of course not. We have our own holy days, but they are all joyous occasions.” She beamed. “And this is a happy occasion, too. We always enjoy having company.”

  “Madam,” Briana said, “we thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Her glance moved around the table. “It seems that everyone is finished. Come, let us go to the music room and Delmar,” she said, gesturing toward one of the men, “will entertain us with beautiful music. Since this is our main meal of the day, we always have entertainment after it.”

  Weylyn scraped his chair back and stood, then reached for Briana, afraid her ankle must still give her pain. She eased out of her chair, limping as she stood.

  Queen Cinnie frowned in her direction. “Dear child, what is wrong with your foot?”

  “Sprained my ankle, madam. It is nothing. Will heal soon enough, I’m sure.” She winced as she put her foot to the floor.

  “Nothing, you say? I shall fetch my personal physician later. For now, can you make it to the music room? It is only a few doors down the hallway.” The other guests stood back, murmuring among themselves, waiting for the queen to lead the way.

  Weylyn gave Briana a worried glance. “Madam, with your permission, I’ll carry her.”

  Briana shook her head. “Weylyn, that’s not necessary. I can walk.”

  The queen waved a hand. “Nonsense, he can carry you, and he doesn’t need my permission.” She shot a glance at him. “Is she your wife?”

  “No, madam.” But he wished she were. “She’s…. “He tried to think of the right word. How to explain?

  “Never mind. Explanations later.” She led the way from the dining room along a hallway that stretched forever, or so it seemed, past many other rooms, their doors open, each one beautifully furnished.

  “Here we are.” She entered a spacious room, bigger than the house he grew up in, where many musical instruments, some familiar, some not, occupied various places. Velvet-covered chairs and sofas stood against a wall. The queen sat down on a sofa, signaling for the others to follow suit.

  Gently, Weylyn set Briana down and settled himself in a chair next to hers. He crossed his legs and stared around the room. Deep blue velvet draperies graced the window, their color matching the chairs and sofa. A thick sheepskin rug stretched the length of the room, stopping just short of the walls. He clasped Briana’s hand and smiled. Her eyes wide with awe, her blonde hair flowing past her shoulders, she was as dazzling as ever, even in her simple dress. What did she think of all that had passed here? he wondered. Surely she was as flabbergasted as he.

  Delmar drew out a stool next to an instrument with many strings. Weylyn had never seen such an instrument before, although he’d seen a picture of one in a book. A harp, he believed it was called. Delmar began to pluck the strings, creating the loveliest music Weylyn had ever heard, a sweet, ringing sound, each note distinct and melodic, as if played for each individual in the room. Weylyn closed his eyes in dreamy contemplation, wishing for he knew not what, wanting only to share his feelings with Briana. Lest someone think he slept, he opened his eyes again and heard the applause. He joined in the clapping, but soon the room quieted again, and Delmar played another piece.

  The concert ended, and after much appreciative applause, everyone rose. The queen stopped beside their chairs. She gave Briana a look of deep concern. “I’ll send for the physician now.” She waved for the other guests to leave.

  “Madam.” Briana tried to rise, but Weylyn saw that her ankle still troubled her. “I’m sure I’ll be fine within a day or so.”

  “You’ll be fine once our healer tends to you.” She motioned for Briana to stay seated and clapped her hands toward the open door, where one of the ubiquitous servants hovered. “Go fetch the physician.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  Within minutes, a man entered the room, carrying a black bag. Attired in a gray tunic with a gold emblem on the collar and reaching only to Weylyn’s chest, he exuded an air of quiet competence as he knelt by Briana’s foot. “Now let’s see about the lady’s ankle.” He unwrapped the cloth binding Weylyn had so recently applied, then asked Briana to remove her shoes and stockings. She grimaced with the effort but managed to remove them. That done, he ran his fingers over the ankle, gently probing. Still swollen, the ankle was black and blue. The physician opened his bag and rummaged around, then drew a jar of salve with a piney, medicinal scent, and another bandage. His fingers skimming over her skin, he applied the salve and returned the jar to the bag. He wrapped the bandage around her ankle, crisscrossing it several times, and then tied it.

  “There,” he said. “That should help.” He looked at her. “How does that feel, young lady?”

  A look of pleased amazement came over Briana’s face. “It feels better already.” She rose, easing her foot on the floor. “I can stand, with no pain.” She sat and slipped and her stockings and shoes again. “Yes!”

  Queen Cinnie smiled, leading them from the room. “See, what did I tell you? Now, no doubt you two will want some time to yourselves. Explore the palace as you wish, this floor, at least. The floors above are all bedchambers.” She pointed toward a room several doors down. “You might enjoy the library. We have quite an impressive collection of volumes there in many different languages.”

  Weylyn and Briana spoke together. “Thank you, madam.”

  “Very well. We will see you later.” She walked away, her steps so light she made no sound on the marble floor, her gossamer wings waving slightly with each step.

  Weylyn took Briana’s hand again, wanting her by his side for all the days and nights to come, but especially the nights. He felt the warmth and softness of her skin, her lilac fragrance as intoxicating as wine, enticing, luring him. Her very essence tempted him until he could scarcely wait to have her alone. But he had to express concern for her ankle. “Your foot, it’s better now? Can you walk with no trouble?”

  She smiled at him. “No pain at all. Good as new.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Good, I’m glad. Shall we go to the library to examine the books?” The farthest thing from his mind.

  “Anything you want, Weylyn.”

  Anything you want. Ah, did she know what he wanted? Did she know that he wanted her, ached for her, a passion that pulsed through his body, not to be denied? Gods, he yearned for her. As they covered the long hallway, he adjusted the front of his tunic and looked around hoping no one else was about. They passed tables set against the walls, laden with bowls of fruit or vases of flowers, and sweet aromas floated through the air. He heard talk and laughter from other rooms and glanced inside as they traversed the hallway, seeing other fairies gathered for business or pleasure, he wasn’t sure which, knowing only that he had never seen, never imagined, such opulence. This must all be a dream, he told himself again and again. If it was, he didn’t want to wake up.

  Hand-in-hand, they reached the library and entered the vast, cavernous room, every shelf stocked with volumes, shelves lining every wall. He drew her into the room and closed the door behind him, his mind most definitely not on books.

  “Briana!” He enfolded her in his arms, holding her as close as possible, heart to heart, her body molded to his. He covered her face with kisses, making up for all the years behind them, for all the times he had wanted to do just this. But he longed for more, oh, so much more.

  “Ah, darling!” He eased back and looked into her eyes, hoping above all that he saw her love reflected in them, the lo
ve he felt for her.

  “Weylyn! All these years we’ve known each other, all the time between us, the chances we’ve missed.”

  “What I’ve been thinking, sweetheart, the very same.” He pressed her close to his heart again, his body throbbing for her, a desperate need that must be satisfied. “I want you so much, Briana, like I have never wanted anything or anyone. Please tell me you want the same.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love. “You know I want you. There will never be another for me, not in this life nor in any life to come.” She drew his hand to her heart. “See how my heart beats for you, only you, dearest.”

  His hand on her warm breast drove him to the breaking point. Desperately, he looked around for a sofa, anywhere they could lie together, to make love. Her gaze followed his, and he knew she wanted the same.

  “Please, Briana, I—”

  A tapping on the door jerked him back to reality. “Answer the door,” he whispered in fierce urgency. “I must sit down.”

  She threw him a glance, half amused, half quizzical as she rushed to open the door.

  A servant, clad in palace livery, made a slight bow. “The queen would like you to join her for tea. She is in the tea room, adjacent to the dining room.”

  Briana nodded. “Tell Her Majesty thank you, and we shall be there shortly.”

  Weylyn stood and sighed as countless regrets taunted him, but at the same time he knew he could never take Briana as a whore, a woman he might pick up off the street. No, she meant more to him than that, a hundred times more. She was all the world to him, this woman he desired as his wife, the woman he wanted to share eternity with. He exchanged rueful looks with her, then straightened his tunic and adjusted his dark trousers, and left the room with her.

  They found the room with no trouble, a room smaller than the library but ten times the size of his room at the temple. Next to a round table, the queen smiled up at them and indicated for them to sit. Two men sat on either side of her, both of them he recalled from the mid-day meal.

  Queen Cinnie reached for the silver teapot and poured them each a cup of steaming tea. The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air. She nodded toward the two men. “I shall introduce you to these gentlemen now, when you will be more likely to remember their names.” She gestured toward the man on her left. “This is Elvio Marcus, my Minister of the Treasury.”

  Uncertain of protocol in the queendom, Weylyn rose and bowed, hoping that was an appropriate greeting. Apparently it was, for the man inclined his head and smiled. Briana rose and curtsied, to which Elvio Marcus responded in the same manner as he had with Weylyn.

  The queen turned toward the other man. “And this is Illian Fausto, Minister of Coinage.” Weylyn and Briana answered with the same protocol.

  The queen sipped her tea then returned the cup and saucer to the table. “We were discussing the issuance of new coins,” she explained. “We haven’t had any new coins for ages. We’re thinking about gold coins.”

  She paused, looking his way, prompting Weylyn to wonder why she would want his opinion. “A capital idea, madam. We have no gold coins in our kingdom, only silver of different sizes to designate their worth.”

  “Ah, yes.” She reached for a small cherry tart. “Tell me more about your kingdom.”

  “Madam, we call it Maith Fearann. It means the good land.”

  “But it’s not good, is it, if you have human sacrifices?” The Minister of Coins cast him a harsh look.

  “Sir, the sacrifice we have every year is part of our religion.” Resentment flared inside him that he should have to defend his beliefs to an outsider.

  The queen snorted. “A cruel religion.”

  “But madam, on Samhain eve, the veil between the Otherworld and the real world disappears. The demons are let loose, and we must have protection against these monsters.” From corner of his eye, he glanced at Briana, who remained silent. He wondered what went through her mind.

  The queen kept a steady gaze on him. “But the demons attack, anyway?”

  “Not if we stay inside and lock our doors.” He noticed that Briana kept silent and wondered what went through her mind.

  She finished her tart and set her plate down. “So far as I can see, the sacrifice does little good.”

  Weylyn sat up straight. “Madam, the sacrifice makes all the difference in the world. Who knows what might happen if we didn’t perform this ritual?”

  “Have you seen these monsters?” the Minister of the Treasury asked.

  “Yes, just last night!” He shuddered at the recollection and reached for Briana’s hand to offer comfort, and she squeezed his hand in return.

  “Madam, please tell us about your holidays,” Briana said, and he knew that she, too, sought to avoid the subject of Samhain. Yet the queen had given him much to think about.

  The queen beamed. “Our holy days are all happy occasions. Just recently, we celebrated our fall festival, a holy day when the people leave grain, fruit, and vegetables at the temple.”

  “Temple, madam?” Weylyn shook his head. Would the surprises never end?

  “Why, yes.” The queen pointed out the window. “I’m afraid you can’t see the temple from here, yet it is but a short ride south of the palace. We observe all of our holidays there. Our Spring Day is especially joyous, a time when we celebrate not only in the temple, but also have a festival with booths, games, and prizes.

  “We have the same, madam.” He wondered if Briana recalled their Spring Day over two years ago, when he’d bought her the jet brooch. Had she realized then how much she’d meant to him, and how much she meant to him now? Everything in the world. He wished he were alone with her now, holding her, touching her, but especially kissing her. Ah, that would be something to remember for the rest of his life, for he feared that their friendship—if friendship it was—would go no farther.

  “—business to attend to.” The queen’s voice snapped him back to the present. He stood and bowed as she and the ministers left the room.

  Time went by, each hour revealing something new, a time when Weylyn, with Briana at his side, learned more about the fairy queendom, and at the same time, more about himself. Queen Cinnie’s remarks about the sacrifice haunted his mind.

  As in his own kingdom, the evening meal was a quiet period, with a lighter fare than the mid-day meal. Besides Briana and him, others had joined the queen in yet another room, this one a smaller dining room. How many chambers does this palace have? he wondered as he dipped his fork into a spicy vegetable casserole. Outside, the sky darkened, and servants entered to light countless candles in wall sconces, illuminating the room with a pleasant glow, giving jewels and garb a soft patina.

  Talk and gossip accompanied the meal, much laughter and many questions addressed to him and Briana, until everyone finished and scraped back their chairs. Weylyn suppressed a yawn and wondered when and where he would sleep this night. And would he sleep alone? As they rose from their chairs, he caught Briana’s gaze on him and hoped the same thoughts went through her head. Something told him that luck, or the queen’s judgment, would work against him this night.

  The queen studied an hourglass on a small end table—there seemed to be an hourglass in every room—then looked their way. “I’ll wager you both are tired. I’ll have a servant show you to your bedchambers.”

  “Thank you, madam.” Bedchambers, she’d said. Plural. His head averted from Briana, he stifled his disappointment.

  The queen clapped her hands, and a servant materialized. “Yes, madam?”

  “Show the lady and gentleman to the two guest rooms at the end of the hall, second floor.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  The queen gave them one of her bright smiles. “I shall see both of you in the morning. I hope you both sleep well.” She nodded toward the servant. “If there is anything you need, just ask Nelda here. I bid you good night.”

  “Thank you, madam.” They followed the servant down a long hallway, past tables
set with vases and a myriad of wreaths on the walls, wreaths for every season and every reason. Then they trod up the marble stairs, their shoes clicking on the marble. It would not be a good night for him, Weylyn reflected, alone in a bed when he wanted only to lie with Briana. Grasping his hand, she squeezed it, both of them exchanging smiles. Ah, perhaps, she, too, wanted to share his bed. Or did he wish for too much, did he misread each smile, her every gesture? In any event, he would not infringe on the queen’s hospitality nor besmirch Briana. Would she ever be his wife, the thing he wanted most in the world? He squeezed her hand again as they as they headed down the long hallway on the second floor, on the way to his lonely room.

  The following morning, Briana awoke to bright sunlight streaming through her window, after a surprising good night’s sleep. She’d slept naked, all her clothes lost in the satchel in her own world. She yawned and frowned, reluctant to wear the same clothes day after day, she who had always prided herself on her cleanliness and neatness. And how long would she and Weylyn remain in the fairy world? She knew they’d have to return to Maith Fearann, and she missed Enid so, but at the same time, she didn’t want to leave the fairy world and this idyllic time spent with Weylyn. Ah, Weylyn. She could imagine him as if he were with her now—saw his smile, his light brown hair, his every gesture, the touch of his hand on her body. She stretched languorously as wishes and desires teased her mind.

  A tap on the door brought her back to the moment. “Come in.”

  Two servants she didn’t recognize entered the room, each with a bucket of water that they emptied into a large brass tub at the far side of the spacious chamber. They set down a towel and soap on a table next to the tub and were soon followed by two more servants with buckets of water, then two more. How many servants did this palace have?”