I took the knife and couldn;t help a slight smile from escaping my lips. Even in a moment like this… Benjamin was priceless.
I extended the collapsed blade. Holding the silver metal up to the edge of the sack, I spoke one last time with the fae lords.
“Promise me, my lords and ladies. You are my fiefdom and I am your liegelady else this dagger will open the coarse burlap and you will be left here counting seeds and grains for twenty years. Seal your vow with silver and let us go.
Choose.”
Enraged, agitated, and offended, the fae wanted nothing more than to strike me dead.
Turn me to stone.
Seal away Benjamin behind a thousand rock wall.
The list of curses they could throw were only limited by their own imagination.
Desperate to control so many formidable warriors, I used their own weaknesses against them. I plunged the knife into the bag of grain.
There was an audible gasp as a handful of grains fell.
Immediately, three Lords bowed down, crouching on the marble floor, caught by their own compulsion to categorize and count.
They could do nothing until the spilled grains, less than a handful, were counted and left in specific piles.
Oberon looked at me, and at the long-lost prince.
“I will give you fealty,” he mumbled. “For one thousand years, I will swear allegiance to your blood. But you will only be able to command me if I break my vow. I swear to let you go, to not exact vengeance on you or the stupid man, to protect your blood and its magic from harm. This I, Oberon, King of the Fae Folken do swear.”
I gulped.
That was really more than I hoped for.
“In return,” Oberon solemnly said, “I must have three strands of your hair. Then you will be my queen. And I your servant forever.”
Oberon’s gaze was steady, his face was open. Even his words were generous. I didn’t need the axe to find the lie.
“Why three strands?” I asked, relying on the axe to help me see the truth.
“One for each sister,” he said, “Binding me to you and your family.”
“I accept.” I swore an oath with the fae king, knowing that Oberon was a weasel. Knowing that my blood was the only bit of safety I had from his compulsion to win every negotiation.
Grabbing Benjamin’s hand, I called out, “We are of an agreement, lords and ladies of the fae. And now, I must leave.”
“No. He ate the bird,” one fae stormlord suddenly cried out, denying any forgiveness Oberon might have agreed to. The gathered lords and ladies did not accept the conditions of the pardon their king granted.
“He is bound to us.”
“You cannot have what is ours,” another shouted, and the fragile peace that had hung like a sword over the court erupted into chaos. Oberon was bound, but none of the rest of them were.
Frightened, I dropped the little knife. Raising the axe above my head, with one swift motion I split the fifty pound bag from end to end. Millions of mixed grains spilled everywhere. And then the winds came at my summons, filling the court under the hill and scattering the contents of the jute bag across the hall and into the the throne room.
None of the fae looked at me now. Fairies were bound by natural law. Their instincts demanded each seed be gathered, counted and separated by type.
They were caught.
Grabbing Benjamin, I started running as a lighting storm spiked the Stormrage See. Sparks of white lightning filled the columns of truth.
I ran to them, dragging Benjamin behind me.
We got to the white stones just as the howling winds did. Catching us up as we sprinted, Benjamin and I were pulled into the storm. Lifted and spun up and out of the underhill fortress, we were caught in a maelstrom of magic.
He never let go of my hand.
Together we spun every which way in the grip of the mighty winds. Our hands stayed locked together. Regardless of the trees, chickens, shrubs, people, tools, and animals that spun around us in the storm, Benjamin’s grip held onto my own smaller hand, a lock holding a slender key.
Chapter Ten
Fields of Clover
When the storm finally set us down far away from any road or landmark, there was neither animal nor man, road nor building in any direction. Just a field of meadow grass and a slightly tattered blue blanket that fell from the sky and snagged on a tree branch a few steps from us. Even the insects were quiet as the spontaneous storm surged through the wilderness and passed on, leaving two mud-covered and bloodied humans with its passage.
Benjamin blinked a few times and opened his eyes as the winds became breezes and faded away.
I lowered the axe blade to the ground as we looked around, free of the horde of furious fairies. Nearby, the thick fabric of the bed-covering flapped in the breeze. Never one to waste a gift, I reached up for the woolen blanket.
Benjamin had other things on his mind. Without pause, he gathered me in his arms and kissed me once, twice on my nose.
And then he covered my cheek in ten delicate caresses. Pushing my hair off my forehead, he used his fingers as a comb through my tangled red locks.
I looked up at his beautiful blue eyes, at the dash of gray hair on his temple. And then he kissed my eyebrows and my eyelids with the gentleness of a butterfly and the passion of a hungry bear.
Holding me in his arms far from anything we had ever known, the werebear called my name.
“Briarthorns, you are a miracle, “ Benjamin declared. Gratitude shone from his face along with a fire I could only identify as desire.
“Me? Hardly. You are the hero. Without hesitation, you rescued me from a charging horse, a crazed man, and the sadness that has always held me captive.”
“You are one to talk,” Benjamin laughed. “I barely knew such a wild thing could exist. First, you helped me recover the axe, then you saved me from the black magic that clouded Marcus’s identity spell. Oh yeah, and then you rescued me from the fairy king? Yeah, I think you won the heroic title for the day, Briarthorns.”
Leaning down, Benjamin twirled me in circles in the trampled meadow grass three times before he spun me back into his arms, breathless and dizzy and stupidly happy.
Without pause, he proceeded to nibble on my mouth. Each time his long eyelashes brushed my cheekbones, it felt like the softest feather floated by.
His kisses grew more demanding, his hunger for that vanished exquisite fairy food transforming into a passion for my lips. He was a bear and every kiss of his was honey and a hundred patches of clover.
Blushing, I kissed him back.
The stubble on his jaw and cheek scraped my lips. Benjamin. “You are both the bear and the man, aren’t you?”
That stopped his kisses. Well, paused the kisses, at least for a moment.
I can’t build my future on words and kisses. Not if this curse could kill me or our child… His answer was important. I needed to know what falling in love with a werebear meant.
“It’s the curse of the Gilded Seat,” he explained. “The reason our kingdom fell into disrepair,” pausing for a moment, Benjamin considered for a breath before he continued, sharing his terrible secret. “My great great grandfather went to war, united the cities and independent states into one kingdom. He ruled as a good king for years. But he was betrayed. And in his fury, his desire to defend his family and home was turned against him when in the middle of battle, he transformed into a raging, gigantic bear. Gilding Seat won the battle but we lost our king. And each of us… his descendants, well, when we turn eighteen, we know the change could happen at any time. Once it does, most of us never come back. We lose our grasp on being human. But you… you changed that. You did. You broke the curse.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Did you mean what you said back there in the fairy king’s court?” Benjamin’s face was impossible to read.
“Did I mean…” What? Oh…. “Yes. With all my heart.”
“I know so little about you, Briar,” he confessed, “Truly, I know precious little about myself or even about the Gilded Seat. I know nothing of being a real king. I’ve always left that to my two older brothers. There is only one thing I am certain about...”