Special Smashwords Edition
A Faery Gathering...
Oweletta & Alconia
by
Ellen Margret
Special Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
A Faery Gathering: Owletta & Alconia
Copyright 2011, Ellen Margret
ISBN: 978-1-61235-990-8
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Credits
Editor: Zena Quick
Copy Editor: Taylor Evans
Format Editor: Mae Powers
Cover Artist: A. Bratt
A Faery Gathering
By Ellen Margret
Owletta
A male human and a female faery, swapped at birth. Hawke and Owletta were destined to be united. Their love would save a dying land.
Alconia
It wasn't love at first sight. Princess Alconia despised Richard, but in faery land, anything can happen. Love blossoms with a bit of faery dust.
Other works by Ellen Margret can be
found at www.melange-books.com
Like Lazarus, novel
Loving Lazarus, novel
Owletta, novella
Power of a Carronade, novel
Jarvia, a Viking romance
Table of Contents
Owletta
Alconia
Owletta
By
Ellen Margret
In the Kingdom of the Faeries, all was well. For the most part, the faeries were happy as most faeries usually are for they have an unerring ability to see the good in everything. Of course, there were exceptions for just as individual personalities vary in the land of the humans, so too do they vary amongst the faeries. The king for example could be moody and arrogant, not desirable characteristics to be sure, but in his own defense he would remind his subjects that it was the worry of running a kingdom that made him so. His loyal subjects did not fully understand this since the kingdom ran so smoothly that there was little to be concerned about.
The crops were bountiful. The fields were a luscious green and dotted with beautiful daisies, buttercups, poppies, wild orchids and cowslips. Beneath the ever permanent, glistening rainbow, the rabbits and unicorns ran across the land with wild abandon. But it never rained during the day. The rainbow was just a legacy of the precipitation of the night. Rain only fell during the night whilst the sun shone warmly all day long.
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed faeries lived in joy and peace. Crime was unheard of, places of incarceration did not exist for faeries were honest and noble, and there was simply no need for such dark places in their kingdom of light. The kingdom was filled with music and song and happy chatter. But the very best sounds of all came from the laughing lips of little faery children and the contented gurgling of faery babes.
And sadly this was what was missing in the lives of the king and queen.
“But not for very much longer,” the queen whispered to her husband who lay in the royal bed beside her.
Frowning, the king touched his wife’s swollen belly. “You have lost eight babes, Admira. None survived longer than five days.”
Queen Admira did not allow the tears to flow. She was the queen of the faeries and had to be strong and optimistic. “This babe shall live and will bring us the joy that we do so deserve.”
“And all eight babes were girls. Can you only make females, my wife?”
Queen Admira sucked in a breath. She found the tone in her husband’s voice accusatory, and it made her feel sad. “This babe shall live because I sense that it is a boy. He will be a strong boy who will one day rule as king.”
“I hope that your senses speak true, Admira. You are the oldest woman in the kingdom to carry a child. In fact, you should be a grandmother by now.”
“I realize that this child will be my last, Emporo.”
“Then it must be a male.”
She looked up into the eyes of the king and shuddered, for she liked not what she saw there. They were not the eyes of the happy, handsome prince that she had wed so many faery years before. They were darker and more cynical, and so she had to quickly look away. “It will be a healthy male child.”
The king ran his finger around the rim of the polished wooden goblet that held his clear, elderflower wine. “I must have an heir, Admira.”
“I know this, Emporo.”
“Then also know that if the child dies then I shall be forced to do that which no faery king has ever done before. Realize, wife that the Oblue dynasty has been in existence for five thousand faery years, and this noble house shall not end with me. Always the king has produced a male heir and, as a consequence, the kingdom has prospered.”
“But could we not have a queen, should I bear a female?”
He shook his head vehemently from side to side. “Never has it been done. Always there has been a male heir, and that is the way it must be for order and stability in the kingdom.”
A single tear did fall. “Then if I bear a female, you will seek another queen.”
The king sipped his wine, stared at the intricately made flower tapestry on the wall, and merely nodded.
Her heart constricted. She felt real fear and tried not to show it. “This time, all will be well, dear husband.”
“It had better be.” He tossed his goblet across the room, his anger getting the better of him. “I am laughed at, Admira. My own brothers laugh at me. Younger brothers and all three of them have large, thriving families.” He smashed his fist into his palm. “I am the king. I should have everything that I want, and I want a male child!”
The queen recoiled as the king suddenly jumped off the bed and lurched to his feet.
“I shall have what I want!” he shouted. “I want a male heir and,” he continued, wagging a finger at his wife, “if I do not get what I want then be forewarned that your life is going to change drastically.”
Queen Admira was shaking; she had never felt so terrified. Her dear husband was turning into a monster, and she was the cause of it. She was to blame because she was incapable of giving him a living child. She clutched her belly and felt the babe in her faery womb give a strong kick. It reassured her a little, the kick was very strong indeed. That had to mean it was a male.
* * * *
The babe, born early just as the other eight, gave a pitiful cry. The babe’s eyes were shut. Seemingly the newborn had not the strength to open them.
Queen Admira was sobbing in the arms of her mother, Geoma, whilst the birthing faery, Eggara, hastily swaddled the tiny babe.
“My poor babe is going to die just like all the others,” Admira wailed.
“She may not,” Eggara replied, offering the babe to her queen.
“And it is another female!” Admira cried in dismay. “She is a sickly, female who will die. I am cursed. I swear that I am cursed, and thus all is lost. The king will fly into a rage and cast me aside in favor of a younger queen. This was my last chance.”
“Will you hold your child?” Eggara pressed.
“No, I cannot, for she shall soon die, and my heart will cleave yet again.”
Geoma stared at the babe. “Alas, she is too small, too weak.”
“And female!” her daughter sobbed. She shook her head and tried to mentally prepare herself. “I suppose that the king must be told.”
“The king is in the northern region of the kingdom. A messenger arrived earlier to say that his journey home will be delayed a day or two,” Geoma declared.
Admira closed her eyes. “Then I have two days to prepare myself, for when he returns, his anger will know no bounds. And, of course, by then she will be dead.”
Eggara stroked the babe’s fine, downy hair. “My Queen, the child may not die. With love and care and your fine milk, she might live.”
“No, she will not. Nothing that I do will make any difference. It will be as before. I am cursed. If only I had given my husband a healthy son.”
Geoma considered her daughter’s words. “Your continued existence as queen of this realm depends upon you producing a male heir.”
“Of course it does, you know that, Mother, but I failed to do so.”
The mother of the queen of the faery realm began to smile.
“Mother, I failed. There is no male heir, so why are you smiling?”
The smile intensified. “Daughter, I have come up with a plan.”
* * * *
The babe’s cries were lusty, and his wide, blue eyes were open, seemingly staring around with the innate curiosity of a healthy newborn.
The midwife wrapped him in a soft white towel and handed him to his beaming mother. “Your son is big and bonny and eager for his first feed, Sarah.”
Sarah took the babe and put him to her breast. “He is so like his brother, Richard. My goodness, the likeness is so marked that had they been born together then they could easily have passed as twins.”
“Oh, he will surely change a good deal but, you are right for I well recall delivering Richard. So, do you have a name for this fine chap?”
“I shall call him Ryder, after his grandfather.”
“It’s such a shame that his father couldn’t be here for the birth.”
“He is on his way back right now, but Australia is such a long way away. I wasn’t due for another ten days, and he had hoped to be here.”
“Well, what matters is that your child is healthy, and Ryder is an excellent name for him.”
The window began to rattle, gently at first so the two women paid it little heed.
“I’m glad that you agree.” Sarah looked up from the newborn feeding at her breast. She saw that the window was wide open. “Heavens, what a strong breeze there is. Odd, but I thought that the window had been closed.”
“I’ll shut it,” the midwife declared, walking toward the open window. But she had gone just a few feet when a gust of howling wind hit her hard and knocked her off her feet.
Sarah clutched her babe for she had a sudden, overwhelming sense of foreboding. And then, with her own disbelieving eyes, she saw a sparkling shower of stars stream into the bedroom through the open window. It trailed across the room and descended to the carpet and then the millions of tiny stars coalesced to form two figures. One of the figures stepped toward the bed. Perhaps less than five feet tall, the slender figure had silver hair piled high atop her head. Her face was delicate, the most noticeable feature being the large blue eyes that now stared so intently at the newly born babe.
“Is it a boy child?”
Sarah held tightly onto her son. She felt strange, and she felt scared in the presence of the ethereal figure. “What are you?”
The midwife had been about to ask the same, but a single wave of the slender figure’s hand had paralyzed not only her vocal chords but her body too. She was literally incapable of moving and stood stock still like some marble statue.
“I said, is it a boy child?”
Sarah was trembling. “My God, how did you get in here? What are you?”
“I ask again, is it a boy child? Thrice I have asked, now you are compelled to reply.”
And she was. Her lips began to move, but she was not controlling them. “It is a boy.”
“And I see that he is healthy,” the other figure remarked, peering down at the babe.
“Sarah did not reply.”
“It was not a question. I see that he is. Hand him to me.”
“No.”
“Hand the babe to her. She will care for him,” the first figure said.
“Are you mad, do you think that I will give him to her?”
The figure with the hair piled high seemed irritated by the mortal. “Not give him, rather exchange him.”
“Exchange him!”
“Yes, for this,” the second ethereal figure replied, taking out the tiny swaddled bundle that had been lying silently in the bag upon her shoulder. “This is now your child. The boy is ours to take.”
“Never in a million years!”
The first figure, in response, lifted up her hand and threw a handful of rainbow dust into the face of the woman who had just given birth. Then she did the same to the midwife. “Sarah, you gave birth to a girl child. You will call her Owletta for that is her name. When she dies, that will be the name that her tombstone shall bear.”
Sarah nodded, totally understanding. “She is my baby.”
“Yes, she is, you gave birth to a female. That male in your arms is ours to take.”
Obediently, Sarah handed over her son and took Owletta. “Here, take him for he is not mine. I must nurse my darling little girl.”
“Yes, do so whilst you can,” the figure said, secure in the knowledge that the female babe would soon be dead. She looked down into the face of the male child in Eggara’s arms, a child that was destined for greatness. He had the necessary fair hair and blue eyes, and his length seemed quite short. Certainly his mother, whom Geoma had been observing for two human days, was very small. He would do nicely. That decided, the two faeries left in the manner in which they had come but now, in the bag, was a healthy male child.
King Emporo was at a loss to know what to do. Slowly but surely his kingdom was falling apart before his very eyes. Shortly after the birth of his son, Prince Hawke, there was an inexplicable darkness that fell upon the land. All light from the faery realm was extinguished for ten whole days and when, on the eleventh day, the faery sun struggled to make its presence felt, the light that it sent forth was attenuated and lacking in sparkle. And that was how it continued for the next twenty-two years.
As a consequence, the crop yields fell dramatically, the animals became thin and emaciated and, fearing for their future, the faeries began to squabble amongst themselves. Rain now fell during the day, and it was a foul smelling rain that made the streams and rivers run thick, clogged with filth and toxins. Where once there had been a rainbow, now there was only a dark gray arc that smudged a sky that could not even begin to be described as blue. The unicorns became diseased and lost their horns.
“The faery magic is fading fast and we along with it,” the king said, wallowing in total despair. “What am I to do?”
Queen Admira shook her head and sighed. “You have consulted the Wise Faeries, and they have cast faery dust endlessly upon the land.”
Prince Hawke had been standing in the doorway of the throne room. “And yet it has done little good. Our plight remains the same.”
King Emporo held out his hand to his son. “Come to me, my son, for you are the light of my life in a world that is too dark. I would that you had known how it had been before your birth.”
Prince Hawke strode toward his father. He walked purposefully and proudly, his head held high and his rich chestnut hair flowing out wildly behind him. He stopped before the king whose royal head reached barely to his chest and looked at him with his deep hazel eyes. “You mean when all was light and order?”
“Yes, those days were wonderful. Perhaps I did not then appreciate how wonderful but then the darkness fell for ten long days, and life, for us, changed.” He hugged his broad shouldered son to him. “I was so happy when you were born, Hawke, but it does seem that your arrival somehow angered the faery gods.”
“You think I am to blame, Father?” Hawke asked just as his younger sister entered the throne room. He smiled at her.
Alconia did not smile back.
“Of course not,” Queen Admira snapped. “How can an innocent babe be blamed for such a thing?”
Alconia went to her mother. “Perhaps the gods did not like the look of my brother for, after all, he is unlike any other faery. He is the tallest and darkest faery in the land, and his eyes are not blue. Perhaps the gods took offence at his ugliness.”
The queen flashed a silencing glance at the daughter whom she had never expected to have. When she gave birth to Alconia, she was well past her prime, and, again, she had not expected the babe to survive. After all, none of her other babes had. But Alconia had been strong, and she had grown into a beautiful faery princess. Her mother adored her just as she adored Hawke. But Admira was concerned about Hawke’s appearance. More than once, she had pointed out to Eggara and to her mother that they should have chosen better. But, it was a fact that as human children grew, blue eyes often changed color, and light hair darkened.
The king slapped his son upon the shoulder. “He is a throw back to the early Oblues. They were larger and darker.”
“And does that explain why he cannot fly like the rest of us?” Alconia asked, tossing her brother a haughty look.
Admira knew that she had to silence her daughter and quickly. “Perhaps the early Oblues could not fly. Perhaps they were more like humans.”
“Pah, humans!” Alconia said scornfully. “The faery realm is in enough trouble as it is. Perhaps the faery gods are indeed cross because we have a prince who resembles, much too closely, a human.”
“Then would you have me step down as a Prince?” Hawke asked flatly, his fine straight nose flaring to display his irritation at his outspoken sister.
Alconia tossed back her silver, blonde hair. “Why not? Then I could wed with Prince Festo. I think I would make a fine queen.”
The king’s face darkened visibly. “Festo. You speak of wanting to wed that shallow fool?”
“He loves me.”
“But he is your cousin,” Hawke said.
“What does that matter? He is of the Oblue line, as am I.”
King Emporo rounded on his daughter. “Be gone from my sight, and only come back when you are able to behave as befits a faery princess.”
“And how is that, Father?” she retorted angrily.
“A faery princess displays love and kindness. You should begin by showing love toward your brother. He is my dear son who, upon my death, shall become king of this land.”
“Festo would make a wonderful faery king, and I would be a truly great queen. The faeries love us both whereas they look at Hawke with distaste and disbelief.”
The queen ushered her daughter toward the door. “Enough, Alconia. You have spoken out of turn and with little respect. Come, a walk in the gardens will improve your mood.”
“Oh yes, a walk in gardens that grow nothing save weeds. How will that improve my mood?”
“Out!” the king roared.
Admira turned to her mother. “I am leaving, but I shall not walk in the garden. I shall visit Festo. He, at least, shall cheer me up.”
* * * *
Letta knew she had to be careful. Whenever she got too happy, she would get a tingling sensation around her shoulder blades. The tingle seemed to have substance, for it was almost as though she had invisible wings. Those invisible wings were strong, and they could lift her off the ground and send her soaring into the air. Thus she had to keep her feelings in check around everyone save her brother, Richard. From Richard she hid nothing, for Richard had been with her when, as a child of four, she had taken exquisite delight in observing the mating of two large, beautiful butterflies on a buddleia bush. As a consequence she had soared into the air and done a turn around the garden. His initial reaction had been one of shock and disbelief but then, as it happened more and more frequently, he got used to it.
Letta recalled that he had been eight when it had first happened. He was amazed and spent hours after trying to levitate his legs off the ground. Finally, he gave up and declared that his sister was special. Having just read a faery story about a magic being that was hounded because of her powers, he told Letta that her ability to fly had to be kept a secret between the two of them.
“Am I really special, Rich?” she had asked.
He smiled at his sister. “You are very special. I mean, Letta, just look at you. You are so small and petite. You have long, silky blonde hair, and it reaches all the way to your tiny waist. You have large, expressive blue eyes that have such a lost look about them. You’re not like the rest of us. You can fly, Letta, and that makes you very special. Flying is magic.”
“Do you want to feel my wings, Rich?”
“Yes, I do.”
She turned and allowed him to feel her back.
“They feel so solid, and yet I can’t see them.”
“Do you think I am witch?”
“Oh no, you are not a witch. They fly on broomsticks, but you can fly all on your own. You’re like the faery in the story books.”
“A faery!” she giggled.
Richard didn’t laugh for he was watching her feet begin to leave the ground. “Letta, stop it. Think something sad, or you’ll be up among the clouds.”
“Oh, okay,” she replied, thinking about her pet hamster that had died.
* * * *
And even now, at twenty-two, she still thought about that hamster whenever she was about to take off. It always worked.
So, yes, she had to be careful. She was vastly different, and she wanted to know why. She had asked her mother about her birth. She had told her that it had been normal just like her brother Richard’s. So, that told her nothing. But she didn’t understand why she looked so different from her parents. Usually children bore some resemblance to their parents and siblings, but she bore none. It was a mystery that she could not decipher, but she badly wanted to. She also wanted to know why she had such a deep sense of not belonging. She had no real friends and could only confide in Richard.
She didn’t enjoy doing what most people did. She didn’t like parties, she didn’t like driving, she didn’t like working in the bank, she didn’t like small talk and she didn’t like food all that much. Everything tasted sour and bitter to her delicate taste buds, and so she ate rather sparingly. She found people outspoken and overly harsh, even her own parents. She took solace by disappearing into the woods for hours on end where she would talk to the trees and the animals. And she was sure that the animals listened, too, because it was not uncommon for her to attract the attention of rabbits, squirrels and even foxes and badgers. All would come to her and readily eat from her tiny hands.
She loved the feel of the woods, and when one summer’s day, after a brief shower, a rainbow appeared in the sky, she clapped her hands in delight and was totally unable to stop herself shooting up into the treetops. And so she sat there with the birds and sang to them until it was time to go home.
* * * *
“Rich, this isn’t my home,” she declared to her brother one Saturday morning.
“Of course it is. You’ve lived here since you were born.”
She stood up and looked into his eyes. “Look at my face. Look into my eyes. Tell me. Do I belong here?”
He shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, you don’t.”
“So where do I belong?”
He shrugged. “Oh, Letta, I wish I knew.”
“You can’t believe that I’m really your sister. Mother must have lied about giving birth to me.”
“I love you as a sister.”
“Perhaps I was adopted.”
“No, you weren’t. I remember mother when she was pregnant with you. She got very big.”
Letta spluttered as she looked down at herself. “She got big, with me! I don’t think so.”
“Then maybe it was fluid. Oh, I don’t know, but I do know that she did have a baby.”
“Maybe I wasn’t the baby she gave birth to.”
“Letta, I don’t have the answers.”
“Oh Rich, I feel like an alien.”
“Well, if you are then you’re a very pretty alien.”
She gave a harrumph. “No, I’m not an alien.”
He smiled and put his arm around her. “No, you’re not. I don’t see any green scales, and there are no antenna poking out from your head.”
She prodded him hard. “It’s not funny. I want to know who and what I am. I’m not human, Rich. Humans don’t fly.”
He nodded and grew serious. “Fairies do, Letta.”
“Yes,” she agreed, deciding that another trip to the woods was required. “Yes, they do.”
Hawke approached the two faeries that stood before the large, wooden door. It was a door with no handle, but it did have a large lock. It remained firmly shut, a barrier to any faery that might contemplate entering into the long tunnel that led into the heart of the mountain behind it.
The two faeries gave a halfhearted bow. Hawke said nothing. He knew that few held him in any great respect, and the door watchers were no exception. He was different, vastly different. He didn’t personally put his un-faeriness down to being a throw-back to the early Oblues. There was much more to it, and he needed to find out.
“Prince Hawke, can we help you?” the older of the two faeries asked.
Hawke pointed to the door. “I wish to enter.”
The younger faery frowned. “You cannot wish to go up?” he said.
“That is precisely what I wish to do. Stand aside.”
“No,” the older one replied sharply. “The king forbids it. He believes that should anyone do so then even further chaos will blight our kingdom.”
“Nonsense, I cannot think that will be the case. Now stand aside for I intend to enter the tunnel.”
“No,” both said in unison.
Hawke glanced at the key hanging from the waist of the younger faery. “Hand over the key.”
“No.”
“Then I shall take it. I am your Prince, thus you must obey me.”
“We shall not,” both said.
“Then I can see that I am going to have to persuade you.”
The faeries warily tossed a quick glance at each other, but they certainly didn’t expect Prince Hawke to swiftly grab them by their ankles so that they were both dangling upside down, one from his right hand and one from his left. The key dropped to the floor, and Hawke marched across to the muddy river a short distance away and dropped them in. Striding back to the door he snatched up the key and opened the door and found himself inside the dimness of the tunnel. Closing the door, he locked it from within and then, turning back to face the mountain, his trek upward began.
* * * *
It took him an age, perhaps a day and a night. There was no way of telling since his only reference was an unending tunnel, dimly lit by the thousands upon thousands of tiny worms that emitted an eerie light. But finally, Hawke arrived wearily at the exit where he came upon another door looking just like the one through which he had entered. Noting that it did not have a keyhole, he pushed against it. It seemed to be stuck fast.
Hawke fell back, recalling the faery tales he had been told as a youngster. They were tales of magical beings and hidden doors that would only open in response to the right word.
“Open for Oblue!”
The door stayed shut.
He thought of the names of the past faery kings. “In the name of Lappetto, I say open!”
Nothing happened.
“Open, by order of King Peacos!”
Again, nothing.
Hawke felt more than a tad irritated. He was tired and needed food and water, and he was not going to find it inside the tunnel. He knew that he could spend another day and night just thinking up useless names and words. It was that thought that led him to hurl his entire, and not inconsiderable, weight at the very solid door. His shoulder slammed into the door, sending pain searing across his shoulder and down his arm, but his reward was to see the door swing open. Buoyed by his success he strode out into the humidity of the day and inhaled the thickly warm forest air. But was it faery air that he was breathing or air from the land of the mortals? He didn’t know, but he intended to find out as he walked briskly along the track that he felt sure must lead him somewhere. He was pretty certain it would lead him to water for he could hear the sounds of a babbling stream not too far away. He needed water; his thirst was extreme. First locate water and then decide what to do.
* * * *
Letta loathed the heat. Her fair skin burned easily, and people had noticed that her blonde hair turned almost white beneath the glare of the sun. She kept out of the sun whenever possible. In very warm weather, she would disappear into the forest where the verdant canopy protected her from the troublesome sunlight. She would find her favorite spot beneath an old hawthorn tree, right next to where an ancient spring erupted from the forest floor that sloped down towards the stream. There she would lie down on a bed of leaves, close her eyes and think about unicorns and rainbows whilst all the time wondering whether she was the only one of her type in the world. She wanted to meet with others who felt such as she did. She wanted to find others who could fly and take delight in the simple things in life. She was desperate to meet lovers of nature and plants and all animals. They were important, they were natural and simple and uncomplicated.
Sighing, she opened her eyes and stared up into the tree canopy. It was unbelievably hot, even in the forest. She had never felt so hot, and she was wearing so very little. She wore just a pair of tiny shorts, a thin blouse and her silk underwear. She loved silk and adored the feeling of it on her body. It was gentle and kind to her, and it was so cool. Glancing about, to ensure she was alone, she took off her shorts and blouse. Sighing again, she lay back feeling a little cooler. Perhaps now she could doze for a while and escape into the imagination of her dreams.
She did sleep, and when her dream came, it was vivid, just as it always was for she had dreamed the same dream a thousand times before. Or rather, she had dreamed of the same person a thousand times before. And he had changed along with her. He had grown with her for she had first dreamed about him when she was just a small child. Then he had been a child too, a sturdy, chestnut haired child with a dimpled chin and a broad smile. Now he was tall, and the smile had become less frequent. In fact, there was a harshness to his face although it in no way made him any less handsome.
In her dreams, they had never spoken, and they knew not each other’s names, but there was a bond between them. That bond was strong, so much so that whenever they were together they wanted to embrace. But it was never to be.
Whenever they came close, in her dreams, he would suddenly disappear like the early morning mist, and Letta would awaken with tears rolling down her cheeks. She loved this man of her dreams, and most certainly a man he was for there was nothing light and faery like about him. They were so different. They were poles apart, and yet she loved this vision that haunted her dreams. She ached for him when she was awake, she burned for him to touch her, and she longed for him to take her virginity. In short, she obsessed about him.
She obsessed about a figment of her fevered dreams. She sometimes thought she must be crazy.
She groaned in her sleep. She could not see him, but she sensed that he must be close. She wanted him to be close, and she wanted him to stay with her forever.
A bird calling in a treetop awakened her, and she opened her eyes, still thinking about her chestnut haired obsession. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. The heat was going to drive her crazy if she didn’t do something to cool down. She had a bottle of water beside her, but it was going to take more than that.
Standing, she glanced around again. All she saw were the birds and the forest animals, and they wouldn’t mind.
Slowly her hands moved behind her back and, with one deft flick of her wrist, she unfastened her bra and tossed it down. Her breasts heaved up and down as she sighed with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough, and the next instant her briefs joined her bra until she stood naked beneath the trees.
Grinning, she picked up the bottle of water and tipped it over her head. Rivulets rolled down between her firm breasts, across her taut abdomen and into the tight blonde curls at the top of her slim legs. She dropped the bottle, raised her hands above her head and stretched into the sky. Her contentment, for the moment at least, was great and, giggling, she felt her feet leave the ground.
* * * *
All thoughts of Hawke’s thirst, hunger and weariness left him as desire avalanched within. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had come upon her as she slept but, not wanting to startle her, he had backed away and stood watching from a distance. It had been so incredibly hard to do because he had instantly recognized her.
She was so very like the ephemeral beauty who bewitched him in his dreams. He had wanted to scoop her up into his arms and plant kisses on her little bow shaped mouth, but he had resisted. He would doubtless have scared her, and he didn’t want to do that.
But he couldn’t leave; he couldn’t go far away. He had to watch her from behind the bramble bush. He had not the willpower to go for she fascinated him. And his fascination and desire only escalated when he watched, wide-eyed, as she rose to her feet and removed her scanty clothing. Her body was glorious. She was perfection, and he could see every inch of that perfection as she levitated above the forest floor and opened her arms and legs wide so that the cooling air could reach the parts previously hidden from his view.
Hawke grew hard; the ache between his legs was nigh on unbearable. This beautiful faery, flying gracefully above the trees and periodically swooping down to within just a few feet of the ground, was a joy to behold. She was the most captivating of faeries.
The fact that he now realized he had not reached the land of the mortals at all, but was in some other faery realm, did not seem to bother him for the time being. It should have because his mission had been to reach the world of humans, but that mission was now furthest from his mind. The only thing that mattered was the naked faery flying above him.
The naked faery shot across from a tall oak to a fine beach tree and then went off at right angles. She did a perfect loop and then halted in mid air. She hovered above a patch of bramble and then looked down. Hawke knew that she had seen him by the astonished look on her lovely face. It was a look of recognition. She knew him just as he knew her. So astonished was she that the contented smile vanished from her face, and she dropped like a stone from the sky.
Hawke moved quickly. It was clear she was going to land in the blackberry bushes, and the thorns would have done her great damage. He leapt into the bushes, reached up and caught her in his arms. Her breasts brushed against his face as he settled her safely against him. Her fragrance was heady, for she smelled like a bunch of fresh spring flowers.
Letta’s jaw dropped as she stared in astonishment at the face of the man who had just caught her. “My God, it’s you!”
“Which god would that be?” he asked, holding her close and not intending to let her go. She was, after all, the faery of his dreams, and now she was in his arms.
“There is only one God,” she replied.
“Nonsense, there is the god of sunshine and the god of the moon and the god of roses and the god of marigolds and…”
She pressed her finger to his full, sensuous lips. “Be quiet.”
He raised an eyebrow and simply kissed her finger. “A loyal faery subject does not tell a prince to be quiet.”
Her eyes widened. “You know that I am a faery?”
“Of course you are a faery. What have you just been doing?”
“Flying, but really you shouldn’t have seen it. It’s supposed to be a big secret.”
He laughed. “But nearly all faeries fly, at least nearly all do save me, and there’s the irony of it. I mean you would think that a faery prince could fly.”
She chuckled. “You are no faery. You are human.”
“No, I am a faery prince.”
“Oh, you are toying with me.”
“I assure you I am not. I came through the mountain tunnel in search of the human kingdom but simply found myself in another faery realm. I confess to not minding over-much since it has resulted in me catching a rather beautiful creature that fell from the sky.”
She looked at him hard. “There are faery realms?”
“Of course there are.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.”
She shook her head. “Well, you are not in one. This is the land of the humans, and it is where I live.”
“You jest.” He was looking at her breasts. In his dreams, he had looked at them a thousand times.
She put two fingers to his lips. “Hush, will you stop talking and look at me?”
“By the faery gods, what do you think I am doing?”