Of Humans and Fairies
by Tessandra (© Tessandra, 2002)

Chapter One :: Prologue

Ella balanced her daughter on her lap, while Char sprawled across the couch, their son Prince Evon at their feet.

“Mama?” asked little Princess Kahtri of four years. “Mandy said you an’ me an’ Evon are ‘friends of the Fairies.” What’s that?”

Her father answered her. “It means you, Evon and Mama have fairy blood in you.” He smiled at his wife. “It also means you have very tiny feet.”

The nine-year-old heir frowned. “But we’re mortals . . . If we have fairy blood, doesn’t that mean a fairy and human had to marry long ago?”

Char looked startled. He turned toward his beloved, “Well?”

“Ah,” Queen Ella of Frell said, “now that is a story worth telling.”

And so here is the story of the human Laeliena of Cyri - and the immortal she fell in love with . . .

Chapter Two :: Exiled

“What?!” I exclaimed, never one for tack, “Banished?”

He only stared at me stonily. He was very good at that, the king. I can’t say I was particully fond of the way his cold gray eyes bore into me but hey – since when does anyone care what I think about?

“Banished,” he repeated, “Unless . . . “ I perked up. “Unless” was a good sign. “Unless you withdraw your refusal.”

I gaped at him. He could not be for real. “Your Majesty,” I choked out, at the same time being astonished I was actually having this conversation with my king. “You can not be serious. I am a peasant!” I gestured down at my scrubby clothes to emphasize my point. “An orphan. I am penniless! ”

The king only glared. “Your station and riches to not matter. They would all be absolved no matter who the bride is.”

“King Raibvin, I will not marry your son! ”

“Then you will marry no one in my kingdom,” he said coolly. “As you are therefore exiled forevermore. Guards!”

I thought the ‘therefore exiled forevermore’ was a bit overdoing it. So were the guards. The grabbed me by no means gently, and pulled me from the kings audience chamber.

“Hey pretty,” one to the left of me sneered, running his hand brusquely over my breasts. I tried to kick at him put he only laughed and stepped from my reach. I tried to fight the men, put they only pulled harder. Finally, a hand descended on my face and all I saw was black.

* * *

They took me to the border of our country. I had plenty of time to reflect as I lay in that carriage, feigning sleep. The soldiers sat around me, laughing at crude jokes.

I lay there, thinking of being exiled. Of why I had to live this way.

I was brought up of the streets, as a thief. I learned how to use knifes and daggers, and kept my virginity. I was completely pleased with myself – I was safe, I was rich (stealing’s not that hard), I was a respected, and I was absolutely gorgeous.

I do not have any false modesty. I will not pretended to be ashamed that I’m beautiful, or embarrassed because of it. That would be a lie. I am not above using my looks as a thief. If people are going to be less careful of their moneypouches because I’m ‘just a pretty wench’ well, I’ll let them.

But it was my beauty that was my downfall. My golden eyes, my rich, luxurious red hair. It was when Prince Praithan of my realm Yvonhe decided he wanted me for his own – Praithan, an incredibly handsome boy, aye, with his golden looks, but he had a sick, twisted mind. He was evil, pure evil, much worst then his father who at least had some heart - even if it was cold as ice.

Praithan wanted me – wanted me in marriage no less. But his father was the king, and so I assumed that I would be dismissed as a peasant and sent back to the streets.

God, I was wrong.

Banished, I thought bitterly. Where would I go? I would have no reputation in other countries – I would have to start from scratch. It could get no worse then this. I would be a thief of course. Funny, I thought, given the choice to be Princess of thief I chose thief. But playing Juliet to Praithan’s Romeo was not a desirable thing. (A/N – yeah, I know there was no Romeo and Juliet in Ella’s world, but whatever.)

The carriage jerked to a stop. The five soldiers pulled me from my spot. I had expected to just be dumped and left, but evidently I was wrong. The five men closed in on me.

“Now, missy, what have we here . . . “

* * *

I was still weeping when they were gone. I lay there, sobbing into the earth, stripped of all clothing. I hurt all over. They had taken me again and again – I cried and cried, aching. The moon rose and I pulled myself off the path into the woods, dragging the remains of my dress after me, And I thought it could get no worse, I thought sadly, as I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke, I pulled myself together. Years on the street had taught me to keep living no matter what, no matter the cost for life itself was always worth it. I refused to look back on yesterday – though I hardly could not, considering the black, blue and purple bruises already showing on my flesh. I hurt, but would go on – I had to.

My dress was ruined, as were my underclothes. I frowned gazing upon them, but they were all I had so I put what was left of them. The skirt half was in tears and almost completely unhitched from the waist, but I was able to hold it on with one hand. One sleeve was ripped halfway off, but at least it was still on. There was a rip going from the back until my hips. I sighed clutching my clothes to hold them together then setting off for a town. At least both my shoes were in mint condition.

The sun grew higher and with it my spirits. Yes, I had been exiled – but my realm was nothing to like. Yes, I had left behind by only home – but I had no family, or people I could truly call friends. And yes, I had been raped – but as I was always telling other girls, life goes on.

Two days later, starving, dirty, and unpresentable, I reached a farmstead. I stared at it for a long moment, then gave a crooked half smile. Maybe I should try being honest for once; not like they’d believe me anyway.

I headed for the door.

Chapter Three :: The Farmhouse

I reached the sturdy farm door and considered my options. I could just bang on the door to get them to open it, or pretend to be a beggar. There goes being honest. What did I want from these people? Money, food, clothes, a roof for the night. And the best way to gain this was to play on their sympathy.

I lowered my self to the doorstep, and tried a tentative knock, then one a little bit louder. “Hello?” I called out in a wavering voice, one that would probably be heard. I tried another knock, then covered my hands with my face and burst into tears. I added a few wails, and when no one came, I increased their volume . . . . and then, voila! The door opened inward.

I lifted my tear-streaked head, ready for a farmwife with whose feelings I could play on. I gave another sniff, then delicately wiped my eyes of water. My mouth shaped with words for a well-placed plea –

And I stared into the face of a boy a few years older then me.

“Oh!” I said, covering my mouth. I winced, as I sounded like the damsel in distress I was playing. Then I color washed my face as I realized what the boy was seeing; what would look like a poor lost girl to a farmwife would probably look like an obnoxious whore to the boy.

“Who are you?” the boy said, brown eyes staring down at me. He had a stern look about him, with sandy blond hair falling into his eyes.

“Uh . . .” I said intelligently, staring at the boy. He frowned at me, his head tilted slightly.

“Have you business here?” he demanded, and I did not know how to answer. For one of the first times in my life, I was completely speechless.

“Then be off with you, girl, if you’ve no reason to be here.” He ran a disapproving eye over me. “And buy yourself some decent clothes.” He made as if to shut the door in my face.

“Who’s there, Aiven?” a female voice called. A young woman dressed in a blue homespun dress appeared a babe cradled at her breast. Her sandy hair was worn up in a high bun with many hairs escaping, and her sharp brown eyes did a quick once over of me. Her eyes softened immediately, as I had hoped a farmwife’s would. (Though she was considerably younger then the one I’d imagined.) “Oh let her in,” Aiven’s sister commanded, for she could be no one else with their looks so close. Aiven reluctantly obeyed.

The three of us stood there in the hallway, the two of then looking at me, and I staring at the floor. The young woman then looked back at Aiven. “Why are you still lingering here, brother? There is no reason. Be off with you.” With her free hand she took my arm and led me away, unknowing that she had echoed Aiven earlier words.

She led me through a narrow hallway, and up a flight of stairs. At the top she opened a door and walked in. It was a bedroom; there was a two- person bed, a cradle, a dresser and a mirror. The woman pushed me onto the bed, lowered the babe into the cradle, and went to the dresser.

“Here,” she said, tossing a few garmets at me. “Put these on and let me have a look at you.” I did as told, pulling on the light green woolen dress, and white stockings. The dress was too long and loose in the middle, but it if well enough. Aiven’s sister looked critically at me, then gave a brief nod. “Good,” she said, and sat on the dresser.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “If it is not too much to ask, may I have a bite to eat? Then I’ll be on my way . . .”

“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “You’ll stay here tonight, and not leave the house til you’ve had a good wash.”

“Yes ma’am,’ I said meekly, but I felt triumphant inside. “I’m called Damslae.”

“And I’m Kiyra. Now, what happened to you?”

All my triumph drained away. I swallowed quickly, then spun out a lie. “I am from Yvonhe. My family . . . they were killed. In a fire.” I swallowed hard and looked away. “I was gone from home at the time – the only one. The house was – was burned to the ground. I have no other relatives in Yvonhe.” I turned and looked her in the eyes. “I have relatives in Siata, though, and I am traveling there. “I glanced ruefully down at my clothes. “Unfortunately, all my worldly possessions are what I had on at the time of the fire.” I gave a helpless little half shrug, and met her eyes again. “So here I am.”

Kiyra stared down at me for a long moment, but her eyes were unseeing. The blue iris seemed to spin, though when I blinking it stopped. She shook her head slowly, very slowly, then seemed to see me again.

“That is a lie,” she said, her blue eyes piercing my golden ones. “A lie.”

I stared, disbelieving, at her. “What?” I asked. A lie? And how would she know?

“Aye,” she said. “Now tell me the truth.”

I stared at her, my mind drawing a blank. I opened my mouth to protest her words, then closed it. Her eyes were sharp as a hawks. She would sense whatever I told her as truth or lie. I sucked in a breath.

“My parents are dead.” She watched me, weighing my words. I closed my eyes. “They’ve always been dead. Or if they’re alive, I’ve never met them. I was raised in the gutters.” Though my eyes were closed, I could sense Kiyra nodding. I continued, “I had a good life. Good pickings, off the nobles. I was a thief, a sometimes assassin." I opened my eyes to see how she’d react. She didn’t – just kept staring. I glanced away, uncomfortable. This was harder then I thought, and those eyes didn’t help either.

“I’m beautiful,” I said, but there was no vanity in those words. “A man – a powerful one – wanted me. I refused him.” I stared at my feet, wondering why I felt so compelled to go on.

“His father said – said if his son couldn’t have me, no one could. Had some men take me to the border. They -” I swallowed, my throat dry. “They left me there.”

“Ah,” she said, and nothing else.

“And I wandered through the woods til I came here.” I shrugged. “That’s all.” I felt like I would cry, but I choked back the tears. I didn’t cry. I never cried.

“Here,” the young woman said in a gentle voice, “Follow me and I’ll bring you to the bathing house.” I followed downstairs and outside to the bathing pool.

* * *

It felt incredibly wonderful just to relax in my bath, letting the grime and dirt wash away. Letting everything wash away. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it I had drifted off to sleep.

It was darker when I woke, the water cold, the air chilly. This family was rich indeed to have their own pool house. I took a gray towel, then redressed in the clothes Kiyra had given me. I walked back to the house, pausing a moment to stare up at the clear summer sky. Not one cloud obscured my view as I watched the heavens.

“What am I to do?” I whispered softly. The stars gave me no answers. People said there were pictures in the sky, but I never saw them. I sighed once, then entered the house.

Dinner was a lively affair. The household was Kiyra’s, as her parents were dead, and along with her husband and children, she had five younger siblings to care for. Except for Kiyra, I was politely ignored, though sometimes I would catch Aiven watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. His brown eyes were masked, hiding his thoughts. Only once did I meet his eyes, and instead of flushing and turning away, he only nodded gravely and returned to his food.

Kiyra insisted I stay with them, even though I would have left the next day. “We cannot just send you off,” she protested. Stay til the Day of Roses. It is only two weeks off. My brother Aiven then is leaving journey to Bast; he can accompany you on your way, until you reach Polan.” I had told her of my wish to see that great city. Though I nodded in acquiescence and asked no questions, I was curious to why a farm boy would be traveling so far from his home.

The next two weeks parted in a blur. The Day of Roses was being prepared for, of course, the day when the Lady had walked on Earth, creating life on the barren planet and as she roamed, roses grew in her footprints, representing life – the beauty and pain of it.

Aiven spoke only when he had to speak to me, which annoyed me more then a little. Of all the men, he was the only I could bear, and yet he wanted nothing to do with me. When any other man came near me, I shied away like a frightened filly, the memory of the soldiers overwhelming me. But I felt no threat from Aiven.

Only once did he speak to me other then when he had to. It had been raining that day, a sudden thunderstorm as we worked in silence in the barn. The animals had gone crazy, and it had taken the two of us a long time to settle them. We had finally accomplished that, and had sat in an uncomfortable silence, trapped away from the house. I tried to speak several times, but his responses to my questions were usually one worded. I eventually gave up, but several minutes later, as I sat playing with the straw, he lowered himself to a sitting position across from me and leaned close, eyes dark and serious.

“Beware the denizens of flame and air, for they are as callous and sadistic as they appear celestial and ethereal. The daughter of the Eternal Lah’nayin ought never consort with such kind, nor the hamadryad. Beware the mists of earth and water, for they are as deadly as the first. And beware the beauty of the Saint, for as the circle spins her time will come to bare another face, and it trust be placed in her hands, the Aevai’in will doubtless be caused.” He lifted one hand to touch my cheek, light as a feather. “For the daughter of the Eternal Lah’nayin is the last hope, so let she be blessed by the stars that light her path.”

I stared, dumbfounded, as he stood and walked to the barn door. He opened it, and I winced, ready for a cold blast of rain to blast into our shelter. But as he opened the door, the storm stopped, and Aiven walked out into the clear, water free air.

Aiven did not speak again of his words, and I somehow could not bring myself to ask of them, though they were all I really thought of. Who was the Eternal Lah’nayin? What was the Aevai’in? And what would a farm boy know of ‘denizens of flame and air’ and the ‘mist of earth and water’? Were these his words, or had he quoted them from somewhere else? Who was the Saint? Why was the daughter the last hope? The last hope for what?

At last the Eve of the Day of Roses came. First the festival, and then the next day would be on the road with Aiven.

There would be no way he could escape my questions, then.

Chapter Four :: Day of Roses

The day of Roses dawned misty, but became bright and clear. I know, because I watched. At the farm, for the past weeks everyone had risen before first light, and though we were permitted to sleep late on the Day of Roses, I chose not to. A thief never sleeps late.

I sat outside on a small stone wall as the sun began to rise. The chill from the gray stone seeped through my dress, but I did not mind. I loved being out doors – a good thing, too, as I’d spent most of my life thus. Morning mist clung to my long white robe, the same clothing every female wore on this day; a long white gown, sleeveless and with no waist, that hung loosely to cover out bare feet. Men wore a white tunic that reached their knees, and loose white britches. They wore no head covering or boots. We were all equal on this day; all modeled in the image of the Lady and the Lord.

As I sat, watching the silent village that lay beneath the hill the farm was on, I heard footsteps approaching me. “There you are, Damslae,” Kiyra said, long sandy hair unbound for once. “You look like a ghost, sitting there with the mist swirling about you.” She sat beside we, watching in companionable silence as the sun cast an orange glow on the village below us, and the mist began to dissolve. After a few minutes, Kiyra spoke again. “ There will be music and dancing, and feasting for all. Everyone will be there.”

I nodded in agreement, remembering how I’d spent the last Day of Roses. Everyone from the king to the lowliest beggar had been decked in white. I had danced on the common square in front of the palace with Johann. Johann, who had lived life with such spirit, lifting flowers from the merchants and tossing them to the orphans. Delivering a rose between his teeth to me, swinging me out of the arms of my dance partner. Johann, who had always been there, taking such joy in risks and dancing. But Johann was dead these past four months of a knife in the back. I’d never see him again, except in my memories.

“Are you all right?” Kiyra asked, examining me.

“Aye,” I said, nodding and shaking myself loose of the past. The two of us stared down at the village, at the sun, for another long moment before Kiyra spoke up.

“Damslae –“ she broke off, and I glanced curiously towards her. But she was not looking at me, so I looked away from her. “Damslae, when you came her first – you were – ah -” she appeared at lost, but I saw her out of the corner of my eye shake her head lightly, as if to clear if. “Are you with child?”

Oh.

I stared at the sun blindly, hands pressed hard against the stone. I was washed with unpleasant memories, thoughts I’d meant to leave behind. But I turned my head to face Kiyra, who now faced me, and shook my head wordlessly.

She breathed out in relief, then jumped up. “We should go in; the sun has risen, let us wake the others.”

I nodded in agreement, glad for the topic to be changed, and followed her into the house.

* * *

Of all the things about the Day of Roses, what I love the best has always been the dancing. Dancing of any sort; group, alone, in couples. But this year was different. As I stood near the dance floor, I was aware of many eyes apprising me. As men neared me, I turned away. I could not stand to be touched by any of them. It was too soon, too painful still. Mentally, I berated myself for being so uncaring and brusque, as I’d always been to any whimpering young girl who stood in the shadows, obviously scared and mistreated by men. The only one I could stand now was Aiven – though Lady knows he always seemed to be avoiding me. . . I glanced around, trying to see him, but I could not. As I swiveled my head a second time I spotted him standing at the edge of the dance floor with a pretty brunette. I felt a surge of jealously surge up, put I pushed it away. It’s not as if he’s ever paid any attention to you, I thought to myself. I then ‘wandered’ over to a drink stand, close enough to hear what they were saying.

“- must stay! What is there in Bast that there is not here?” that from the girl, gazing at Aiven with soulful blue eyes.

“I am sorry, Chayette, but I must go. You know that.”

“Don’t you love me?” she wailed, and Aiven winced as several people turned to look. I spared a glance toward the girl. Way to be subtle.

“Chayette, please - ” But I did not hear the rest as a young man spoke directly to me.

“Excuse me, but could I have the pleasure of a dance with you?” I blinked once. He was fairly handsome. Brown hair just long enough to be tied back, eyes so dark a gray they were almost black. I restrained myself from taking a step back. The man had the built of a blacksmith, and I wanted nothing to do with him. Once I would have danced gladly, but ever since . . .

“Um . . .” I stalled, looking towards Aiven and the brunette. But he was ignoring her now. Instead, he was staring intensely at me, eyes unreadable. I forced myself to turn from him. “Sure,” I said loudly, bestowing a huge smile on the young man.

But as we whirled out on the floor, I could feel myself stiffen. I kept myself from flinching away, and kept on smiling. Still, I was uncomfortable in his arms, and the appreciative glances I received from other men disturbed me. When the song ended, I made as if to leave the floor, but I was snatched up by another man, and then yet another. Soon I was sure I would either scream or faint. A young man with black hair was my partner in the tune, and as we spun, I felt like I would soon break away. The black haired boy smiled at me and leaned forward. I stiffened, terrified –

“Pardon me.” The young man looked up in annoyance; I let out my breath silently, in relief, and turned to look at my rescuer.

Aiven stood in front of me with a scowl on his face – which didn’t do anything to mare his features, I might add.

“What,” said my partner, more of a statement then a question. But Aiven ignored him and addressed me.

“What are you doing, dancing with him? With anyone and everyone?”

I was to surprised to say anything, but apparently the black haired young man didn’t have that problem. “And why shouldn’t she dance with me?” he asked angrily.

“She can’t,” Aiven said flatly. I started, and not only because these were more words then he’d said together to me since I first met him and the whole ‘Beware this, beware that’ thing. How did he know? Kiyra swore she hadn’t told anyone, not even her husband.

“And why not?” my partner asked boldly, taking a step closer to Aiven. “You don’t look to be of any relation to her,” he sneered, for that was obvious. “You have no claim on her.” A small crowd had gathered and more had come to see what was going on. I recognized the beginning of a fight; it wouldn’t be the first over me.

I winced as I thought that, realizing how conceited it sounded. But it was only the truth.

“Aye, I do,” Aiven said, and though I tried to catch his eye, it didn’t work.

“I doubt that,” the black haired man teen said, raising his hand.

“She’s my betrothed.”

I stared at Aiven, who, expressionless, stared at my partner, who stared back at him, letting his hand drop. Whispers started circulating, and everyone watching started talking at once. Aiven took my arm and pulled me through the crowd. The black haired young man just stood there. After all, what could he do? He had nothing against a claim like that.

But that was all it was – a claim. I stopped being stunned as Aiven pulled me into the trees. “What was that about?” I hissed at him.

He looked at me, face blank, save for a tiny grimace. “You aren’t up to dancing with men, Damslae.”

“How would you know what I’m ready for?” I shot at him.

He laughed grimly at that. “I’m not blind. I saw you when you’re around men. I saw the state you were in when you first came here.”

Well, at least it meant he had been watching.

Still, I glared at him. “What right do you have to interfere with my business! And calling me your betrothed?! What was with that?”

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” said he. “If I hadn’t given that reason, the villagers would have come up with it eventually.”

I groaned, letting myself sink to the mossy earth, and leaned against a tree, staring into the branches.

“Is the idea so unpleasant?” Aiven asked with a tiny, ironic smile.

“What about Chayette?” I said abruptly. “Aren’t you going to marry her?”

“He shook his head, and opened his mouth to respond. But as if speaking her name summoned her, Chayette broke through the trees.

“Is it true?” she demanded of Aiven, with a tear streaked face. “You’re not going to marry her, are you?”

Aiven looked uncomfortable, and with good reason, I just sat smiling against the tree, ready for him to work this out.

“Aye, it’s true, Chayette. But Chayette,” and he lifted a hand, as if to silence her noisy sobs, and indeed she quieted, “you knew we would never marry.”

“But I love you!” she wailed, and I rolled my eyes. “And you me! We pledged ourselves beneath the Guardian star eight months ago. You can’t mean to break our pledge! Not for her!” She shot me a disgusted look, but I just shook my head.

“Chayette,” Aiven said, taking her arm, “Let’s go speak somewhere quiet.” He led her off, and the last I heard of them was Chayette's noisy tears.

I sighed and stood, shaking out my white skirt. My life was as confusing as it got. I wandered back into the festival, gaining glances wherever I went for my unusual looks. Whenever a man came near I shied off, and when two of them (on separate occasions) pressed their suits, I quickly explained about being betrothed to Aiven.

The bells tolled once, twice, thrice and the crowds started t drift from the dance grounds, shops and food to the square in front of the church. I met up with Kiyra and the family - except for Aiven. Kiyra looked at me with such a wide grin I knew she’d heard.

“Wasn’t my fault,’ I whispered to her as we sat on the rough benches brought for the outside service. “Blame it all on your brother.”

Kiyra laughed softly. “I wonder how Chayette took it.” She grinned at me. “I wonder how you took it.”

I blushed, then opened my mouth to ask exactly who Chayette was. But the priestess began to speak at that point, and everyone shut up to listen.

“Today is the day the Lady defied her father, thousands of years ago. He had created this world, and when he did the fairies and elves, ogres and trolls, centers and unicorns, gnomes and dragons, were born. But he became angered with them, as they had broken away from his teachings. He tried to destroy this place, in his rage, sweeping it with his mighty gaze and causing the world to alight in flame, save for the few places protected by his only child, the Lady. She saved three places, the holiest in the world – the mountaintop of Mt. Havoni, the ancient city of Canaion, in Bast, and helping the fairies, the fairies ancient homeland.

“In doing do, the Lady earned her fathers disapproval and anger. He forbade her never again to walk the now barren lands of earth, and to consort with the fairy folk, now made immortal through the flames of the Lady’s father. She disobeyed him, and on this day she went to earth, walking the lands. And where she walked grass spread and grew outward. When she cried, the oceans were remade, and the mountains grew where she lay down to rest. In her footsteps a trail of roses grew, the first of their kind. Their beauty represented the beauty of life, and the thorns were the hardships and difficulties. And with the roses, a new people were created; the Humans, mortal and without the powers of Fairies, but the chosen people of the Lady.

“Her father cast her out, making her mortal as she defied him so. But the fairies rebelled, and a great war began. The Cataclysm. But the lady and immortal Fairies prevailed, defeating the Lady’s father, who then was made to leave this world. And the Lady was praised as savoir. But as her father had now made her, she was mortal. And so she lived, and fell in love with a Fairy, prince of his realm. But she aged and died while he did not, in despair, he took one of her roses and climbed to the top of Mt. Havoni, and swore to the heavens that he would gladly have his immorality ended if he was to see his beloved again.

“But instead of death, the Lady rose from the campfire he had made. At first he thought her a vision, as she was a young and beautiful as when they had first met. But it was she, and she took his hands and led him into the sky where our blessed Lady and Lord made their homes, and have evermore guided our footsteps.

“And so today we celebrate the triumph of the Lady, and the creation of our people. Blessed our we, to have the Lady and Lord watch over us so, and have us ever guided by her hand of fate.”

Well, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be guided by fate – I like independence after all. But it was nice to think I was being watched over . . . The Priestess tossed the single ruby red rose into the air, and an eddy of air caught it, spinning it farther then it would normally go. I stared lazily up at it, lulled into a peaceful state of mind after the Priestess’ speech. Everyone knew that whoever caught the rose would be blessed by the Lady and Lord for the year, and have a life full of excitement.

I wasn’t even that surprised when the rose fell into my lap.

Chapter Five :: The Beginning of the Journey

Walking away from that farmstead was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

I don’t mean that physically, of course. But leaving behind that place – well, it had been a haven for me. For the past two weeks, even if I hadn’t felt like I belonged, I felt safe. Cared for. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been safe before; granted, the city streets aren’t exactly secure – and I had belonged there – but no one outside my small group had really cared about me.

Well, I guess that’s not true. The prince cared about me. As a possession.

Kiyra and her family cared about me. They were sorry to see us leave – not just Aiven, but me as well. I don’t mean to sound sentimental, but it mattered to me that they cared.

After hugging Kiyra one last time, tousling the baby’s hair, and smiling at the men, I joined Aiven where he stood with his pack. I shouldered my own, and we began to walk. This wasn’t a “and she walked off, and didn’t look back.” I looked back repeatedly, waving and smiling. But finally they were no more then dots on the horizon, and faded into the land.

I turned to Aiven at the point I could see his family any more, an opened my mouth to ask one of my millions of questions. But as I looked at him, I found I couldn’t. He looked so serious and sad, I just couldn’t interrupt him.

Well, that lasted about five seconds. “I noticed Chayette did not bid you goodbye,” I mentioned as casually as I could, eyes on the road.

“She did not,” he said coolly.

I waited a minute, but he volunteered nothing more. “Well?” I asked. “Why not?”

He glanced at me. “Why do you care?”

“Well, *maybe* it would be nice to talk about something to pass the time,” I said sarcastically.

“We needn’t talk about Chayette,” he said.

“Well then, let’s talk about how you pretended we were betrothed. Or is that another topic you wish to avoid?” I glared at him, annoyed at his calmness.

“I already explained, Damslae.” It still felt odd, to be called by that name. “I did it to protect you.”

“To protect me,” I muttered. “I didn’t need any protection.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “Oh? You had turned to jelly. You looked like you were going to cry.”

“I did not!” I shot at him. Didn’t he get angry?

“You are yet uncomfortable in a man’s presence. You are not ready to be that close to one; you are still afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of *you*. So what does that mean?” As soon as I said it, I was instantly ashamed. I’d been childish, trying so hard to get a rise out of him. I lifted my hand to my mouth and stopped in my tracks, feeling my face burn. But that made me just as angry as I’d been – and still was – ashamed. I’d insulted men worse and more directly then that; why did I care what I’d said to Aiven? But I did.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate emotion?

At the same time that I stopped moving, Aiven did as well. He turned to me, face dark for a first, and raised his hand as if to slap me. Indeed, I thought he would. I winced, turning my head away slightly, eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated the blow. I felt my long red braid fall back over my shoulder, leaving my face and next bare. My heart beat faster, and a lump formed in the back of my throat. And I had been comfortable with Aiven.

A long moment passed, and then another, before I had the courage to crack open an eye, staring warily at the youth. But his hand was no longer raised, and his eyes were so full of empathy that it caused my to start in surprise. He turned away briskly, and began walking again, and I followed. He obviously wanted to say something, but did not know what – or how. I couldn’t tell if he wished to apologize or not, or even felt that he should. Perhaps, I thought to myself, that I should apologize first. After all, I had started it.

I imagine it is to no one’s surprise that I did not.

We walked on – and on – and on. And just for fun, we walked some more.

“So,” I said tentatively, determined to start anew. After all, this was me, Laeliena, who could charm any man in the capital with a smile. Who the prince himself wanted, not as a mistress, but to marry. I, who was an accomplished thief, respected, even feared to a small degree. Surely I could handle one simple farm boy. “You are traveling to Bast.”

“Aye,” he said.

“Um . . . are you . . . uh . . . meeting anyone there?”

“Anyone . . .?”

He certainly wasn’t making this easy. “Are you to be apprenticed there? Or are you meeting with a friend? Or . . . your betrothed?”

“I am not betrothed.”

I was genuinely startled. “But you told Chayette you could not marry her! I assumed there was a reason – other then me, of course.”

He smiled. Or smirked – I wasn’t quite sure. “Of course. Has it ever occurred to you Damslae, that I don’t *like* Chayette?”

No. “Yes, but it seemed that you had promised each other, under the star, and she obviously was – is – in love with you . . . “ Even to myself I could tell I sounded like an idiot, and I was furious with myself. I took a deep breath, then stated, as calm as I could, “So you are not meeting a lover in Bast.”

“A lover is not the same as one’s betrothed.” At my sharp look, he grinned. “But I am not meeting either.”

“Are you to be apprenticed?”

“No.”

“Then – are you meeting a friend there?”

“Not exactly a friend.”

“An acquaintance.”

“Yes.”

This was not getting me anywhere. I did not particularly care why Aiven was going to Bast, but I wanted a conversation. Watching the grass as we strolled along in the hilly landscape was not my favorite pastime.

“What is that?” Aiven said abruptly.

“What?” I asked, then realized he was looking at my necklace – a new one, which hung down only to my collarbone. I reached up to touch it, then let my hand drop. On a black cord, a pendant hung – a shiny gold colored ball, held in place by four copper dolphins that were attached by the tails at the bottom of the ball and attached by their noses to the cord. It was not extraordinary, nor expensive looking, but I thought it very pretty.

“This? Oh, I got it at the fair.” As he continued to stare at it, I added helpfully, “Yesterday. On the Day of Roses.”

Aiven stopped to take it in his hand. He could not pull it that close to himself, as the cord was so short, so he was forced to come closer to me. I could’ve taken the necklace off. I didn’t.

“It looks like Madam Dorsi’s necklace, given to her by her husband. I have never seen another like it.” He wore a puzzled expression on his face.

I shrugged. “Probably was hers,” I said, unconcerned. It did not occur to me to be. “I do not know the name of the woman from whom I acquired it.” I began to walk again, forcing Aiven to also.

“You *stole* it?” Aiven said, sounding shocked, his expression now disapproving.

“But of course I said,” I said, smiling innocently at him. “Why would I buy something when I could just take it?”

“Aiven, I’m a thief. What did you expect me to do?”

“But it’s wrong, Damslae. Many people can’t afford to have their things taken from them.”

“I try not to steal from those people.”

“And if you do?”

“Well sucks to be them, now, doesn’t it?” I said with an amused laugh. “Really Aiven. Stealing isn’t that bad. I just do it to protect myself.”

“Doesn’t seemed to have helped, does it?” he said, glaring at me.

“Aiven!” It was my turn to my shocked, and hurt.

We both glared at each other, not seeming to realize we had stopped again. Aiven was the first to break my gaze – I like to think my golden eyes unnerved him – and we both continued. “At this rate we’ll never get anywhere,” he said tightly.

Each of us was angry with each other, and if the other had spoken we would not have listened. We eventually stopped for dinner and to camp, eating from our packs. I ate little, in part because I was portioning the food, but mostly because what Aiven had said had really hurt me. And he was right. I hadn’t been able to protect myself when it really counted.

We slept on the grass with only our cloaks covering us and our bundles passing as pillows. I was grateful for the warm summer night; though I slept all seasons without any extra warmth other then the season, I was usually shielded by a wall in a narrow ally way, so the wind would pass right over me. Also, I was usually with a group of three others – all whom I trusted with my life.

There was Johann, who was quite the ladies man besides being a thief. His affairs were always short and carefree. Tari was my best friend, a part elven girl with nothing but their startling green eyes to show what blood ran through her. I had no knowledge what had happened to her. Dein was her brother, younger by a year, but tough as steel. Their parents had been farmers that had died in a bandit raid.

Now the only one here was Aiven, sleeping oh so properly about six feet away. I made a face at his back. Immature, true, but so what? He would never know.

When the sun rose, so did I, but Aiven had before. He sat holding a piece of wood, whittling away at it with a small knife, half of a delicate horse appearing from it. Who knew? I stretched slowly and stood also, pretending not to give him a second glance as I stood. I saw him grimace; whether because of his work of because of me I could not know.

“Good morning,” I said, prepared to be gracious after getting such a sound night of sleep. I pulled out a tart for breakfast and looked towards Aiven. “Are you ready to go?”

He nodded, and without another word was up and walking towards and along the road, leaving me to scramble after him.

“We did not have a sentry,” I commented. I did not truly believe we had needed one, as there seemed to be no one else traveling, but surely there would be as we traveled into the center of the kingdom. As it was, we were at the edge of Shayl, Aiven’s homeland, traveling towards the center of it, and through there to the realm of Bast. In the opposite direction of Yvonhe.

“No,” Aiven agreed. Well, he certainly couldn’t disagree. What could he say? ‘Yes, actually, we *did* have a sentry even though both of us were sound asleep,’? “We will not need one until this road joins one of the larger ones closer to the center of Shayl. We will join another travelling party then, so we will lose less sleep.

Oh. But if we joined another party, would we separate? Would he still hold himself responsible for me? I knew he wouldn’t want to – after all, he obviously disliked me besides protecting me. Or, pointing out that I couldn’t protect myself.

We spent the day silently, talking to each other only when we had to – which was basically never. I was tempted to take my necklace off; but I immediately grew angry with myself for changing anything about myself for a boy. Especially one that didn’t even like me.

Even if it would be a change for the – morally – better.

We ate breakfast while walking, we ate lunch while walking, the sun disappeared as we were walking. I half expected to sleep while we were walking. As we set up “camp” – that is, curled down beside the road in our cloaks – I felt like I was pudding. I felt I could not walk another mile. However, being myself, I did not mention this at all to Aiven, instead just going to sleep.

When I woke I lay in bed several minutes, faking the appearance of sleep. I cautiously opened my eyes, and as I expected, Aiven sat nearby, whittling away on his horse. It was almost done by now – a tiny, perfect thing, mane spilling over on each side as it leaned down, as if to drink from a stream. Three of its hooves were flat on the ground, it’s tail swishing in the air as if to ward off flies. The last leg was not done yet; this is what Aiven concentrated on.

After a few more minutes of peace, I rolled over and got up. Aiven was not surprised; for all I knew he knew I was awake. I just ate my tart and we left. Silently.

I was sick of being silent, but did not want to be the one to break it. I will not say anything like “the air was so thick I could cut it with a knife,” or “the air was fraught with tension.” But that was the truth.

A week passed in this manner before our tiny road wound it’s way out of the hills and through a small forest, them deposited us into the main stream – a road much wider then our own, and there were people. Not many, as it was only a tiny portion of the road, but if you looked one way down it, and then the other, you could tell you would never be alone.

“Well,” I said briskly, stepping off the path. “I, for one, will be glad not to be surrounded by silence anymore.” I shot a pointed look towards my companion, which he ignored.

“We have to find a party to travel with,” he said, scanning the road. Only then did I realize that no one was traveling in groups smaller then six. In fact, one group coming closer to us, still a while behind us, looked to be about twenty people.

“Then find one,” I told him.

“ ‘We’ indicates more then one person. So we’ll both go talk. Unless,” he said with raised eyebrows, “ you’re an anthropophobic?”

I looked at him. For a farm boy, he sure knew big words. “No,” I said, in tones of derision, flipping my braid back over my shoulder. An anthro what?

“Good,” he said, grabbing my hand as I attempted to walk forward. “We’ll wait here til a likely looking family comes along.” He faced me as he said that, down the road in the direction we were headed down. Unlike me, he could not tell that the caravan of around twenty had reached us. The three in the lead were on horseback – a man, woman, and a youth the age of Aiven and I.

“God be praised,” said the lord – for a lord he must be, with such horses and clothes, and revenue. Aiven spun around, as if he recognized the voice. He glanced quickly at me, not releasing my hand. He seemed ill at ease, as the lord, lady, and youth stared at him in a mixture of recognition and awe.

“ ’Tis the seer!” said the lord, staring at Aiven.