To the Waters and the Wild - ch.15
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The party continued to swirl around us, the dancers creating a kind of vortex, and we were the center of the storm. There were angry words exchanged in quick, biting whispers. The sibilant language slipping off their tongues. It was supposed to be a beautiful language, full of lilts reminiscent of the Gaelic words of old. Now it served to create quick nips at each of their flanks, eyes flashing as the words melded into a display of power.
The look was quickly appearing on Oberon’s face, with its sad doppelganger on Daren’s face. Not even the blood son could pull it off completely.
“Majesties?”
A strong pair of hands descended on my shoulders. Hands I had trusted but now felt threatening. Hands that I truly believed had betrayed us. After all, who else could the fallen figure who would rise be, but Lucifer.
“Morningstar” Oberon stated, the mask descending once more.
“Perhaps we should disperse? I believe your humans are beginning to feel the faint traces of hunger.”
Oh sure, blame it on our race. We weren’t the ones disrupting the revels.
“But of course” Oberon replied, the consummate host.
I began to move towards the dining hall, hoping to shake off Daren’s possessive hold. He let my arm drop inconspicuously. It would not do to be seen as dragging your fair damsel to the table. At least not physically.
I managed to not see his extended hand and demanding gaze.
Puck obligingly popped up besides me and offered his arm. He was in favor with Oberon as of the moment, and could afford to cock-block Daren.
The large oak doors were pulled open by unseen servants and the guests arranged themselves at the table. Only the high table had a set seating arrangement based on rank; below the members of the inner court it was first come first served. There was a lot of jockeying for the right seat. Whether that meant a seat next to a potential political ally or the best view of those who were labeled the up and up was debatable. Many fell by the wayside when confronted with the ladies’ nails or the gentlemens’ apt use of their walking sticks and scabbards. Those who disdained the traditional dress and were more comfortable in the modern clothing of the twentieth century were not afraid of the appropriate use of elbows.
This was why the higher ranks entered last. To avoid the jockeying and to create a suitably spectacular entrance. The framing of the doorways, the spotlight effect of the chandeliers, the sudden silence…. yes the fey were believers in the dramatic effect.
With Puck as my dining companion, it meant a lower seat at the high table than I would have had with say Daren or Lucifer, but I did not mind in the least. The closer I got to the lower tables meant the lessening of the frigid royal atmosphere. The food was still good, after all.
I was delighted to find Kit and Will seated on my left, still arguing over their work and appearing completely oblivious to the politics going on around them.
Kit had been one of Gloriana’s greatest spies in his time. Why should he stop now?
Puck leaned over to pour more water in my cup, managing to discreetly whisper in my ear.
“I need to speak to you later.”
I smiled at something Kit had said, keeping my head turned in his direction.
I twitched my fingers at my tea cup, muttering a minor charm.
The cream swirled slightly into words.
Mirrors. Three chimes.
Then the letters quickly dissolved as I placed another sugar cube in their depths with a faint sploosh.
A small charm, frivolous amidst the greater magics of the ladies surrounding me. Lost among their charms for perfect skin, lustrous hair and beguiling voices, as well as the hexes of their rivals. No one would notice my little fizzle.
At exactly three o’clock mortal time, I made my way to my rooms. Slipping between masked revelers who faked being drunk and honest to god tipsy fairies.
Puck was already there when I arrived. Poised tensely atop my trunk. Ears cocked for trouble.
“What is it Puck?” I asked as I began to pull of the jewelry that the maids had dictated I must wear.
He opened his mouth to speak. But nothing emerged except a scratchy croaking sound. His eyes widened as he clutched his collar.
He struggled, scratching at his throat and making odd gargling sounds.
I was helpless in the face of this new evil. Oh I recognized it. I had seen geises before. But it was not something I could cast off without knowing who the caster was. And I wouldn’t know the caster unless Puck told me.
His face was beginning to turn blue and his fingers twitched spasmodically as he turned panicked eyes towards me.
The garnet on his collar caught my attention. It was glowing malevolently. An obvious signal that power was pulsing through it. Too obvious to be the cause, but having it at his throat could not have benefited Puck much.
I reached for my dagger and his eyes grew even more alarmed as the edge approached his throat.
Did he think I would harm him?
The jewel dropped to the floor with a thud and a sizzle as Puck’s legs folded beneath him and he sunk to the floor; but quickly scrambled away from the now dimmed jewel.
He was shivering and muttering to himself.
“Cannot say – too strong – geis – but must - “ he gibbered in a long string of words without pause.
His usually proud face was pinched together and drawn tight. There were wrinkles on his tunic and his eyes darted from shadow to shadow.
“Puck.” I demanded. No response.
“Robin Goodfellow. Attend me” I put some power behind the words. He snapped out of his fear in response to the command.
“Lady” he cried despairingly, “I cannae do it.”
“Do what?” I was confused.
He struggled with his voice for a moment, evidence of the remaining compulsion on him.
What had Puck gotten himself into?
“You are in danger. An obstruction to his plans.”
“Whose plans?”
“Mine.” It was not Puck’s voice that came from his throat. His eyes were no longer their previous forest green and instead shone like gold orbs without pupils.
Puck, the master of revels and great puppeteer, was now the puppet whose strings were held by another.
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