Gossamyr Read online

  "Ah."

  There was so little Gossamyr understood about mortals. About that part of herself.

  Her mother had been mortal, but Veridienne's sickness—the mortal passion—had kept her focus from her family and eventu-

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  ally lured her home to the Otherside, leaving Gossamyr alone to comfort her heartbroken fee father. And to ever wonder. Why had not her mother taken her daughter with her? Surely she might have wished to raise her own child? Had it been so easy to leave her family behind for the mortal world? She had once begged to stay in Faery—but that desire hadn't lasted long.

  Of course, in terms of emotional distance, Veridienne had much over Shinn. Likely, she had not seen beyond her own self-satisfying desires.

  Following her mother's abrupt departure, Gossamyr had vowed not to become mired in her own selfish wants. And what better way to prove it than to track the Red Lady and protect Faery from further torment?

  So this sought-after essence was like a mortal soul. What did it mean to have a soul? And mortal, at that. Gossamyr had known no other way but of the fee. Fathered by Shinn, would she possess both a soul and an essence?

  "There are things I would have liked to give you," Shinn said, looking off into the sky, avoiding her gaze. "Truths."

  "I don't understand."

  "There is no time for confessions. The revenant is single-minded," Shinn said, "focused on obtaining that which was stolen from it. So much so, it will kill to obtain the final twinclian." He focused briefly on her cut cheek, but gave her injury no verbal regard. The fee were not so emotionally delicate as mere mortals. "They are becoming more frequent, the encounters. Streklwood was attacked last eve."

  "The cook?"

  Shinn nodded.

  A lump the size of an uncooked goose egg formed in Gossamyr's throat at memory of this morning's still-shelled offering. She'd thought to complain, to send her maid, Mince, marching down to the kitchen...

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  "The revenant must be reduced to a fine glimmer," Shinn continued. "For to leave a single bone intact will not defeat the creature's quest for wholeness. They are difficult to kill."

  "I noticed. But it felt good, the challenge."

  Avoiding his daughter's enthusiastic declaration Shinn strode the curve of the tower, hands akimbo, his raven-feather cape flitting gently above the length of his folded wings.

  This demesne of Faery was not so much ruled by Shinn as protected and guided—a position Gossamyr knew she would one day fill. Descended from a long line of trooping fee, Shinn had once commanded the Glamoursiege musters. He'd become lord over Glamoursiege following his father's death. And he'd trained his only daughter to follow in his footsteps, should he cease to stand upon the Glamoursiege throne.

  Much as she did not like to consider that fate, Gossamyr realized it would happen some day. And she was prepared to take Shinn's place, physically. Mentally, she wondered if her lack of battle experience would make her a weaker ruler. She could sit council and talk politics with the best. But would they respect one without time spent in the musters?

  Pressing her palms to a cool marble crenel cut into the tower, Gossamyr leaned forward. A swirl of white cottonwood kites billowed out from the dense forest spiraling the castle. Laughter smaller than a bird's tweedle glittered in the air like sunshine upon purling waters—a few skyclad piskies clung to the tails of the seed-kites, stealing a ride.

  Despite the fees' frustrating lack of regard for Time, she did know it governed the Other side. Veridienne had been the one to

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  explain to her how the mortal realm used Time to measure everything. During that conversation, she'd told Gossamyr she was eight years in measurement, and that a year could be marked once every mortal midsummer. Which meant Gossamyr was twenty-one mortal years now. It filled her with pride to know that one mortal mea-

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  surement, but she did not mention it to Shinn. The fee did not measure a lifetime with tangible numbers of years. Once on the Otherside, the fee struggled against Time, Veridienne had said. Time stole Enchantment.

  To race against Time would afford a challenge.

  Faery needed a champion to defeat this vicious succubus.

  A thump to her chest thudded against the arachnagoss-stuffed pourpoint Gossamyr wore when practicing—which was more often than not. "You know I am fit for this mission," she said with conviction.

  She had absorbed Shinn's lessons on the martial arts until he had declared her more skilled than he. Since childhood her father had honed her skills to counter the true glamour birth had denied. (She had a bit; her blazon shimmered as bright as any other.) But she knew he would balk. Always Shinn had forbidden her from visiting the Otherside. (Forbid was a favorite word of Shinn's.) Forbidden to journey beyond the marsh roots, forbidden to take the sinister curve to market, forbidden to court a Rougethorn, forbidden to even suggest a visit to the Otherside.

  Mortals who left Faery could return, but their swift loss of Enchantment—and the fact they could never again regain such Enchantment—made their return visit to Faery dangerous and unthinkably fleeting.

  Time, Gossamyr thought, the true evil.

  But Gossamyr was only half mortal. Might she risk a trip to the Otherside and then return without fear of never regaining her Enchantment? Shinn twinchaned there often.

  "And if you look beyond my skills," she said, "there is the obvious—my mortal blood. The Red Lady is not interested in mortals, or females, for that matter."

  "But—"

  "I am not a man. I can easily—"

  "Gossamyr."

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  "—gain her lair and take her out!"

  Gossamyr twisted her neck to find the glint in Shinn's vivid violet eyes. The trace of a grin bracketed his pale mouth. Always his emotion manifested in small measure.

  Reaching for the applewood staff—her vade tnecum—she turned from Shinn, spun the weapon in her fingers, then swung it out before her, spanning a full circle before she snapped it back to rest against her shoulder. She may not be able to shape-change or twin-clian at sign of danger, but Shinn had made sure his half-blood daughter could stand and fight. Much as he forbade her to participate in the Glamoursiege tournaments, she had managed a few on the sly.

  Gossamyr had developed a penchant for adventure. Danger even. Unfortunately danger had eluded her. Until now.

  The thought of this mission verily sizzled inside her. She wanted this! For many reasons. But fore, she wanted to protect her homeland from the threat of the revenants.

  "It is the mortal passion, be that so?" Shinn's quiet words made Gossamyr wince. "It blinds you to the real danger."

  "But I crave danger!"

  He caught the end of her staff as she swung it in declaration. The tension strumming from end to end of the staff—Gossamyr's grip to Shinn's—felt palpable. Unwilling to concede, she lifted her chin defiantly.

  "You have not experienced real danger." Her father's stern tone curtailed her swagger a bit. "Bogies and hobs—"

  "And that core worm a few days earlier! The thing spat dirt balls the size of a spriggan's head."

  Shinn turned a wry smirk upon her. "Gossamyr, core worms do not spit."

  "It was spitting at me."

  "Think about it, daughter. How is it a worm exudes dirt from its body?"

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  "Well, it—" Throws up casts. Oh. She hadn't thought of that. So the thing had been— Ah. "Don't you trust I've the ability? You have trained me for this opportunity."

  Her father released the end of her staff with a gentle shove. "You are skilled, this I know."

  "Then I am ready. I will return to you—"

  "Will you?" So much unspoken in those two words. And the sigh that followed.

  "Yes. Of.. .of course I will return."

  Did he worry that her mortal blood would prevent her safe return? Gossamyr had ever coached herself to resist the mortal passi
on. If it had seduced her mother, she, as well, risked such temptation, for Veridienne's blood coursed through her veins instead of Shinn's ichor.

  Or was it that he could not abide her to leave him? The pain of losing Veridienne had changed Shinn, closed his heart. Emotion was difficult to mine from the stalwart fee. Gossamyr would not brinp further heartache to her father.

  And yet, Shinn had bruised her heart with his own cruel indifference. The memory of a Rougethorn's kiss would for ever live in Gossamyr's being, and for evermore close her heart to the mutable love faeries feared.

  But it was all for naught. Love was not to be hers. Shinn had already announced her engagement to a most frustrating man, his marshal at arms, Desideriel Raine. Frustrating to Gossamyr's heart, but certainly deserving where skill and knowledge of the Glamour siege musters were concerned. When Shinn had first suggested such over a meal the diffident fee had suppressed a sneer as he'd looked across the table to Gossamyr. She had read the young warrior's look—she is not true fee. The humiliation had prompted her to excuse herself before the final flower course.

  She was perfectly capable of ruling Glamoursiege on her own, but tradition required marriage—marriage being reserved for roy-

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  alty and the upper-caste lords and ladies. And, Gossamyr suspected, Desideriel would represent true fee blood when all in Glamour siege merely tolerated Gossamyr s half blood.

  "Truth," Shinn said.

  Drawn from her troubling thoughts, Gossamyr approached Shinn.

  Truth? Studying the sun-laced tower floor, the blue veins purling through the marble like cold blood, Gossamyr vacillated on admitting the truth. A truth that sat in her heart like the pulses of mortal Time that fascinated her so. How to do it gently?

  "Truth," she murmured. An exhale released reluctance. "I do long to visit the Otherside. You know that." She met Shinn's gaze, half-concealed by a fall of his long raven hair. He sought the truth of her, and yet he would hide behind his own hard emotions. "I want to understand that part of my heritage most alien to me. I want to.. .experience."

  She followed Shinn's pace to the tower's edge. The evening primrose that grew in the roots attracted night moths, which then attracted frogs. He nodded. "And find."

  Frustration, muted and held back far too long, oozed throughout her. He would not close out her desires. Not this time. Even more, Gossamyr would have her father know her heart. She whispered, "Love never dies, Shinn."

  "You think to know love?"

  "I.. .yes." And not the fickle love faeries know. "I know the fee cannot truly—"

  Too fragile, the memory of Veridienne, to speak of it. And so Gossamyr would not. But what of her lover? The one her father had banished from her very arms? Then, he had claimed she could not begin to know love. Did they both fool the other with their secret longings for fulfillment?

  To continue would gain her no ground.

  "Here is my home, Shinn."

  "Yes, because you believe."

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  Yes, yes. Always he repeated the mantra to her: Believe arid you Belong. She believed. She belonged! Nothing could change that.

  "Faery is your home," he said. "Should you venture away.. .you must then return."

  To marry Desideriel was the unspoken part.

  "Indeed. And my home is no longer safe unless someone stops the Red Lady. I want to help Faery. How will I ever stand in your place if there is naught a place to stand?"

  The summer breeze lifted Shinn's jet hair over his shoulders and twisted fine strands around the horns at his temples. Gossamyr read the pain in his tightened jaw. His own memories haunted. It had been much simpler for her to place aside the memories of an always-distant mother.

  "Grant me this opportunity, Shinn. I will return to you."

  "You vow to me?"

  A father's fear: violet eyes unwilling to focus upon hers; hyacinth, heady and oozing with an expectant pulse.

  "You won't lose me, Shinn. I vow it upon my fee essence."

  Gossamyr noted the twitch at the corner of her father's mouth. Suppression always tightened his features. "This mission is deadly. Time cannot be tricked or defeated."

  A stab of her staff rang against the marble. "I am skilled."

  "A—" Shinn looked to the summer-pale sky "—champion is needed."

  A champion. "Oh." Her bravado mellowed, Gossamyr bowed her head.

  Indeed, a champion.

  When had she ever proven herself in battle? Fighting dirt-casting core worms and drunken bogies? Night-creeping spriggans rarely offered more than a few moments' struggle before scampering away from challenge. Werefrogs were vicious but stupid. Tournaments offered her but display of singular combat skills. There had not been opportunity for real challenge here in Glam-

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  oursiege. And she'd never been off the Spiral, not even a near fall from the Edge.

  The touch of Shinn's finger lifted Gossamyr's gaze up to his. His eyes glittered. With tears? She had not thought to ever see the like. Certainly it was a mirage created by the sun and the glimmer of his blazon.

  "Of course you do know champions are not simply ready and able?"

  She lifted a brow.

  "They are made. Truly, you are the only one for this mission, Gossamyr." He bowed his head and clasped his fingers, the moue of his mouth frowning. But in a remarkable recovery he lifted a confident eye to Gossamyr. The former commander relayed battle details. "The Red Lady is malicious and is unlikely to rest until her penchant for feeding off fee essence restores her ability to return to Faery. She scents them out, newly arrived in the city, just as Disenchantment has begun to set in, for then the essence still retains its glamour."

  Gossamyr touched the faint blazon curling up her neck in a manner of twisting design. Would Disenchantment steal her blazon?

  "But most important.. ."Another heavy sigh released what Gossamyr guessed to be regret and fear and the intense compulsion to protect his only child. "You are ready."

  A champion? Gossamyr straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Have at me.

  Eagerness uncontained, she blurted, "How will I know the Red Lady? Is she.. .red?"

  Shinn's smirk teased at a genuine smile. "You will know her when you see her. Banished long ago, she bears the mark."

  The mark. Yes. Horrid memories flooded Gossamvr's mind. She had witnessed a banishment. The curl of red pinpricks boring into flesh. A cri de tenon. The suddenness of expulsion. And her bruised heart.

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  "You have seen the mark," Shinn had the audacity to remark.

  A nod confirmed Gossamyr's understanding. Bile stirred in her throat. "Speak no more on it; I will know it when I see it."

  Swallowing back memory, Gossamyr sorted the facts. A suc-cubus fee. Red. Banished. An unmistakable mark. Paris. Her father never elaborated beyond the necessary information.

  "How long ago was she banished?"

  "Before your birth."

  "Ah." And yet, only now the succubus had begun to havoc the Otherside? Hmm...

  "Mortal time is different than in Faery," Shinn commented. "You will find it faster, startling. But most important, you know much about the Otherside; that will serve well."

  "I have gleaned what I can while studying Mother's Bestiary of Humans—" Gossamyr stopped. Shinn did not appear startled by her confession. She had ever used stealth to steal into the locked study to snoop, much to the horror of her maid, Mince.

  Veridienne had been detailing the mortals, magnifying them on amphi-vellum in the most remarkable detail, diagramming their manner and social ways from memory—re-creating her natural history. Gossamyr pored over the articles any chance she could find. The drawings were marvelously rendered in gild and such pigments created from madder, azurite and verdigris. Text gave splendid descriptions of clothing, food and custom.

  / know you are half-mortal, Gossamyr. Your brown eyes intrigue. You are exotic...

  Shucking off th
e cloying memory of a Rougethorn's enraptured voice, Gossamyr looked to her father. He studied her, his jaw tight. Ever visible, the hurt in Shinn's eyes.

  "I wanted to touch a part of her," Gossamyr offered in a quiet voice. "It was difficult trying to get close to her. She was ever busy."

  "Veridienne loved you, Gossamyr. The mortal passion led her astray. Nothing more. You two are devastatingly alike,

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  so.. .passionate about life. Rebellion runs like ichor through your veins."

  Ichor? Not in this half-blood's veins, she thought wistfully.

  Gossamyr felt her father's sadness ran far deeper than he would ever show. Had Veridienne's departure been rebellion? To journey to the Otherside had always been her dream, but a dream tainted by the reality of her mother's absence.

  "I have been nothing but clear regarding your never Passaging to the Otherside."

  A shiver prinkled up Gossamyr's spine. Would he yet deny her this mission? Forbid her from yet another enticing fragment of life? Champions were made, not hired! And such an experience for the future lady of Glamoursiege! There was yet opportunity...

  She scuffed her palms across her leather braies and scanned the gloss shimmering in her father's violet eyes.

  "It is dangerous. We both know that." Shinn's breaths settled in the air between them, heavy with something akin to dread. "But the time has come to release you from a father's protective obsession."

  Apprehension tightened Gossamyr's limbs so she stood boldly erect.

  "Yes, you see, even I have my obsession. I cannot protect you once you leave Faery."

  She needn't protection. With staff in hand and a keen eye for danger, Gossamyr invited the experience.

  "Just remember," he said. "Always Believe—"

  "And I will Belong. I know, Shinn. Worry not, I will never lose mind of my home. Will there be revenants on the Otherside?"

  "No, they flee to Faery as quickly as the essence is stolen."

  "Which is why you must remain here."

  "Indeed. A fee can only travel to the Otherside on so many occasions before Time masters his body. I have journeyed there many a time. Would that I could accompany you."

  "You mustn't risk it."