Chapter 79 - Birthday Pt. 1

that is

A Short Tale of an Awkward Wake-Up, Forgiveness, an Explanation, Reports to a King, a Question of Blood, Nuala, Words with the King, and a Plan

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Dylan's eyes fluttered open at the same time as Nuada's snapped wide. Golden eyes like early morning sunlight through amber met a pair of eyes like two rainswept autumn lakes. Neither Elf nor mortal moved so much as an inch.

Nuada flashed quickly back to the previous night. Dylan had come to bed after her nightly ritual, only to keep as much distance between them in the wide bed as possible. He wondered if it was intentional, or if she was merely instinctively trying to protect herself. For the first time since being forced to share a bed his lady had turned her back on him to face the bedroom hearth. Despite his tiredness, Nuada had been unable to sleep while Dylan had remained tense and awake, her back to him. Only when she'd finally slipped into deep and seemingly dreamless sleep had slumber come upon the Elven warrior as well. And now....

As sleepiness faded, Dylan became acutely aware of just where she was - cuddled up against Nuada. Her cheek lay pillowed on his shoulder. One arm was tucked under her body, but her other arm lay draped across his chest. His heart beat steadily against the underside of her forearm through his sleep tunic and her UnderArmor shirt. Warmth around her waist through her t-shirt and undershirt told her that her prince had his arm around her, too. Early-morning sunlight bathed his face in palest gold. She suddenly couldn't look away from the intense, gold-kissed ivory of Nuada's gaze.

Wait, Dylan thought suddenly. Ivory. Ivory means....

Nuada shifted toward her, and for a moment Dylan wanted nothing more than to let him do... whatever he was going to do. But that thought was as bracing as a cold shower. The mortal, realizing where her thoughts had taken her, squeaked and scootched backwards out of Nuada's hold.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" She held up a hand. "Wait, wait, wait! Just... gimme a second."

The Elf prince frowned, bemused. "What's wrong?"

She gestured vaguely in his direction. "You. Hotness. Bed. Trying to kiss me. Looking like that. Irresistable."

Biting back a smile, trying to smother the pang of frustration that flashed through him, Nuada said, "You seem to be able to resist me just fine, Dylan. It is I who seems incapable of resisting you. I only desire a kiss."

Dylan shook her head and inched back, though she was trying not to smile. "No way. Not when I just woke up. You have a... a thing you do."

His brow quirked. "A... thing."

"When you kiss me."

"Mm-hm." Forcing his expression to blankness, he asked, "Does it involve lips, by any chance?"

The mortal gave him a flat look. "Ha-ha. No. Well, yes. But no. Not really. It's not your lips. It's you. Being an Elven Casanova." Seeing the patient expectation on his face, knowing he wanted a better explanation than that, Dylan added, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, you... immortal Lothario."

Don't laugh, Nuada thought, tensing his jaw. She might hit me if I laugh. Aloud he said, "Lothario, am I?"

"Yes," with an emphatic nod and another backward scootch. The edge of the bed dropped away like a cliff right at her back. She glanced over her shoulder before turning her gaze back to her prince. "You can't wake up in the morning looking like... like that," gesturing to his mussed hair and sleep-rumpled clothes, "with your 'come-hither' eyes, and not expect me to swoon into your arms or whatever."

"And yet, despite my 'come-hither' eyes, you've managed to restrain yourself. I applaud your self-control, my lady."

"Okay, now you're just making fun of me."

Nuada gave her a look of supreme innocence. "I? Make fun of you? Never." Seeing her raised eyebrows, he added, "Well, hardly ever. Now," in a more serious tone, "if I may ask... what in the world are 'come-hither' eyes?"

Dylan swallowed as the Elf's eyes, which had started to darken back to gold, suddenly lightened to ivory again. She had to talk to Balor, she decided. There was no way she could survive another morning like this. Though she and Nuada had slept together for only four nights now, and although they'd only woken up actually in bed together twice, Dylan knew that pretty soon she wouldn't be able to resist temptation anymore. "You have them right now," she murmured.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You're looking at me like... like I'm eye-candy."

He frowned. "Eye-candy," he echoed. "What is 'eye-candy?'"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. "Um...."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Well... a little bit- eek!" Dylan shifted her weight and dropped right off the edge of the bed. Her back hit the floor with a dull thump. Luckily, the human missed whacking her head on the bedside table. After the few seconds it took to get her breath back, she started to laugh. "Wow. First I fall off a balance beam, then I fall off a fountain, and now I've fallen out of bed. What's next - a balcony?"

A pale hand reached down to offer her help in getting to her feet. She waved Nuada away. "I'm okay," she said, still laughing. Getting to her feet, she dusted herself off. "I'm fine." A glint of light reflection caught her eye. Dylan looked down at her hands. Flecks of something pearly white glinted on her palms. Scraps of something iridescent gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Literal faerie dust, the human supposed with a tired smile. "Huh," she said aloud. "The maids need to dust under the bed." She wiped her hands on her t-shirt, then hugged herself, suddenly cold.

"Are you all right?" Nuada asked with a smile. "That was quite the tumble."

"First of all, that sounds kind of wrong," Dylan said. "But you knew that. And secondly, I'm fine. I used to fall out of bed all the time when I was little. I'll probably do it at least a couple more times before I'm dead, so no... worries...." The words trailed off when she caught sight of the Elven warrior's expression. She frowned. "Nuada? What's wrong?"

Gentle fingertips reached up and brushed across her cheekbone, just under her eye, to caress her temple. The velvet rasp of callused fingers warmed Dylan's skin as Nuada slowly and carefully traced her features. There was some emotion in the depths of his gaze that warmed her like sunshine spreading across the world just after dawn. Mingling with that soft something in his eyes, Dylan saw sorrow - a deep, aching sadness that made her chest go tight and almost had tears rising in her throat so she tasted salt. His palm was warm when he pressed it to her cheek.

"Nothing, beloved." For some reason, Nuada couldn't read Dylan's expression. He swept his thumb across her cheek to feel the warm silk of her skin beneath his touch. Wondered if she meant to order him to stop. Order him not to touch her as she had the day before. But she didn't, so Nuada pressed his lips to Dylan's hair, her forehead. Before I'm dead.... By the stars, how could she be so cavalier about such a thing?

Nuada drew a breath that shuddered. Then he pulled back from her and moved to the window. They weren't supposed to be so close to each other when in bed - or, he imagined, too near it. He understood why. No man, not even an Elven warrior, could resist the temptation she represented when pressed so close.

He rested his hands on the edges of the windowsill. Gazed unseeingly out toward the dove-gray sky kissed with early whispers of coral and lavendar from the breaking dawn. Auriferous wisps of cloud caught and reflected the first rays of the sun.

"I love you, Dylan," Nuada said suddenly. The words pried his lips apart and fairly leapt off his tongue. Dylan drew a sharp breath. He felt her draw closer to him. "No matter what happens, you must always believe that. Believe that I love you."

His heart stumbled when she murmured, "Of course I believe you."

Nuada reached behind him and clasped her hand. Did she really believe? Could she, after yesterday? He could feel the crack between them, the widening fissure, and wondered if mere words could seal it. He had to believe they could. "I love you. I know I do not say it as often as you do, but that doesn't mean I do not feel the same depth of.... Please, you must never doubt how much you mean to me. You and Nuala are my very heart. No one person is dearer to me than the two of you. And you...."

She waited for what seemed like a lifetime before wrapping her arms around his arm and dropping her head onto his shoulder. "And me what?"

Slowly, as if each word were being dragged from him, Nuada said, "I lost my sister's heart long ago. Once, we were part of each other, inextricably linked. There was never one without the other. All of that changed after my mother was murdered. We grew apart. And though I love her with all that I am, she... she's afraid of me. She loves me, but in her heart she does not wish to. So one half of my heart stands cold and aloof from me. You are the other half of my heart, yet here you are with your arms about me. Though I have given you many reasons to forsake me, you remain at my side. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He wondered what she would say. In the end, she merely murmured against his ear, "Yes. I understand. And I believe you," she repeated. "It's okay. We're okay."

After a moment, he nodded. Something that had been loose and jagged and painful inside him smoothed over, clicking back into place.

"I have something to tell you."

He felt her stiffen, then force that stiffness from her body. She propped her chin on his shoulder and hugged him a little tighter. The lightness in her voice was a bit strained when she asked, "Okay. Is it a secret?"

A smile quirked the corner of Nuada's mouth. She was trying. Trying to suppress her suspicion and her expectation of being betrayed. He loved her for it. "Well, two things. One is a secret." He turned a little so he could look into her eyes.

"What is it?" Dylan asked, smiling now. If Nuada could smile at her, the mortal reasoned, it wasn't anything serious. "Tell me."

"All right, then. The secret is," and dark lips dropped a kiss to the tip of Dylan's nose, "I adore you."

She laughed. "I adore you, too."

He hesitated, unsure of his welcome, before leaning in and brushing his lips across hers in a slow, deliberate caress. Dylan sighed against his mouth. Moved a little closer. Nuada cupped her cheek and pressed his mouth to hers, a true kiss this time. Her lips were soft and sweet beneath his. Her fingers curled in the collar of his sleep tunic as he murmured Gaelic endearments against her lips. He'd almost lost this. Almost lost the gift of waking up to her, of kissing her, of holding her like this, even so innocently. The thought had him pulling her closer.

When the kiss finally broke, he kissed the skewed part on the bridge of her nose. "The other thing is... happy birthday, Dylan."

Dylan blinked. Quickly calculated. Then she started to laugh. "I forgot," she replied. "I don't believe it, but I forgot my own birthday." She grinned, exasperated with herself. Then her grin melted to a dreamy smile as she looked into Nuada's eyes. "And you remembered."

"Of course I did. I've been planning for this day for weeks."

"Planning?" Her eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion. "What have you been planning?"

"Many things," he murmured, with a sudden wistfulness in his expression that made her stomach flutter. "You will find out some of them after you attend your worship."

Right, she thought. Today was Sunday, the Sabbath. She had church. Then she remembered something. "Aren't you coming with me?"

Nuada hesitated. "I have much that needs to be done today." Noting her crestfallen expression, the prince added, "Another time, I promise."

She offered him a small smile. "Okay. I know you're busy." Though not too busy to be kissing another woman, she thought, then quashed that snide little comment flat as a pancake before it had time to make her angry. He'd apologized. She'd forgiven him. It was over. Done. "It's just...." Seeing his quizzical look, she shook her head and moved away from him. She would not get upset. She wouldn't....

"You are angry with me again," Nuada said. Dylan paused. Sighed. "Over something so small?"

"I'm not mad. I'm hurt. Because it's not small to me," she said. "It's not... it's not that you said you'd come to church with me. It's not about where we're going. At least not completely. It's that you promised you would go somewhere with me. You promised. And it's my birthday, and you did say you had plans for today for spending time with me. And now suddenly you have work?"

Put that way, it sounded small and dishonorable of him. As if he were making excuses. And he had promised, and it was her birthday. It was a small enough gift, was it not? But there was something else underneath Dylan's words as well. Something that nagged at him. "Dylan... why is it so important that I go to church with you? Why did you make that a condition of our marriage?"

The human woman hesitated. "A few reasons. One selfish, two not. You've mentioned before that when I come back from church I'm always super happy, right? It's a place where... where I can just relax. No one treats me differently for being human or being your truelove or anything. It's a friendly, welcoming environment. I think you need that. A place where no one will judge you or make you feel as if you're not doing your job properly. I know you feel like that a lot. I know you're stressed. I'm not asking you to convert, Nuada. You know I'd never do that. But I think going would help you relax, find some peace of mind. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but I'm just trying to help you find a place where you can relax and destress. I mean, you almost never do it anywhere else, so...." She shrugged.

"That is the unselfish reason?" He asked.

She nodded. "That, and it will make the children happy."

"I see. What is the selfish one?"

Dylan made a face. "You know how when we first started seeing each other... socially, outside of your sanctuary, we talked about my faith a lot. You were impressed by how I adhered to it and impressed by my belief system." Puzzled, the prince nodded. "Well, not all Latter-Day Saints are... what you might expect. A lot are super nice and awesome, way better than me." She smiled when the prince scoffed. "That makes me feel wonderful, that you think I'm so perfect," she said. "Anyway, a lot are very kind, but some... have their own struggles."

"What does this have to do with my attendance?" When she hesitated, he frowned. "These people, have they been bothering you?"

"Not... exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned against one the bedposts. "Sometimes when a member of the Church is... involved with someone who's not a member, there can be a lot of... subtle disapproval or hostility aimed at the Latter-Day Saint. It's nothing overt - usually. But it's noticeable. Right now we're just dating, but..."

"But when our engagement is announced, some of the other followers of the Star Kindler will... what? Snub you?"

She sighed. "No. I don't care about being snubbed. It's just... their attitudes will get worse and ruin the good feelings I get at church. It will make it... suck. A lot. It's difficult to feel as connected to the Spirit and to the Star Kindler when the room's full of contention. I think I've told you before that it's hard to pay attention to the promptings of the Spirit when I'm angry or upset in some way? It's kind of like that."

"And my escorting you will help you with this."

"It will help alleviate at least some of it, yes. I'd be more comfortable being there if you were with me."

He considered. "Dylan, if these people make you unwelcome, why continue to go?"

"Because I'm supposed to, whether it's enjoyable or not. I promised I would, so I will. Just like you've sworn to do things that kind of suck for you, but your honor says you have to do it - same goes for me."

Nuada frowned, startled. "Then... you do not attend because you enjoy it."

"Nope. That's a side benefit. Usually. Not always. But no, I attend because I have an obligation to be there."

"I... see."

Dylan smiled, clearly disbelieving that statement. "Are you confused?"

He matched her smile. "A little." Then he inclined his head in acquiescence. "But I will go with you."

Her eyes widened. "You will?" When he nodded, she ran to him and threw her arms his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Popping up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his mouth in a swift kiss. "It'll make the children so happy. And it will be wonderful to spend two whole hours just sitting next to you without worrying about anything. Let me go get dressed and get the kids up, and then we'll have breakfast, okay?"

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Balor removed the half-moon glasses he wore to read over reports and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A headache brewed behind his left eye. According to the head of the night's watch rotation the previous night, Prince Zhenjin Azurefire had reported smelling a stench that was somewhat reminiscent of the stink of the shoggoth that had been found and dispatched in the plum orchards less than two weeks ago.

That was disturbing enough. What made it worse was that there were several other reports that corroborated the Dilong prince's statement. Word from a kitchen servant, a stable lad, a patrolling Butcher Guard, a few nobles, and even the tengu bodyguard that had come with the envoy from Onibi. Too many witnesses for it to be coincidence. And the smell had come from various directions all at the same time. Which implied... Balor didn't know what it implied. That something - shoggoths? - were converging on the castle, perhaps. What if they did? Only fire and molten iron were effective against such monsters. How to fight them?

"What do you think it means, Iriall?" Balor asked, opening his eyes to look at the report again.

The Lord Chamberlain, Iriall of Bethmoora, steepled his long fingers and frowned at the paper on the king's desk. "I don't know, Sire. An enemy force circling the castle, perhaps? Yet who could command such creatures?" He shook his long, doughy head. "I simply don't know."

"Nor do I," Balor muttered. "I have little experience with such creatures as shoggoths. We'll send out a company of Butchers to investigate the countryside surrounding the township and the palace and see what they have to say. If they bring back verification that those Elder creatures are closing in on us...."

"Perhaps His Highness might be able to do something," the chamberlain ventured into the silence. "He is a skilled warrior and a savage fighter."

Balor shook his head. "Not until we know what we're dealing with." Pinching the bridge of his nose again, the old king added, "I would never risk my son's life so foolishly. If we receive confirmation of the enemy's presence, I will summon him. He's a brilliant tactician. If they're truly out there, Nuada will no doubt be able to figure out how to deal with those monsters."

The chamberlain bowed. "As you say, Your Majesty. You, of course, should know him best."

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Dylan had been right about one thing - the children were ecstatic.

"It'll be so much fun, you'll have so much fun, Your Highness, and A'ge'lv Dylan always brings snacks," 'Sa'ti was saying excitedly as she twisted this way and that in front of the mirror to make sure her fur was smoothed down properly. "Maybe if you get bored, too, she'll give you some."

Nuada gave him truelove an eloquent look that clearly asked, They get bored? His lady shrugged, as if to say, They're young children. Of course they do. As Dylan tied back her hair in a loose ponytail with a blue ribbon, she flashed Nuada a smile. Don't worry, she seemed to be saying. I'll take care of you.

A'du insisted on walking beside Nuada. The prince didn't mind that so much, but 'Sa'ti diffidently asked if she might hold the prince's hand on the walk to the chapel. When the Elven warrior glanced at Dylan, his lady shrugged, clearly taken by surprise at the cougar girl's request. Nuada glanced down at 'Sa'ti in her little blue dress, her bright turquoise eyes beseeching as she gazed up at him. Nuada flicked his gaze to his truelove again. No help there.

He sighed and offered the ewah child his hand. "Just the once," he said sternly. She nodded emphatically and grasped his proferred hand, beaming up at him with a look of absolute adoration on her face.

"You'll like church, Your Highness," A'du said.

Nuada wanted to grumble, Somehow, I doubt that, but kept his silence. Less than twenty minutes later he found himself seated beside Dylan in the Star Kindler's chapel. At least the cubs were on her opposite side, so he wouldn't have to deal with them if they began getting restive. That would be up to Dylan and Tsu's'di.

He was familiar, after twenty-odd centuries of wandering the realms, with the Star Kindler's methods of worship. It was only when a youth of perhaps Tsu's'di's physical age got up to speak to the assembled fae about the love the High King of the World bore for all creatures, mortal and fey, that he was taken by surprise. He'd thought one of the High King's priests would be speaking. Yet apparently not. After the youth came a maiden, a young man, and a woman who looked about Dylan's age. The priest merely looked on with a smile or a thoughtful expression on his face.

Nuada had expected the whole thing to leave a sour taste in his mouth... but it didn't. And when Dylan laid her head on his shoulder and laced her fingers with his, he felt an odd and yet strangely familiar sense of peace steal over him. His lady sighed in contentment.

Nuada noticed 'Sa'ti grinning at him from around Dylan. A'du shot him two thumbs-up. When Dylan noticed their lack of attention, she surprised him by not getting angry, or even frustrated. She merely smiled and lifted her chin to indicate the current speaker. Both cubs ducked, abashed, and faced forward again.

The Elf prince considered A'du'la'di's words before the excursion, the boy's assertion that he would like church. Like it? Perhaps not. But Nuada could tolerate it, he supposed. Especially if it made Dylan so relaxed and happy. He hadn't seen such a soft smile on her face in many days. He could tolerate it, for her sake.

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"She is what?" Bres snarled, lunging to his feet. Incensed, the Fomorian prince began to pace the length of the front room. "How can she be Bethmooran? She's mortal, for the gods' sake! Are you certain she is of Bethmooran blood?" He didn't bother waiting for Arrachd to answer. Of course the nuckelavee was sure. He wouldn't have brought a false report to his prince, for fear of a very painful punishment. "Curse it! Curse her! First you leave a witness, then you tell me the Crown piece you stole was a fake! And now you tell me the little brat you left alive is of Bethmooran blood!"

The nuckelavee stayed silent and merely kept his head bowed, one fist to his chest in a salute, as if the gesture of respect was his only shield against a blood and excruciating death. It very well may have been.

"Are you certain she has the Sight? How powerful is it?"

"Strong enough that she saw through Geri's strongest glamor, and he is runner-up for leader of his pack," Arrachd replied diffidently. "And she is only a child. That is a lot of power for one little human girl unless she has royal fae blood somewhere."

Bres snarled wordlessly and paced like a caged animal. Every so often he muttered something vicious under his breath.

Suddenly he whirled on his servant. "Is she Nuada's? Is she his bastard? How long has he been rutting with that common-born human bitch? How old is the brat?"

"Perhaps five summers, Your Highness," the nuckelavee replied. "I cannot be sure if she is Nuada's child or not. She could be - she is at least half Bethmooran, and has powerful Sight. And if the princess had given birth to a child, surely we would have heard about it long before now. As for how long Nuada has been involved with his human... I cannot say, Sire. Yet it could be guessed that their story of a year's acquaintance might be a fabrication. Might," he repeated. "After all, they seem awfully comfortable with one another for having only been known to each other for a single twelve-month."

The Fomorian bared his teeth in a savage smile. "That would mean Nuada's been lying to me about that upstart whore from the beginning. Maybe she really has turned his head that much. That bitch. That filthy little bitch." Bres closed his eyes. Forced the tension from his body. Opening his eyes, he said, "It's foolish to make assumptions without more information. However, keep an eye on the brat for now. I want to know if the human slut or Silverlance attempt to contact her."

"And the child's human guardian?"

Bres shook his head. "Leave her be as well... for now. We need to find out if the brat belongs to Silverlance. Were either of the brat's so-called 'parents' fae-blessed at all? Could you tell?"

Arrachd thought back to the night he'd broken into the human museum. Shook his head. "I saw no mark of fae blessing. Yet Nuada courts the whore and has not marked her. Perhaps he dallied with the child's mother before taking up with his current human. There are any number of possibilities as to how he could be connected to the child, Your Highness."

"Find out if that child is Silverlance's. If it proves too difficult for you, Lord Ciaran and Lady Dierdre will handle it."

Knowing better than to show his outrage at possibly being passed up for the two gancanaugh he despised, the nuckelavee merely bowed to his prince. "Yes, Sire. It will be done as you command."

.

Upon returning from church, Dylan informed 'Sa'ti that she was due for her midday nap. Surprisingly, the cougar girl did not protest. A'du informed his mistress that he, too, was a bit sleepy, and joined his sister in their room. That left Dylan and Nuada alone in Dylan's bedchamber. The mortal sank onto the mattress and pulled off her boots with a sigh of contentment.

"I feel positively wonderful," she murmured, wiggling her feet in their rainbow toe-socks. "French toast - or the Elven equivalent - for breakfast. A good time with my handsome prince where I got to cuddle you for two hours," she added with a smile. "And now I'm going to enjoy spending the whole day with you."

"Not the whole day," Nuada replied with more than a little regret. "I need perhaps two hours to get some work done, since I went to church with you this morning. Then I am yours for the rest of the day."

Dylan nodded. "Okay. No problem. I have something I need to do real quick, anyway. I'll be waiting in here when you get done, okay?"

The Elf prince inclined his head, smiling, and retreated to his study. Only when the door was shut firmly behind him did he allow his smile to slip away. He slumped into his desk chair and looked down at what he knew would be waiting for him on his desk: two sets of reports. The first were the findings he'd sent for from the servants assigned to the Royal Library, and second were more reports from the northern villages.

The previous day he'd gone briefly to the Royal Library - one of the largest libraries in the kingdom and certainly the largest in Findias - to search for ways a human might become immortal, and to assign a few of the under-librarians the task of further research. So far, they had found nothing. Discouraged, but refusing to admit defeat, Nuada turned next to the reports from the villages. Those were just as frustrating. Even now, after days of staring at the cramped handwriting until the words were imprinted on his eyelids, he still had no idea how to convince his father to do what he wanted regarding sending help to their people.

He pressed his knuckles to his closed eyes and sighed.

A knock at the door snapped his eyes open. Just on the fringes of his psychic awareness he felt the presence of an Elven woman. Surely not Dierdre. Naya? Then there was a gentle brush against his mind, familiar as his own heartbeat. Surprise and pleasure surged through him, followed swiftly by wariness.

"Come in," the prince called. Nuala stepped into the room. Her brother rose to his feet and gestured to the visitor's chair. "Have a seat, Sister. You honor me with this visit." As Nuala sank into the chair with the faintest swish of blue silk skirts, Nuada took his own seat again. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to you, Brother. About the northern villages."

He couldn't hide his surprise. "Oh?"

His twin clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. Nuada looked into eyes as golden as his own. Saw the sincerity in their depths even as he felt it resonating through their link. "I think we should talk to Father about it. Convince him to send them help." Her brother stared at her. Nuala wanted to...? Nuala did? "Surely he'll not deny both of us if we come to him together," the princess added. "And if we must, we can always take it before the council. The two of us, with some of the council behind us? Surely Father will acquiesce then. Especially if we can get the chamberlain and the steward on our side, as well."

Stunned, Nuada could only blink foolishly at his sister for a minute. Nuala wanted to help him? She would actually stand against their father with him? And she had actually put together a loose sort of plan for doing so? The Elven prince frowned. "Nuala... are you ill?"

Nuala blinked, bewildered. "No. Why?" Then she smiled as their link gave her the information she wanted. Nuada rarely shielded from her, unless he wanted to be left absolutely alone. So when the princess brought down her mental barriers between them, most of what her brother felt came through. "Ah. I understand. I'm quite well, my brother. I was speaking to Naya and she told me the villages needed help." She paused, looking down at her hands. "I'm a princess of the Tuatha de. It is my duty to help my people... as you strive to do. I should have known there was trouble in the north long ere now. Yet I was so caught up in my courtship and Bres and what our father is trying to do with you and for you and I didn't... forgive me, Brother."

Moving cautiously, warily, as one would with a skittish animal, Nuada reached across his desk, palm up. Nuala's amber gaze tracked the movement. When Nuada was once again still, she reached out and laid her hand atop his. A sweet pain flashed through the warrior prince. The feeling of something settling back into place. He drew a steadying breath. Met his sister's gaze. "I would forgive you anything, my sister. Surely you know that."

Her smile was bright and sweet. "Thank you. I know we do not see eye-to-eye on many things, Nuada, but I agree that the villages need to be protected and helped. Perhaps we might convince Father to send a company of royal guards or an army company - just to protect the villagers, and any supply trains we send."

"He'll not agree to that, Nuala," the prince murmured. "Sending any form of military aid skirts too close to what he perceives as breaking the treaty."

"But the people need to be defended!" Nuala protested. "Naya told me, and I read the reports when Lord Llud, the Lord Steward, gave them to me. The humans raiding the northern villages are bandits, nothing more. Surely the treaty does not apply to such lawless mortals. They broke the truce first, after all."

Nuada's knife-thin golden brows winged upward. "Did they? Yet our king refuses to do his duty by his people because of an already-broken truce with a corrupt and dishonorable race? How out of character for Father."

His sister gave him a flat look. "Brother, that is unfair."

"Is it?" Then he sighed and looked away. "Forgive me, Nuala. I have much on my mind and it has left me... short-tempered. You did not come to me to fight. My deepest apologies. We will try your suggestion - coming up with some sort of solution before going to Father and presenting a plan we can all agree on. Unless you have changed your mind?"

His twin shook her head. "I'm with you in this, Nuada."

The words filled him with that same sweet ache as before. His sister, his twin, his other half - finally on his side about something. At least, he hoped so. He detected no deceit from her, and yet... he dared not pin too much hope on Nuala's words, because if he dared to believe and it turned out his twin was lying, it would devastate him.

.

Dylan wondered briefly in Nuada was going to throttle her for this.

He must've been really distracted, she thought, not to ask me what it was I needed to do. Well, he'd had good reason to be distracted. Dylan knew her prince was still uneasy about the issue with Dierdre. Dylan intended to try her best to move past it. But that had nothing to do with what she meant to do right now.

The chamberlain eyed her critically, looking for flaws, but the mortal had made sure she looked nice this time before seeking an audience with the king. She didn't want to start something and then have Nuada get involved. Not that what she was doing was dangerous, but she didn't want him to know about it until she could figure out a way to explain what she was doing without it sounding like a punishment because of the mistake he'd made so recently.

"Lady Dylan, the king is a very busy man," Lord Chamberlain Iriall said, sniffing with disdain.

Dylan folded her hands in front of her like a school girl and bowed her head. "I'm aware of that, my lord chamberlain," the mortal murmured diffidently. "However, I was asked by the king to discover a piece of information he values greatly. That's why I'm here."

Lord Box-Head of the Creepy Fingers raised one pencil-thin eyebrow. "Indeed. Very well, milady." The chamberlain opened the door to allow her through and announced her to the king. Dylan curtsied. Balor looked up with mild surprise on his weathered face and gestured for his son's truelove to take a seat across from him. Once Dylan was settled, the king dismissed his chamberlain.

"Lady Dylan," Balor murmured, settling back in his chair. "What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She smiled. "I've spoken with Healer Táebfada, Your Majesty."

Balor raised his brows. "I take it from your smile that the news Táebfada gave you was positive." Dylan nodded. Balor smiled - a real smile, the mortal realized with some surprise. "That is good news. I am happy for you."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I've always wanted grandchildren," the king murmured, almost as if to himself, "but Nuada refused to settle down for so long."

"Well, he's kinda stuck now," Dylan quipped with a smile. Balor smiled in return and canted his head. "Your Majesty... are you ever going to elaborate on what you meant about the possibility of my becoming immortal?" The human psychiatrist asked, hoping to catch the old king off guard. No luck. Balor merely quirked a brow. "I did as you asked and spoke to Healer Táebfada. Are you going to give me anymore information?"

The king drew a breath. Let it out slowly. Dylan wondered if he knew Nuada had picked up that habit from him whenever the prince was thinking hard, considering all the angles and options of a situation. Balor tapped the silver index finger of his prosthetic against his lips.

When he finally lowered his hand to the armrest of his chair, Dylan knew he'd come to a decision.

"What are you willing to risk to bear my son's child?" Balor asked softly.

"A better question would be what am I not willing to risk," she replied. "I won't risk anyone's lives or livelihood. Whatever sacrifices I'm called on to make, they'll have to be mine. No one else should have to pay for my dreams."

Balor nodded. "A good answer. Has Nuada spoken to you of the kings of Mag Mell?" Dylan stiffened. After a moment, she nodded. "Usually they're incredibly dangerous to bargain with. The price they often demand of those who petition them can be quite brutal. However, if one happened to be in possession of something they wanted...." The king trailed off, letting the silence press on the mortal before him.

"What do they want?" Dylan asked in a hushed voice, unable to bear the interminable silence. She could barely speak past the thudding of her heart in her throat.

The old king shrugged. "Many things, actually. I thought perhaps you, as the Star Kindler's servant, might know the location of one of them." When Dylan frowned, obviously confused, Balor said, "Among other things, the kings of Mag Mell desire the Lance of Longinus."

Dylan gave him a flat look. "Seriously? It doesn't exist anymore. And it's not like it's got special powers anyway, cripes." Irritated, she raked a hand through her hair. Growled under her breath. "That's seriously what they want? The spear that supposedly pierced the side of Christ? That's stupid. First of all, I have no idea where it would be if it existed, which it doesn't. It was destroyed, like, a century ago when the museum that had it caught fire or something. And before it was destroyed, it couldn't cut anything anyway. For crying out loud, how dumb can they be?"

"Why are you so upset by this then?"

"Because it's stupid! Next you'll be telling me they want Excaliber or Joyeuse or Dyrwyn or Thuận Thiên - which are completely out of my grasp." She slumped in the chair, defeated. "I thought you were going to mention something I could actually get my hands on. Not something ridiculous like that."

"Completely out of your grasp, are they?" Balor echoed. "And why is that? All four swords you've just mentioned are fae weapons that have been lost. Surely if one tried, the blades could be found and given as a gift to the kings of Mag Mell. They are always on the lookout for powerful magical weapons, after all."

She sighed. "Okay, I'll believe a lot of things, but I do not believe that Excalibur exists. The sword in the stone? No way. As for Joyeuse, it's not in Faerie. It's in the Louvre in France. I'd have to steal the thing - which I'm not doing. And where would I find Thuận Thiên?"

"In Orang," the king replied promptly. "Somewhere. It is lost, of course, or Tethra and Mannanan would have simply requested it of the king of Orang many centuries ago. But it was lost in Orang, which is southeast of Dilong. And Dyrnwyn is somewhere among the nearby kingdoms - Bethmoora, Cíocal, Eirc, Annwn, or Eathesbury. I'm sure bringing two legendary swords to the kings of Mag Mell would endear you to them and they would be more amenable to granting you immortality without forcing you to pay a bitter price."

The mortal pursed her lips. "Is there something less bloodthirsty they're interested in?" The idea of going in search of the two swords gave her an uneasy feeling for some reason.

Balor smiled. Good, she wasn't simply jumping at the first, second, or even third options without thinking them all through first. A good trait for a future princess. Aloud, however, all he said was, "They also want the quert of Ynys Affalon."

Dylan sat up straight. "The apples of Avalon?" Now they were talking! "Okay, how do I get them?"

"That," the king replied, "is for you to discover, my dear."

"Oh, come on! Your Majesty, please, can't you just-"

He shook his head. "The cost must be paid by you, Lady Dylan. Not by me, not by Prince Nuada, but by you. The kings will not accept less than that. Do you wish to bear my son's children or don't you?"

She swallowed. Fixed him with her gaze. "I want a family with Nuada."

"Then you will find a way to get your hands on what Tethra and Mannanan desire that is acceptable to everyone involved. Was that everything?"

Mind whirling, her thoughts crashing around inside her skull like out-of-control bumper cars, Dylan started to nod. Then, "Oh, wait! There's one more thing. A request, if I may, Your Majesty." Balor arched a brow, inviting the human to continue. "Um... on a completely different subject... about me and Nuada sharing a bed?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"What are the chances I could get you to rescind that order?"

The king steepled his fingers and leaned forward. "My son has been behaving himself, hasn't he, Lady Dylan?"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes, sir. It's not him. Or not exactly. It's more... me."

"I do not follow."

"Um... I'm just not comfortable sharing a bed with him."

"Because you are attracted to him?"

Dylan flushed. "Yeah. So... can we not do that anymore? I'd really appreciate it."

She waited for what seemed like an eternity while Balor pondered her request. What was the old fae thinking? She had no idea, though she was momentarily distracted by two things. One was a set of five shallow scratches on the king's natural hand. The flesh around the scratches was tight and shiny and inflamed - all sure signs of infection. The second thing she noticed was the way Balor reached up to rub his left shoulder as if it ached. A doctor's instinct prickled along the back of her neck.

"Your Majesty, are you all right?" Dylan scootched to the edge of her chair, studying the old Elf. "King Balor? Sir, maybe you should call a healer about-"

"I'm fine, Lady Dylan," the king muttered. "It is nothing to worry over. Merely the weight of this gods' cursed thing," he added, lifting the prosthetic hand of wood and silver. "Makes my shoulder ache in bad weather. No need to be concerned or call a healer."

"What about those scratches on your hand? They're infected, Majesty. At your age, you have to be very careful about that sort of thing."

"Eh?" He glanced down at the wounds. "Oh, those. One of the palace cats scratched me about a week or so ago. Bloody beast. It was a paltry thing at the time, and I've been too busy to see to it. And why am I telling you this?"

The mortal smiled. "I am a healer, if you recall, sir. May I see?" After a moment, the king extended his hand. The Butchers arrayed against one wall shifted somewhat restlessly. Dylan merely inspected the scratches. "These aren't going to heal if they're not tended, Your Majesty. An Elven healer could probably fix this, or washing the wounds, then applying essence of goldenseal and loosely bandaging your hand. That should would work, too. But these do need to be tended before you get blood poisoning. It's a lot more common at your age."

"I shall take that under advisement, my lady."

"Nuada worries about you, you know," Dylan blurted, then bit her lip. When Balor didn't explode, she relaxed a fraction. "I mean, he's concerned about you as his father. He doesn't talk about it that often, but I know him. I know he worries about your health."

Balor huffed a laugh. "When he was a boy he wanted to take care of everyone. Me, Nuala... his mother." The old Elf trailed off, eyes distant as his mind wandered back through the paths of his ancient memory. Then he shook himself and forced his thoughts back to the present. "Well, Lady Dylan, I've decided to grant your request regarding yours and Nuada's sleeping arrangements... on a condition."

Wary now, Dylan asked, "May I hear the condition before I agree?"

"Oh, you will like it, I think. My condition is very simple. In exchange for having your bedchamber to yourself once more, you and Nuada will wed in February, not December."

She blinked. "Wait, so you want our engagement to be...." She quickly calculated. "A year and two-and-a-half months instead of a year and a day?"

"Oh, not next February, my lady. This February. Two and a half months from now, on the full moon."

Dylan's eyes went wide and for a moment she thought they would actually pop out of her skull. "This Feb... I... but... a royal wedding takes... takes months and months to plan, doesn't it? And isn't there stuff we have to do and-"

"Let His Highness and I worry about that. You need merely agree."

It was impossible to speak without swallowing hard at least three times. "Um... can I talk to Nuada about it first?"

The king inclined his head. "Of course you may, by all means. However, you must have made your decision by tomorrow night, before your engagement is announced at the Midwinter Ball. Now, was that everything, Lady Dylan?"

"I... yes, Your Majesty."

"Good. I have work that needs doing, I'm afraid. It was a pleasure to visit with you under less trying circumstances, however, milady. And I will take your medical advice under consideration. Good day to you."

So Dylan found herself standing outside Balor's study, dazed and confused at what had just happened. "February?" She mumbled, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Get married this February? Jeez. How do I keep doing this?" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Nuada's probably going to kill me."

With that cheerful thought sitting like a gargoyle in her mind, Dylan trudged back toward the joint-suites she shared with her prince.

.

Some time later, in another part of Findias....

"It must be tomorrow," Naya's master hissed. "The attempt on the mortal's life must happen tomorrow tonight. A royal engagement is going to be announced at the ball tomorrow. Everything is in place."

Polunochnaya twisted her fingers in her skirts and bowed her head to her master. "As you wish, milord. But... Princess Nuala has only just now had the chance to speak to Prince Nuada about the northern villages today. Is it not too soon to move on the human?"

Her master smiled, a cold smile that sent ice skittering down Naya's spine. "Consider this the first step, my dear. If the human dies, well enough. The prince will still blame the children of Adam." Seeing Polunochnaya's confusion, he added, "Surely you know that there are pro-human factions of the Kindly Ones who are willing to kill just as readily as some of the anti-human factions. Pro-human fae who might see the human as a traitor to her race, in fact. And if the mortal survives, I have other plans in place to ensure our desired results."

"But," Naya said, feeling a strange clutching in her throat, "my lord, surely-"

"Do not question me, girl." There was no hint of a smile in that voice now. "Remember what you owe, and to whom. Remember what Silverlance intends to do to this kingdom and to the humans in the mortal realm. He must. Be. Stopped. At any cost.

"And don't worry about being found out," he added. "Someone else intends to move on the prince's so-called 'lady' tomorrow night either during or after the Ball, as well. All that is required is the proper... incentive. That will distract Balor and the prince from discovering our involvement in tonight's festivities. Now, be on guard. It will be your task to keep the princess from noticing anything... untoward. We have spies in the king's household; they cannot be found out if we are to succeed in saving the kingdom."

Naya inclined her head. Dipped a curtsy. "By your command, my lord."