The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (13 page)

His bold laughter echoed all around her, as she looped and spiraled through the air, gliding once again toward the trees, toward his outstretched hand, toward Him.

Her fingers tangled with his and he brought her to the ground, drew her into his body, which radiated the very essence of the woods around them. One hand brushed a feathery strand of loose hair from her cheek, while the other spread across the small of her back to hold her there in place as he leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead.

A shiver of desire rippled through her, her own reluctance to cross the line between men and women even in her dreams causing her hand to tremble as she lifted it against the smooth skin of his face. Tilted heads, eyes searching one another for the answer to some eternal question that had been nagging at them both until that moment in time, she parted her lips slowly, moistened them with the tip of her tongue, and in the moment it took for her to find her breath, he crushed her body against his and kissed her.

A shower of small leaves and spiraling seeds fell around them and somewhere far away was the sound of the most beautiful and haunting song she’d ever heard. A chorus of solemn voices reaching for the heavens echoed through the trees, through the valleys, climbing the very air as it ascended higher and higher.

It was this beautiful song that woke Meredith from the incredible dream, and as she breathed in, stretching into the comfortable mattress beneath her, the essence of the forest filled the room around her. Heavy lids blinked in slow reflection, and her lips still tingled with the repercussion of that dream. She’d never be able to look him in the eye come morning, she realized, a slow heat burning in her cheeks. She’d never forget the image of their closeness, of his hand lingering against her cheek, his hungry eyes and teasing kiss.

She closed her eyes again, the image still waiting for her as the swirling mists of dusk fell in over the sleeping village. The chorus of voices carried mournfully through, lulling her back into the vivid dream world that waited.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Morning mist swirled into her sleeping chambers in long trails, barely retreating as she stretched in the bed and opened her eyes. Beyond the dampened haze she sensed a distant burning sun, a dull luminescence of white-gold so far away she couldn’t feel its heat. She wasn’t cold though. In fact, she felt incredibly warm and well rested.

Everything Underground was alive with wonder, and that liveliness warmed a body from the soul out.

Her dreams offered equal warmth, and she tried to hide her giddy smile as memories of Him’s lips against hers trotted through her mind. She was only hiding from herself, which wouldn’t last for long. Soon she would be face to face with Him, and there was no telling what heated emotion would transpire in his presence after a night filled with dreams like that.

She closed her eyes again and rolled into the pillow. Flashes of memory sent shivers of delight rippling through her like raindrops on a still pool of water, his mouth on her mouth, his hands on her skin. The word sin was like a fiery beacon in her mind, but only for a moment, as the world she’d known only yesterday, and all of its dark implications faded.

The delight of her daydream was so powerful, it nearly carried her back to sleep, but then a quick rap rose against the wooden door, and she leaned upright to make sure she’d heard it. It sounded again, and she called out, “Yes?”

The door opened, and Niliel peeked inside. “Good morning, Lady Meredith.”

“Good morning.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. “We are gathering to greet the dawn,” she announced. “I’ve brought your travel clothes and have been asked to bring you into the glen once you’ve dressed.”

“Of course,” Meredith agreed, throwing the quilt aside and climbing out of bed.

“I trust you slept well.” The other woman slipped into the room with a green tunic trimmed in silver and leather travel breeches over her outstretched arm.

She slipped out of the soft, comfortable gown she’d worn after her bath the night before and Niliel helped her dress.

Strange, she realized, how natural it felt to be dressed by another, though all her life she had never needed assistance. While Niliel’s deft fingers drew buttons through holes and worked leather strings to the perfect tightness, Meredith listened to the growing chorus of voices reaching out from the glen.

“We wake the sun every morning with song.” She did not even look up from her task as she said this.

“It's beautiful,” Meredith said.

Pulling through the final knot, Niliel stepped back and offered a genuine smile to her charge. “Come then,” she held a hand out. “Let us sing it together.”

They bustled through the empty household, out the door and on through the village. The song grew louder as they neared the dale, where everybody in the village had gathered. Some held their arms aloft, while others lifted their heads toward the sky, eyes closed as sunlight washed their faces. Hundreds of voices chorused together, climbing upward to meet the sun, but Meredith could only take it in, unsure of the words.

Her eyes darted over the crowd—Sylvanus with his eyes closed and lips curled into a wondrous grin as they called out ancient words of wonder. At his side, Him was similarly posed, while Sir Gwydion reached upward with symbolic longing for the light to embrace him.

Upon seeing Him, chills of shameful longing rippled across the back of Meredith’s neck, down her arms and legs, and she almost buckled under the tickle. As though he sensed her thoughts, or at least her presence, Him’s gaze drew toward her, a delighted grin finding his mouth.

He looked well rested, she noted, but there was a dangerous twinkle in his dark eyes that forced her to look away. She was suddenly conscious of her dreams again, of their mingling smells, the strength of his body as he pressed tight against her, arms crushing her close.

She worried that her face gave her desires away, but even that notion inspired a bewildered grin that wouldn’t leave her.

Distracted as she was, she tried to focus on the song and the strange words that spiraled inside her mind like arcane memories. It was familiar, and as she hummed the rhythm became effortless. She understood the meaning, and for a moment the song penetrated through the haze of forgotten memories. There was a flashing image in her mind of a familiar female beside her, her aunt, and the round, jovial face of her uncle—the man who had loved her as his own daughter, and yet sent her away from her world and her people.

A rising ache in her heart came on like the suffocation of unshed tears. One by one, the voices in the glen wound down until only the final note rang clear and the sun burned a small opening through the morning mist.

Sylvanus’s steady voice called out, “We praise your blessings of bountiful light.”

The village echoed in answer, “All hail bountiful light.”

And just like that the calm peace of a people in unity broke down into happy laughter, joyful greetings, excited chatter and thoughtful inquiries. Niliel left her side and rushed forward to meet with another, leaving Meredith alone amidst the boisterous village crowd. She jumped at the touch of a hand on her arm, and spun around to glimpse his laughing face.

“Good morrow, Lady.” Him bowed slightly to her, his eyes set upon hers.

“Good morning.”

They were so close. The pressure of bodies around them pushed them nearer than they should have been. As she drew in breath, Meredith smelled that wonderful essence, the musk of the forest after the rain, damp bark and plant life. It made her head spin, and for the moment she was grateful for the firm position of his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” He blinked slowly, surveying the crowd around them, and then returning his attention to her.

She nodded, “Fine.” She had to get a grip on herself. “I am still getting used to the air,” she started. “It’s so pure, it’s intoxicating.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Might I walk you to the feast?”

“That would be wonderful.” She ignored the inner voice that rattled her insecurities and fell into step beside Him. Sir Gwydion lingered in the dell with a group of pixies. She glanced back at him and then asked, “Is that his family?”

“It’s a tad complicated, I suppose. You see that young one there?” Meredith followed the length of his slender finger, which he just as quickly withdrew when she nodded. “Five years ago he asked her father for her hand, but before he would grant permission, Gwydion was given a list of quests to complete.”

A hint of sorrow nagged at her. “Oh no.”

“He has one task left,” Him explained. “Now you understand why he’s so uptight. He’s on the verge of a lifelong commitment. See how her lip curls, how she already owns him… I think he may be having second thoughts.” And then he laughed, the soft sound of it curling around them as they walked.

“And what about you?” She dared to wonder aloud. “Have you a wife, or perhaps a betrothed for whom you quest and recoil from so shrewdly?”

“Not me. I’m more of a free spirit,” he explained. “I’ve yet to find the one who could keep me in one place, though it’s strange as I think I’m suddenly closer than I’ve ever come to her before.”

At this, Meredith shuddered, for there was something wild in his eyes that suggested the dreams that haunted her sleep had not been entirely her own, that he too had been there experiencing the fire of a passion so deep, both bodies burned. She turned her head downward to hide the flush of warmth that painted her cheeks pink.

“And you’ve not mentioned a sweetheart in the Upland,” he noted, a lingering hint of curiosity in his statement.

“Because there is no one,” she said.

His face lengthened in disbelief. “You don’t say.”

“I do.”

“What luck!” He grinned. “The two of us completely unfettered...”

“Him,” Sylvanus called over his shoulder, dissolving their flirtation. “I have a task for you.”

Exasperated, Him excused himself with a roll of his eyes, and then trotted off to see to his brother’s needs. She watched after him, noticed as he darted off toward Sylvanus’s home, and felt an aching disappointment.

Sylvanus stepped into his place beside her and said, “We will break our fast in the hall,” he explained. “It has been long since we’ve had such a happy gathering.”

“I look forward to it,” she admitted, barely able to hide the hungry rumble inside her belly.

Sylvanus laughed at the sound, and together they entered the celebration hall.

Vast, endless tables decorated in lilies and daffodils, daisies, and tulips decorated the open hall. There were stacks of steaming cakes, sweet breads, puddings and crocks of jam beside berry-flavored syrups and honey. Dishes beyond her wildest imagination filled every table, and as Sylvanus arrived at the head of the longest, most elaborate table, he gestured for Meredith to have a seat on his left.

She sat, and after only a moment’s observation, followed the example of everyone else in the hall and helped herself to a steaming pile of honeyed-hotcakes, and several different spoonfuls of berries of like and color she’d never before seen, but which smelled so delicious her mouth watered with the mere hint of them. Cakes and biscuits, fruits and puddings, she had never piled a plate so high her in life, and yet there was more abundance the more she took.

Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind about not ever taking food from the fey, and then she thought of her sister in the Goblin Market. Kothar had called Christina a greedy little pig, devouring that which was not hers.

“Try the drakeberries,” Sylvanus said, as though he sensed her apprehension.

Her mother’s warning faded, as she realized that life among those faerie people was already more warming and comfortable than the world above. In fact, the only thing she had worth living for up there, or so it seemed, was her sister, and now Christina was lost.

Meredith helped herself to the drakeberries. She turned to pass the dish to her right when she noted from the corner of her eye that Him had returned. He held an elaborately carved box in his hands, which he turned over to Sylvanus, seating himself in the chair across from Meredith. Sir Gwydion had returned with him, and sat down on his left, barely regarding Meredith at all.

“It’s been ages since you’ve had such a fine feast, brother.” Him took a honey-drizzled biscuit onto his plate, breaking it open with his fingers so he could spread orange jam inside.

“It’s been even longer since we’ve had such a fine occasion,” Sylvanus pointed out. “The Fates do not lie,” he went on. “The journey which lies ahead for Meredith will bring about great change in our world of the like we haven’t seen in centuries.”

“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” she said, leaning in to fill her cup with steaming, nectar sweetened tea. “While I do understand my evident connection, my sole task is still saving my sister and returning her Upland where she belongs.”

“Perhaps, but even so small a task holds volumes of power of the like you may never understand,” Sylvanus said. “Think of a single trickle of water, a single drop on stone falling day after day—it has the power to wear the stone away, changing the faces of mountains every time it rains.”

“My brother.” Him held up his cup in tribute. “The great philosopher.”

An awkward grin drew at the corners of Sylvanus’s mouth. He folded his hands together atop the table and stared down at them for a long time in what seemed like an act of humble embarrassment.

“No need for ceremonies, Him,” he said. “It is a simple statement of truth, and nothing more. Besides, Meredith is our guest of honor, let us pay tribute to her.”

Him’s eyes were already on her, she realized, his cup still raised, only now in her direction. “I’ll drink to her.”

Several others around raised their glasses and the attention made Meredith feel giddy and nervous. She wanted to believe Sylvanus when he claimed that her task of saving Christina would do wonders for them all, but the part of her still grounded firmly in Upland reality back at the cottage clung tight to her mind and made it impossible to completely give in. She grinned and looked away, but Sylvanus would have none of her modesty.