Chapter Nineteen
Either the fae had a way of monitoring the forests, or the forests were able to alert the fae. Taz and Sephie had only been singing for a few minutes when a gate opened opposite where they sat, and Druisten walked through it.
“Back again?” he asked.
“Our supposed refuge turned out to be after our heads,” Taz admitted. “May we come back, Druisten?”
“Come,” he replied. “We won’t leave a bard mage pair in danger. Even if none of the forests will give you refuge, we can give you free passage.”
They found themselves being questioned by a meeting, which was far less intimidating now they knew most of the fae who attended.
Hebog’s plan for wholesale assassination horrified the fae. They condemned his intentions for Sephie even more strongly. And no one spoke against the proposal to let the bard mage pair stay, at least until the Brighton situation was resolved.
“They seem more upset about Hebog planning to marry Sephie off to one of his cronies than about Hebog blowing up half the ruling class of England, plus who knows how many wives and servants,” Taz commented, as Ligard and Acha led them back to their accommodations.
“It is not that breaking apart a bonded pair is worse than murder,” Acha explained, “But they know you, and they don’t know these other people.”
“We are not bonded,” Sephie pointed out. “At least, not yet. Not completely.”
Taz added. “Each time we sing, the bond deepens, but it is still fragile.”
Sephie had taken another two steps, with Taz beside her, before she realized Ligard and Acha had stopped and were staring at them. “Why are you not fully bonded?” asked Acha. “You are a bard mage pair. You need the bond to fully access your power.”
“How do we fully bond?” Sephie asked.
Acha raised her eyebrows. Ligard made a gesture with his hands that Sephie didn’t understand, but from his blush, Taz did, and so did Acha, who punched Ligard in the side.
“Sharing common blood works,” Acha said. “A brother and sister, a father and son. But if you are not related by blood then you must…” She paused to choose her words. “…become family in another way.”
“I understand,” Taz said. “Rose and I shall discuss it.”
And since they had arrived at their rooms in the cave system, the fae pair left it at that.
Putting all the clues together, Sephie had guessed that bonding meant what her Cousin Delia had called bedding. As soon as the door had closed the fae out and her and Taz in, she turned to him and said, “Do they mean we must go to bed together?”
“And not only to bed,” Taz said. “Other places are also perfectly acceptable.” Was he teasing? She was going to slap him if he was teasing.
Taz broke the silence. “Sephie, darling, will you marry me? Not for our magic, but because you want to be my wife, and my partner in every way?”
Sephie examined his face. He didn’t look as if he was teasing. He looked anxious, as if the answer mattered to him. “I think so. If you are sure you wish to marry me.”
Taz promptly dropped to one knee. “Miss Seraphina Westwood, over the past few weeks, I have come to honor and esteem you more than I can easily express. You make me feel complete, not just when we sing together, but when I see you smiling over the breakfast table, when you let me take your hand as we walk together, a thousand times a day in different ways. Will you marry me, and be my love? Will you be my bride, my wife, my partner in music, in magic, in life, and in every way?”
How lovely. Sephie’s heart seemed to swell, and for a moment, she could not find any words. But the hope died in his eyes and his dear face fell. She couldn’t bear to see him hurt. She sank to her own knees and threw herself into his arms. “Yes, please,” she said.
*
How wonderful it was to be held in someone’s arms, and kissing was the nicest activity Sephie had ever tried.
She had never realized there were so many ways to kiss—and every single one was delightful, from pecks dotted all over her lips to the kind of deep full-mouthed kiss involving tongues that she would have considered disgusting, had she known about it beforehand, but that set all of her nerves alight, or on fire, or both.
She couldn’t get enough of it.
And kissing wasn’t only for lips. Taz covered her face and neck with kisses. He promised that, when they were wed, he would kiss her all over, and while her mind questioned the purpose of that, her body seemed to know, and shivered deliciously in anticipation.
“When we are wed?” Sephie repeated. She told him she didn’t want to wait. “Is it not true that in Scotland, people can declare themselves married in front of witnesses, and they are wed?” she asked. “Can we do that?”
“It is true, though in my mountains, most have a ceremony—a hand-fasting, or a church wedding. We could have a hand-fasting.”
“Or we could ask to marry by the rites of the fae,” she said. “If they don’t accept it outside, we can just marry again.”
“Let’s do that,” said Taz. And he promised to talk to their hosts in the morning, to see if they could marry by whatever ceremonies the fae used.
Not that they accepted the terms “husband” and “wife”, or even “marriage”.
Acha and Ligard were heart-bonded, Acha had told them.
He was her heart’s companion, and she was his.
They parted for their own bedchambers, but it was a long time before Sephie was able to sleep, as she relived their discussion and embraces over and over. After some time, it occurred to her that Granny would not be at all pleased with this match. Nor would Father.
Both had told her that her only use to the family was to marry into a high-ranking family and give birth to mages. Indeed, Granny used to switch her with a birch stick every time she was caught using magic, for too much use of her power might render her permanently infertile.
Now she was about to wed a mage, but not one from one of Father’s high-ranking families.
No, she was marrying a man whose father had been a bookkeeper at a Welsh mine.
The son of a clerk with no influence or status, for he and his wife would not have been killed if they had had anyone to stand up for them.
Furthermore, she was using magic daily—frequently throughout the day. Not to change the world or to gain status or power. But to amuse people. She liked it. She liked how they laughed and cried, and came up after she sang, to thank her.
She wanted to live peacefully in the world, as the fae did in their forests. She only hoped that Taz would agree with her, and that Hawk and her Cousin Jasper would allow them to do so.
Where would they live, if they could be free to choose?
She imagined a small house that she and Taz could care for with a servant or two, and a glorious garden, for of course, Taz would need a garden.
And she would learn from him, and care for their plants alongside him.
She drifted off to sleep, to furnish the house and plant the garden in her dreams.
*
As he had promised, the following morning, almost as soon as Acha and Ligard arrived, Taz asked about a fae wedding for the pair of them.
They offered to find out for him, and left them on the forest paths.
It was not long before others joined them, and the morning proceeded like any other in the forests of the fae, except that Sephie slipped her hand into Taz’s and clung to it until he needed it to play his harp, and took it again as soon as they were finished.
The magic in their music was stronger today.
Taz at first thought it was just his imagination, but when Acha and Ligard rejoined them just as a song was ending, the fae who had come with them commented immediately.
“It is said of the greatest of bard mage pairs that they could draw tears from stones and set trees to dancing, but I never believed it until this day.”
With a slow shake of the head as if rejecting his former disbelief, he went on, “If your music is this powerful before your bond is complete, Owl and Rose, then who knows what wonders we shall behold once you have made your vows and consummated them?”
“Uradech has come to speak with you about your wedding,” Acha said. “He is our records keeper and leads our rituals.”
“One of the record keepers and ritualists,” disclaimed Uradech. “I have apprentices, young Acha.”
Uradech had dark hair and the kind of ageless face that meant he was past his first youth and not yet in what, to the fae, was old age. Which meant he had lived anything from eighty to six hundred years.
From what Taz had picked up as they explored the forest, the fae took some forty years to reach physical maturity, after which they were considered young adults for the next forty years.
Those who chose a permanent partner—which was not all of them, by any means—seldom did so before they were sixty.
Barring accidents, they would have more than four hundred and eighty years after that in their prime.
This forest had two elders who were past seven hundred.
They were not bent with age, but they moved with caution, and their faces were lined with wrinkles.
“You have asked for a wedding, Owl. We cannot give you a wedding by the rites of your church, but if you and Rose wish to marry by our customs, we are inclined to permit it.”
Taz met Sephie’s gaze. She nodded, and he said, “We wish to marry by your customs, if we may. Here in your forest, with your people to bear witness.”
“You have welcomed us and befriended us,” Sephie added. “We would be thrilled to be wed with you around us.”
“The bonding of hearts,” said Uradech. “That is what we call it. The couple makes vows to one another. I can teach you the words, or you can invent your own. Acha, Ligard, continue to collect the votes.”
The two addressed waved a farewell, and hurried off down different paths.
“All those who have spoken so far agree that our forest would be proud to host the heart bonding of the bard mage pair,” Uradech told them. “Come and sit with me, and I shall tell you what to expect and what you need to do.”
*
The ceremony, as Uradech explained it, sounded wonderful.
Sephie and Taz requested two changes. First, that they sang their vows, and second that they exchanged rings.
Uradech said he knew someone who made rings.
He left them practicing the weaving and the knot of the hand-fasting cord, and went away, to return some time later, smiling broadly, his arm around the shoulders of a man Taz didn’t recognize.
“Owl, Rose, meet Bridei. Bridei is a maker in gold and other fine metals.”
Bridei had a satchel full of rings, beautifully made, and he was prepared to swap two of them for a song.
“The bard mage pair are welcome to my rings,” he said, “if they will sing good luck to my son at his naming ceremony. It is in two days’ time, and Uradech has promised to bring you to my forest, Owl, and Rose, if the bargain is to your liking. ”
Taz had a momentary qualm. So many of the stories warned against making bargains with the fae. But then, perhaps that reflected the suspicions and grudges of men, rather than the maliciousness of the fae.
Sephie was nodding, so Taz decided to make a leap of faith. “I agree. My Rose and I would be proud to sing for your son.”
They chose together, a matching ring each, a band of gold incised with an intricate pattern of hearts and circles.
“I can add a message inside the ring, if you wish,” said Bridei.
He took the ring he wore from his finger to show them.
“The runes say, Together Always,” he explained. “My heart’s companion has the same.”
“I like that,” said Taz.
“Something that is our own,” Sephie wondered. “Forever my music, perhaps? My heart’s song?”
“What do you think about My heart sings for you, today and always. In Cymru old-script it would be four characters.”
“Ah, yes,” Bridei agreed. “The symbols for heart, me to you, today, always.”
“Perfect,” Sephie agreed. “You will have to teach me the characters, my Owl.”
Taz had another idea, too, but he would explain it to Sephie in private, not in front of all these other people, however friendly they might be. It was, after all, his and Sephie’s wedding, not anyone else’s.
Even so, their fae friends soon split into two groups, one bearing Sephie off with them to choose clothes in which she was to be wed, and the other insisting on doing the same with Taz.