Chapter 12 In Which I Receive a History Lesson from the Gray Knight #2
Some part of my brain screamed at me, Stop, stop, are you insane? But the water was lit all around with the glow of her silvery magic, and when she looked at me, I nodded. We took one more step together, off a ledge and into the depths. I closed my eyes as we sank.
My hair floated in fine strands around my head. I opened my eyes and looked around. We were submerged a foot or two below the water, her magic around us in a bubble: It stopped a yard or two below our feet. I kicked up, for the surface, but she caught at my hand.
“Breathe,” she said, her voice burbling but comprehensible.
I stared at her. I could feel my heart pounding. I had known it was coming. But I couldn’t—
I shook my head, my lungs burning.
She pulled me to the surface; our heads broke and I gasped for air. Her hair was plastered to her long cheekbones.
“You can breathe underwater so long as I hold you,” she said. It couldn’t be a lie, but I still had a very hard time believing it.
“So come with me.” She tugged on my hand and I took another deep breath.
We submerged again, down and down this time. The water in our bubble remained clear, lit through by the silver of her magic. Everything outside was blurred, like a darkened street viewed through a window in the rain.
I tried to inhale but couldn’t make myself. She must have seen something in my face—she directed a stream of bubbles toward me with a finger, and they formed an air pocket around my nose and mouth. I inhaled gratefully.
Our feet hit the sandy bottom. I looked down, not sure what to expect.
There was a mosaic beneath our feet, partially obscured by the sand of the riverbed.
Every tile glittered—I couldn’t tell if it was constructed from precious stones, or just polished glass reflecting the ever-changing miasma of our light.
The mosaic shimmered far beyond the light of our bubble, little glints of light reflecting back through the shield of magic. I tilted a little, until I floated face down above it. There were clearly figures—faeries—being chased away by… other figures?
“What is this?” I asked, not sure if she would hear me.
“They created the river much later,” she said. “This used to be an entrance to Faerie.” I strained to understand her through the mild distortion of the water.
She pulled me to one edge of the mosaic.
It must have been a road once. We floated together beneath a high rounded arch, staring down at our feet.
The keystone of the arch was beyond the edges of our bubble, and columns loomed over us, bending toward each other and then disappearing into the rippling silver of her magic.
“It tells the story of our flight and liberation in our own world,” she explained. “The mortals had discovered our weakness—”
“Iron,” I interjected.
“—which is now again lost to time,” she continued.
“And not iron, obviously, or Sahir would not be able to work in your building.” Even muffled underwater she managed to convey a startling level of contempt.
But her gaze hadn’t left my face since we descended, and her expression was one of fascination—almost longing.
For a world lost to her? Or for something else?
My face flushed; I wondered if a blush would be visible underwater.
“Oh, yeah,” I said.
She squeezed my hand again, or maybe she was just flexing out a finger cramp. I tore my focus from the great mystery of the Gray Knight’s unfathomable thoughts.
I looked down at the figures, the fleeing faeries and the angry humans. With the undulating current and the shifting sand, it looked like they were running even now.
“I… thought you would want to see where it started,” she said. “Because it is a piece of history.”
“Thank you,” I said, a bit awed.
The Gray Knight and I drifted along the road, images unscrolling before us.
The faeries opening a door in a hill, and hollowing out a space.
The faeries with their arms to the sky, sending stars overhead.
The faeries crowning someone. The faeries shaping the landscape; raising hills and cratering valleys; sending flocks of doves skyward from the slender bones of their wrists.
It was eerie, and so oppressively silent, with the two of us in our silver bubble like a beacon under the waves. But no fish or Fae disturbed us, and we floated together down the road, hand in hand.
We spent a long time under the water.
When she finally tugged me upward, I went willingly. We waded to shore together, still hand in hand, and collapsed next to each other on the picnic blanket. I lay face down, breathing in the cool night air and the damp river smell.
She pushed on my shoulder, rolling me onto my back.
The wet clothes clung to me, clung to her.
Her shirt had rolled up, and I stared at the strip of skin above her hips.
“You appreciate history and truth,” she said, looking down at me.
Her hair fell in sheets and the magic fell in sheets and I could see nothing except the silver glint of her eyes.
You appreciate history and truth is a very unsexy sentiment, for what it’s worth.
But she had fine silver hairs on her navel, and water droplets slid down her collarbone and onto the blanket beneath us.
“I appreciate you,” I whispered, smooth as always, propping myself up on my elbows.
Without another word, she leaned forward and kissed me.
Oh, I thought.
Her lips were so soft, impossibly soft, and hot. She tasted of the cider, of river water, of something indefinable and necessary. It was a million times sweeter than the jam.
She smiled while we kissed, one hand fisting in my tangled wet hair, the other keeping herself steady.
I wanted to pull away and look at her face—I didn’t think she’d ever smiled in my presence before tonight, and it was so odd to only feel it but not observe it.
I gasped and grabbed at her shoulders, her arms, startled and yearning.
I pulled her onto me, and she laughed. Her hand trailed down the side of my neck, along the divot above my collarbone.
Her fingers curled under my collar, nails scrabbling against my bare skin.
I shivered and pressed up against her, sliding my own hands down her back to her waist. She nipped my lip and I groaned.
I am kissing a faerie. A faerie. Oh my god. I mean, I don’t know how I like, feel about her, but she’s hot and I’m kissing her. Am I kissing okay? Should I do something different?
And then—Am I fetishizing faeries?
Which is not a sexy thought.
I jumped when she put her hand on my hip, and squirmed away from her. She pulled back and looked at me. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m just—self-conscious,” I said, taking her hand.
She frowned at me. “Do you think I would kiss you if I did not want you, as you are?”
She dipped her head to kiss along the line of my throat. I stared over her head at the spill of silver magic above us, trying not to think. Her lips were cool on my skin, soft.
I felt hollow, afraid to mess this up and afraid to continue.
But she deserved my enthusiastic participation. I pushed away. “I’m sorry,” I said, sliding out from under her. “I don’t think I’m ready to be… doing this. It’s been a stressful month, you know?”
She sat up, her still-damp hair in disarray. “I find physical distraction helpful,” she said. “When I feel stress.”
“I… don’t think I do. Can we just hold each other?”
If she found the request odd, she didn’t say so. She just lay back on the blanket and held her arms wide for me. I nestled into her embrace, staring at the little hairs that curled away from her temple. “Thank you,” I said, still breathless and dazed.
The minutes passed. My heartbeat evened out, the warmth of her body against mine soothing and familiar. We breathed each other in, our legs tangling. I started to doze.
She smiled, kissed my cheek.
I nuzzled closer. “I need to get back,” I said, and then sat up, a bolt of panic shooting through me. “Oh, god, I need to get back. What time is it? I might have missed some work.”
I leapt to my feet, snatching at my wet clothing like that would make it more comfortable, and yanked my boots on. “Can you zap us back to the Court?”
“Zap?” she repeated. She sat up, looking more baffled than a woman posing for a Jackson Pollock painting.
“Teleport us back to the—the Court—the castle—the—”
“It is not a castle,” she said, pushing to her feet. “It is a warren. And I cannot teleport. What magic would that even entail? The displacement of living beings on a molecular level? That sounds like a fantastic way to die.”
“Please,” I begged, voice low and hoarse, “can we please go back?”
She frowned but waved her hand and dissolved the magic dome around us. We didn’t speak again as she lifted me onto Sparkles, or as we rode back to the hill.
But when she helped me down from the saddle, she pressed her lips to my temple, a gesture so soft it nearly shattered me. I turned away from her and hurried into the Court, sodden clothes itchy and my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon. Or, more realistically, half a mile.
In my bedroom, I dashed to the computer and turned it on to the expected barrage of angry emails.
Levi and Jeff had gotten into a discussion about the valuation I’d sent over, and left me in CC.
Jeff had sent us a new email titled SEND OVER COUNTRY COUNTESS VALUATION MIRI ASAP THANKS.
Levi had replied:
Jeff, Miri’s still at the site visit. She sent the valuation in the email Country Countess Valuation at 1:23 this morning.
Jeff to Levi:
I need her to send me the valuation.
And then Levi back:
The valuation is attached in her initial email to us. Reattaching it here.
Jeff again:
She needs to be online.
Levi:
When she gets back I will let her know she needs to bring her phone next time.
Jeff:
I’m not paying her to go on day trips.
Levi:
Can I answer any questions about the valuation?
Jeff:
No just tell her to call me when she’s back.
I wondered why I’d been left in CC.
It didn’t seem like there was anything actionable for me to do at this point except stew in impotent rage. I drafted a quick note to Jeff so he’d know I was online and not traipsing about with woodland creatures—or kissing faerie women.
Jeff, I just got back from the site visit. They are using magic to build. The foundations are in place. It takes about an hour to travel there via horse. Miri.
I logged off the computer and lay down to sleep next to Doctor Kitten.
But I didn’t sleep. I lay awake, clenching my eyes shut, rolling back and forth across the mattress with my left leg anchored in place so I didn’t disturb the cat.
I hadn’t even done anything wrong. My work had been fine; Jeff was just upset I hadn’t been online.
And he was the one who’d sent me away to begin with.
When I finally did sleep, I dreamed of the Gray Knight, her silver hair and silver eyes and silver tail.
She propped herself above me on her forearms and glowed brighter and brighter, until I shut my eyes against the light.
She kissed along my cheek, my lower lip, the line of my jaw, until I was writhing beneath her.
But when I opened my eyes, it was Sahir above me, his curls hanging down around his face, his lips red with kissing.
I woke up panting in the middle of the night, bolt-upright and wild-eyed.
It took me a long time to sleep again after that.