Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“And,” he went on in a rush, “I know we tease each other, but you never go after me for anything that really matters, and I’ve been a bit in love with you ever since I realized how you always make my tea just right, and no matter what you think, you are brave and you are good enough for me—oh, David, I’m no good with words the way you are. ”
David had no time to be embarrassed at Meredith having heard those thoughts, too, because right now he was in David’s arms and leaning in and—hesitating in uncertainty?
“David? When you said—” Meredith broke off, but whether it was thanks to the obsidian ring, or whether David had figured it out himself, the source of his doubt had become clear.
“You do realize,” said David, “when I told you never to kiss me again, that went right out the fucking window the minute I broke my own rule?”
“Oh,” said Meredith. “I—I wasn’t quite sure.”
“You are allowed to kiss me whenever you like, I mean it. In fact, right now, I’d like nothing more.”
This time, Meredith didn’t hesitate. He pressed the softest, gentlest kiss to David’s lips—gentle for about two seconds until he deepened it and tangled a hand into David’s hair and didn’t let up until they both had to stop for breath.
Afterward, Meredith closed his eyes and rested his forehead against David’s. “Can we go home now?”
“Of course.” David stood and offered a hand to help him to his feet. “Although you ought to address your subjects first. I’d never have made it here without them, and they were quite adamant about getting their king back. Or queen, in the case of the Mice,” he added.
Meredith grinned. “That’s all right, I can be both. Or maybe something in between.” Then, sobering, he asked, “But, David? Is that—I mean, I know you only like one sort of thing, but I’m a bit more than just one thing. Do you mind that?”
Had David been asked in the abstract, he honestly would not have been sure of his answer. But in this particular case, there was no question. “Well, it’s as you said, isn’t it?” He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Meredith’s face. “In the end, you’re still just you.”
At the edge of the clearing, the dry brown needles had dropped away from the fir trees, replaced by the sharp green spikes of new ones emerging—the work, David suspected, of the sycamore dryads.
When he and Meredith stepped through the trees, hand in hand, the leader of the Mice bowed low. “Welcome back, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, now, none of that,” said Meredith. “You know I don’t hold with such things. But thank you all the same. I’m glad to be back, too.”
“Pleased to meet you at last,” said the Forkupine, giving a little bow.
“Oh, hello, you’re new.” Meredith knelt down to greet him, and it was difficult for David to guess which of them was more delighted as Meredith cooed over the Forkupine and stroked his tines.
The Mice scurried up to perch on his shoulder, and the Most Weasel, taking a liking to David, came and sat up expectantly in front of him until he consented to give it a few pats between the ears.
“You will come back and play with us again soon, won’t you?” asked the Moon Calf in low, mellow tones.
“Course I will, if you’ll have me.” Meredith carefully returned the Midnight Mice to the forest floor, and as he rose to his feet, the dryads swept in to place a circlet of sweet woodruff upon his head.
“Much better,” said the Forkupine with a nod of approval.
“Oh, thank you,” said Meredith. “I’d been meaning to come and find some for ages.”
The Night Horse whinnied, and the group fell silent. “The time has come for you both to depart. You have business to attend to beyond our borders.”
Meredith nodded. “I expect you’re right.” Turning to his assembled subjects, he said, “Weasel, you can be king while I’m gone—or queen, if you’d rather—but do let the Forkupine have a turn, too.”
The Most Weasel clapped its paws joyfully and scampered over to Meredith, who stroked it behind the ears.
“If you’re ready,” said the Night Horse, “I shall carry you to the edge of the Wood.”
The journey was a quick one. David held tight to Meredith as the scenery rushed by.
Though it would have been easy to hide his face against his shoulder, this time David found he had no desire to block out the sights around him.
Undeniably, the Midnight Wood was an eerie and dangerous place, but it likewise held beauty and magic and creatures who had banded together to come to their aid, and it no longer frightened him the way it once had.
Before he knew it, the Night Horse was graciously lowering himself to allow them to dismount.
“Thank you,” said David.
“Yeah, thanks,” echoed Meredith, adjusting the ragged hem of his skirt as he stood.
“The Moon Calf and I shall expect you to tea this week,” said the Night Horse.
“I’ll bring along some Battenberg cake,” Meredith promised, “so long as I can get it to turn out right this time.”
David cleared his throat. “Er, pardon me, Mr. Night Horse, but I thought perhaps if you didn’t mind—if you all didn’t mind,” he ventured, turning to Meredith, “it might be all right if I came along, too?”
Meredith’s eyes lit up. “David, of course you’re invited! I never thought you’d want to.”
“The consort of our queen is always welcome in the Midnight Wood,” added the Night Horse.
David inclined his head. “Much obliged.”
“But now I must be getting back,” said the Night Horse, “and the two of you must be getting on.”
—
Outside the Midnight Wood, the sun was high in the cloudless sky—certainly well past daybreak. The grass was warm and fragrant in the gentle breeze, and Meredith took David’s hand as the two of them started up the hill.
“It must be past noon,” said David in surprise.
Of course the passage of time in the Wood did not correspond to that of the outside world, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether the Mice hadn’t adjusted the clock to give him a bit of extra help meeting the Erlking’s one-hour deadline.
“I’d wager you’ve missed your brunch appointment. ”
“S’pose so,” mused Meredith. “Well, no great loss there. I will give Florian a call here in a bit, though. To tell him I won’t go to his bachelor party tonight, or his wedding.” With a note of defiance, he went on, “I—I don’t have to, just because he says so.”
“You don’t have to do anything just because I say so, either.”
Meredith rolled his eyes. “David, I have never in my life done a single thing just because you told me to. Mostly I don’t do what you want at all.”
“That’s true enough,” said David, but he still couldn’t escape the nagging tendrils of guilt at the back of his mind. “But you agreed to be in this wedding because of me.”
“That was never because I thought I had to, even if you were a bit pushy about it. But that day you seemed so miserable, and I was partly to blame, and I just…I wanted to make you happy,” Meredith said softly.
When the squeeze in David’s chest let up enough for him to speak again, he said, “I ought to have stepped in when I saw how he and the rest of them spoke to you. I had half convinced myself that I must be misunderstanding, but I was wrong, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Meredith shook his head. “ ’S all right.
You was just giving me the chance to stand up for myself, is all.
I wanted to, only I didn’t quite manage it.
Didn’t think it’d hit me so hard seeing everyone again at once.
But I am going to now. I’m going to call up Florian and tell him to count me out—and Adalynn, too, to make sure she knows what she’s getting into.
” He looked over at David. “I think I have been a bit selfish that way, not thinking what it could mean for her.”
“You’ve got a bit of time for that,” David reassured him. “For now, the first order of business: the moment we get home, you are getting out of that dress—”
“Oh?” said Meredith hopefully.
“And straight into a hot bath while I put the kettle on.”
“Shame, I thought perhaps you had something different in mind.”
“That,” said David, letting his voice drop to a growl, “comes later.” On impulse, he swept Meredith up into his arms, carrying him without much difficulty. “In fact, the sooner we get there—what?” he interrupted himself as Meredith gazed up at him with a look of utter reverence.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that?”
“Probably about as long as I’ve been trying to convince myself I didn’t want to,” David admitted. “Incidentally, thank you for the flowers.”
“Oh, I thought you didn’t like them,” said Meredith in relief. Wrapping his arms around David, he leaned in to rest his face in the crook of his neck. “I’m glad you did.”
“I like them very much,” said David truthfully, “only I didn’t catch on at first that they were meant for me.”
Meredith didn’t raise his head, but murmured, “You thought I’d send myself flowers?”
“Okay, first off, don’t you dare act as if that’s out of the realm of possibility, and second—no. I thought someone had sent them to you. I never imagined myself as the sort to end up with a secret admirer.”
“Course you are. Really,” said Meredith indignantly, “how anybody could ever think you’re unremarkable is beyond me.”
“Yes, well, perhaps there is—” David broke off as they reached the crest of the hill.
Waiting on the back deck of Midnight Cottage stood Sylvania Holland and Mrs. Jupiter. In the witch’s arms, Bianca began to yip and struggle.
David’s good mood faded, replaced with a degree of apprehension. He set Meredith back on his feet.
“Come on,” said Meredith. “Whatever’s happened, suppose we’d best face it.” He took David’s hand, and they started toward the house together.