“I know that,” she snapped, tossing her head.
He lifted a hand in a placating gesture, “I only mean that I am of the Fae. We do nothing by half-measures. The throne is imbued with my magic. For centuries, power has been drawn and fed to that throne. Whoever sits upon it will be affected by such magic. For Sebastian, it seems that it has bestowed upon him some magical talents he did not possess before and prolonged his life and youth.”
She shook her head again, glancing away. Rodan noted that she looked at him for only a short time before she turned her head. He wondered—what, exactly, she thought before she looked away? He smiled as she said, “That’s all well and good, but why did it take this long for you to bring me back?”
He let out a little laugh. “Do you know how many worlds exist, young Maeve? I have sought you out for what, from my vantage point, has been more than fifty years. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of worlds I visited, searching for you. If I had known you would have become a well-known figure, my search would have been much shorter. As it was, I was in your world for almost a month before I found you.” He smiled at her, and she glanced up at him, flushing once more. “Those books were an interesting take on events.”
Her red cheeks grew darker. “You read them?”
“Yes. Several times.”
She swallowed. “I don’t suppose you liked the way you were written.”
He bobbed his head a little to one side and then the other. “Oh, I don’t know. You did call me ‘incomparably handsome,’ I believe.”
Maeve turned away.
He smirked at her back. Yes, it would be interesting to know what you’re thinking about when you can no longer look me in the eye. “In your books, Jessica Lambert was tempted by King Rodan’s proposal on the eve of the duel.”
“Some things are just fiction,” she said, far too fast. “What do we do now? What’s your plan?”
He went along with her change in subject. There would be time to explore the past, as well as whatever future they might have, later. “Now, we have six months to reach Realmsgate and duel Sebastian for the crown. Along the way, there will be great challenges arising at each of the major cities of each Realm. I must be crowned in each of those cities before I can issue my direct challenge to the throne.”
“Six months,” Maeve said. “Sebastian had years.”
“Because I gave him years,” Rodan said with a sigh. “For I granted him the time frame I granted every mortal who challenged me—the span of their life. No one had ever come close to succeeding before him.” He paused. “In hindsight, it was a grievous error. It gave him more time to lay his plots and manipulations. I never suspected that someone who would seek out the throne would be willing to throw away the lives of so many people along the way. And I never imagined you.”
“The Realms are enormous,” she argued, seeming to ignore his last comment. “We have so little time.”
“We should get going then,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the woods, and the mountain valley which sloped downward toward the river.
Maeve glanced down, and he followed her gaze to her bare feet. She wriggled her toes and rolled her eyes up at him. “I’m going to slow you down.”
He frowned and took in her loose shirt and pants, her bare feet, and her long, messy hair. She looked like she rolled out of bed a moment ago. The thought stirred something inside of him, but he stamped down the sensation. The time for such things would come, after they had finished the trials. He looked forward to revisiting these feelings then.
Rodan knelt and brushed his hand along the ground, gathering the matter and twisting it into the shapes he desired. Maeve gasped he rose, a pair of boots, trousers, a shirt, and a bodice in his arms. He raised his eyebrows as he passed her the goods. “You act as though magic were a foreign thing.”
She took the clothes, her fingers brushing against his gloved hand. A surge of warmth spread from her touch, and he pulled away. “It’s just that—well, when Sebastian or I did magic, there were always candles and herbs and such. I have never seen something done with so little effort.”
“Oh, it requires effort,” he assured her. “What you just saw was my gift of transmutation. Some time ago, I assisted a wood witch, and in exchange, she bestowed this power on me. It took a long time to master, and even longer to make it look so effortless. Every transformation takes its toll. But this was a small thing.”
She stared at him for a time and then cleared her throat. “Do you mind turning around? I need to get dressed.”
Rodan offered a slow smile but turned his back all the same. Fabric rustled as she changed clothes. He looked out over the valley, watching the birds circle and soar over the tips of the trees.
Something seemed to swell in his chest as he surveyed the scenic vista. Despite all the times he returned and saw the mistreatment of his people, Rodan smiled to be standing here. The Realms. This was home, had been home for almost two thousand years. It contained all that he desired. All that he wanted.
“Okay,” Maeve said, coming to stand beside him. “That’s much better. Thank you.”
Rodan nodded, trying to ignore how the bodice pushed up her breasts, and how the fabric of the soft blue woolen shirt clung to them.
There had been many years in exile, and during that time, Rodan bedded no one. Thought of no one, either, save the woman at his side.
This is going to be challenging in more ways than one, he realized.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice filled with a warmth he did not disguise. Maeve looked at him, her eyes a little wide, and he cleared his throat. “Come. The day is late, and the light is fading. We’ll get as far as we can and try to find suitable transportation tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER SIX
Maeve
THEY WALKED UNTIL THE SUN WENT DOWN, and then for a little longer until they reached a clearing at the base of the mountain where Rodan said they would camp for the night.
Maeve’s stomach complained, and she would kill for a nice, strong cup of tea.
She stared in fascination as Rodan touched several trees on the edge of the clearing. They disappeared, and he paced the empty space, a great black and gold pavilion rising in his wake. When he stopped, he turned to her and motioned at the entrance with a slight flourish. “My lady.”
Maeve shook her head at that but went inside, eyes wide as she took in the interior. The ceiling stretched up a good fifteen feet above their heads, sloping downward at the edges of the tent where the black and gold fabric puddled on the ground. Many multi-colored plush rugs littered the ground, and a partition cut through the middle of the space, dividing one ‘bedroom’ from the other. In front of the barrier, the tent contained an open area with a low dining table, a writing desk, and many floor cushions and plush chairs.
She moved to the right side, running a hand over the bedpost and exploring behind a screen, where a large copper tub filled with steaming water greeted her.
“I’ll make us dinner,” Rodan called from the other side of the partition. “Please, make yourself at home. There is a selection of clothing for you near the bath.”