“Staying in Nione will also give you a chance to rest and heal,” said Chelle.
“A minor matter,” said Borel.
Chelle smiled ruefully and shook her head and said, “Men.”
“After the wedding,” continued Borel, “we need find a magicien or sorciere to combat Rhensibe, and then we will come and ask you for help in freeing Lord Roulan and his household from Rhensibe’s curse.”
“Well and good,” said Arle, smiling. “We will be ready.”
That night, with Flic and Buzzer on a leaf nearby, Chelle and Borel slept by the small fire well away from King Arle’s camp. Borel-exhausted, drained from two full days without rest, much of it loping o’er field and stream and sand-fell aslumber the moment he lay down. On the other hand, Chelle spent much of the night watching him sleep in the illumination of the full moon, noting how the silvery radiance played o’er the planes of his face, how the argent beams highlighted the sheen of his hair. At last she sighed and lay down against his back and held him close.
The next morn, following the directions given the evening before by King Arle, Flic and Buzzer flew away, the Sprite to be far from the iron the chevaliers bore. Shortly after Flic took to wing, Arle rode nigh, dogs running alongside, and in tow he had a horse.
“Andre would be honored if you would ride his steed,” said Arle.
“My lord, what will he ride?” asked Borel.
“One of the packhorses unladed of its goods.”
“A chevalier’s mount belongs to none else, my lord. Chelle and I will ride the packhorse in Andre’s stead. Besides, ’tis easier on the animal if two ride bareback than one in saddle and the other across the withers.”
“Oh?” said Chelle. “You were planning on riding on the withers, Prince Borel?”
Then Chelle broke into laughter, and Borel’s guffaws joined hers.
Arle said, “Ah, a spirited demoiselle. You have chosen well, Lord Borel.”
Borel’s laughter stopped, as did Chelle’s, and they looked at one another. “My lord,” said Borel, “I remind you: but for a brief time long past, until yester we had only met in dreams. And even though my heart is most surely hers, I would court her properly.”
“Ah, yes,” said Arle. “I had forgotten you were not yet lovers.”
Chelle blushed and Borel sighed and Arle laughed. Then the king said, “I would hear your own story, Lady Michelle, as we ride this morn.”
Borel mounted the steed and gave Chelle a hand up, and with her riding behind, they rode to the chevaliers’ camp and dismounted.
Over Andre’s protests, the prince and his lady rode bareback upon a gentle gelding, and as the cavalcade wended its way toward the town of Nione, King Arle reined back until he rode alongside the pair. “Your tale, my lady?”
Chelle nodded and said, “My father-the duke-decided well in advance that on the day of my majority he would hold a gala. And so he invited many to attend-nobles, Fairies, merchants and other townsfolk. And they all came, Fey Folk on horses with silver bells, merchants in broughams, nobles on prancing steeds, and even some Fey who flew in.
“Ah, the party was splendid, with croquet and quoits and darts and blindfold tag, with music and dancing, and the food, oh the food, it was delicious-roasts and quail and breads and fruits and pastries as well as sweet candies.
“And the gifts were considerable. The Fairies gathered ’round and spoke as if their gifts had been given to me at my birth, though I don’t know what those might have been.
“Regardless, one of the Fey Folk, a most gracious and beautiful lady who had somehow arrived unnoticed and unheralded, drew me aside and asked if I would see her offering. Of course I said I would, and she took me to the unused chamber at the top of the turret, and there sat a lovely spinning wheel, a gift I had not heretofore seen. And this Fairy asked me to try the treadle, to see how easily the wheel spun. I sat on the stool and pressed it but once, and it ran without needing another press, but it squeaked horribly, yet it also somehow made music. It was then that Rhensibe dispelled the glamour surrounding her, and she showed her true self to me. She laughed cruelly, and I tried to flee, yet I did not even reach the stairwell, but collapsed instead. What happened thereafter, I cannot say.”
Chelle fell silent, but Borel said, “That’s when the terrible black wind carried the entire vale away unto the Endless Sands, leaving a bare stone valley behind.”
Chelle shook her head. “I still cannot believe that took place eleven years and eleven moons ago, as mortals would reckon time. It seems just yester to me.”
Arle said, “As Prince Borel told us last eve, you were in an enchanted sleep, Lady Michelle, in which I deem all time did stop.”
Chelle sighed and said, “You must be right, King Arle. But even so
…”
They rode a moment without speaking, and then Chelle said, “Rhensibe came to me in my dreams, and she laughed in glee and told me that I was trapped. Then did I seek you out, Borel, for I knew you would come.”
“And that was but a moon ago?” asked Arle.
“A few days more, my lord,” said Borel. “Yet it was not until there was but a bare moon left that I knew Chelle was real and not just a dream. Then did I set out to find her.”
“Hai! And find her you did, my prince, and found me and my men as well.”
“But not in time for d’Strait,” said Andre, who had been riding nearby and listening.
“He did not die in vain,” said Arle, “for it was his blade allowed Prince Borel to fight his way through the thorns.”
Andre nodded. “He would have been proud to know of that, and if his wife and children were yet alive they would have been proud as well.”
“Perhaps they do know,” said Arle, glancing at the skies above.
And they rode along in somber silence.
A delegation welcomed King Arle and his chevaliers to Nione, and when they discovered that Prince Borel of the Winterwood and Lady Michelle of Duke Roulan’s vale accompanied King Arle, nothing would do but that the prince and his amour take up residence in a temporarily vacant hillside chalet owned by the mayor himself. Not only that, but he would send a cook and a ladies’ maid and a valet to serve them as well.
And so it was that Borel and Chelle and Flic and Buzzer found themselves ensconced in very elegant and private quarters rather than in rooms at an inn.
A healer was sent to deal with Borel’s thorn-given wounds, but Flic had already prepared tisanes and balms and anodynes, and Borel was well on the mend.
Over the next several days, as Borel healed he acquired three horses-two for riding, one to be a pack animal-and sufficient supplies to get them to the Winterwood. He had his leathers repaired, where the thorns had scored and torn and punctured them. And he sent his tricorn to the milliner to be cleaned and blocked as well. The prince obtained a bronze long-knife to replace the one he had lost during the wild Pooka ride. But when he tried to use the remaining Gnome-gifted coinage to settle with the various merchants, the tradesmen waved him away, saying King Arle had paid for all.
Each evening, in deference to Flic’s intolerance of iron, King Arle shed his arms and armor and came down from the citadel to dine with them. Chevaliers took turns accompanying the king, and there were celebrations every night for a sevenday, with singing and dancing and merrymaking all ’round, as well as tale-telling, and here Flic did shine. He strutted about and waved his silver epee and-striking en gardes and lunging and parrying and making running fleches, sometimes afoot on tabletop, other times awing in air-he told of how he and Argent had routed the dreadful Shadows, also mentioning as an afterthought that King Arle and his men did help. And Arle roared with laughter at the antics of his wee friend.
And Chelle and Borel danced the bee dance, showing the townsfolk how ’twas done. And when they were asked where they had learned such a step, Borel spoke of Buzzer, and then there was nothing for it but that Buzzer had to be strutted out for display the very next day. And the townsfolk Ooh ed and Ahh ed as if they had never before seen a bumblebee. It is said that in the days after, many folk suffered stings while trying to make pets of bees.