In the aethereal, they stood on her bridge, with the clear waters of the Wild flowing under it and the golden light of the sun pouring down through a clearing in the trees. In her palace, the trees had the full and dusty green leaves of late summer.
“We didn’t need to ride out of the fortress to do this,” he said.
Amicia did not wear a robe and gown in the palace, but a tight green kirtle. “I wanted you to have time,” she said. “Everyone has ambushed you this week. I was not going to be one of them.”
Gabriel was in red; he leaned on her bridge. “I think you have brought me here to break off,” he said. “And I think the ambush is of some duration.”
She smiled. “Love-love, what break can there be between two sorcerous mortals who can walk in and out of each other’s minds?”
Gabriel smiled as if she’d said something very different. “So linked that their ops pass back and forth without volition?” He didn’t look at her. “Why didn’t you come with me, Amicia?”
“I had other duties. I made a different decision.” Her ambiguity was redoubled in the aethereal.
“Amicia.” He turned and met her look-in the aethereal. “I’m pretty sure that you agreed to come with me and be my wife.”
She shrugged. “I did. And I was wrong to, and I wronged you. But in taking my vows, I was true to myself. And I do not regret my vows.” She smiled sadly. “I will never be your wife. Nor your leman. There, it is said. Again.”
“Did I have to come here to have you say it?” he asked. “Or are you just one of those people who needs to be convinced?”
He stepped forward, his eyes hungry, and she stopped him. His reaching arms caught nothing.
“In the real,” she said, “you can overcome both my body and my will. Here, I am your peer.”
Baulked, his eyes flashed red and his rage was writ plain.
And then he stepped back and all but hissed.
“Love,” she said. “Do you need my body? Is this a matter of love, or mastery? Is it that my Jesus blocks your mighty will? Why can you not be satisfied with this? How many mighty powers stand in each other’s heads and talk? It is more intimate than any lovemaking.”
Gabriel leaned back against the railing of the bridge.
“I wondered if you would allow me into your palace,” he said.
“Why would I not?” she asked.
“Because of what you would hide from me,” he said. “It’s obvious here, is it not?” As he spoke, he pointed to his feet.
A tiny tendril, like a wisp of hair, tailed away from his right heel and fell away into the rushing water below.
Amicia put a hand to her neck.
Gabriel nodded. “At least twice, when I should have died-should absolutely, unequivocally have been dead-I have not died. The most recent occasion was so obvious that I had to know the cause.” He smiled. “I knew we were linked by the ring. But the ring merely covers something, doesn’t it?”
Amicia found it difficult to avoid his eyes. In fact, no matter where she turned, he seemed to be standing with his arms crossed.
“Why have you ensorcelled me?” he asked.
Amicia raised her head. “I cannot speak of it. What is done, is done.”
“There speaks the language of love.” He snorted.
She coloured.
He left her for the real.
“I brought you here,” she said icily, “to tell you some things.”
He smiled at her. Even in his current state, just to look at her warmed him. But he held up his hand. “I don’t think I want to hear them. Amicia-for whatever reason we are joined-you know me better than many. Or at least, I imagine you know me well. And I have to tell you that just now, I’m at my limit. I don’t need to know any more. I need to deal with my mother, and go to Harndon. In a week, or a month, or a year, if we are both alive, I would ask that we have this conversation again. And that you release me from your spell. But not, I hope, your love.” He smiled. “You needed no spell to hold me.”
“Hold you? Damn you and your arrogance,” she said. “I have made my vows.”
“My dear, girls leave convents every day. What kind of God would demand your chastity like a jealous lover? If you wish to commit to your God, be my guest, but don’t hide behind your vows.” He smiled. “There. I, too, have thought and thought. And those are the words I say to you.” He took his gloves out of his belt. “I love you, Amicia. But…” He paused, and bit his lip.
Amicia shrugged. “My answer will be the same. You should marry the Morean princess.”
He stopped moving.
“Irene. We all expected you to marry her. Even your own people expected it. Did she have warts or something? I understand that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world-at least, I’ve heard it said.” Amicia smiled. “I really just want you to be happy.”
“So you have placed a mighty working on me?” Gabriel said.
Amicia shrugged.
“Can you remove it?” he asked. “I tried last night and failed.”
“Let me set this out for you,” she said like a schoolmistress for a not-very-bright pupil. “You accuse me of casting some praxis that is protecting you from death. And you’d like it removed.” Her arch tone was almost contemptuous.
His anger flared. “No one else can do this to me,” he spat. “Damn you. But yes. Take it away.”
“Your mother can do this to you,” Amicia said. “I spent a day with her and you know what? I liked her. I found that we agreed on some surprising things. For example, we both agreed that you needed to be protected.” Amicia took a deep breath. “And for this I’m to be damned?”
Gabriel paused.
“You still have a healthy element of small boy in you, shouting I can do it myself. And in many ways you can. But-”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amicia, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. My mother is not-anyone’s friend. Even her own. She is a Power.”
Amicia nodded, lips pursed and eyes narrowed almost to slits. “Gabriel Muriens, I am a Power.” She stood. “Just when you begin to woo me successfully-and you do, the mere sight and sound of you, as God is my witness-your overbearing-” She stopped. “You do yourself no favours. I am not a girl. I am not witless. I can, in fact, heal the sick, and make fire rain from the sky.”
He looked away. “I am not the only arrogant fool here,” he said. He went to the doorway. “I thought we’d go for a ride. And perhaps kiss. And maybe you’d tell me why you’ve placed a working on me. And I’d forgive you.” He shook his head. “Instead, I have to at least consider that you and my mother are working together on whatever fool scheme she’s devised for my future as the messiah of the Wild. I find that hard to credit, but if it is the case-”
“Forgive me?” she asked. Despite her best efforts, tears burst from her eyes. “You would forgive me for saving your life?” She looked at him, shaking her head. “And you think I’m plotting with the Wild?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You idiot,” she said.
He took a trembling breath and stepped forward.
She straight-armed his advance. “Go,” she said.
She heard him mount his horse. And she heard him say, “Fuck,” quite loudly and distinctly, and then he rode away, and she gave vent to a year’s worth of frustrated tears.