«Not till you confess it. Maria, you do care for me! Admit it!»
She stared into the falcon-fierce eyes, so unlike those of Finn in their alien color, so familiar in their warmth. And all at once that warmth was racing through and through her, till all she could do was cry out, «Yes, I do! Finn, Finist, I always did!»
She felt his arms close about her, marvelling at their strength and gentleness; she felt his lips brush her cheek, her neck, tender, demanding, felt the warmth within her blazing up into a new, wonderful, terrifying fire, in that moment caring nothing for silly rank, propriety…
Then Finist was drawing away, so sharply it made her gasp in surprise. With one fluid leap, he was on his feet again, the falcon-wildness fading from his eyes as he used what was plainly a magician's trained will to get himself back under control. Maria, struggling to catch her breath, told herself she should appreciate that self‑control, showing concern for her honor as it did. But deep within her, a wicked little voice was ruing it just a bit…
Embarrassed, Maria blurted out, «I'm sorry," exactly at the same time as Finist. As one, they continued, «I didn't mean to — " and broke off in astonished laughter.
«Oh, enough of this!» gasped Finist. «Come, my dear.» He chivalrously offered Maria his hand, pulling her lightly to her feet. Dazed, bewildered, rejoicing, she felt a surge of sheer joy bubbling up inside her until she had to giggle like a little girl and say:
«It's going to take some adjustment of thinking to get used to you like this.»
He drew back, staring at her in genuine dismay. «You preferred me as Finn?»
«Now, did I say that?» teased Maria. Dizzy with her new joy, she pretended to study the prince as he'd studied her, trying to match the personality of Finn with the exotic handsomeness of Finist. «It really is going to take some adjustment.» There now, she could feel the giggles stealing out again. «But I do think I'll manage it!»
Handsome, oh yes. The sudden harsh thought cut into her giddiness, chilling as a wave of icy water. He's handsome as something out of the old tales. But you… Oh, fool!
«Maria, what is it? What's wrong?»
«How can you, you, care about me? I mean, I have a mirror, I know I'm no raving beauty, I'm not even‑I — "
«Akh, Maria, dear one, don't be foolish!»
«But — "
«Hush.»
And the warmth of his lips against hers quite silenced her.
Chapter XXVI
Games
«Ain't right. Ain't right at all.»
Alexei, late of Stargorod's nobility, now as torn and filthy as any other bandit, glared at the man who'd spoken. «Now what's wrong?»
«Ain't right, cuttin' down a good, healthy tree like this. They won't like it.»
«What superstitious rubbish are you — " Alexei glanced around at the others, and swore under his breath to see them, all these ruthless, murderous men, afraid of—fairy tales. «They let you live here, don't They?» he said with heavy sarcasm.
«Sure, because They don't care what we do to people, They don't care about people, only the forest! But They — "
«All right, spare me the lecture! Just cut down the damned tree, and on my head be the guilt!»
More than impatience lay behind Alexei's outburst. In the days he had been trying to lead this ridiculous excuse for an outlaw band, their fear or mistrust or sheer, stupid stubbornness had effectively checked every move he'd attempted to make. He had tried and tried to convince them that this skulking about in the underbrush wasn't the way to fortune, that if they only showed him the way out of here, the road to some city—other than Stargorod, of course—he would have them wealthy in no time. But the damned fools were afraid! They had skulked out here for so long, preying on the occasional farmer, that the thought of possibly coming up against a city's trained guards made them whimper like puppies.
If only I could forget the whole thing, Alexei fumed. These oafs were stupid and boring and at the same time so unpredictably quick to take offence, dangerous as so many mindless bulls. And they stank. Akh, so did he by now, for that matter! The thought of a hot bath, clean clothes … If only I could get away from them. I'd be better off trying to find my own way out of here!
He could simply up and abandon them—and wouldn't they take kindly to that? These would-be bandits might be idiots, but they would have no scruples at all about slaughtering anyone they thought a traitor. And there was never a time when he was alone, never a time when he could simply slip away and forget they existed—
That wasn't the whole of it. Granted, he'd only been their leader for a short time, but already they were getting restless, waiting for him to prove himself, to lead them to the treasure he'd promised, and even his most logical arguments about treasure being found only in cities didn't move them. If he didn't produce, and soon… Alexei glanced about at the rough, hard-eyed lot of them, and fought back a shudder.
«All right," he said once more. «We all know there's a merchant's party that's going to be riding through this part of the forest, yes? Merchants carry gold. Agreed?»
«Yeah, but he's got soldiers with him, lots of 'em!»
Alexei bit back an impatient oath. «We've been through this before! Cut down that tree, block their path, attack them from the shelter of the underbrush—they'll be down before they can figure out who's attacking them!»
Yes, added Alexei to himself, and if it doesn't work, if those soldiers manage instead to massacre my gallant band, why then, I become not the bandit chieftain, but a bandits' captive, as noble and refined as can be, and oh-so-grateful for the rescue‑If only I can get these idiots to cut down the damned tree!
Desperate, raging, he snatched an axe from one gape‑mouthed fool and started hacking away at it himself, with more vigor than skill. The others stood, staring, presumably waiting for some forest ogre to rend him limb from limb. But when nothing happened other than Alexei showering them all with flying chips of wood, someone took the axe from him and began silently, and more efficiently, to finish the job.
The falcon, its wings bright in the sunlight, flew, radiant with delight, now and again making sweeping loops in the sky for sheer joy.
She loves me, she loves me, she loves me!
But after a time, reality intruded into his euphoria, and Finist sighed, and circled over forest till he'd found a clearing that held a small, clear pool within it, then swooped down for a landing. «Forest, forgive the intrusion once more," he remembered to say, both aloud and with psychic emphasis. «I shan't be here very long.»
It was probably just as well. Head up, listening to elusive sounds that were just beyond anything physical, Finist frowned, warily letting feathers begin to re-form. The forest was angry at someone, no mistaking that restless stirring, dangerously angry…
But after a moment he nodded, relieved. Although the forest had become instantly aware of his magical presence, that strange, inhuman anger wasn't directed at him, so for now, at least, he could ignore it. The little lake was so clear he could see its pebbly bottom, so still it was as fine as any man‑crafted mirror, and Finist set about his work.
«Semyon. Can you hear me?»
The old boyar, his image clear on the surface of the pool, started. «My Prince! How—ah—how goes it?»
«Oh, well, Semyon! Well indeed!»
«Really!» Semyon beamed. «Is it all settled, then? And so quickly! Will you and she be returning together, or — "
«Hey now, not so fast!» Finist had to laugh. «She's just barely admitted that she—that there's some hope for the two of us!»