"Only a careless, selfish lover." Alea tried to make light of it, but a sob caught in her throat. "Only a man who swore he loved me, told me his desire for me caused him physical pain, and begged me to assuage it. Flattered beyond words, I let him bed me—but when he had taken his pleasure, he called me a whore and went away, then never spoke to me again." She couldn't hold back the tears as she said it.
Face all tender concern, Magnus held out his arms, and Alea stood rigid, then swayed into his embrace and let the sobs go.
Magnus held her firmly, and when the weeping had slackened, he said, "Even after five years of my safekeeping and devotion, it still hurts you so badly."
"Nowhere nearly as badly as it did." Alea looked up at him, wiping tears from her eyes. "But you—it's been ten years now, and the wounds Finister gave you still fester."
"Well, yes." Magnus's embrace loosened; he stepped back a little, but still gazed into her eyes. "There was reason, though. She induced my love not just by allure, but by projective telepathy—total, abject devotion—then shamed me and humiliated me in every way she could. She even convinced me I was a snake doomed to crawl forever about the base of a tree, and I understand that I did just that, though everyone else saw a naked man curled about that trunk."
Alea gasped in horror, hearing it again, but from bis point of view. "How …?"
"My father found me and called Cordelia, who was able to banish the worst of the spell—she's a strong projective herself. But the witch came back again to compel my love and shame me one final time, leaving me mired in a morass of depression. My father found me again and called my mother this time, who knew she must not cure me herself and sent me to the Green Witch, who healed the worst of my pain."
"Healed the worst, but it has taken you ten years to heal the rest?" Alea gasped.
"Yes—for the only true healing I could have was to fall in love with a woman who was absolutely trustworthy…" Magnus touched her face, ever so lightly. "… a woman who might disagree with me to my face but who would never speak against me behind my back, and would certainly never, ever humiliate me or shame me."
His face was so near, but he was not, could not be, saying what she had so longed to hear. "It's too bad you couldn't fall in love with me, then," Alea said with a catch in her voice.
"No," Magnus agreed, "I grew into love with you, instead."
She stared at him, riveted, frozen, though her lips parted ever so slightly—and ever so slowly, he lowered his own lips over hers in a kiss that melted her and lasted far longer than either of them intended. They broke apart, gasping and staring at one another, wild-eyed—but when they had caught their breath and the wildness had faded from him a little, Magnus breathed, "Marry me, beautiful woman—I beg you to marry me, for if you don't, I'll live a lonely man all my life."
"But—but there are a thousand women more beautiful than I am," she protested.
"None," Magnus said, with total conviction, "and none who could even begin to understand me as you do. Will you marry me, for love?"
"Yes," Alea said, in a voice so small that even she could scarcely hear it.
Then Magnus lowered his lips to hers again, and the world went away for a while.
Epilogue
THE ORGAN PEALED THE "WEDDING MARCH," and Alea found herself walking down a rose-petal-strewn aisle on the arm of the King of Gramarye, in the cathedral of Runnymede, draped in white bunting and festooned with roses, just as Gwendylon Gallowglass would have wished—and at the end of the aisle stood Magnus, resplendent in a gold-figured doublet, white-lined golden cape, and white hose, staring at her in awe, as though she were a goddess come to Earth—and she almost melted at the sight of him; she had never known he was truly handsome.
Then King Tuan handed her to Magnus, the archbishop questioned them severely as to their realizing what they were getting into, and satisfied that they meant it, asked for their vows. She stared at Magnus as he swore lifelong love and loyalty, then found herself stammering as she repeated the same vow, felt his ring slip over her finger, then placed hers on his hand. The archbishop allowed them a kiss, and she meant it to be chaste, she really did, but three weeks of waiting in increasing tension welled up, and the only reason she finally broke away gasping was because cheering rang in her ears.
Then the archbishop intoned his way through an interminable Mass, but Alea was only aware of the masculine presence that seemed to burn beside her. At last the priest blessed them one more time, and the trumpets blew, the organ crashed the first chords of the recessional, and she and Magnus found themselves pacing down the aisle, grinning into one another's eyes like a prize pair of idiots.
Then, of course, came the feasting, and the greeting of guests, and the circulating among them—so when at last the door of the bridal chamber closed behind them, she was stumbling with weariness—stumbling straight into Magnus's arms, and he held her up, but also held her tight against him.
Alea stared up at him, riveted, frozen, though her lips parted ever so slightly—and ever so slowly, he lowered his own lips over hers in a kiss that began quite chastely. But the brushing of his lips electrified her, and she returned it with ardor, her own lips opening, and the feather touches of the tip of his tongue sent fire racing her veins, and her lips opened farther almost without her knowing. The kiss lasted and lasted as her blood grew hotter and hotter, banishing weariness. Finally Magnus lifted his head to catch his breath, gasped, and said, "You must be exhausted. We'll sleep in the same bed, but I'll leave you alone."
"Don't you dare!" Alea snapped. "Not after that kiss!" And she pressed close for more.
Magnus lowered his lips again, and kiss led to caress, and caress to undressing, then to more caresses that led to the final intimacy that had been so long delayed, an intimacy that loosed raging passion in them both, passion that built to wave after wave of ecstasy.
IN THE WOODS beyond, Evanescent lay with her eyes closed, purring, as she read the amazement and joy of her two humans, and decided that living on Gramarye could make her choose to prolong her life indefinitely. Then her eyes opened, and she lent just a little more power, a little more energy, to a darkened corner of Magnus's mind.
ALEA AND MAGNUS lay naked and stunned in the light of a single candle, gasping in the aftermath of passion, gazing at one another with wide and wondering eyes—but as they did, an image grew in the flickering shadows, a presence, one that only Magnus could see, for it came from the depths of his mind—a tubby red-nosed man in a fusty bottle-green tailcoat and battered top hat, who shook his head and sighed, then stepped forward.
Magnus stared, then caught the blanket to pull it over himself and Alea.
"What is it?" She darted a glance that followed his but saw nothing and turned back, caressing his face as she asked in a voice soft with concern, "What is it, love? What could affright you so?"
But the rag-and-bone man dropped a bit of glittering metal into the hollow of her throat, then turned away, sighing and shaking his head, to disappear forever into the shadows from which he had come.
'Tell me!" Alea seized Magnus's face in both hands, really alarmed for him now. "Whatever phantom assails you is my enemy too!"
"But you have already defeated him." Magnus laughed softly as he relaxed beside her. "Fought off my old nemesis, and he has given you what he knew you already had."
Alea frowned. "What riddle is this? What did I already have?"
"Only a key," Magnus said, and kissed her again.