“Is there something we should do? Does he wish us to leave?” Darcy asked in a low voice.
“I think not,” said Elizabeth slowly. “I believe we should wait to be dismissed.”
A dryad-like creature draped in a diaphanous green silk drifted silently towards them, stopping just in front of Elizabeth, but not looking at them. An apple on a silver plate appeared in her hand.
Elizabeth stiffened, but she took the apple. “I tha... Eating this will give me great pleasure.” Her voice shook.
The dryad made no acknowledgment before continuing her journey across the hall.
Elizabeth sidled closer to him, her face pale. “I should have warned you earlier. You must never thank them. It is a grave insult. And... And I do not believe our thoughts are fully private here.”
How could their thoughts not be private? “I do not understand.”
“Just a moment ago I was wishing I had eaten another apple. I was wishing it rather loudly, if such a thing is possible.”
Good God, what might they have overheard from his thoughts? They could not hear them all, or there would be no need to ask questions. Perhaps they could only hear thoughts that expressed strong desire. If that was the case, the Sidhe lord should know all about his desire for Elizabeth’s love. Even through his fear, he ached for her.
The Sidhe gestured to another dryad. She glided towards them with a gem-studded silver cup in her hands. She offered it to Elizabeth, who drank from it and returned it to her. The dryad held it out to Darcy. Society would hold it rude for a man to drink from the same glass as a lady, but here it seemed expected. He took a careful sip. It was a sweet, flowery wine that sparkled like champagne, and it made his head spin a little. He handed it back to the dryad, who offered it to Elizabeth again.
Elizabeth hesitated briefly before taking it and drinking from it again. She turned towards him and offered it directly to him, watching him closely. If she thought he should drink it, he probably should. He took it and drank again. Now his head definitely spun for a moment. Was there some drug in the wine? Was it safe? Elizabeth seemed untroubled by it.
The dryad took the goblet from him and walked away.
The Sidhe lord seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. He strode towards them once more. “Walk with me,” he commanded.
Darcy and Elizabeth trailed after him through the impossibly long hall, half running to match the pace of his long legs. At the far end a wooden door suddenly appeared in what had been a filigree wall a moment before. It opened itself, revealing an enormous garden filled with climbing vines and exotic flowers with a hauntingly beautiful scent.
A silver filigree gazebo sat in the center of the garden. The lord stopped before it and spun to face them. “Our two worlds are bound together like twins residing in the same womb, and anything that interferes with that binding harms us both. Not all of us are happy with this war against humans. It is King Oberon’s son who wishes it. Oberon is completely in his thrall.”
“If there is a way to end the war, we would do anything in our power to promote it,” Darcy said carefully.
“I am glad to hear it.” The Sidhe held out his hand, now holding two tiny cakes. Was this some sort of ritual?
Elizabeth took one of the cakes and ate it. “I am honored.”
Darcy followed her example. Like the wine, the cake tasted of flowers, and again, his head spun.
“We will speak further, but you must leave now,” said the Sidhe. “Oberon’s representative is nearing this place. There is a whitethorn tree in the grove from whence you came. Meet me there on Beltane at sunset. Both of you, and no one else. Do you understand?”
Darcy nodded. “We will be there.”
“Into the gazebo,” he ordered, pointing a long tapering finger.
The silver filigree looked too fragile to hold Elizabeth’s weight, much less his own, but Darcy was beyond arguing. He followed Elizabeth, grateful the floor seemed to support him.
But only for a moment. The floor dissolved under him, and he struck cold earth with a bone jarring thud. They were in the faerie circle at Rosings and the spell book still sat outside it. Sharp knives seemed to be stabbing into the arm he had fallen on.
Beside him Elizabeth pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her hip.
“Are you hurt?” Darcy asked.
“I will have a bruise or two, nothing more. I must say these transitions seemed easier when I was younger, but perhaps I am simply less resilient. And you – are you injured?”
Darcy cautiously moved his arm. It hurt like the devil. “A bit sore. More stunned by how quickly everything happened.”
“I had forgotten how abrupt the Sidhe are. One would think immortality would allow more time for civility, but it does the opposite for them, as if any wasted moment is lost forever. And they are accustomed to being in command, as you may have noticed.”
“I noticed,” he said dryly. His arm throbbed as he stood, but he was pleased that his legs seemed to be working. He held out his good hand to Elizabeth.
