Belladonna

  Brighid stood at the kitchen window for a long time. Still too dark to see outside, but that didn’t matter.

  A parting of the ways. Why? There was a spark between Glorianna and Michael. She’d seen that for herself when they’d all sailed to the White Isle. If there was more interest on Michael’s side and wariness on Glorianna’s, well, so be it. A woman was entitled to be wary about where she gave her heart, wasn’t she? And with the bridges these folks knew how to make, neither of them would have to sacrifice their pieces…of the…world…

  She stared at her reflection in the window.

  She’d forgotten. Or hadn’t wanted to remember. A riddle. An answer. And a story about love—and sacrifice.

  She went back to her work, doing her share to provide food for the guests and residents of this house in Sanctuary. But even as her hands performed familiar tasks, nothing was quite the same. Would never be the same again.

  Travel lightly, Brighid.

  Advice and blessing from a Guide of the Heart. She would heed that advice, honor that blessing. And when the sky began to lighten, she would walk out to the koi pond and, for the first time in many years, lift her voice in celebration of the dawn.

  “Is there a reason you’re here at this hour, emptying my pantry?” Nadia asked, pushing her sleep-mussed hair away from her face as she eyed the supplies spread out on the kitchen table.

  “Just need a few things,” Glorianna muttered as she packed a couple of items into one of the two market baskets. “Michael will be awake soon and I didn’t think about getting supplies on the way back to the island.”

  Nadia tightened the belt of the robe she’d thrown on over her nightgown. “You could always just bring him around for breakfast and then do some marketing on your own.”

  Too many people. Too many distractions.

  “Glorianna?”

  “I want a day with the Magician. Alone. On the island,” Glorianna said softly.

  “Well, that’s fine, but that’s no reason to be taking all my eggs.”

  “I know how to stop the Eater of the World. I know what to do.”

  “Glorianna?”

  The sharpness in Nadia’s voice warned her that her mother had heard what was under the words.

  She raised her head and met Nadia’s eyes. “I know what to do.”

  “Then we’ll talk about it. All of us. Jeb can fetch Lee and Sebas—”

  “No.” She couldn’t have all of them around her. Not today. Maybe that was selfish—it was certainly unfair—but she couldn’t face all of them. And she couldn’t stand the thought that her last feelings for all of them would carry the resonance of an argument.

  She walked around the table and put her arms around Nadia. Felt her mother’s arms tighten around her in response.

  “He’ll be angry and he won’t want to do it, so lean hard on Lee to make the new bridges that will be needed. And don’t turn your heart away from the Magician. It’s not his fault. Opportunities and choices, Mother. He provided the opportunity, but the choice is mine.”

  “Glorianna.”

  She heard the tears.

  “I love you,” Glorianna whispered. “When you think of me, remember that. I love you.”

  They finished packing the baskets in a silence that held too many things that were said without words.

  Then Glorianna walked out of her mother’s house, walked into the dawn’s light, and took the step between here and there.

  Glorianna had called it virgin ground. He remembered that much now that his brain started thinking again. She just hadn’t explained the significance of virgin ground, which was going on the list of things he intended to discuss with her.

  “You’ve had a busy time, haven’t you?”

  Michael whirled around and saw Glorianna standing nearby, holding two market baskets. Since he didn’t think the Places of Light had markets, that meant she’d gone somewhere besides where she said she was going. And that was another something to discuss. They were going to have a plentiful amount to discuss, and to his way of thinking, that discussion would be held at full volume. The fact that she seemed amused by what she was looking at wasn’t doing anything for him either.

  What what what?

  And now the wild child was upset again.

  He pointed to the ground in front of the new two-stone-high wall that formed a border around the virgin ground. If it could still be called virgin ground. “We need some stone there. A nice thick layer of pebbles, I’m thinking. In different colors.”

  There. That should keep Ephemera busy for a while.

  He watched the ground change with a speed that staggered him. And right before he closed his eyes to shut it all out, he saw Glorianna set the baskets on the ground, cross her arms, and tip her head to one side as she studied the addition to her garden.

  A lesson to him. That’s what this was. If he ever had the luck to become a father, he would never ever give a flippant response to a child without considering the consequences of the child’s taking him at his word. No, he would never ever give a flippant response.

  Especially when the wife was standing right there and could hear him.

  He listened to Glorianna move over to the changed ground, heard her sift through the pebbles.

  “Well,” she said. “I’m not good at identifying uncut stones, but I think you have some precious gems in here, along with a good haul of semiprecious stones.”

  His eyes popped open. “Huh?”

  She scooped up a handful of stones. “You asked for different colors. Here’s garnet and malachite. Lapis and citrine. Topaz. Oh, and here’s a lovely amethyst. And this might be an emerald.”

  He crouched beside her. “I was just trying to distract the world, give it something safe to do.”

  “And you did a fine job. We can pick through these later. If you take them to a gem dealer, you could get a good price for them.”

  “I didn’t do this to line my pockets.”

  Her free hand brushed his hair back, stroked his head. “Magician, how do you think we get by most of the time? Landscapers don’t get paid directly for what they do, so most gardens have a little ‘treasure spot’—a place where you can turn the earth and come up with the coins that were tossed in wish wells, or gold or silver nuggets—or gems—that come from Ephemera.”

  So the story about a treasure hidden in Darling’s Garden wasn’t just a story. Did Caitlin know about having a treasure spot? “Is it always this easy?”

  “Well, for most it’s not quite this simple. But the wild child is very responsive to you.”

  Her lips touched his. Warmth rather than heat. Affection rather than lust. And yet the promise of heat was there, simmering between them.

  Friend. Lover. Both.

  “Show me what you’ve done,” Glorianna said. “Then let’s get some breakfast and put the rest of the food away.”

  “Ah.” He cupped a hand under her elbow, helping her to her feet as he rose to his. “Didn’t know what I was doing. Still not sure what I did.”

  “You made a garden, Magician.”

  “I don’t know anything about tending posies.” And whether he was keen on it or not, he had a feeling he was about to learn.

  “Then let’s see if you have any to tend.”

  For a man who didn’t know what he was doing, he’d done well enough, Glorianna decided as she studied the newly made garden within her garden. All right, two rows of rectangles weren’t the most interesting configuration, but he wasn’t a Landscaper as such, so all he really needed was a basic garden that provided access points to his landscapes.

  He had those. One rectangle was covered with fog over grass. Another looked like ordinary grass but she recognized the resonance of Dunberry. Another was cobblestones, but when she leaned in and sniffed the air, she smelled the sea. He confirmed Foggy Downs, Dunberry, and Kendall, along with three other places in Elandar that had made up his circuit of landscapes.

  She pointed to the last two rectangles.
“What are those?”

  Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, “Don’t know their songs.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He winced. “Don’t know those places. Never heard their songs before.”

  She stared at him as she considered a possibility. “But you hear their songs now?”

  He nodded warily.

  “Can you play those songs?”

  Another wary nod. Then he pulled his whistle out of an inside coat pocket, pointed to one rectangle, and began to play. After a minute, he pointed to the other rectangle and played a different tune.

  Not Elandar. It took on a little of the flavor of that land because he was playing the tune, but those new landscapes weren’t in the part of the world he had known.

  “Looks like Lee is going to have to create a couple of bridges,” Glorianna said.

  Michael tucked the whistle back in his pocket. “Why?”

  “A lot of Landscapers were lost when the Eater attacked the school. The bedrock in the landscapes they tended has been crumbling. Those landscapes have been crumbling, becoming mired in the manifestation of emotions without any guidance. But Ephemera wants guidance, and landscapes, like people, change. Some landscapes that were mine when I was sixteen were no longer mine when I was twenty-six. I let them go so that someone else would respond to their resonance. You opened yourself to the world, Magician, and Ephemera found two other places that need your music.”

  He paled. “But…where? Am I adding another day or two on the circuit to get to these places or…” A little more color drained out of his face. “They aren’t in Elandar, are they?”

  “No, they aren’t in Elandar.”

  “Then how…” He put it together, piece by piece. “Bridges. You said Lee would need to create bridges.”

  She nodded. “I recognize the tunes. At least, a similarity between what I’ve heard and what you just played. Lee could tell you better than I, but I think these new landscapes of yours are close to places Mother or I hold. Stationary bridges would let people cross over between the landscapes.”

  “If those places had been connected to the school, won’t the Eater find Its way here?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Different bedrock now, different resonance. The access point that was at the school no longer matches that place. But if the Eater has established any of Its dark landscapes in those places, you’ll have to deal with them, eliminate them. Anything that isn’t part of your song doesn’t belong in your landscapes,” she added when he started to protest. “I—Nadia can teach you how to cross over to your landscapes, and you talk to Ephemera as easily as I do—better than anyone else I’ve known, including my mother—so asking it to take away what the Eater brought in won’t be a problem for you. But don’t go into those new landscapes alone the first few times. Have Nadia or Lee or Sebastian go with you. There are still wizards and Dark Guides roaming the landscapes. Not all of them were trapped in Wizard City. They could hurt you before you realized you were in danger. So take someone with you who can show you what you need to know.”

  “You’ll show me,” he said. “You’ll teach me.”

  You know better, Magician.

  She wanted to throw herself into his arms and hold on, but if she allowed herself to feel weak, she wouldn’t find the courage to take the next step of the journey. So she looked at the grassy space behind Michael’s garden, and at the young tree, its branches bare of leaves now, that would provide shade in the summertime. Did she have any bulbs? Maybe she could plant a few crocuses around the tree. That would be a cheery welcome when he walked there in the early days of spring.

  “It would be nice to have a chair or a bench there,” she said, tipping her chin to indicate the grassy space. “You could sit and play your music. Jeb could make you a bench.”

  He gave her a Patient Look. “Aye. Well, as soon as I have a diamond I can spare, I’ll be seeing about a bench—and a birdbath as well, so the fluffy things can have a splash and twitter.”

  They heard the pop, like a kernel of corn in a hot pan.

  He just closed his eyes. She pressed a hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Haven’t learned yet, have you, Magician?” she asked when she could speak.

  “Apparently not.”

  “Then let’s gather up your diamond and go up to the house to make breakfast.”

  She planted bulbs beneath the tree near his garden. Crocus, she said. He knew what those were. Maybe.

  They didn’t speak much throughout the morning. What was there to say? So he helped her in the garden and did his best to soothe the wild child.

  That was something whoever had first shaped the story about the Warrior of Light hadn’t mentioned—or hadn’t understood.

  She was going to scare the shit out of the world.

  “Where is the heart’s hope?” Glorianna asked.

  The words stabbed him in the gut, in the heart, but he kept his voice easy. “Which bit? There were several I saw in the garden.”

  “Yours. The plant you wanted to keep when…”

  When I revealed my heart.

  He stopped and listened to the island. “Over here.”

  “Should be in the garden,” she said as she fell into step beside him. They left the walled garden and headed for the house. “It should have anchored in a bed that represents your home landscape.” Her voice trailed away as they stopped in front of an oval of recently turned earth.

  He didn’t need to ask if it was a new bit of garden. He could tell by the look on her face she hadn’t created this new bed near the house.

  His home landscape. Not in the walled garden. Not in the landscapes. But here, where it was personal. Where it was just between the two of them. Because that was what he saw—the stone, the grass, the heart’s hope. The things that had represented home and were native to Elandar. And behind the stone, forming a protective half circle, was belladonna.

  My heart’s hope lies with Belladonna.

  That truth had brought him to the Island in the Mist. That truth was now manifested in plants and stone.

  “This is your home landscape,” Glorianna said quietly.

  “I know,” Michael replied. “I knew from the moment I set foot here.”

  “I left a note for Yoshani, telling him I was leaving the garden in your care because you can keep the landscapes balanced until they resonate with someone else. And I told him I was giving you the Island in the Mist and the house here. You’ll take care of it, won’t you?”

  “I’ll tend to all of it. That’s a promise.”

  He stepped behind her, put his arms around her, drew her back against his chest.

  Her breath caught as her hands settled over his.

  “When?” he asked.

  “With the dawn.”

  He rested his cheek against her hair. “Then I want this evening. Invite me to your bed, Glorianna Belladonna. Let me love you tonight with all my heart.”

  “I won’t remember you,” she whispered.

  The pain cut deep. “I know. I’ll remember for both of us.”

  She turned in his arms and rested her hands on his chest as she looked into his eyes. Her lips brushed his once, twice.

  “Come to my bed, Magician. Show me the magic of love.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  In the pale gray light, that herald of the dawn, Michael reached for the woman who filled his heart and his dreams—and woke up, alone.

  He lit the lamp on the bedside table, plumped up the pillows behind him, then looked at the painting on the wall near the bed.

  Sebastian painted that for me, Glorianna had said.

  Quite a jolt to see himself in a painting that came from an incubus’s imagination—and to wonder if his dreams had influenced the image Sebastian had chosen for Glorianna’s moonlight lover or if the painting had, somehow, been the source of his own dreams and yearnings. Just as much of a jolt to look past the romantic costumes and realize he and Glo
rianna had stood exactly that way in the garden yesterday after discovering the new bed that represented his home landscape.

  They’d had their night of lovemaking, and he’d taken extra care to please her, to pleasure her. He had wanted to absorb the music of their lovemaking, had needed to fill his heart with the song of her when passion and love climaxed and shone with a fierce Light.

  Now…

  He pushed back the covers, went into the bathroom, and ran water for a bath. As he waited for the tub to fill, he closed his eyes, turned his head toward his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of her on his skin. He didn’t want to wash off that mingling of scents, but there was no telling what was going to happen in the days ahead or when he’d have another chance at taking a full bath.

  So he soaked in the hot water and tried not to think about what was to come.

  She’d been hesitant at first, almost shy when she brought him to her bedroom last night. It made him wonder how long it had been since she’d had a lover. Then he’d stopped wondering and just enjoyed the way her mouth had opened for him, the butterfly touch of her tongue against his. The feel of her skin beneath his hands. Her moan of pleasure when he’d suckled her breasts. The way her strong fingers had gripped his shoulders the first time he’d stroked her body over the edge of pleasure. And the way…

  Michael blew out a breath and sat up in the cooling water.

  “Maybe you don’t need to be remembering quite so much right now,” he muttered as he picked up soap and washcloth.

  Keeping his mind on the mechanics of what he was doing, he got washed and dressed, and walked into the kitchen. That’s when his heart got the first of what, he knew, would be many bruises.

  His pack was still by the door. He’d removed his clothing and personal gear last evening while she’d been putting together a bit of dinner for the two of them. The pack was too big and heavy for a woman to carry for long, but it had everything she would need to set up a camp—sleeping bag, pots and pans, candles, matches, lantern. Plenty of room for her clothing and female things. A camp, that’s what he’d been thinking. And she hadn’t argued with him, hadn’t disagreed.