Jennifer Shaw

This piece is a companion novelette to Elspeth and the Fairy. You can read a little about this story’s context here.

You can also find the previous chapters here: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, and Chapter Six.

Part IV: A WEDDING GIFT

Chapter Seven

Ian stirred when Elspeth rose from their marriage bed. In the soft, early light brushing the sill of their window, he watched her silhouette slip its arms through a robe. She moved toward something, an object of some kind, sitting ghostly on that stone sill.

Septimus dies.

The seventh day.

And, they had seven more. Seven more glorious days before the fortnight of their seclusion ended, and they would travel together into the heart of their kingdom. Bound they would be for Ian’s seat of power, with Lord Alistair, Lady Fiona, Alistair’s father, Lord Aitken, and all the most trusted thanes and knights completing their royal procession.

For, Elspeth had said yes. Not just to marrying him, but to ruling beside him.

“You are what I love most,” Ian had told her. “If you do not wish to be queen, I will abdicate my throne before I ever reclaim it.”

Such an action would not be an abandonment, they had decided. They could make this choice carefully, along with Alistair and the council and without most of Ian’s subjects even knowing, for his return was not yet public knowledge. He would do so on one cast-iron condition, however: Alistair must vow, before the bishop, council, and a fairy emissary, to uphold Ian’s end of the bargain with Queen Aine. He must swear to protect forever the freedom and sovereignty of the fae folk.

“Alistair will honor it, I am sure. He will be a just and competent ruler,” Ian had continued, “and I have found that, after all, I do not dislike being an ordinary man.”

In their usual spot before her father’s kitchen hearth, a healthy fire roaring, she had placed light fingers over his lips. He had not resisted parting them, giving that delicate flesh a tiny, hungry kiss.

“Let’s be quiet about that, at last,” she’d said, eyes sparkling in the firelight. She’d chewed her lip, moving back so part of her lovely face fell in shadow.

“How can I ever convey to you,” she finally said, “the anguish all my elders felt when you disappeared? That great ache for a king, an enlightened man, who modeled piety and justice tempered with mercy? Who, in your judicial reforms and promotions of learning and tolerance, gave us all the most benevolent devotion I am convinced any ruler has ever given his people? The relief and hope you brought so many?” She shook her head, her large, sweet eyes appearing delightfully helpless, though he knew better. “How I wish you could have heard how they spoke of you. I cannot do it justice.”

“All of them,” she’d emphasized, when he started to shake his head, “from the orphans and shepherds and scullery servants—” there she’d winked—“to the great thanes?”

“Not so devoted, Elspeth. I should not have left.”

She leaned forward again to place a hand under his bearded chin, gently forcing him to look at her.

“Human, Muir. Ian,” she’d self-corrected, though he had told her to call him whatever she liked. “You are human, marvelously imperfect. But that does not mean you are incapable of greatness, or unworthy of love.”

She’d shushed him again when he’d tried to protest.

“Enough, sweet husband. You were meant to rule. It is God’s will, I know it, so let us cease this… prattle about abdication.”

He’d taken her hand. “Are you sure? You will not be overburdened? Unhappy?”

He saw her contemplation in the shift of her glowing irises. “I’m sure I will be, some days,” she answered. “I would still be, I believe, even if we lived alone as peasants in a woodcutter’s cottage. It is inevitable, I think.”

She leaned toward him, continuing, “The only true salve for that is the knowledge that I’m with you. You’ve shown me much, including the truth that we are stronger than we know, and that we endure. If you and I are together, everything will always prove right, in the end. No matter what occurs.”

Brushing her lips against his, she ended the discussion. It was a gentle, deliberate kiss. 

“How you astound me,” he whispered.

Then he’d grown playful, tugging her hand. “Prattle?”

She’d giggled and shrugged.

“You dare accuse your king of prattle?” Making her laugh made Ian happier than anything else.

Before he could capture her, she’d dropped into his lap. In mock apology, she threw her arms around him. Her murmurs were sultry against his neck, where his pulse throbbed. Then she kissed him again, more deeply, their hands roaming each other’s body.  

Part of him truly wished they never had to leave that hearth.

But, in that lovely way, Elspeth had made the decision for them. Though, they were giving themselves this final period of privacy. A time of their own before all the world knew of King Ian’s return, and before he gifted them their new queen. And what a marvelous queen she would be.

Now, early this morning, he called out to her. “Is all well?”

His words were low and languid. Elspeth, it turned out, was a passionate woman, avid for all the pleasures he gave her and eager to reciprocate. He was still depleted from another night of marital delights, lush and desperate and wonderfully exploratory.

“Come see this!” She waved an arm. Through the thinning darkness, her countenance beamed.

He swung his legs out of bed and went to her, fully naked and unashamed. He hoped she would soon adopt such complete immodesty too.

Behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Peering over her shoulder, where he rested his chin, he saw in the dimness what looked like a freshly plucked daffodil, potted in—

“Is that a bowl from the kitchen?”

“I believe so.” Elspeth ran a white finger over a petal. “It feels natural. Not like it’s bound in any kind of magic. Just, re-rooted.”

“Where shall you plant it?”

“Oh, the high castle, of course. Have you—we—a royal garden?” She gazed at him, her sweetness evident even in the matin light.  

“My mother had a rose garden inside the walls, not far from the herbs. We shall revitalize it.”

The weak light muted the blossom’s yellow hue, but otherwise it appeared firm and healthy. It wasn’t there last night, though they had been rather preoccupied, what with stripping garments from each other’s body before lying down to bed. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed?

Suddenly, things felt more serious.

“Who put that there? And when?” He didn’t like the idea of anyone—servant or otherwise—entering their chamber unknown to them.

She turned to him, her own arms winding about his waist. Her palm slid along his spine. “Are you not cold?”

“Not now.”

“I had a dream last night.” She peered up at him, serious now too. “At least, I thought it was a dream. As I lay on my side, a tiny voice rang in my ear. I didn’t see her, but the voice sounded like the sonorous tones of Lady Fae Rowan.”

“The spring guardian?”
           

Elspeth nodded. “She whispered to me, ‘I bring a wedding gift.’”

His wife’s breath hitched, and he brought a tender palm to her cheek.

“‘All is well,’ she said,” Elspeth’s voice trembled. “‘Tell your husband too,’ the fairy said. ‘All is well.’”

Emotion dissolved his wife, and she pressed her face into his chest.  

He pulled his Beth tightly to him. He stroked the back of her head, though he kept his own fresh revelation to himself. He was not quite ready for Elspeth to see the dampness on his own cheeks.

“Indeed, my love,” he managed to whisper, caressing her soft hair. “Everything is, in fact, truly well.”

THE END

Custom image by Marta ☾ Medieval Illustrator

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Thank you so much for reading! I’ve truly enjoyed sharing this story with you.

If A King’s Epilogue has piqued your curiosity about Rowan’s and Elspeth’s experiences (the first story that inspired this one), you can find their tale in the free e-book Spellbound, a magic and fantasy anthology from The Red Herrings Society. My contribution, Elspeth and the Fairy, has the privilege of opening this collection.

Here, too, are some other wonderful stories in Spellbound that have lingered in my imagination and which you might enjoy:

Crimson Ink by Kathlene Brown (a gothic Bronte retelling featuring the sisters’ brother Branwell)

The Queen of Thieves by Mary E. Dipple (dark fantasy)

A Potion for Forever by Colleen Brown (romantasy)

Raven Song by JM Stradling (horror)

Once Upon a Witch by Aimee Renee (fairytale horror)

Happy spring, and have a wonderful start to your summer!

XOXO,

Jenn