The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter Five)

Aislinn glared again at the lattice walls and flowering vines that surrounded her. She’d gone to sleep on the top of the tower, cursing the bad-tempered man below, but she’d woken in a bower fit for, well, a princess. Instead of a single, thin blanket between her and cold stone, a pallet of pillows and silken throws held the morning dew at bay. A low table displayed an array of fruits and pastries to break her fast sat beside the bed. A small brazier even glowed at the foot of the pallet, killing any chill before it could touch her. The faint stirring of air, too soft to be called a breeze, drifted over her scented by the white flowers that dangled in bunches around her.


Overhead, the sky brightened from pale dawn to a clear morning but, try as she might, she couldn’t locate the sun. She had no compass point to orient herself where she was in this world. She’d tried flying to Summer again this morning with the same results as yesterday. A few moments of flight then a quick dodge to avoid hitting the tower. A depressing development but she wasn’t going to give up just yet.


She ate another pastry and nibbled at some of the fruit, her mood low. She had to find a way out of here! Her brothers were going to go mad looking for her and that meant they would tell their parents and that meant a whole lot of trouble coming down on her head. So far, her prospects didn’t look good for escape today. Wheezer either didn’t know or couldn’t tell her, and the man Rowan was more irritating than informative.


She scowled at the now richly appointed bed. He’d kicked her out of the only shelter available. Not a gentlemen, that was for sure. Mannerless and ill-tempered. Maybe he’d been raised by imps or something. Something Unseelie for certain, she thought sourly, but a pang of remorse made her sigh. That wasn’t fair. If she were trapped here for any length of time, her temper might not be so even and her charm lacking.


Below her, she heard a door slam. Moving to the edge of the tower, she peered down to see Rowan striding toward the forested band that surrounded the tower. Even from this distance she got the impression of height, dark hair brushing his collar and his long legged stride carrying him quickly into the trees. She frowned. He wasn’t walking a straight line. Every five or six steps, he would change directions and then change back a short distance further. He made it into the woods without a problem, vanishing from sight among the thick foliage.


Curious, she unfurled her wings and took to the air. Straight up from the tower, she hovered, trying to catch sight of the man among the trees. Even allowing for his serpentine path, it took her a bit to find him but, there he was, striding from the woods into the brilliant green of Summer still following a meandering path.


Thoughtfully, she settled back onto the top of the tower and sank down on the pallet of pillows. Could it be that simple? No straight lines? She ate a few more pastries while she thought that over and cast the sky a curious look, hope stirring for the first time. The best traps were simple ones as were the best plans. Fewer chances for mistakes. Fewer opportunities for loopholes. But a place where nothing moved in straight lines? Why would anyone make such a place?


She would ponder the whys of it later, she decided, brushing crumbs from her fingers. First, she needed to see if the trick worked for her or only for Rowan. With that in mind, she rose and stretched her wings, her gaze fixed on the sky overhead.


A powerful thrust took her into the air. As soon as she could, she shifted direction, heading a bit left but still up. Two wing beats later, no tower appeared in front of her and the sky remained her destination. Another shift of direction and she went higher, her heart beating hard from a combination of exertion and hope. It was slow going this way, the distance she travelled tripling as she zigged and zagged across the sky. Below her, the land fell into neat quarters, each a shimmer of a season. At the center, the tower remained a white dot, unchanging as the seasons shifted with her wandering course. Higher she went and higher still. The air never thinned and remained comfortably warm.


She slowed, not knowing quite why. The land below her looked so very far away but the outer rim of the seasons faded into indistinct mist. She slowed further, barely moving now as she looked up toward the pristine blue of the sky.


A gleam across the blue was her only warning before she bumped into something hard, unyielding, and cold. She hovered for a moment, confused, and tried again. The strange barrier was still there and remained chilled under her fingers. Smooth. Glassy. Within the pristine blue, she thought she could make out a shadow that mimicked her movements, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her own reflection.


The mirror? She fluttered closer, watching the faint shadow as she touched the surface of the sky. In the pure cerulean depths, she could almost make out a winged form very similar to her own. She moved along the arch of the sky and the shadow moved with her.


It had to be the mirror. She slammed a fist into the sky but the glassy surface with no effect. Frantic now, she pounded against the barrier until her knuckles bled to no avail. Tears wet her cheeks and she finally subsided.


“I’m in here,” she whispered. “Please, help me.”


Turning away from the sky, she looked at the land far below. The borders of seasons were lost in mist. Edges of this bubble of not-time, she supposed. Rowan had gone into Summer and she had no inclination to meet up with him. Focusing on Winter, she folded her wings and let her body drop. Less than a breath later, the tower loomed below her and she extended her wings, catching a small updraft.


Using the same serpentine travel as before, she headed for the coldest season. If there were another way out of this place, it stood to reason it would be in the least comfortable place to look for it. Just because the mirror was the entrance—if it truly was the mirror—that didn’t immediately make it the way out. But there had to be a way out, a door to the cage. It was part of the rules of Fae magic and Rowan had at least confirmed the King who had imprisoned him was Fae.


The forest rustled below her, a piece of nature that didn’t fit. Leaves full of rich color shifted in a faint breeze but without the heat of Summer or the pale kiss of Spring. Encircled by vibrant examples of the Seasons in full glory, the ring of woods remained an oddity she couldn’t quite accept.


Ice touched her skin, the scrape of Winter’s teeth in the chill breeze that surrounded her and Aislinn came to land on a soft powdering of snow. Around her, trees sparkled, caught in the frigid spell of ice and snow. She reached up to touch one of the leaves that shone like diamonds overhead only to find the illusion real. Each leaf was a diamond, carved by an artist’s hand. Every vein and ridge sparkled with inner fire as light prismed into escaping rainbows. She gazed around her, wonder eclipsing her need to escape.


Here in Winter where the nights lingered and days faded quickly, her power as a Sidhe should be strongest. Maybe she could Whisper to someone, tell them she was alive. If she couldn’t find a way out, perhaps they could find a way in.


Reaching for the air around her, she came up short. Nothing came, not so much as a breath stirred around her. Fear rose again and she tried harder, reaching with all that she was. Nothing. She wouldn’t give up. If air wouldn’t serve her, perhaps earth would. Dropping to her knees, she pushed through the snow to the dirt beneath and digging her fingers in. Something stirred on the periphery of her senses, a taste of moonlight and water that was both familiar and completely alien to her. Laughter touched her and then drifted away as if it had never been.


Aislinn rose, brushing her hands off on her skirts, refusing to give into tears this time. If Winter wouldn’t respond, perhaps another season would. If none of them worked, she would find another way.


She walked now, still wandering a crooked path, keeping her senses alert for any response from the earth under her feet and the air that brushed her skin. Silence quivered she moved, the diamond leaves of the trees casting multihued shadows to chase her. No bird sang. No small creature moved in the quiet. There was no sign of life at all.


The pristine white of Winter gave way abruptly to the gilded wonder of Autumn. Air warmed, a drowsy invitation to nap. Leaves rustled around her, carpeting the ground beneath her feet. She bent to pick one up. The paper thin leaf crumbled in her hand, shimmering gold dust. Real gold. She gazed up at the canopy of precious metal overhead. What a strange place this was, strange and beautiful. A breeze toyed with her hair and she held out a hand, letting the air curl between her fingers. It nestled against her like the kiss of an old friend but, when she reached for it to Whisper, it winnowed away. The earth here, too, remained somnolent and distant. It was as if someone had placed a wall between her and the magic that sustained the world.


The gilded beauty of Autumn gleamed as she walked, becoming a luxuriant green too brilliant to be real. Like Winter’s diamonds, Summer wore leaves of emeralds. Sunlight sparkled and danced through faceted gems that caught the rays and fractured them into motes of fire. Heat lay languid between sturdy trunks, as languid and welcoming as a sated lover’s arms.


All too soon, the sultry heat dissolved into the silvery green of a Spring morning. Slender trees reminiscent of ash shivered around her in a misty, pastel canvas. Aislinn pulled a thin branch closer to peer at the budding leaves. Silver. Once more precious metal wove the world around her, as soft as a maiden’s blush. For a moment, she thought she could taste that almost familiar blend of water and moonlight but it was gone.


The song of falling water touched her ears, the first sound beyond the rustle of leaves and her own footsteps. She paused, trying to pinpoint the source. A winding path appeared between the trees, bare sand and a scattering of stones that rambled back toward Summer. She eyed the path warily. Too easy?  Perhaps. Still, she set her feet to the path and followed where it took her.


A small stream flowed over rounded stones, tumbling to meet the path as silvery Spring became the heavy heat of Summer. Sand became thick loam, silencing her footfalls and dark stone thrust out of the ground, blocking her view. Mist rose from behind the stone and the stream vanished over it. There was a splash and something that sounded like a sigh. Curious, Aislinn crept closer.


Rowan levered himself onto the rocks from the opposite side and Aislinn ducked behind a tree, hoping beyond hope he hadn’t seen her. Her heart pounded. She’d seen him, heavens knew. All of him. Naked as the day he was born. She chanced another peek.


He wasn’t pretty, she decided. Or handsome. He was—powerful. Thickly muscled thighs and broad shoulders coupled with his height gave the impression of physical prowess to match any Tuathe de’ but without the rampant sexuality. His face was cut in stern, uncompromising lines, his eyes a pale gold under that fall of dark hair.


She watched as he dressed, his movements economical. He wasn’t here to enjoy the lazy heat or the splendor of the view, but to bathe where it was warm. He turned, gazing into the trees that surrounded them for a moment before heading back toward the tower.


Aislinn sank down, leaning against the tree behind her for support, and tried to assimilate what she’d seen. Not his nudity. She’d seen plenty of naked men before. The Fae ideal of modesty was far different than the mortal one.


It was the pale webwork of scars that crossed that powerful frame that gave her pause. Whoever he was, Rowan had been a warrior. That small fact told her a great deal about the sort of man she would be dealing with. He would rely on his own strength and see her as weaker and therefore unimportant. He wouldn’t willing share information with someone who couldn’t help him.


The second detail held her in place far longer, wondering how she had missed it last night.


Rowan was human.