The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter eight)

Twilight fell with no further incidents. Aislinn secluded herself in the bower, unwilling to chance another collision with Rowan. Her spirits were low enough without indulging in yet another pointless argument.


She read the small book through again, memorizing what she could. Nowhere did it say that the changeling was the Stargazer nor could she see how the book would help her out of her current predicament. Outside of the first tale, there was no mention of magical prisons or bubbles of time. She flipped back to the beginning again, going over the tale slowly.  Her brow furrowed when she finished and she glanced at the edge of the tower, her mind whirling.


Someone had lit a bonfire on the lawn and a tall dark shape stood silhouetted against the dancing flames. Rowan from the shape of him. She sighed and closed the book. The chance of him answering her questions was slim but she was lonely. She’d never considered herself particularly social but she wasn’t accustomed to long periods of time without anyone to talk to.


She glanced without much enthusiasm at the plate of food that waited and then back at the book she’d read multiple times already today. Was it worth chancing another argument to join him and at least feel less alone? Maybe. She would leave the minute he turned snarly.


She winged her way to ground level out of sight. It might have irritated her more had she not had a lifetime of practice hiding what she was to keep life peaceful on some level. Trying to calm her nerves, she took a deep breath, tucked her wings away and rounded the tower.


Rowan glanced up at her approach, his expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he turned his attention back to the bonfire. Well, better to be ignored than snarled at, she thought dryly. 


“Are you burning those creatures?” she asked.


He didn’t look at her. “No.”


“Oh.” She stared into the flames, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound desperate.


“They vanish on their own,” he said after a long moment, surprising her. “The same way they appear.”


She frowned at that. “They just appear?”


He shifted on his feet, still not looking at her. “I think the King gets worried I’m going to get bored eventually so he sends groups of weird things in for me to kill from time to time.”


“As long as you don’t think I’m one of those things.” She meant it to be a jest but it came out on a cracked note that made it more hopeful than funny.


“Not big enough,” he said absently, engrossed in the flames. “Mostly, they’re big and violent without much in the way of brains.”


“I’ll take that as a compliment.”


He glanced at her, puzzled, and then his lips quirked a little. Not a smile. Barely an intimation of humor, but it gave her hope. Silence fell between them again and she left it alone. It was enough that he’d given her at least one answer. It was progress.


She watched the flames dance, welcoming the heat though the evening breeze held little chill. It was a simple comfort. That was all.


“What’s your name?”


Abrupt but vocalization nonetheless.


“Aislinn.”


“Ash-lynn,” he tried, forming the word carefully.


“Yes.”


More silence. He obviously wasn’t a chatterer, she thought, amused in spite of herself. She’d never appreciated a long winded man but a few more words wouldn’t go wrong here. Five or more and she might just consider it a conversation.


“Don’t hide your wings.”


The command was chewed off leaving her wondering what motivated him to make it. She let her surprise settle and shrugged.


“I don’t want to upset you and you aren’t the only one who dislikes seeing my wings. It’s nothing new for me. A small concession, if you will, for the sake of peace.”


“Your wings are fine. Pretty even.” The words sounded more like an accusation than a compliment. “It’s not the wings that bother me. It’s not that you’re Fae.”


“I bother you, though. Why?”


“You’re a princess. You’re here.”


“I can’t help being here,” she offered softly, not sure what she could say to ease the tension that simmered inside the big man. “Until you tell me how to leave, I’m as stuck as you are.”


Rowan remained intractably silent. Apparently her royal bloodlines were a problem for him.


“Nor can I help who my parents are. I’m not in line for any throne. That dubious honor falls to my brother, Brendon.  I don’t know what else I can do to ease your mind. I may be Fae but I’m not your enemy.”


“No,” he agreed. “You’re bait in a trap. I took that bait once. I won’t do it again.”


The bitterness in his voice held her silent as spark fluttered into the air, losing themselves against the starless sky. Aislinn wrapped her arms around herself, but the chill came from within as glanced behind them at the tower.


They danced in silver Spring and the gilded wonder of Autumn. They danced in the diamond splendor of Winter, unaffected by the cold.


“You’re the thirteenth lord,” she whispered. “You’re the one that got left behind.”