Warm. A tingle passed through his skin. What did she look like under the gown?
"Ah, I frighten you, do I? Or"-and here she chuckled-"do you frighten yourself? You have desires that you believe to be dangerous."
She slid her fingertips under his chin and up to his other cheek. So wonderful. And yet the thorns..
"And my touch frightens you. The thorns. I see that your kind did not need to resort to such tactics during the Scourge. The Horrors seemed to find my people a particular delicacy. To protect ourselves we were forced to adopt desperate measures." She raised her hand before her, turning it, admiring it. "I used to wonder how we would get rid of them when the time came. The thorns, I mean. Now they seem so much a part of us." She looked down at J'role once more. "And I'll wager you sealed yourself up-well, not you, you being just a boy. But your people. Common enough, from what I remember. And you're still sealed up, aren't you? Like us, your defenses feel quiet natural."
She waited for J'role to respond, and when he did not, she turned her head and stepped over to Bevarden. J'role's shoulders slumped in tremendous relief. How he wanted to touch her, and how glad he was that she was no longer close enough.
"And who is this?" she said to Bevarden. His father tried to mouth a response, but only a small noise and a bit of spittle came forth. A look of distaste passed across the woman's face. J'role saw terror form in his father's eyes; his chance had come and gone. He realized that all his father had ever wanted stood before him, but he was incapable of even speaking.
Then, with frightening speed the distaste left her expression, and she stepped back and smiled.
"I am the Queen Alachia. And you are my guests. And now, what have you brought me?"
J'role lowered his head, not sure what would happen next, but guessing that it would be awkward. Perhaps even dangerous. They had nothing to give.
"You entered my forest. Surely you have brought a gift." When no response came, she laughed delicately and said, "Oh I think I see the confusion. You think I am asking whether you have brought something expressly for me. That's not at all what I mean. I mean, what are you going to give me?"
J'role spread his arms and shook his head.
"Nonsense. Everyone has something to give." She stepped up to J'role, touched her hand to his face once more. Her touch burned desire deep into his body and all he wanted was to bury his face against the palm of her hand, against her abdomen, against. .
Without warning she dragged a thorn in one of her fingers across his skin. It dug just slightly into his flesh, but he felt blood swell up and run down his face. He tried to back away from her, but the hands of two thorn men held him in place, their thorns digging into his shoulders, increasing his pain. "You see," said Queen Alachia, "there is always something to give. There is always blood." She removed her hand and the thorn men released him.
The cut on his cheek felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. It hurt, yet he longed for more.
A memory flashed in his thoughts, something hidden, as if in a nightmare: a flash of metal in someone's hand. "Come here," the person said. He could not remember who. The memory ate at his thoughts, and he suddenly forgot all the strange sights around him.
"Very good," said the creature. "I thought I'd have to tell you everything myself."
Then he was back in the clearing, the sun bright, the elf queen before him.
"I don't want to kill you," she said softly. "I want you to decide what you will give me."
She stopped suddenly.
"What is this?"
Gently she lowered her hand toward J'role's neck until her fingers plucked at the cord that held the magic ring.
"Ah," she said with genuine delight as she lifted the thong and removed it from around J'role's neck. "Have you forgotten this?" She smiled at J'role. "I will take nothing unless it is offered. If you have nothing else, will you give me this?"
She leaned down toward J'role, her breath warm-as intoxicating as flowers in bloom-
caressing his face. He felt dizzy, and the desire for her seized him again. "You want me don't you, boy?" she said softly. "I assure you, everything you feel is coming from within you. I have cast no magic upon you." She smiled. "Now, what will you give me? This ring?"
The ring dangled before him, the sun's light glinting on it as it swung slightly on the cord.
J'role could no longer feel the longing the ring had given him. He was unmoored now.
Whatever he needed-and he still needed so much-he no longer knew where to go to get it. But he remembered the sensation-now no more than an echo of longing. The city promised so much, and he wanted so much to have the ring back, to taste the longing again. Even if the promises never came true, the belief that something could finally make him happy was so sweet.
Yet the queen promised even more. Perhaps she would give him all he craved. Why go on the quest when all he desired, so beautiful, stood right before him?
"Don't you do it, brat," the creature in his thoughts said suddenly.
He looked up at the queen, pleased to distress the creature.
"NO!" the creature screamed. "Don't give it up!"
J'role nodded to the queen.
"What a lovely boy you are." She coiled the cord around her hand until the ring reached her palm. She grasped it and a passionate sigh escaped her lips. She smiled down at J'role, her eyes alive with mischievousness.
The creature raged and ranted in his thoughts but J'role lost himself in the smile the queen bestowed upon him. "This ring," she said, her breathing increasing in pace. “I know this ring." Her eyes looked off into the distances as if past the trees that circled the clearing, as if seeing something long ago that she could no longer place “ Where did you get this?"
she asked. The commanding tone had left now; she wanted very much to know the answer to her question.
J'role's jaw moved a bit. He so wanted to answer her, to give her anything she asked. But he could not speak He could never do that to her.
"What does it matter now?" the creature screamed. "You've ruined the only chance for happiness you've ever had!"
"No. Not the only," he told it, still looking at the queen. Yes, he knew now. His mother and the priestess of Garlen who had tended him as a child. Both had given warmth. Love.
But this woman who stood before him could give him things he never dreamed of. If only she would hold him in her arms. .
She touched his face with her fingers, the flesh warm, the thorns kept from his skin. "I know you are not mindless. You are a bright lad. I can see it in your eyes. A clever, strong, handsome boy."
His chin trembled. More, please, more. He was embarrassed at his love of her flattery. A trick, no doubt, but what a lovely trick. He let his thoughts slip away, allowing her words to have their way with him. Her lips moved only inches from him as she spoke. Their motion hypnotized him; the full red lips now, in his thoughts, separated from the rest of her.
"I see you considering whether to speak. Yes? Yes. You choose not to tanlk. Won't you talk for me?"
He had almost spoken! J'role pulled his face away from her hand. Clamping his jaw tight, he forced himself to think of his mother and his father and what had happened to them when they had heard him speak.
She touched him again. "What is it? Don't you want to make me happy?"
He turned his head toward her, again almost speaking. "Yes," he wanted to say. He nodded.
She stood and extended her hand to him. "Come. I will show you my home." He took her hand, only their fingertips meeting, the flesh of his hand brushing against her thorns, but not cutting. She turned to the thorn men. “The other one will remain here until I return."
J'role looked at his father. Bevarden was staring at the ground, but his shoulders shook slightly, and J'role knew he was crying for all the dreams lost, now passed on to his son.