“If thy mistress cannot find a home for thy child, he shall have one here,” Lolorin said firmly. “ ‘Twould not be the first time a mortal lad hath been raised in the Faerie realm.”
Hester turned to stare at Lolorin, her eyes growing huge.
“Oh, milady! If you only could ...”
“We can, and shall.”
“And there, I think, is Hester’s trouble solved, at least for the present,” Aunt Trudy said, “though you must call on us, Hester, as soon as you have come back to the daylight world.”
“Oh, yes, ma’ am! And I’ll be forever grateful!” Hester dropped a curtsey.
“And so, I think, you have no further need of myself, Lord Qualin, or of my niece,” Aunt Trudy said.
“No, none at all.” Qualin was standing by the bed, one hand on his son’s head, one hand on Lolorin’s shoulder. “Go in peace, mortal folk—and I thank thee for thine aid in this.”
“It was our pleasure, I’m sure. Anthea?”
“Oh, thank you, Hester!” Anthea rose and followed her aunt out of the tunnel, very much aware of Roman’s presence behind her. Not that she needed to worry about making conversation, though—Aunt Trudy was doing splendidly at that, and not leaving much opportunity for anyone else. “Well, really, Sir Roderick! I didn’t even begin to recognize you! Your head, at last! After all these years! Oh, it is so very good to see you again! But how has this come to pass?”
With a shock, Anthea realized that she had not been the only lonely child to be reared at Windhaven.
“Really quite remarkable, Trudy,” Sir Roderick replied. “By excellent chance, that cad Delbert laid a route straight past the battlefield where I lost my head, so many centuries ago. Really quite a bit of luck, that. And as to your seeing me again—well, I fancy your contact with Anthea may have had something to do with it. But it’s mostly the result of these Faerie Folk, d’you see—they fairly exude magic, they’re surrounded by it, and I’ve no doubt it amplified your own gifts and woke them again, in a fashion ... .”
Anthea realized, with a start, that they had come out into the light of false dawn—and that Aunt Trudy and Sir Roderick were moving off to the side, not at all obviously, but moving quite a deal faster than they seemed to, and there was quite a bit of space opening between the two of them on the one hand, and herself and Roman on the other. The ball of light had emerged behind the American, and was waning in the half-light, disappearing with the deep-chimed admonishment, “Call me at need, Roman.”
“I thank you for all your assistance, Erasmus,” Roman said, then turned back to the lady. “Well, Miss Anthea, it would seem our long night is nearly done.”
She took a breath, nerved herself up to it, and said, “Just ‘Anthea,’ if you please, Roman. I believe I did give you that permission.”
“Anthea,” he murmured, and his voice caressed her name as though it were a fabulous jewel.
Then, somehow, fantastically, insanely, he had taken hold of her hands and was gazing deeply into her eyes and was saying, “Anthea, the Faerie lord is right—I am a fool to dissemble any longer! I have loved you since I met you, and every succeeding acquaintance, every word from your tempting lips, has made me love you the more! Desire for you burns so deeply in me that it will drive me mad, if you do not assuage it by a promise to wed me! Marry me, I beg of you, and I swear I shall do all that I may to ensure your happiness!”
“But ... but Mr. Crafter ... Roman ...” Anthea caught her breath, and what was left of her senses. “How ... how can you still wish to be with me, when you have ... had to confront the fact that I am ... haunted?”
“Haunted? Oh, now, sweet lady!” Roman stepped closer, as though to reassure her. “It is merely that you have the sensitivity, the gift, to see what others cannot!”
“But do you not see that I must be fey? That I must be one of those born to—” She forced herself to say it. “—to a weird? And that I come from a family so accursed? And that my children, in all probability, shall be so, too?”
“Children! Oh, Anthea!” Roman pressed closer still. “If they were my children as well as yours, you may be sure they would have the Talent—for do you not see that I am one even as yourself? Nay, I assure you that in my family the Talent does not only run—it is a virtual torrent! For six generations, my family have cultivated their gifts, learning the science of magic! The trait has bred true, and has grown and grown.” He took her by the shoulders and held her off at arm’s length. “How can you think that I would be put off by meeting with Sir Roderick, when you yourself have seen my own supernatural friend? And he not inherited, but discovered and befriended by me myself!”
“Then ... you do not know what it is to have a family ghost!”
“A ghost? No, but there is a will-o-the-wisp that has been our friend for a very long time, and it is rumored that we are long-lived because an ancestor made a friend of Death himself. Nay, there has scarcely been a single Crafter who has not had his own spirit-friend, and they march in a legion to the aid of the present generation when they are needed! Oh, Anthea! That I could be put off by only one ghost? Nay, nay, sweet lady, especially not when the damsel who is ‘haunted’ is a lady of such beauty, intellect, and charm!”
She gazed up into his eyes, blinking. “I ... I don’t know what to say ... .”
“Then say ‘yes,’ “ he pleaded, “and kiss me.”
She did. Both.
A few yards away, Sir Roderick appraised Roman’s technique with a practiced eye. “Not terribly experienced, I’d guess, but I wager he’ll learn.”
“I’d wager he will delight in it,” Aunt Trudy said tartly, “and so will she, though I suspect I’ll be hard put to make them wait for a wedding.”
“Trudy!” Sir Roderick gasped.
“Oh, stuff and nonsense! Did you think William and I had lived as plaster saints all those years? A chaperone must know her duties from the inside, Sir Roderick—and don’t tell me you don’t know that, for I seem to remember you making a few timely interruptions when I was fresh from the schoolroom!”
“I did,” Roderick sighed, “and from the look of these two, I’ll have another generation to attend.”