Two women there were who pursued the King of All
that is Magic. One was the fairy woman Philipa who lived beside the seeing pond
and saw herself holding the king’s son. The other was Phaedra, her half fey
half witch friend, who lived in the arbor next to the seeing pond and cast a
spell for love. Phaedra knew that the seeing pond sometimes gave deceptive
images of what would be. Pippa said she was holding the king’s son but who’s to
say it was also Pippa’s son?
As Phaedra traveled to the palace to work the last
part of the spell that would bring the King to her bed, she didn’t know that
Pippa, fulfilling what she had seen as her destiny, had bedded with King
Nathone and already felt the quickening of the child within her. Pippa needed
no spell for love. Findle stopped Phaedra to let her know. Ever since the
day Phaedra had refused his suit, the fey king had worked his own kind
of binding magic so that love would always elude her. For Findle knew no spell
could force love and the fey king was unforgiving.
Seranine, the archer who loved the fey king, found Phaedra
weeping in a ravine on the path to the palace and took aim at Phaedra’s heart.
Speaking slyly and with feigned reluctance, he told Phaedra about the binding
magic. Phaedra decided Pippa was to blame for the fey magic that lost her
Nathone’s love. She also knew that the only way to unbind fey magic was to
leave the Land for the Mundane. Besides, Phaedra hoped her heart would heal where
there was no magic to bind her or remind her of the Land, of the king’s son, of
loss, of betrayal. But Phaedra forgot that she took her magic with her.
Pippa found Phaedra gone when she rushed to tell her
the new vision she had seen in the pond. When she searched for Phaedra in her
scryving mirror, Philipa only saw that Phaedra was no longer in the Land.
This was the year winter came early and stayed late.
This was the year spring burst forth fully grown and groomed for battle. This
was the year summer scorched the roots and left no leaves for autumn’s fall.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Majesty,” spoke the court bailiff, “someone has
cast a lasting love spell.”
“No such thing,” proclaimed Nathone. “No love spell
can last beyond a year. Only true love endures.”
“This spell has lasted.”
“Who? Where?”
“Not in the Land, Majesty.”
“Mundane spells? Pshaw! They’re powerless to bind.”
“Yet, your Majesty, this one binds.”
Thus, Nathone sent a chevalier into the Mundane to
search for the power that could cast a spell that no one in his Land could cast
and hold.
New to the Mundane, Rhys knew the only
weapons he could take was the magic he held within him and Rhys' magic was in
the stories that bloomed from within himself. His stories could keep danger
enthralled and conquer fears throughout the Land but he had never tested them
in the Mundane. With his magic, Rhys parted the curtain between the Land of Magic
and the World of the Mundane to seek what the King commanded. He stepped
forward with his magic and lost his way.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Are those jonquils, Mr. Ritter?”
“Oh! You startled me, Mrs. Seaghan. Mr.
Ritter paused in his weeding to dust the soil clinging on his upper thighs. His eyes
narrowed to block the sun as he looked up to speak with the lady passing by the garden.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.”
“No problem. The work’s for you
anyways.” He smiled and dipped his head.
Smiling at the deference that Mr.
Ritter never failed to show her, she reiterated her query. “Are those
jonquils?”
“No, no. They’re just daffodils.” He
picked up his sheers, carefully snipped a blossom, and, with another dip of his
head, handed it to her and while pointing with his shears. "Jonquils are over there."
With the daffodil pressed to her nose, she inhaled
deeply and smiled. “That’s so absolutely lovely and fragrant for a just flower.
I feel so foolish not knowing the difference.”
He returned to his weeding. “It’s
understandable. They’re in the same family. Kissing cousins, you could say.”
“Thank you for the cousins, Mr.
Ritter.” She left on a laugh, leaving Mr. Ritter to weed and prune with his
smile.
No one was home but the house never
felt empty. She liked to imagine that love lingered there waiting for her
family to return. The kitchen first to find the smallest bud vase they had before heading
to her office at the top of the house to wait. She left the
daffodil as a spot of sunshine on the small table by the door. This was her favorite part of
the day – the waiting by the window for joy and wonder. As she watched, Thomas stopped for a
brief animated conversation with Mr. Ritter. Like her he entered the house
laughing.
“Mom!” Why did he bother to call? He
knew she was there but she played the game anyway.
“Upstairs!” His climbing footsteps were
a soft staccato floating swiftly to the attic office. Both their arms opened at
the same time for a grunting embrace. When they separated, she smiled on his face.
“What’s wrong?” He brushed a hand
across his lips.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“What’re you looking at then?”
“Joy.”
Perplexed, he stared a beat then shook
his head as if clearing a fog. “I’m gonna make a sandwich. Want one?”
“Thanks. I’m fine.” She watched him go
before turning once more to smile out of her watching window.
The smile faded when she saw Paul stop to speak with
Mr. Ritter. Although laughter did not follow, he bounced into the house.
“Fay!”
It was time to leave her tower.
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