Faerie Story:  Chapter Twelve

Although Skinner was eager to leave the castle, knowing that every minute he spent in the Faerie realm was another minute passing for Alexin, it took far longer than he’d anticipated to organize the males and imprison the females. It didn’t help that a roving patrol of guards arrived back at the castle shortly after they’d secured the other females in the barracks cells, and Skinner had to re-perform the whole rigmarole of magic and intimidation to get the new females to surrender.

He did, at least, think to send Langly to collect Behaana, after the blond had demonstrated his ability to open a temporary ward-gate, too.

“You really *are* getting good at the magic,” he told the justifiably proud human.

“I think it has a lot to do with me spending so much time with you,” Langly admitted. “It’s as though your magic strengthens my own. Although I only have a fraction of your power, I definitely have more ability now than Frohike’s magic alone could account for. Perhaps you’re holding so much power that you can’t fully contain it because it feels as though a certain amount of power leaks out of you and is absorbed into me.”

“It’s an interesting theory,” Skinner said thoughtfully. “The collective male magic definitely seems to be independent from the usual rules of individual magic. Behaana believes he’s gifted me with all the magic of his people and says the magic he’s using is purely mine. Yet I believe that, if he wished to do it, he could access all that magic *through* me. And now it seems that you can also do that, if to a much lesser extent.”

“I think that all the magic needs is someone to hold *all* the magic combined, and then it can work properly. Since that can only happen inside a male, perhaps it was always truly intended for the Faerie to live under the rulership of a male.”

“That’s never happened,” Skinner replied. “Even in the days before Behaana married Diana, the Fey were ruled by a Queen.”

“Then maybe the Fey were always eventually destined to fall,” Frohike interrupted. “Because they failed to accept the idea of a male Queen.”

Skinner shrugged. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But they have a male Queen *now*. When things have settled and Behaana takes over rulership of this realm, perhaps things will be as they were always meant to be. Go fetch him now, Langly. He’s been waiting *months* for our return.”

“Oops,” Langly said. “I’d forgotten how time moved so rapidly back in my world."

~~~

It *had* been months, though Behaana hadn’t suffered from the lack of Skinner’s presence because, somehow, despite the fact he was now holder of Skinner’s magic just as Skinner was the holder of his, as only a few hours had passed for Skinner, their bond remained firm. The magic, it seemed, was perfectly comfortable with the almost incomprehensible time difference between the two realms and only counted itself broken if *both* parties aged two days between their physical separation.

Knowing this, and knowing also that Skinner would be gone at least three hours of Faerie time which equated to 10 weeks in the human world, Behaana decided that the Ice Queen wasn’t going to sit around twiddling his thumbs while Skinner saved the world single-handedly.

Maybe he’d promised not to follow Skinner into the Faerie realm and had sworn he’d stay in the world of the humans, but he hadn’t said *where* in the human world he’d wait.

Technically, he was intending to break his word anyway, since his ultimate aim *was* to enter a Faerie realm, but since it was his *own* realm he decided it didn’t count.

So instead of spending those weeks sitting on the grass and contemplating his navel while waiting for Skinner’s return – despite the fact he had an exceedingly pretty navel which was probably well worthy of long adoring inspection – Behaana mounted his horse and rode back to the Northern Territories.

Now that the spell was broken, there was no reason whatsoever for them to continue their quest as a party of just two and a half Faerie and a magic wielding human. Perhaps none of his people would be of direct use in an actual fight, but they had sufficient magic to make people think twice about attacking them in the first place. And Skinner would look *far* more intimidating to the females if he was riding at the head of a small army.

With access to Skinner’s magic, Behaana was confident he’d be able to gently terrorize the crew of a ship to give him passage – or at least steal one if the worst came to the worst. In the event, however, the Gods were clearly smiling upon him because he reached the port and found that the same ship that had brought him to the Southern Territories was not only still docked but was preparing for sail.

It took very little persuasion – helped admittedly by a pouch of gold – to get the Captain to agree to take him north again.

He made slower time riding alone than he had when traveling with Skinner. For one thing he found it required a little more effort than he liked to set camp overnight and, as he traveled further north where the fact he was a Faerie raised more curiosity than fear, he began deliberately riding from city to city and staying overnight wherever the accommodations and food were particularly tempting.

Naturally, he *did* meet with hostility on occasion but he handled it by either backing away or by giving a harmless demonstration of his magic. The Northerners were a practical breed who accepted his magic at face value, assumed it to be dangerous to them and gave him due respect and wide berth without ever forcing him to a confrontation. Which was fortunate, since he would have been unable to follow through with any of his bluffs.

So it took Behaana almost three weeks to return to the City of Ice, though his magic remained strong so he knew that Skinner was not only well but was still in the southern Faerie realm.

Knowing it would take far less time to return, since he’d be traveling in a large group with proper tents, provisions and *other* people to set up camp, Behaana remained in the City of Ice for almost a month. That time was important for him, because it allowed him to re-establish his relationship with Roga – though obviously not in a sexual manner – and thus begin to free himself of what he’d begun to understand was an unhealthy obsession with Skinner.

Had there been no Alexin, Behaana suspected that he *would* have turned his back on Roga. That filled him with such guilt that he spent those four weeks reminding himself of why he’d loved Roga for more than a millennium and wondering how, in that case, he could have allowed himself to be so easily captivated by Skinner’s magic. And the answer, when it finally came to him, was simply that Roga and he had shared so much together that they’d reached a level of familiarity which was both comforting and unexciting.

Behaana had long since begun taking Roga for granted instead of seeing his love and loyalty as the treasures that they were.

He respected and loved Roga enough to be honest with him. Freely admitting both his desire for Skinner and his secret wish that Skinner would remain with him even after rescuing Alexin. Roga loved him enough to accept his words with little anger, but he still shed enough tears that Behaana’s heart did an uneasy back-flip and, despite Skinner’s magic churning angrily through his veins, it was *then* that Behaana accepted that he could live with the pain of letting Skinner go, but he’d never be able to bear the guilt of breaking Roga’s heart.

So Behaana was much subdued and yet easier in conscience when he led a troop of a hundred and twenty-three Fairie down to join Skinner in the Southern Territories. The number of people he could take had been limited to that by the number of horses he owned, not to mention the fact that he’d struggled so much to find sufficient volunteers to enter the Southern Territories that only half the males were magic- wielding magic couples. But it was still a significantly more impressive number than *four*.

They arrived back at the place where Skinner had opened the gate approximately three Faerie hours after Skinner, Frohike and Langly had passed into the Faerie realm and camped there for almost two weeks before the air shimmered and Langly stepped into their midst seemingly out of nowhere.

“Gods,” Langly spluttered. “Where did all these Faerie come from?”

Behaana quickly explained the situation and then used his own magic to boost Langly’s when the blond expressed doubt over whether he could hold the gate open long enough for all of the Faerie to pass through to the other side.

“Do you think Skinner’s going to be angry with me?” Behaana asked, worrying his lower lip fretfully.

“He’s not going to be happy you risked yourself by traveling alone,” Langly replied. “But since you’ve brought the answer to his prayers, I think he’ll forgive you.”

~~~

Skinner wasn’t sure whether to scream, yell or bang his head against the castle wall in frustration. Except for Byers and four other neuters who had been employed as the personal carers of the most high-caste males rather than as sexual toys, not one of the Faerie males seemed to have a brain in their heads. He doubted they even had enough brain cells between them to construct a single functioning brain.

He knew he was being unfair in that assessment. The thirty mates of the women now incarcerated in the dungeon were probably perfectly rational creatures under normal circumstances, but all had suffered grievous abuse by their wives during the time Skinner had been intimidating the guards. It seemed that Sylvana, wanting the maximum amount of power at her fingertips before confronting him, had instructed her cohorts to wrest as much tear-magic out of their males as possible. In less than a quarter-hour, the women had beaten their respective mates so badly to make the tears flow freely than not one of them was capable of doing anything except crying in pain and misery.

The barracks men were even worse. Their lives had been so filled with trauma and fear that they were incapable of thinking for themselves. It would, Skinner was sure, be months or even years before the poor creatures gained enough courage to emerge from their trembling, self-protective shells as independent thinking males.

It was all perfectly understandable, and his heart ached with sorrow at seeing the males so badly down-trodden. Though none of them had the beauty of Alexin and Behaana, in human terms they were all exquisite creatures and, somehow, that just increased the pathos of the situation.

But understandable or not, sad or not, it made Skinner seethe with irritation. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he could possibly leave the castle in search of Alexin when it was obvious that the males were incapable of fending for themselves. Quite apart from anything else, the entire castle population would soon starve to death because not one of the males, Byers included, had any idea of how to prepare and cook food.

“You’re all completely useless, aren’t you?” he sighed in frustration.

Byers shrugged. “It isn’t a male’s role to be ‘useful’. A male is only expected to look beautiful and to be pleasing and obedient to the demands of a female.”

“Alexin soon learned to think for himself,” Skinner countered. “Perhaps he continued to behave oft times as a silly, vain creature but his *mind* opened up to me like a parched flower reaching thirstily for rain. Although Alexin is special to me, I doubt he is that different at a basic level from any of you males here. If he could learn, then so can you. If you met the males who live in the Northern Territories, you’d see that *all* Faerie males are capable of achieving far more than you even dare to dream.”

“But not overnight,” Byers replied softly.

“No,” Skinner agreed with a groan. “Not overnight.”

“You’re never going to believe this,” Frohike called from the portcullis, where he had been waiting for a sight of Langly’s safe return.

“What?” Skinner demanded.

“I think the Gods have just answered our prayers.”

~~~

Langly’s prediction over Skinner’s reaction proved to be correct.

Skinner’s first reaction was to grab Behaana by the scruff of the neck and shake him like a naughty puppy while telling him exactly how *stupid* he’d been to pull a stunt like traveling back to the City of Ice by himself. Even Roga’s low growls of warning were insufficient to cool Skinner’s temper as he called Behaana an impetuous disobedient fool.

Then Skinner threw his arms around the now sniveling Faerie in a bear-like hug, telling him over and over again how relieved he was that Behaana was safe *despite* being an impetuous, disobedient but obviously very *brave* fool.

And then, finally, when Behaana had ceased crying and was preening happily at being called brave, Skinner turned to the waiting Faerie – who had watched his berating of their queen with a combination of outrage and amusement – and gave fervent thanks for their presence.

After much discussion, a conversation that lasted so long into the evening that they had no choice except to remain in the castle for that night, it was decided that six of Behaana’s Faerie would remain at the castle to help the southern males adapt to a life of freedom and to ensure that the captive females would at least be fed regular meals.

“Why so few,” Frohike asked. “Wouldn’t ten or twelve make more sense?”

“It would,” Skinner agreed, “but Byers located me a map of the queendoms. We pass through the borders of four more en route to where Alexin is being held. Although the castles of those queens aren’t directly in our path, they are very little distance out of our way. If we travel mainly through the human realm, emerging only at the castles themselves, we can liberate the males of all four queendoms without adding more than a Faerie day to our journey. In fact, considering that Rhianna’s queendom is the most Northern of all, we could take a slightly zigzagging path there and free *all* the males, leaving Rhianna’s until last, and still arrive at Rhianna’s queendom by the night after next.”

“That only allows six hours per castle, and we’ve spent considerably longer than that here,” Langly pointed out.

“This is the largest castle of the largest queendom and we were playing it by ear today. It can only get easier as I become more accustomed to using the magic. Besides, our *main* problem today was not knowing what to do with the males once we *had* freed them. Behaana’s solved that problem for us. We can leave a half dozen of the Northern Faerie at every castle to help the males adjust to their freedom and still have enough with us when we reach Rhianna’s castle to look suitably intimidating.”

“May I ask something?” Byers asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Skinner agreed, turning to the nervous Faerie with a deliberately gentle expression.

“Roga has explained to me that you are my Prince’s beloved mate and are riding to his rescue,” Byers said, his eyes bright with excitement. “Although I do not understand how two males can mate together, I am filled with happiness almost to bursting that my sweet Alexin has captured the heart of one such as you. But...but that being the case, why are you not rushing directly to his side?”

Skinner narrowed his eyes in Roga’s direction. Roga just offered him a bland, innocent look. Skinner felt a momentary irritation, but then chuckled internally. He couldn’t blame Roga for deliberately attempting to stack the odds in his favor by increasing the pressure on Skinner to reclaim Alexin as his mate. Byers was now yet another person who would be broken-hearted if Skinner chose to remain with Behaana.

“Because my magic is telling me that it must be done in this fashion,” Skinner replied gently. “I know not why, but I feel as though the Gods themselves are insisting that the rescue of Alexin should be the final act of the Sword of Vengeance. There *is* a greater force at work here. For instance, forgive me for saying this, but it is entirely possible that, had I rescued Alexin first and then worked my way southwards, you may not have survived that delay and I truly believe Alexin would be shattered by your death.”

“It’s true that I was no longer proving sufficiently ‘entertaining’,” Byers whispered. “I heard several of the guards mention that I was no longer worth the food I was eating. So yes, it is entirely possible I would not have survived more than another day or two, had you not arrived.”

“Then you see why I believe the Gods speak to me through my magic?”

Byers nodded. “I think... I am not sure, but I *think* you are right that Alexin would grieve for me. He... well, he once said he wanted to take me with him when he was married and when I told him that wasn’t possible he demanded a promise from his mother that I should be spared from the barracks. She lied to him, of course, and I knew even at the time that it was a lie, but it seemed to bring him great comfort to believe I would be looked after well. He is the sweetest of boys, Skinner. You are greatly fortunate to have won his love.”

“I know,” Skinner said, raising his gaze to Roga’s. “And whatever happens, I will *never* let Alexin regret the trust he’s shown in me.”

Roga continued to glare at him for a moment, but then he bowed his head slightly as though in acceptance of Skinner’s promise.

“What are you going to do about the females?” Behaana asked. “They can’t be kept in cells forever.”

“Don’t see why not,” Frohike grunted.

“I’m not sure yet,” Skinner admitted. “But the answer will come to me. In the meantime, I will concentrate on the most important thing, which is to put an end to their torture of the males.”

~~~

“Just a few more miles, sweetness, and we will be within the protection of my castle,” Rhianna said, as they broke camp.

She remained firm that morning against Alexin’s protests that he wanted to bathe and dress his hair so that he would enter the castle looking ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘bedraggled’.

“Why would you wish to bathe in a cold stream when a heated scented bath awaits you at the castle?” she pointed out firmly. “And though I love to groom your hair, my large hands can’t do so fine a job as the delicate hands of a male.”

Alexin’s eyes brightened. “I’m to have a nurse again, then?”

“Only a boy has a ‘nurse’,” Rhianna laughed, “but since a prince like yourself is incapable of self-care, you *will* of course have a suitable male carer to help you wash and dress yourself.”

“A nurse then,” Alexin repeated contentedly.

Rhianna chuckled. “In all but name, yes,” she agreed.

Alexin was silent for a long time before saying, “I wish...”

“What do you wish, sweetness?”

“I wish that it would be *my* nurse,” he sniffled. “I miss him so, Rhianna.”

“A boy *always* misses his nurse,” Rhianna agreed softly, “and were things different and I had taken you to husband in the normal fashion, I would not have objected to you bringing him with you to be your carer. But as things stand, the only thing your mother is likely to gift me with is an army marching to my door to demand vengeance for my taking of you. So you will have to make do with the ‘nurse’ I provide for you.”

“I know,” Alexin agreed. “But I still wish things could be different.”

“You’ll like...” Rhianna fished desperately through her memory for the male’s name. “You’ll like Kirin. He was nurse to my son, Cammon, who wed Queen Ajica two years past. I should really have ki-- retired him rather than leaving the useless creature sitting around without a function, but I confess he has a sweet singing voice which has oft entertained me on a long winter’s evening. Now I am glad of that decision because he will be a suitable carer for you, my prince.”

Alexin chewed his lower lip and turned to look over his shoulder with worried eyes. “I am no longer... innocent,” he said. “I know now of what happens within a bedchamber.”

“I know this, Alexin,” Rhianna chuckled.

Alexin shook his head. “That’s not what I mean,” he said, flushing deeply. “I mean that I now know that the touch of another male can be... unsuitable. I...I do not think I want this Kirin to see me unclothed. I would not feel *safe*, as I felt with *my* nurse.”

Rhianna laughed uproariously.

“What?” Alexin said, his eyes sparkling with tears of hurt at her unexpected laughter for what he felt was a serious concern.

“I laugh only because your words prove you *are* still innocent, Alexin, in many ways,” Rhianna explained. “Your nurse and Kirin and any carer of a valued male like yourself is not truly *male*.”

“How can a male be not truly male?” Alexin asked, frowning with confusion.

And so, as they rode, Rhianna proceeded to explain the Faerie facts of life to the boy.

~~~

The same conversation, more or less, was taking place between Byers and Benwyn as Skinner and his companions rode through the human world towards Luta’s queendom.

“Did it hurt?” Benwyn demanded, his beautiful turquoise eyes wide and tear-filled at the thought of what Byers had just admitted to him.

“Not in itself,” Byers admitted with a shrug. He’d had thirteen years to adjust to the reality of being a neuter and so the horrific memory of the operation had been blurred and dulled by time. “I was kept drugged and unconscious not only through the procedure itself but for many weeks afterwards until I had fully healed. Although when I woke and saw the scar upon my groin I felt sick and deformed, there was a certain amount of relief too. My wife had been a very... demanding lover. I had learned to see that part of myself as an object of torture. And, being less than beautiful, I had fully expected to be given to the barracks when my wife died. Where my maleness would most definitely have been a source of great pain. So if the cost of being nurse to the Prince was the loss of a part of my body that had only ever brought me tears, it seemed a low price to pay.”

“I understand,” Benwyn said, sorrowfully. “Though it has been over a millennium since I was similarly maltreated by a female, I’ve never totally forgotten the pain and anguish of being mounted with savagery rather than love.”

“I admit that my mind struggles to accept your age, Benwyn. You still have the appearance of a boy, where I appear almost twice as old as you.”

Benwyn laughed gently. “Believe me, I once looked older than this,” he confided. “Except for my hair bleaching as it has, my face has youthened over the centuries as the pain of my time before I found freedom has been erased by years of happiness. It is not age that has lined your face, Byers, but pain and grief and fear. In time, as those things leave you, you will regain your beauty once more.”

“Truly?”

“Trust me upon this, Byers. Although such injuries as yours are past curing, just as Roga’s face is too badly scarred for even the magic to heal, your *soul* will heal in time and the happiness inside your heart will reflect in your appearance.”

“Well, I was never a beautiful Faerie in the first place,” Byers admitted, with a sad chuckle. “I only won a wife because I was well-bred and my mother paid a good dowry to secure my marriage. Even in the blush of youth I was no prize.”

“You are SO silly,” Benwyn said, with a flick of his hair. “You say that like it’s a *bad* thing.”

“Is it not?” Byers asked, frowning with confusion.

“Well, *I* certainly wouldn’t ever want to mate with a male who was prettier than I,” Benwyn announced firmly. “It would upset me greatly to wake in the arms of one whose face was more beautiful than my own reflection. I’d find it *most* disconcerting.”

Byers chuckled. “I cannot imagine *any* male to be more beautiful than you, Benwyn. In fact I suspect you of only suggesting as much so that I flatter you outrageously.”

“Is *that* a bad thing?” Benwyn laughed good-naturedly.

Byers shook his head and smiled softly. “No,” he admitted. “You are as charming as my Prince, sweet Benwyn. I would be content to spend the rest of my life offering you compliments if only to have the pleasure of seeing you smile.”

“Then you should do so,” Benwyn said. “I like that idea.”

“I doubt your mate would feel the same way,” Byers chuckled.

Benwyn shrugged. “I have no current mate,” he said. “I have never regained my magic, which means, according to Behaana, that I have never loved nor trusted another male sufficiently to do so. And the way I see it, if I don’t love or trust the male I bed then there’s little point in bedding him at all. Well, except for a little occasional mutual enjoyment. There are sufficient magickless males in the north for me to share a bed when the mood strikes me without committing myself to a relationship.”

“I see that,” Byers said, his face falling slightly. “You are lucky, at least, in that you have the ability to bed someone at all. Although I was greatly fearful of my wife, there *were* times that I felt pleasure within her bed. I confess that I miss that rare pleasure even though I’m grateful to no longer suffer the pain that accompanied it.”

Benwyn’s face softened with compassion. “I see that,” he said, “and between two males there *is* no pain, only pleasure, for to hurt another wounds *us*. Though,” he added, “I see no reason why you call me ‘lucky’.”

“Because as grateful as I am for my freedom, I will never find love. I will, however, be reunited with my Prince, so that is reason enough for my happiness. I have no complaint.”

“Why would you not find love?” Benwyn asked, frowning with confusion.

A little unfamiliar anger spiked inside Byers at what he saw as either stupidity or willful ignorance on Benwyn’s part.

“Because I am neuter,” he spat. “No one will ever want such as I.”

Benwyn just laughed, which only further inflamed Byers' shame and anger.

“You think it funny that I am so maimed?” Byers demanded bitterly.

Benwyn’s laughter instantly died and was replaced by wide tear-filled eyes and a quivering mouth. “I...I meant no harm,” he whimpered. “I laughed not at your maiming but at your silly comment about no one wanting you. Did you think I chose to ride and speak with you this morning simply out of boredom?”

“I don’t understand,” Byers admitted.

Benwyn pouted. “I’m TRYING to seduce you,” he spat. “And since you’ve already admitted that I’m beautiful and charming, I don’t see why you’re giving me such a hard time about it. You *should* have said ‘yes’ by now. I never usually have this much problem getting someone into bed. It’s not fair.”

Looking at the boy’s pouting expression – for though he *knew* Benwyn was old in years, he most definitely *was* only a boy in spirit – Byers was torn between frustration, sorrow and amusement.

“You seduced me from the moment I first laid eyes upon you,” he answered. “But I don’t think you fully understand what I’ve been telling you. I’m a *neuter*, Benwyn. I have no...no member. I am incapable of making love with you or anyone.”

Benwyn’s miserable expression faded to one of almost smug satisfaction. “You obviously know nothing about how two males make love, do you?”

“No,” Byers confessed.

Benwyn giggled. “Believe me, Byers. One member between us is sufficient to bring *both* of us pleasure.”

“It is?” Byers asked.

“Oh yes,” Benwyn purred happily. “Let me explain.”

~~~

It took less than two hours to secure Luta’s castle.

For one thing, the guards had even less love for their queen than those of Sylvana. Although Luta had been queen for only a week, she had already proven herself her mother’s daughter by savagely slaughtering the guards who had ridden home from Sylvana’s queendom with the news of Ariana’s death and their bodies were still hanging in the castle’s courtyard when Skinner and his companions arrived at Hallowfall.

For another, Luta formed no organized resistance to the assault, and so Skinner easily subdued the high-caste women one by one as they attempted to use their paltry magic against him.

Luta herself, it turned out, was completely unaware that the castle was being attacked at all.

Skinner found her in her bedchamber, mounted on the male she had been completely obsessed with since the night of her marriage.

The sight that befell his eyes infuriated Skinner so much that he reached out mentally, grabbed her around the neck and flung her out of the window so that she fell to her death from the high tower and landed, broken and twisted, in the courtyard below. The sight of which put several of Behaana’s males in tears, but at least had the effect of quelling any further resistance by the gathered females.

Luta’s husband was possibly beyond help, Skinner reluctantly decided, as he stared at the boy’s clearly maddened eyes and slack mouth. He had been ridden past endurance, so much that his groin was a festering mess of abraded, blistered skin.

He wasn’t the only male in Hallowfall in such a terrible physical and mental condition. Many of the castle’s barracks men were similarly afflicted. Their bodies had been so badly abused that their minds had either broken or had at least retreated so much that they were completely unresponsive.

“Some have even lost the ability to toilet or feed themselves,” Behaana sobbed, wringing his hands in both despair and guilt.

Skinner was forced to leave ten of the northern Faerie in Hallowfall, because it would take half that many to look after the more helpless males while the others concentrated on teaching the less abused males how to care for themselves.

He left less than two hundred females alive and confined within the castle’s walls.

He didn’t slaughter all the others, though he was sorely tempted to do so, but instead drove them in screaming panic from the castle with missiles of fire and then sealed the castle against their return. His ‘mercy’ to them was met with collective approval and relief by Behaana and his people.

Frohike, however, approached him privately as they left the Faerie realm and proceeded towards the next queendom.

“Most of them were severely burned, Skinner. Without shelter or medicine many of them will die.”

“I know,” Skinner replied. “And I say good riddance to the evil bitches.”

“Then why didn’t you just kill them outright?”

“Because I didn’t want to handle all the tears,” Skinner admitted wryly. “Though my heart is gladdened by the goodness of Behaana and the other males, their overly gentle nature is a total liability on a quest like this. It’s like traveling with an army of friendly puppy dogs who’d rather wag their tails at the enemy than fight them. No wonder the males were so badly defeated the last time they rose in rebellion. It’s hard to believe they have such immense power and yet no wish or ability to use it.”

“Think of it the other way around,” Frohike said. “Can you imagine what the world would be like if they *did* have a wish to abuse their power? In truth, if the collective power of the Faerie males was in the hands of anyone other than you, Skinner, I would be greatly fearful for the future. You are the only human male I’ve ever met that I trust won’t become corrupted by the magic you wield.”

“I’m hardly human anymore,” Skinner laughed. “But I suppose I am not truly Faerie either since I retain my human nature. I thank you for your confidence in me, though, for I do understand what you mean. Power corrupts people all too easily. Should you ever see me changing in nature because of the magic I wield, I depend upon you to point out my failings immediately. You, out of all my friends, are the one person whose integrity I have complete faith in.”

“Well, I suffer from blindness, too,” Frohike sighed. “I was most unfair to Behaana when he first joined this quest.”

“No, you weren’t,” Skinner admitted heavily. “Both Behaana and I *did* let the magic go to our heads for a while and we still ache at the idea of severing our bond. But between you and Roga, I feel confident that we will do the right thing.”

“Yes,” Frohike agreed. “It isn’t temptation that is the sin, Skinner. It’s giving in to the temptation.”

“Speaking of giving in to temptation, am I imagining things or is there a reason your new friend Byers is looking like a man who’s died and found paradise?”

“Do you remember Benwyn?”

“The achingly pretty boy who was so welcoming to us when we reached the City of Ice?”

“That’s the one. A vain, exquisite little blue-eyed Alexin for sure,” Frohike chuckled.

“He was a sweet boy,” Skinner agreed, with a fond chuckle.

“He still is,” Frohike laughed. “I doubt you’ve had a chance to notice, under the circumstances, but he’s one of the Faerie that Behaana brought to join us. Anyway, the point is that Benwyn has fallen in love with Byers and they have mated.”

“But Byers is...”

“Perfectly happy to... um... be mounted, it seems,” Frohike said, with a slightly embarrassed flush.

Skinner blushed also but he grinned widely. “I had not thought of it in that light,” he admitted. “I was so appalled by the idea of his mutilation that it hadn’t occurred to me that a male can find great pleasure in simply being mounted.”

“It’s more than that,” Frohike confided. “Behaana told me the reason that Benwyn wasn’t already mated was that he’d never been able to gift his magic to another and so he’d formed no bond.”

“So?”

“So guess who now is riding with Langly and learning how to control his magic?” Frohike announced with considerable satisfaction.

“Byers?” Skinner asked. “You’re telling me that Benwyn and Byers are not only mated but magically *bonded*?”

“Who’d have thought it?” Frohike laughed. “Perhaps sweet Benwyn’s problem with trust was always that he felt a little intimidated by his other lovers. Byers was so infatuated with Benwyn’s beauty and so filled with gratitude that Benwyn found him attractive enough to seduce, that he opened himself completely to the boy and their magic mingled. Isn’t that the most romantic thing ever?”

Skinner just groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Frohike asked, frowning with confusion.

“It’s just occurred to me that if Byers insists on resuming his role as Alexin’s nurse, then both he and Benwyn will be living with Alexin and I wherever we settle when this is finally over.”

“So?”

“Think about it, Frohike. I’ll spend the rest of my life pampering *two* spoiled, vain, self-centered brats instead of just one. The idea of Benwyn and Alexin plotting together as to how best to wrap Byers and I around their fingers is *terrifying*.”

Frohike roared with laughter. “I see your problem,” he said, but his expression was completely unsympathetic.

~~~

Rhianna’s castle, though far smaller than Sylvana’s, was a truly beautiful place, Alexin decided within minutes of entering its well fortified walls. As Rhianna had promised, she *did* have a rosegarden complete with a peaceful waterfall and arches of trailing roses that guided a visitor around the rambling pathways between the flowerbeds.

He only caught a brief glimpse of the garden, because Rhianna was eager to get him inside the castle itself, but it was enough to convince him that he *could* find some small moments of pleasure during his imprisonment in her realm.

Alexin still saw himself as Rhianna’s prisoner, but the thought was less filled with angst than might have been expected. To be honest, he’d emotionally worn himself out so badly over the last ten days with his deliberate ‘games’ that he was feeling too drained to care about his future overmuch at all. He’d done everything in his power to delay the journey – and his inevitable mating with Rhianna – in the vague desperate hope that Skinner might somehow save him. But he was out of time. In just two more nights he *would* be married and mounted, and given that Skinner had made no appearance in the last ten days the odds were definitely slim to none that he would miraculously appear just in time to save Alexin from his marriage bed.

And, besides, if Alexin were perfectly honest with himself, he knew that if he *hadn’t* met Skinner, he would be thrilled to have won the hand of a woman like Rhianna.

He *did* like her.

He didn’t *love* her and he literally cringed every time he imagined her mounting him, but there was no arguing that, for a woman, she was almost unbelievably *nice*.

In all the queendoms, he was sure he could never have found a better *wife*.

She loved him. She treated him well. She was clearly prepared to pamper him endlessly and give in to most, if not all, of his wants and desires. She was, in many ways, a far better mate than Skinner could ever be. If he stayed with her, he’d never again have to live with the terror of traveling through human cities where his beautiful eyes had to be concealed from strangers lest they called him ‘monster’. As *her* mate, he’d live in a beautiful castle, with a nurse and a soft bed and a warm bath and every frippery he *needed* to feel fully happy. Alexin couldn’t imagine *Rhianna* ever arguing with him over whether he needed more than two pairs of boots.

In fact the only true downside of being married to Rhianna was the idea of being bedded by her and, since he had no tear-magic to steal, even *that* wasn’t as terrifying as it might have been. She’d already told him that she had no intention of spanking him, well except for in ‘play’ which she’d assured him he’d ‘enjoy’.

So the real problem wasn’t *fear* on Alexin’s part as much as a genuine inability to find Rhianna attractive.

And he knew that was *wrong* for several reasons. For one thing, as a male, his ability to see his mate as ‘attractive’ was irrelevant. For another, the idea that he could find Skinner more attractive than a female was a definite fault. Males weren’t supposed to lie with other males by preference. His mating with Skinner had been an aberration caused by the magic, and Frohike’s mating with Langly was... well, it was probably just an oddity caused by whatever had gone wrong in Frohike’s genes to make him so strange in appearance. For Alexin, who’d always prided himself on being *perfect*, it was quite distressing to identify a flaw in himself.

He found himself saying as much to Kirin, as the ‘nurse’ bathed him. Although Kirin wasn’t *his* beloved nurse, Alexin was too used to chattering away as he was groomed not to confide in the neuter.

To be honest, Alexin hadn’t fully grasped the concept of a ‘neuter’ despite Rhianna’s explanation, but he had at least been satisfied that it was considered perfectly ‘respectable’ for Kirin to see and touch his unclothed body. He was, actually, burning with curiosity and a desire to see Kirin’s groin for himself but he couldn’t think of a way to ask Kirin to lift the skirt of his veil without sounding totally shameless.

“I think you are incredibly lucky, my prince,” Kirin told him, in a soft deferential voice. “You are blessed to be so beautiful that the queen is to marry you despite the taint to your body and, if you’ll forgive me saying this, the obvious damage to your mind.”

“You think me mad?” Alexin asked, more concerned than annoyed by the comment.

“In truth I do,” Kirin admitted. “You are, perhaps, the most fortunate male in the entire Territories and yet you still mourn for the loss of the male creature that abducted you. I honestly believe that proves your poor mind was addled by the horrors that befell you. But don’t fret, my prince, in time as your queen adores you and I restore your appearance to true perfection, you will forget your terrible experiences in the land of the monkey-men and the wicked beating you received on your poor buttocks.”

“Will I be greatly scarred?” Alexin asked worriedly.

“I cannot lie, my prince. You will always bear the marks of that cruel whipping, but the marks will fade in time along with your memory of how they were made and your poor mind will heal also, until you forget the madness that is currently upon you.”

Perhaps it *was* madness, Alexin decided. Perhaps everything he thought he knew was indeed wrong because his mind *was* addled.

“You truly think I should forget my love for Skinner?” he whispered.

“For your own sake you must,” Kirin replied solemnly. “Although Rhianna is greatly infatuated with you, her patience is not endless and other boys are beautiful, too. Her kindness and tolerance of your foibles won’t last forever, so the sooner you accept that your only possible good future lies with her, the happier we’ll *all* be.”

“You *want* for me to make the queen happy?”

Kirin smiled wryly. “I somehow survived Cammon’s departure from this castle, my prince. I doubt I’ll be so lucky a second time. So, selfishly perhaps, I hope to be your carer for a great many years to come.”

Alexin’s eyes filled with tears. He now had a *third* guilt to bear. If he failed to satisfy Rhianna he would, it seemed, be responsible for Kirin being passed to the barracks.

“It’s all too much,” he sobbed. “I only ever wanted to be a *good* and pleasing boy. It’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is for a male,” Kirin told him, with a wry smile. “All we can do is obey our females and pray that we earn some small kindnesses through that obedience. And, of course, look beautiful. So dry your eyes, my prince, so that I can prepare you for your betrothal feast.”

~~~

Perhaps lulled into a little complacency when four queendoms fell easily to his magic, Skinner was totally unprepared for the horror that ensued at the fifth, Soma.

Instead of crumbling fearfully before his show of power, a number of the guards raced into the safety of the barracks and re-emerged with males and boys held hostage. With knives to the throats of their captives, the women threatened to kill their males rather than accept defeat.

It forced Skinner into a quandary, for he hadn’t gotten sufficient control of the magic within him to simultaneously disarm *all* the females without risking their hostages’ lives.

After a long bitter impasse, Skinner turned to Behaana and told him bluntly that he and his males had better make a decision over whether they were more distressed over the idea of female deaths than they were over male.

“I need at least twenty of you to aid me, so that I have only the remainder to deal with. I feel I can handle most of the guards simultaneously by myself, but not all of them.”

“But what would you have us do?” Behaana asked, his eyes filling with tears.

“You need to aim the fire magic directly within their brains,” Skinner stated, having considered the matter thoroughly. “Any other injury, even one to their hearts, will still allow them a brief second or two to draw their knives across their captives’ throats.”

“Even that may still lead to some males dying,” Frohike pointed out. “Some females *will* still reflexively kill their hostages as they die.”

“I know,” Skinner agreed sadly, “but the majority *will* survive and be freed. There was never any possibility that this quest would end without blood spilled on both sides, Frohike. We have simply been lucky up to this point.”

It took Behaana a little time and a lot of persuasion, but he eventually convinced seventeen of his people to join him in the attempt to free the males. Skinner said nothing about those who refused, since most of them were literally vomiting at even the thought of using their magic in such a fashion, so would have been of little assistance anyway.

A hundred and twenty-two males survived the slaughter. Nineteen died. Sixteen had their throats slit and three died because they burned with their captors because of slightly misdirected fire magic by the Faerie males.

Three hundred and ninety seven females died, because Skinner was so enraged by the needless deaths of the males that he left not one guard or high-caste woman alive in that queendom. The only females who survived his wrath were servants, cooks and gardeners.

It was a much subdued ‘army’ who left the city.

Most of the Faerie were crying inconsolably. Even Behaana looked totally lost and confused as though he no longer fully believed that the fulfillment of the prophecy was something to celebrate.

It was, oddly, Byers who managed to calm the northern Faerie and he did it by spending most of that evening recounting tale after tale of the atrocities he’d witnessed during his life. He managed to convince all the tearful Faerie that not *one* of those nineteen dead males would have preferred to remain alive in captivity than die in freedom. And then he kissed and hugged the three Faerie who were so shattered that *their* magic had directly caused the death of three of the males, and called them ‘heroes’ and ‘saviors’ and rescuers of those poor males from lives of pain and fear.

“I begin to see why you fell in love with him,” Skinner said to Benwyn, who was watching his mate with proud, if teary, eyes.

“He is... wonderful,” Benwyn said. “So brave and smart. Not many males can claim either of those qualities. He has little external beauty and he has... well, his injuries are great, but his heart is vast, isn’t it?”

“I see him and I begin to understand Alexin’s bravery,” Skinner agreed. “Alexin was greatly fortunate to be reared by such a sensible nurse.”

~~~

Although he was wearing, of necessity, a slightly ill-fitting gown, Alexin still felt greatly beautiful as he entered the main banqueting hall on Rhianna’s arm.

Kirin had proven himself to be a master of grooming, carefully trimming the ends of Alexin’s hair and coating it with light oil so that it appeared fully lustrous despite the damage it had suffered during the past few weeks. He’d applied Alexin’s make-up so skillfully that it appeared Alexin wasn’t actually wearing any. The kohl was so finely lined that Alexin’s eyes seemed naturally huge and defined, and the blush on his cheeks seemed no more than boyish excitement.

Rhianna had taken one look at him and her face had filled with pride.

“You are even more exquisite than I remembered,” she’d told him. “My subjects will be green with envy of me.”

So, although Alexin was still unconvinced that the betrothal was a ‘good thing’, he was boy enough to preen and primp at such effusive praise and so he entered the banquet hall with a genuine smile and with eyes sparkling with excitement.

From then, the evening only got better.

Not only was he plied with plate after plate of delicacies especially crafted to suit a boy’s sweet tongue, but over a dozen of Rhianna’s advisors approached the high table with betrothal gifts for him.

And, as if that wasn’t sufficient to keep a smile on his face, on three occasions during the conversations that took place in the hall, Rhianna turned pointedly to Alexin and asked him to express an opinion.

Admittedly, because Alexin’s attention was almost completely upon the bolts of cloth and pretty jewelry he’d been given, his answers to Rhianna’s questions were less than stunningly intelligent, but they caused a lot of odd looks from the other females present and on the third occasion, after Alexin had blurted some kind of distracted but rather endearing nonsense, one of the other women turned to the veiled male at her side and asked *him* to give an answer to the question also

The fact that the male literally fainted with surprise restored the confused mood in the hall to one of humor, but it still occurred to Alexin that he was actually achieving some real *good* by marrying Rhianna if her relaxed attitude towards him caused the other women to also start treating their males better.

Perhaps *that* had been the Gods’ reason for his time with Skinner. Not for him to live happily ever after with his beloved, but simply for him to bring change to the lives of the males in Rhianna’s queendom.

Which was, he supposed, something to be happy about after all.

~~~

Fortunately for Skinner’s conscience and the equilibrium of the northern Faerie, the next three queendoms fell without any male deaths and few female casualties.

The ninth, Aisa Cove, was particularly problematical in that it was located off the mainland on a small island which had been formed when the two Territories broke apart. Skinner had been, admittedly, tempted to leave Aisa Cove until last, since it took them quite far out of their way. His strategical mind told him that it made more sense to secure the mainland and worry about the island later. His gut told him otherwise.

“I *hate* this magic,” he told Frohike. “I wouldn’t even mind if I knew *why* I’m feeling this compulsion to secure all the other queendoms before reaching Rhianna’s.”

“Just go with it,” Frohike answered, with a shrug. “I have a feeling the Gods know what they’re doing.”

“Well, I’m glad *somebody* does,” Skinner grumbled. “Let’s hope the Gods at least provide us with a ship.”

But when they reached the coast, they found nothing but a bare beach. They could see the island in the distance, shrouded by mist, but they had no means of reaching it.

“Well, that’s that,” Skinner snorted in disgust. “Let’s go get Alexin.”

Behaana shook his head. “We’re barely a day’s ride from the human port. We can ride there and ‘borrow’ one of their ships.”

Skinner sighed heavily, but his magic gave a surge of excitement, so he nodded his reluctant agreement to Behaana’s plan.

He wasn’t sure whether it was coincidence, the Gods’ sense of irony or just good luck, but when they reached the port there was not only a ship docked but it was the same ship that had already been ‘kidnapped’ once by him and twice by Behaana.

The Captain didn’t even seem surprised to see them. He just groaned loudly and said “I *do* have a schedule, you know. I’m not a damned demon taxi service.”

It took them just over a day to sail to Aisa Cove, which was known as Cena by humans, and leaving the ship in dock, with a couple of Faerie on board to convince the Captain it would be a bad idea to sail off without them, Skinner and his companions slipped into the Faerie realm and made their way to the castle of the queendom.

“Right,” Skinner said, when they’d secured the castle. “Since I don’t want to come back *here* in a hurry, I think it’s time I dealt with the females properly.”

“What do you mean?” Behaana asked curiously.

“Well, as has been pointed out to me on several occasions, the females can’t be kept imprisoned forever. The Faerie would soon die out if there’s no interaction between males and females. And not *all* the males are going to prefer to take male mates.”

“Very few would of choice,” Behaana admitted, “but better a male mate than an abusive one.”

“Which is exactly the problem, isn’t it? Release the females and inevitably they’ll be back to their old tricks in no time. Even if we ensure that there are a number of males in every queendom who have control of their own magic, that won’t prevent a female uprising because only Langly and I can use our magic aggressively and we can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Then this whole prophecy thing is pretty damned useless, isn’t it?” Frohike snarled.

“Not if my idea works,” Skinner replied, “and this is as good a time and place as any to try it out.”

“What idea?” Langly asked.

“A spell of protection.”

Behaana groaned. “Been there, done that, had a thousand years of imprisonment in a City of Ice.”

“I know,” Skinner agreed. “Which is why I think the magic compelled me to come *here* before attempting to cast the spell. If something goes wrong, we’re only affecting one tiny island instead of the whole world.”

“Well, take your time, Skinner. I’d rather sit here for a week while you work out the right wording than you cock it up like Behaana did,” Frohike chuckled, then he flushed and gave the Ice Queen an apologetic look. “Sorry, Behaana. No offense, huh?”

“You speak the truth,” Behaana replied wryly. “I cast a spell in haste and panic, and paid the consequences. I too hope that Skinner takes the time to use the magic wisely on this occasion.”

“I already know how to word it,” Skinner countered. “I’ve thought of little else these past two days. Langly, would you go fetch one of the women out of the cells. A particularly aggressive one would be best. And bring her here.”

As Langly left, Skinner turned to the other males. “I’m going to attempt this with just *one* woman first. I think your mistake, Behaana, was in trying to cast such a huge spell. The more magic you wield, the harder it is to direct it precisely. If it works on one, I’ll attempt it on a half-dozen and then on a dozen until we find the point at which the spell becomes too unwieldy.”

Langly returned with a loudly protesting female bound firmly within manacles of ice.
“Well, you did say an aggressive one,” he laughed, as the woman tried to launch herself at Skinner only to be halted in her tracks, cursing loudly, when Skinner threw up an invisible barrier to restrain her.

“Yes,” Skinner agreed with a chuckle.

He closed his eyes for a moment to completely concentrate his mind and then he spoke, in his head, the words he prayed would be the saving of the Faerie race.

“It’s done,” he said, flicking his hand so that the barrier and the manacles disappeared.

With a snarl of fury, the female took a half-step forward and then stopped and clutched at her temples with both hands.

“She should be suffering a headache,” Skinner explained. “Quite a nasty one, simply because she seriously *thought* about harming me.” He stepped forward, until he was only a couple of feet from the stricken woman and deliberately slapped her hard across the face.

The shock, pain and humiliation were enough to make the female ignore her aching head and automatically raise a fist in retaliation.

Skinner stepped backwards hurriedly, not out of fear but because he knew what was going to happen next – assuming the spell had worked correctly.

The female had no sooner bunched her fist and raised it slightly when the color drained out of her face and she doubled over and began vomiting

“WOW,” Frohike said, his eyes wide with respect and more than a little glee. “Just *thinking* about violence makes them ill?”

“Only violence to males,” Skinner confessed. “The females are aggressive for a good reason. It makes them brave hunters and effective protectors of their mates. The problem isn’t their nature as much as the fact they use it against the very people they were intended to protect. So they can still fight each other or aggressors and they can still ride in hunt. What they *can’t* do is even consider harming a male. Just thinking about it will cause them pain. The odd ‘bad’ thought won’t be punished. I can’t have females doubling over just because a male irritates them. The Gods know how damned irritating Faerie boys *can* be. But thinking about actually physically harming a Faerie male will make their heads ache. Seriously thinking about it increases that pain so much that they are reduced to being violently ill. And if they ignore the pain and the illness and *still* attempt to do harm, the spell will kill them.” “Kill them?” Behaana gasped, looking rather ill himself.

“It’s their choice,” Skinner replied coldly. “If that should happen, it wouldn’t be murder. It would be suicide. They have the choice to treat males with respect and live without pain, or suffer grim or even fatal consequences.”

“It is a *good* spell,” Behaana admitted weakly. “Though not one I could have brought myself to cast.”

“But you *did* cast it,” Skinner reminded him gently. “You cast it a thousand years ago when you set the prophecy in motion. What I do today is the direct result of *your* action, Behaana, and so the credit for this solution is yours, not mine.”

“Well said, Skinner,” Frohike beamed. “I am relieved that this power of yours isn’t going to your head.”

“I have but enspelled one woman,” Skinner laughed. “I believe there are several thousand more to go. And then I’ve got to figure out a spell that will work on future generations of females, but one step at a time for now.”

“Well, it’s a damned good start,” Langly said. “I’ll go fetch a half-dozen women this time, shall I?”

Over the next few hours, Skinner established that he could work the spell with confidence on a maximum of thirty women at a time. More than that and he felt the power begin to waver and destabilize as he attempted to wield it. Even so, it took only minutes to cast the spell itself, and so it took little time for him to affect every woman within the castle walls except for one. Whom he asked Langly to escort outside of the castle walls.

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Well, hopefully,” Skinner replied.

He waited for Langly and the female to step outside.

“Now the harder bit,” he said, walking over to the castle gate, concentrating hard and casting a slightly different spell. “Bring her back in,” he called, to Langly.

“YES!” he said, punching the air in triumph as the female crossed through the gate, stared at him with clear hatred and then clutched her head and moaned with pain.

“I see,” Behaana exclaimed excitedly. “You’ve spelled the gate itself so that if any woman passes into the castle she’ll be enspelled.”

“Yes,” Skinner agreed. “There’s no way I can track down and spell *every* female in the queendoms in each and every farm and settlement. But what I *can* do is spell every female inside a castle and ensure that any other female who enters that castle will also be rendered harmless. As long as the males remain within the boundaries of the castles, they will be perfectly safe. And as time passes, all females *will* be enspelled because they all visit the castles to trade or to mate and then the males will be totally free of fear and move around the land as they wish.”

“So a female can still lie with a male?” Langly asked cautiously.

“Yes, but only if the male wants her to do so. If she attempts to take him by force or even thinks about hurting him in the process, then the spell will hurt or even kill her. There will be no more tear-magic. No more brutal spanking of males. A female might take a male’s sexual magic if he wishes her to do so, but she’ll have no elemental magic. That will be held only by the males who mate with other males. And possibly a rare female who manages to drive her male to cry through happiness or ecstasy. I don’t imagine that many women will be capable of that, but who knows?”

Behaana burst into tears.

Skinner stepped forward to comfort him, even though he knew Behaana was crying through relief that the Faerie world would be restored to how it had once been, rather than from grief.

Roga beat him to it though, holding Skinner off with a glare that said ‘perhaps you still sleep with my mate, but he is *my* mate and it’s *my* place to comfort him at this time’.

And though Skinner felt a rolling wave of jealousy, he nodded and stepped backwards, accepting already that his relationship with Behaana was swiftly drawing to a close.

“NOW, we go to rescue Alexin,” he said with satisfaction, and the magic within him quietened its sulk over being deprived of Behaana’s touch and roared with approval at the idea that he should reclaim his *true* beloved.

~~~

Alexin spent most of his wedding day crying.

Not *all* of his tears were because of dread or misery at the upcoming ceremony.

For instance, he cried when he was fitted with his finished, made-to-measure wedding gown and saw that it was so perfectly flattering that he looked too beautiful for even his own eyes to bear. After days of deliberation, he’d decided upon a gown of dusky rose with gold trimming and cream underskirts and Rhianna’s servants had turned his dream wedding gown into breathtaking reality.

He also cried when a servant delivered an intricately carved box filled with jewelry of jade, periodot, diamonds and turquoises, with a handwritten note from Rhianna saying that, since he still hadn’t made up his mind which he’d prefer to wear during their last conversation on the subject, she had decided to gift him with jewelry made of all four of the precious gems.

“You see,” Kirin said. “She *does* adore you, my prince.”

“I know,” Alexin wailed miserably, torn between wanting to clutch eagerly at the beautiful jewelry and the feeling that he should throw it all back in Rhianna’s face and declare that no manner of fripperies could *buy* his love. “I’m so confused.”

“Of course you are, my prince,” Kirin soothed. “And for the second time this day you have ruined your make-up. So seat yourself and calm yourself and let me repair the damage.”

“I love Skinner,” Alexin sobbed.

“But Skinner isn’t here, is he?” Kirin responded sensibly. “And Skinner is *never* likely to be here. So if I were you, I’d settle down and accept the inevitable. In less than three hours you will be wed to Rhianna and lying in her bed. And, as one male to another, I would advise you most strenuously to at least *pretend* you are happy at the prospect. Your attitude won’t change the outcome of this day, but it will certainly mean the difference between you either living the remainder of your life as a pampered adored husband or being little more than the queen’s toy.”

“I know,” Alexin sniffed.

“Then be brave, my prince. Hold your head high and walk into that hall as though this is the day that your most wonderful dream has come true. I promise that you will be the happier for doing so.”

“I know,” Alexin repeated, swallowing heavily and straightening himself in his seat. “There is no more room for hopes or dreams or games. This is the way my life will be and all I can do is make the best of it that I can.” He attempted a smile. “At least it isn’t Ariana waiting for me in that hall. I do at least *like* Rhianna.”

~~~

“We approach this castle differently,” Skinner said, as they reached the point where he would form the portal back into the Faerie world.

“How so?” Behaana asked.

“Why?” Frohike demanded, more to the point as always.

“I have to assume this Rhianna knows of my relationship with Alexin, in which case she’ll know that no matter what power I demonstrate she can hold him hostage and so cripple my magic. That being the case, I will not crash my way into this queendom and attempt to conquer it by force. I will, instead, attempt to reason with the women within.”

“Madness,” Roga snorted. “Women are incapable of reason.”

“They say the same of males,” Skinner countered. “I lose nothing by attempting this tactic. We can still force our way inside if necessary and Rhianna can still use Alexin as her hostage. But this way, at least, there is perhaps a chance of an amicable ending to our quest.”

“What say you, my queen?” Roga said, making it clear that in *his* opinion, Behaana was as much in charge as Skinner was.

Behaana was silent for a moment, his eyes glazed over and distant. “It will be as Skinner says,” he said.

“You see a vision of the future?” Roga demanded, recognizing the look in Behaana’s eyes.

“Let us just say that I agree with Skinner’s decision,” Behaana replied. “Things are not always as they seem.”

“That sounds pretty ominous, actually,” Langly muttered.

Behaana smiled wryly. “My visions don’t predict the future, Langly. Only a *possible* future. And in seeing it, I hope I see also a way to avoid it. In the meantime, we follow Skinner’s plan.”

~~~

Wedding feasts were *much* nicer than betrothal feasts, Alexin decided, as every single guest in the hall brought a gift to the high table.

What was particularly nice, if unexpected, was that all of the high-caste women had brought their males to attend the feast, and each and every one of them was unveiled.

“You have done this?” he whispered disbelievingly to Rhianna.

“No,” she chuckled. “*You* have done this, Alexin. And so it begins.”

“This is...is a good thing, is it not?” Alexin asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“It is a most strange thing,” Rhianna laughed, “but perhaps not in a bad way. I was surprised to find very little resistance when I ‘suggested’ to my advisors that they would be best to follow my lead in this matter. Perhaps I am not the only female in my realm who is ready to accept a slightly different way of life.”

“It *is* most strange,” Alexin agreed. “Though being so far north, I suppose much of the same blood runs throughout all of your people. And so the kindness you have is perhaps a peculiarity of your people rather than an anomaly in yourself.”

“You have such deep thoughts for a male,” she chuckled. “One moment you are pure boy and the next it is almost like speaking with another female. Though, you *are* right. There has been little cross-breeding between my realm and the others for many centuries. Most of the high-caste women in this place are related to me by blood.”

“Then perhaps *you* are the women destined to be spared by The One,” Alexin suggested cautiously. “For, in truth, the capacity for goodness *does* seem to flow through the veins of those who share your bloodline.”

“Perhaps,” Rhianna agreed, a little uneasily. “But we will not speak of the prophecy tonight. Tonight is our wedding feast, Alexin, and whatever the future might bring to our door, this night is for us alone.”

Alexin nodded, a little miserably, though it must be said that his mood improved dramatically when one of the women approached him and offered him an intricate necklace of spun gold and delicate sapphires.

“This pales before your beauty, my prince, but it is hopefully an adequate, if humble, offering for the consort of my beloved queen.”

“You have a silver tongue, my daughter,” Rhianna chuckled.

The woman laughed lightly. “He is as beautiful as the sunrise, mother. I thought you mad when the rider came and told us that you had killed Queen Ariana for possession of a magickless boy. But now I see him, I think you perhaps not so crazed after all.”

She returned to her seat and another woman approached. She was dressed far less elaborately than the other women and her offering to Alexin was a simple strand of common pearls. Over her shoulder, Alexin saw the woman’s male. He was as poorly dressed as his wife, though his face was beautiful, and his eyes followed his wife’s hand with covetous sadness as she presented Alexin with the small gift. His own throat was adorned with no more than a simple fine gold chain.

Although Alexin was disappointed by the offering, compared to the other sumptuous gifts he’d received, his heart was open and compassionate enough to realize that the woman had so little wealth that her own male was wearing only a faded, ill fitting gown and cheap jewelry when all the other women had clearly dressed their males to impress on this first occasion when their beauty could be publicly displayed. So to *her*, the pearls probably represented a great fortune spent. And though he knew it was the woman’s need to curry Rhianna’s favor that had inspired such generosity, he was unable to let such a significant sacrifice pass unnoticed.

“I love the ocean,” he said, raising his eyes to meet hers. “And anything *of* the ocean. So, in truth, these are perhaps the most wonderful gift that I have received tonight, my lady.”

The woman staggered slightly, confused both by Alexin’s meeting of her eyes and the unexpected kindness of his words. “I...I thank you, my prince. You are not only beautiful to the eye, but beautiful of heart too, I think.”

As she backed away, clearly flustered, Rhianna reached over and patted Alexin’s hand approvingly. “You are kind, my prince. For I saw the disappointment in your eyes when you first saw the plainness of the gift. Yet you had the sense to realize that Rica gifted you with the best that she could afford.”

“She is very poor then?”

“She is what other women call a fool, but what *you* would probably call a ‘good’ woman,” Rhianna laughed softly. “She and her husband, Dise, the pretty male in the ill fitting gown, had a boy child. He was not the most beautiful child admittedly, but still quite pleasing to the eye and destined to make a good marriage. But one day, shortly before the child’s coming of age, there was a fire in his quarters and the child was quite severely burned. Not killed or maimed, but scarred most horribly on his right hand and arm.”

Alexin gasped with horror at the idea of a boy being so scarred.

“All of the previous offers of marriage for the boy were withdrawn, and it seemed that he would go to the barracks. But then a high-caste woman from Soma said that she would take the boy in marriage in return for sufficient dowry. The figure she named was so much that it left Rica almost penniless. Dise even had to give up all his marriage jewels, though I’m sure he thought it was a small price to pay to save his son. So you see? Even among females there *are* some who genuinely love their males and their boy children, even to the point of placing themselves in near poverty to ensure them a good marriage.”

“Was it a ‘good’ marriage, if the woman demanded such a dowry?” Alexin asked wryly.

“Well, perhaps the woman’s motives were less than romantic,” Rhianna laughed, “but still the boy was able to use his magic to bind her to him and so ensure her protection, if not her love. It was surely a better fate than he might have expected to suffer under the circumstances.”

“I suppose so,” Alexin agreed thoughtfully. “And Rica’s decision much surprises me. Again, I’d say that it proves that the women of your queendom *are* most unnaturally kind. Well, for women that is. I wonder *why* that is?”

Rhianna narrowed her eyes in thought. It was a good question. “Perhaps,” she said, after a long silence, “it is because we live so close to the place where the Territories were split asunder. There’s a lot of old magic lying within these mountains. Perhaps some of it works to gentle the female nature here. I’ve never thought about it before but, considering the behavior of the women in the other queendoms, I admit that my people *are* generally more considerate of their males. And they have been surprisingly open to the idea of me breaking tradition with you, sweetness.”

“The males all seem happy to have had their veils removed,” Alexin said. “Except for poor Dise. At least in a veil, it was not obvious to all that he had no pretty clothes or jewels. It seems that nothing good comes without *someone* getting hurt, doesn’t it?”

“That is, regrettably, a truth of life,” Rhianna agreed. “Perhaps I could find a better paid role for Rica, so that she can treat Dise better.”

Alexin smiled happily. “That would be...”

He was interrupted by a guard bursting into the hall.

“Forgive me, my queen. But I must speak with you.”

“Then speak,” Rhianna said.

The guard looked nervously around the hall. “I think it might be better for your ears alone, my queen.”

“I said speak, woman,” Rhianna barked imperiously.

“There is a group of perhaps twenty mounted Faerie at the main gate, your majesty. They are requesting admittance. They are... male.”

Ignoring the gasps of amazement from the other women, and aware of Alexin stiffening at her side, Rhianna calmly said, “And does their leader have a name?”

“He calls himself Skinner, my queen, and he claims to have conquered the other nine queendoms and taken them from the power of female rule. He says that he is prepared to ‘talk’ with you upon the matter of his stolen mate and come to a mutually agreeable compromise upon the future of *our* queendom, but that he will meet your refusal to return the prince to him with lethal force. He says, however, that if you meet to parley with him, you will do so under a flag of truce.”

“Skinner came for me. He really came,” Alexin gasped, swaying in his seat and looking as though he might faint.

“So he *is* The One, as I suspected,” Rhianna said, thinking furiously. “You know what this means, don’t you, Alexin? If he has ridden through the land as the legendary Sword of Vengeance, then he is using male power. Which means he has taken another as his mate. So he can’t *truly* want your return, Alexin. He simply wishes to deprive *me* of you.”

The color drained out of Alexin’s face. “You... think...think he only claims me because I was stolen from him?”

“In cases such as this, a queen usually utilizes all force to reclaim her stolen male. But only to put him to death rather than allow another to own him,” Rhianna replied honestly. “It is highly probable that your Skinner is acting from the same motive.”

“But...but he loves me,” Alexin wailed.

“I’m sure he does, sweetness. Who could not? But I am sure also that he loves the male he has taken to replace you and *that* male is the source of his power. Who do you *honestly* believe he will choose?”

Alexin burst into tears.

Rhianna patted him on the hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetness. I will go speak with this Skinner and discover for myself whether the male he’s taken in your place has even a fraction of your loveliness. If he doesn’t, then perhaps all is not lost.”

Alexin looked up at her, tears still streaming down his face, but he attempted a smile. “You...you would do that for me? And...and let me go if...if he *does* truly w...w...w...want me?”

“I promised you that I would, didn’t I?” Rhianna replied.

Alexin nodded and rubbed at his eyes.

Rhianna rose to her feet and strode out of the hall, her progress followed by Alexin’s tearful but desperately hopeful eyes.

He would, perhaps, have looked less relieved if he’d seen the expression upon her face as she left the room.

~~~

The main gates of the castle opened, but not in invitation.

The inner portcullis was lifted, so that perhaps forty mounted Faerie women could ride into the long bridge of the gatehouse, then the inner portcullis was closed before the outer portcullis was lifted.

“They’re intending to fight us out here,” Langly moaned, getting ready to use his magic against them.

“Quickly, Skinner,” Frohike urged. “Throw the spell upon them.”

Skinner shook his head and raised a hand to suppress Langly. “We will speak with them first,” he stated firmly. “I promised that this meeting would be under a flag of truce. I cannot break my word.”

“But why?” Byers interrupted. “*That* is Rhianna herself, mounted at the head of her troops. Enspell her and Alexin’s safety is assured.”

Skinner shook his head again. “No. I will not break my word. I know not why I feel it is so important to be honest in my dealings with this female, but the magic hasn’t misguided me yet so I will put faith in it a little longer.”

Behaana cringed a little in his saddle, as though he *knew* something Skinner did not, but when Roga gave him an inquisitive look, he refused to answer.

“*You’re* Skinner?” Rhianna snapped, as she rode forward. “I had been told that you were a monkey-man, yet you look Faerie enough to me. If distastefully womanish in your appearance.”

“I have... changed a little these past weeks,” Skinner replied dryly, “though I have not changed in the most important of ways. Let me be blunt, Queen Rhianna. You have my mate. I would have him back. The rest of what happens here will depend upon your willingness to return that which you have stolen.”

An unpleasant smile flickered over Rhianna’s features. “I call you liar, Skinner. You have changed far *more* than you admit. Do you think me a fool? Which of these pretty creatures is your *new* mate? The mate who gives you your current power?”

“I am,” Behaana admitted, riding forward a step until he was in clear view.

Rhianna took a deep breath and then her smile widened. “I see. So,” she said, turning her full attention upon Skinner once more, “this is why I call you liar. And fool. I did not *steal* Alexin. I saved him from Ariana. And he is most grateful for that saving. He prefers me greatly over the queen who took him with force and abused him most brutally.”

“Abused him?” Skinner demanded, his eyes darkening with fury.

“Oh yes,” Rhianna agreed. “Even now he bears the scars of her beating. According to my medicant, he will probably *always* retain those scars. So tell me, Skinner. Do you expect me to believe that you intend to set aside this exquisite creature *and* your magic, in favor of a used and scarred boy with *no* magic? I think not.

“Besides,” she added. “Alexin has no desire to return to you.”

“You LIE,” Skinner roared.

“Do I?” Rhianna replied calmly.

“Alexin loves me.”

Rhianna chuckled. “Alexin loves *many* things, Skinner. He loves pretty clothes and beautiful jewels. He loves to be petted and pampered and flattered for his beauty. He loves the idea of marrying a queen and living in luxury in this castle, rather than in squalor with a ‘monkey-man’. He loves the rosegarden I have gifted him with and the idea of living here where all will see his *unveiled* beauty rather than as a fugitive in your world where you even forced him to cover his exquisite eyes with dark glass. Oh yes,” she said, as Skinner startled, “he has told me much of your filthy, smelly ‘human’ city in which he was forced to hide himself from the view of all because they would have called him monstrous rather than beautiful. Perhaps he *does* love you, in the way that all males' hearts are captured by those who rip the magic from them by force, as you did. But the bond between you is severed now, and his mind now sees you for what you truly are, Skinner. The rapist and abuser of a helpless child.”

“I don’t believe you,” Skinner answered, though his tone was less firm and his eyes were troubled as her words played upon his own guilt and insecurities.

“He told me *everything*, Skinner. How you took him in the forest, how you beat him to steal his tear-magic, how you ravished him constantly against his wishes until his poor mind shattered and he found himself turning to his own abuser for comfort because he was so lonely and afraid in the world of the monkey-people.”

Around Skinner there were murmurs of disquiet amongst the Faerie males as the picture Rhianna painted caused their sympathies to shift. Behaana just closed his eyes and huddled in his saddle as though he’d not only foreseen the current conversation but perhaps even worse to come.

“There is truth in your words,” Skinner admitted heavily, ignoring the gasps of shock and dismay from his followers. “And yet my love for Alexin, however brutally it began, is true, Rhianna. As is his love for me.”

“Arrogant man,” Rhianna snorted. “Your power has gone to your head, methinks. Perhaps you are ‘The One’. Perhaps you have sufficient magic to shatter this castle around my head and reclaim Alexin by force. Perhaps you can kill me as I sit here. And perhaps you can tell yourself, as you’re doing it, that you are ‘rescuing’ the boy from my evil care. But ask yourself, Skinner. Is *that* love? Is it love to take the boy against his wishes for a second time, when you *have* already taken another male in his place?”

“All is not what it seems,” Skinner replied, with dignity. “And I do not intend to take Alexin by *force*. Alexin will rejoin me willingly. He loves me, Rhianna, despite your clever words.”

“Are you an *honorable* male?” Rhianna asked.

“I believe myself so,” Skinner retorted firmly.

“So if you hear, from Alexin’s own lips, that he wishes to remain with me, will you promise to leave him here where he is happy?”

“Since I cannot imagine such happening, then yes,” Skinner replied. “As long as I am satisfied he speaks freely, rather than through drugs or fear or magical compulsion.”

“What are you doing?” Frohike squeaked.

Skinner ignored him. “You have my word, Rhianna. Now I would speak to *my* mate and hear from *his* mouth that he loves me not.”

“You *are* arrogant,” Rhianna chuckled. “For you cannot even imagine being the loser in this, can you?”

She signaled for the inner portcullis to be raised. “You and your companions may freely enter my castle, Skinner. Though I will warn Alexin of your arrival before allowing you to actually meet with him. I would not have him terrified into compliance with you from the shock of your sudden appearance. He still has memories of being helpless against your strength. I will assure him that he is safe to speak the truth of his heart without fear of your anger and retaliation.”

“Does she speak truth,” Roga demanded, as they rode into the castle courtyard. “Are you truly rapist and abuser of this boy?”

Skinner swallowed heavily. “There *is* truth in her words, though without understanding the circumstances you cannot possibly understand how that has no bearing on the love that Alexin and I share. We both were ignorant of the magic, and so it caused violence between us before we understood the manner of compulsion that it laid upon us. But with understanding came forgiveness and genuine love.”

Roga considered this and nodded reluctantly. “You have never abused Behaana, so I find it hard to see you in the evil light Rhianna has painted you. But forgive me if I prefer to hear the boy’s version of your history before making my mind up as to the truth of this matter. This female seems like none of the others we have encountered. She appears rightly protective of Alexin, rather than covetous and cruel.”

“She does,” Skinner agreed reluctantly. “And I spoke truth. If Alexin truly *does* prefer her to me, I will not take him from her. Though just the idea of accepting that decision makes me tremble in grief and rage.”

“Then perhaps she *is* right, and you see Alexin only as a possession after all,” Roga retorted bluntly.

“Wait here,” Rhianna said. “Alexin is within this hall. I will take a few minutes to explain the situation to him, and then you may come inside.”

She dismounted and strode imperiously through the doorway to the banqueting hall.

“This smacks of deception to me,” Frohike growled. “Perhaps she steps inside to prepare a trap for us.”

“It is a trap,” Behaana agreed. “But it is not a trap for *us*, but one set for Skinner’s heart.”

“Explain that to me,” Skinner demanded.

Behaana shook his head. “I think this must just play itself out, Skinner. The Gods intend for this to happen as a test for you.”

~~~

“Is it truly my Skinner?” Alexin demanded, rising to his feet with excitement as Rhianna returned to the room.

“It is Skinner,” she agreed gently.

“And he is here for *me*?”

“Of course he is here for you, sweetness.”

Happy tears began to pour down Alexin’s face. “Oh, Rhianna, I am sorry. I know...know you love me and you are kind and good and I would have perhaps been happy here in time, but I *love* him. I cannot help myself. You understand that, don’t you? That I do not *wish* to hurt you in this, but that I LOVE him.”

“Of course you love him,” Rhianna replied gently. “And I’m *sure* he loves you more than the boy he has taken as his new mate.”

Alexin shuddered a little. “Is he beautiful?”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you, sweetness,” she assured him. “In fact I consider him most unattractive, personally.”

“You promise?”

“None is as beautiful as you, Alexin. Surely you know that yourself?”

Alexin thought about that, then nodded with relief. “In truth, it is said that I *am* extraordinarily beautiful,” he said. “And I cannot see how Skinner would have found my equal in such a short time.”

“Exactly,” Rhianna purred, though her eyes were hooded and secretive.

“And...and Skinner said he loves me still?” Alexin asked, begging for reassurance.

“He loves you still, Alexin. He has proven that surely, by coming here.”

“And...and you will allow me to leave with him?”

“I have no way of preventing it, sweetness, if that is what you choose to do. I have told him that you are my betrothed, not my prisoner, and so the decision is yours entirely. He waits upon your agreement purely out of some strange form of courtesy. Or perhaps fear that I will kill you rather than release you willingly into his hands.”

“This is madness,” Rhianna’s daughter stated loudly. “Give the boy to ‘The One’ and we lose our only hostage against his violence.”

“Hush, child,” Rhianna replied. “I know full well what I am doing here. ‘The One’ will harm no one in this castle.”

“He won’t,” Alexin agreed. “Skinner is a *good* man and...and anyway, I...I will not let him harm you, Rhianna. Nor any of your people. In your own way you have been more than kind to me. I swear I will tell him so.”

Rhianna nodded, then turned to the Captain of her guards. “Open the door and invite Skinner and his companions inside.”

Alexin immediately surged to his feet, his eyes brimming with tears and his mouth stretched into a beaming smile of ecstatic happiness.

“Skinner,” he cried, as he rushed around the high table and ran as fast as his skirts allowed down the center of the main hall.

Only to stop abruptly, the smile draining from his face.

At first it was confusion that halted his charge, as his disbelieving eyes registered the changes in Skinner’s appearance. Though he believed it *was* Skinner who entered the room, in some ways his lover was almost unrecognizable. He had grown at least eight inches taller than Alexin, his ears had elongated into Faerie points, his skin had lightened several shades to an almost bluish pale and his eyes, while still dark, were as luminous as molten bronze.

Yet, as surprising as Skinner’s physical appearance was, it was not *that* which brought Alexin’s excited charge to an abrupt halt. The reason his legs had abruptly turned leaden was that Behaana had stepped into the room and had moved to stand next to Skinner.

Being sensitive to magic as all males were, Alexin was left in no doubt that they were bound together. In fact, the air fairly crackled with electricity between Skinner and the strange male at his side.

Alexin gazed disbelievingly at the exquisite, blue-skinned, white-haired Faerie and then turned slowly to face Rhianna with a wounded, bewildered look in his eyes. “You...you swore I was more beautiful,” he moaned.

“You are,” Rhianna stated firmly, though an odd humor danced in her eyes. “At least, in *my* eyes.”

Alexin swung back to face his beloved, his expression panicked at Rhianna’s qualification.

“You...you are the holder of *his* magic?” he wailed, pointing at Behaana with a trembling hand.

Skinner swallowed heavily at the look of terrified betrayal on Alexin’s face, but nodded his agreement. “This is Behaana. The Behaana of legend, Alexin. Only *his* magic could have given me the power to rescue you.”

For a long moment, Alexin didn’t respond. His eyes simply darted between Skinner and Behaana, seeing the way that Behaana’s pale coloring so complimented Skinner’s darker presence, how Behaana’s whiplash thin but defined body so suited Skinner’s muscularity, how Behaana’s tall frame was so well suited to Skinner’s new height, while he himself now would reach only to Skinner’s shoulder.

Alexin felt small and inadequate and, for the first time in his life, too *plain*.

It was crushing, to feel himself less than perfectly beautiful. Soul destroying. His whole belief in himself crumbled before Behaana’s greater beauty and he knew, in that moment, that Skinner was lost to him forever.

He wasn’t sure he could survive that knowledge, but he *knew* he couldn’t live the rest of his miserable life standing in the shadows *watching* the beautiful Behaana possess the man his heart named ‘beloved’.

“I don’t *want* to be rescued,” he whispered.

“WHAT?” Skinner roared.

Alexin flinched and trembled, his eyes filling with tears, but he gestured around the hall. “This is my wedding feast, Skinner. See the wondrous food, the many gifts, and the beautiful gown I’m wearing?”

He paused for a moment, almost choking on his misery, but then he forced a sneer onto his lips. “This is how a Faerie prince *should* be wed. It’s a far cry from *our* mating, is it not? Think you Rhianna would take me by force on a forest floor and leave me torn and bleeding in a ripped gown?”

“What are you saying, Alexin?” Skinner demanded, his heart shattering at the boy’s tone of disgust.

“You took me by force before, Skinner. Would you do so again? For I’m telling you now that I will not willingly leave Rhianna. Have you not already had your fill of rape?”

“Rape,” Skinner repeated helplessly, his own guilt making him defenseless against Alexin’s unexpected venom. “You...you said you loved me.”

“You’re a monkey-man,” Alexin spat. “A filthy disgusting BEAST. How could one such as I *ever* love an animal like you?”

Skinner shook his head in furious disbelief. “You’re drugged, perhaps. That’s it. The bitch has addled your mind with drugs.”

Alexin closed his eyes briefly to gather his courage and then said, “I am not drugged. I merely *pretended* my affection towards you, you stupid *ugly* animal. I would have said anything to tame your violence towards me.”

Skinner shook his head in disbelief. He knew *that* was a lie. “Your love for me wasn’t faked, Alexin.”

“Perhaps for a short while I did *think* I loved you, but that was just fear and desperation on my part. It was not real,” Alexin argued desperately. “I know that, because I know now what it truly is to be in love.”

He turned deliberately towards Rhianna. “Is she not wonderful?” he asked, his head held high. “She is what a wife *should* be. I know that now. She has captured my heart, and so this is why I know what I felt for you was an illusion.”

“You love... *that*?”

“*That* is the woman whose hand I have already accepted in marriage,” Alexin replied firmly. “The woman who has not even bedded me yet, because she *respects* me. Oh, yes, Skinner. Rhianna respects me so much she has even agreed not to veil me. And out of that respect she has let my lie in her arms the last six nights without once attempting to use me. So, yes, I love her. And now I understand that I never loved *you*.”

“Are you satisfied?” Rhianna demanded, rising to her feet. “Is it not how I said? The boy is with me willingly. Keep your word, Skinner, and depart my realm. Make do with your rule of the other nine queendoms. Or would you spite Alexin by destroying my realm and rendering him homeless? Would you shatter my rule simply to punish him for choosing me as his beloved? Whatever evil you may have found in the other queendoms is not *here*, Skinner. Can you not see *all* our happy males within this hall, all dressed in finery and wearing no veils?”

Skinner shook his head in confusion. “Please, Alexin. I love you. Don’t...don’t break my heart thus.”

Alexin’s expression wavered for a moment, but then his eyes hardened and he pointed at the high table and its burden of silks and jewelry. “That’s mine,” he purred. “And there’s more in my quarters. And *ten* pairs of boots. TEN!”

“And a dozen more if you wish, sweetness,” Rhianna assured him, her eyes dancing with laughter.

Skinner’s eyes darkened with wrath and his face twisted with disgust. “You’re WELCOME to him,” he roared, turning on his heel and striding out of the hall in fury, with Behaana and the others scurrying in his wake.

“Did you hear him?” Skinner howled as they reentered the courtyard. “All the mercenary little bastard ever wanted was pretty clothes and pretty gifts, and now that Rhianna’s played into his greedy little fingers, he casts me aside and calls me no more than his *rapist*.”

“Which you *are*,” Roga growled.

“Hush, Roga,” Behaana snapped before turning his full attention on Skinner. “And *you* say no more cruel words about your beloved because you *will* regret your fury,” he said. “The boy lied.”

“What?” Skinner demanded.

“Alexin *lied*,” Behaana repeated.

“He certainly lied about loving me,” Skinner snarled.

“NO. He lied about *not* loving you. Did you not see how he ran to greet you, only to freeze with horror when his eyes first alighted upon *me*?”

“Behaana’s right,” Frohike said. “Forget Alexin’s words. Think instead of the excitement on his face when you first stepped into the room. That was the face of a boy thinking himself reunited with his beloved. Alexin spoke out of pride, out of hurt, out of a need to reject you before you had a chance to reject *him*. His vanity couldn’t survive such a blow as to believe you’d reject him for Behaana, so he instinctively made the decision to reject you first. But then, perhaps it is better this way. Alexin’s heart is broken, but he’ll perhaps survive that as long as he can keep his pride intact.”

“Better? How can this be *better*?” Skinner roared.

“Prove me wrong. Tell Behaana to sever your bond. You know he can do it with merely a thought. So release yourself from Behaana’s magic right this moment, return inside and prove to Alexin that you *do* love him best.”

“I...”

“You can’t do it, can you? So leave Alexin alone. He has, by some miracle, found himself the sole Faerie female who would treat him well. She loves him, Skinner. That much is obvious. Else why would she have tricked him so?”

“Trick?”

“Did you not hear what Alexin said? She’d clearly told him that Behaana wasn’t beautiful, knowing how the shock would affect him when he *did* see Behaana’s face. That’s why she was happy to let you into the castle. She *knew* Alexin would take one look at your new lover, understand that he had no chance of winning you back and so, instead, choose to stay with her. Better to have *her* love than none, Skinner.”

“How can you say I don’t love him?” Skinner protested. “I can understand *Alexin’s* fear, but how can *you* doubt my sincerity? All of this, the quest, the prophecy, has come to pass *because* of my love for him.”

“How can you *love* him, when you’re spending your nights in Behaana’s arms? Would you have Alexin’s beauty wither and fade like an untended vine? It would *kill* him to watch you in the arms of another. So don’t blame the boy for choosing to refuse that fate,” Frohike retorted.

“He will not *have* to watch me with Behaana, well except for a few more necessary weeks. I *cannot* break my bond with Behaana yet. I have yet to cast the spell of protection on the females I left merely imprisoned. If I give up my power now, this will all have been pointless.”

“You say that, even though you *just* said the quest was only because of Alexin?” Frohike replied. “Make your mind up, Skinner. Either you wish to reclaim your ‘beloved’ or you wish to be the Sword of Vengeance. You clearly cannot be both.”

Skinner shook his head in confusion. “I cannot give up my magic *now*. We are in the midst of a hostile castle, with nine other queendoms in turmoil. I cannot be so selfish as to turn my back on all the other Faerie males just because I love Alexin. Explain that to him, Behaana. Explain how my personal happiness is irrelevant when the fate of the world lies in my hands.”

But instead of agreeing, Behaana smiled softly. “I told you that this was a test, Skinner. The decision here is yours alone.”

“Well, that’s that then,” Frohike snarled, angrily wiping a tear from his eyes. “I suppose Skinner’s right. He can’t turn his back on the males we’ve already freed. It would be beyond cruel to offer them a glimpse of freedom and then let things return to how they were before. He *cannot* give up his magic until the prophecy is fulfilled.”

“It would be pretty inconvenient,” Langly agreed, looking around the courtyard at the many guards stationed around the walls. “I don’t think any of us would leave here alive, let alone return to the other queendoms to aid the other males.”

Skinner took a deep breath, then another, and all the time Behaana was watching him with a quiet smile.

“I would fail you, my queen,” Skinner whispered. “I would leave your dream of a new world shattered and your people defenseless against the females.”

“Perhaps,” Behaana agreed. “And yet what value did my *own* self-sacrifice prove? A society is but a collection of countless individual people, each with hopes and dreams and fragile hearts. If you save that society by shattering even *one* innocent heart, then what value are you placing upon the whole?”

“I swore to protect you and keep you safe, Behaana. This would hardly be the way for me to accomplish that.”

“Langly can protect me,” Behaana replied calmly. “Between his magic and that of my people here, you are not leaving me defenseless.”

“It would make more sense for us to leave here for now, cast the spell in the other queendoms and then return here to plead my case with Alexin once more.”

“It would,” Behaana agreed. “It is the logical answer.”

All the other Faerie nodded their agreement, except for Byers who responded to the suggestion with a heavy glower.

“But what does your heart say, Skinner?” Behaana continued. “What does your *magic* say?”

Skinner closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again they were filled with dark dread. “My heart and my magic concur that if I leave this place I will *never* see Alexin again.”

“Then you know what you must do,” Behaana replied.

“You knew this would happen, damn you,” Roga snarled at his beloved. “You rode in here, knowing it would come to this, knowing that Skinner would abandon his protection of you and commit *suicide* by reentering that hall without his magic. And now we’ll *all* be lucky to escape this castle alive.”

Behaana smiled gently. “I did not *know*,” he replied. “It was but one possible future.”

“Roga’s right,” Langly argued. “If you step foot back into that hall, you’ll do so with *me* at your side. I may not have the power of ‘The One’ but at least I can...”

“No,” Skinner interrupted firmly. “This is something I have to do alone. I charge you with Behaana’s safety, Langly. Swear to me that you will stay here and keep him safe.”

“I... but... ”

“Swear it to me.”

Langly’s face crumpled in misery, but he nodded. “I swear.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Frohike snarled.

Skinner smiled. “Neither can I,” he chuckled ruefully. “But yet I *will* do it, and allow the Gods to finally show their hand to me.”

Skinner turned to Behaana, his eyes tragic. “My queen,” he whispered. “My sweet, brave, beautiful queen. You...you have to release me now.”

Behaana flinched, but looked almost relieved by his decision. “It was...was a good dream we shared, my love. I thank you for that, at least."

A single tear dripped down his cheek before he closed his grief filled eyes, called upon Skinner’s magic for a final time, and mentally sliced through their bond.

Skinner staggered and almost fell. “It hurts.”

“A broken heart always hurts,” Behaana whispered, looking lonely and lost. “I can hardly bear it but I would not willingly have a child such as Alexin suffer this pain. One of us was always destined to suffer. Better that it is me, for I have Roga and soon he will erase this pain with his love. Go now, Skinner. Before it is too late.”

Any doubts Skinner may still have harbored over whether Alexin had truly spoken his cruel words only out of grief and loss were erased as he charged back into the banqueting hall and found Alexin huddled in Rhianna’s arms, desperately sobbing his heart out as though his entire world had just ended.

“I’ve made my choice, Alexin” he thundered. “And my choice is *you*.”

As the tearful boy looked up in a combination of disbelief and hope, Skinner clarified, “I have severed my bond with Behaana, Alexin. It is only *you* I love. Only you that I have *ever* loved. And I know that you love me, too. So cease this foolishness and return to my arms, where you belong.”

“But...but he’s...he’s so beautiful,” Alexin sobbed.

“Is he?” Skinner replied. “I hadn’t noticed. My eyes cannot see the beauty of *any* other male, because they are blinded by your beauty, my love.”

“You...you still love me? Even though...though I said such horrid things to you?” Alexin asked, his chin trembling.

“I’ve forgotten your words already, Alexin. Come,” he said, raising a hand towards the boy. “Come back to me, beloved.”

Although his eyes were still wide with doubt and fear, Alexin began to rise from Rhianna’s lap.

Only to be abruptly pinned in place by the tightening of Rhianna’s muscular right arm.

“Very sweet,” she said. “And very stupid of you, monkey-man, to give up your magic while in the middle of your enemy’s castle. I do believe I now have the advantage, Skinner. Guards, seize him.”


 

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