7.25 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy: “No!” the Queen said. “I never took your lady. She is a good match for you. I have no desire to separate you two, in fact, I want you to start breeding. You certainly cannot do that if she is whisked off someplace else. This is ridiculous.” The Queen turned to her guards, motioned one of them closer, then ordered, “Find out who has taken the young woman. Then report back. If it is one of my court, heads will roll. If it is another court that has done this evil deed, let there be war.” Without speaking, the guard flashed out, disappearing without sound or even the occasional air wrinkle that some of the Fae caused. Simply gone. I turned back to the Queen. I want . . .” “No. You do not leave this ship. That is an order from your Queen, whether you recognize me as such or not. I will not have you lost as well. One person will be easier to manage than two.” I shook my head, then went down on bended knee. “Please, I beg of you. Do not allow any harm to come to my wife. I would die without her. We are bonded, fully melded. Even absence at this time is painful.” The Queen’s face softened. Her smile had faded with the news of the kidnapping, but the lines around her mouth tightened into deeper grooves. “I remember, my dear Pooka. I remember what that was like. I would not this upon you, no matter how naughty you sometimes have been. “But before I go, I saw when I arrived that you were angry with Ben. He has told me of his loyalty to you. He had absolutely no part in this injustice. Nor did I. We will solve this puzzle, settle it, and return your love quickly.” So saying, she flashed out, leaving me no chance to further plead my case. She and her guards winked out, and I was left with my crew. I first turned to the wolves and apologized for hitting them. Terry just shrugged, but Bob said, “If it makes you feel better, sock me again. I would give my right arm to bring back Penelope.” I nodded, appreciatively. I bowed to Daniel, my staunch support at all times. Did I tell him that enough? I must be more elaborate and understanding with all of them. But then, there was only the one person I still needed to ask for forgiveness. “Pardon me, if you can, my Fae friend. Ben, it was a miscarriage of justice to think you had betrayed my trust. I am deeply sorry.” Ben gave me the briefest nod, then walked toward me. Before I knew what he was going to do, he’d thrown his arms about me and hugged me tightly.
7.24 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy: I was a yard away from Ben, lunging like a football player chasing the one with the ball, when Daniel caught me. “Hold on, there, my friend,” he soothed. “Let the man say if he’s guilty or not. If he is, we’ll tie him up and leave him in an anthill. Maybe pour some honey over his body first.” That stopped me cold. Daniel never spoke of revenge. He was peace and flowers, a meditative guru. In the time it took me to regain my momentum, Ben had moved over behind the wolves, who were, of course, good to go. No slug in the snout or jaw could pause them long. “Agreed,” Terry said. “Let’s hear what the Faeman has to say.” “It’s not Faeman, it’s just Fae,” Bob corrected. Terry shot him a look, then grabbed at Ben. Fae are swift, light on their feet, and magical, but so are wolves. Terry and Bob corralled Ben and brought him closer to me. I sucked it up, holding in my rage, vowing to listen to Ben’s excuses. “Well? What did the Queen offer you: a house, a position, a place in the high court?” Ben shook his head and lowered his head looking, if not guilty, at least humbled by the situation. “I didn’t betray you, Prince Nardon, son of Carfan. I owe you my allegiance. The queen knows that. She asked me only to watch over you and your wife, never to interfere unless . . .” “Unless?” Bob said. “Unless the queen wanted our lady for something bad? For something only you Fae would do to a human?” As usual, Bob wasn’t helping, but I understood his sentiment. It was more or less exactly what I was fearful of. “Where is Penelope?” Daniel asked, pulling logic from the fury in my heaving breaths. “I do not know. I have called the Queen. That was my only task, to let her know if something happened, anything that offered harm to you or your wife. I would bet that it is another court that has stolen Penelope from you. Queen Moragana would not have . . .” “What is it I would not have done?” the Queen interrupted, her full troop of guards streaming behind her in elegant purple. velvet garb, but also in full readiness for attack. I was bursting with rage, but not a fool. I collapsed to one knee, bowing my head as I did so. It was Ben who spoke up first, giving the Queen the facts as to what had happened.
3.23 The Pooka’s Wife
Penelope: Did I sing or dance? That made me want to laugh. Maybe the queen would consider my singing a comedy act. I halted, despite the fact that the blonde guy was pushing me forward. “Wait,” I said. “Maybe I can amuse you. Will you send me back if I do so?” “No,” the queen retorted, sniffing into a scented hankie. (How did I know that? I could smell the thing from here. The odor of a eucalyptus tree. Not difficult to identify. Did the queen have a cold or sinus problems?) “Then why should I try to appease you?” I prodded, plopping my my hands on my waist like I was solid and resolute about my potential. “I can just let the blonde muscle man put me in the gray room and settle back to relax, as much as I can without my brand new husband, who I’m supposed to be sharing a bed with because it’s our HONEYMOON.” The queen raised a hand, scanned the situation, as if just taking note that I was being urged out of the dining chamber and she wouldn’t be seeing me for some time. “Okay. I’ll allow you to speak to your Pooka. That way you can reassure him that you are not hurt. Males always think we’re captured to be tortured, for some reason. Although I would never do that. Not to the mate of a Pooka, anyway.” The queen flashed a hand signal at the guard, and he picked me up in a vertical position, as if I weighed nothing, and returned me to my original place, standing directly in front of the queen. “Now entertain me,” the queen said, then sniffed, and blew her nose, most indelicately, into her scented hankie. I had bargained with something I actually didn’t have, as in talent of any kind. But, a beggar must utilize what talents he has (or doesn’t have) . . . or, at least, fake it. “This guy has to let go of me first,” I said, trying to shrug off the platter-sized hands clinging to both of my arms. Another wave from the Eucalyptus-scented hankie inside the queen’s bejeweled hand, and I was free. I could recite poetry, sing with ear-splitting trauma, dance a foot-flopping mess of a probably falling-down production number, or I could . . . I drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then commenced. “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers . . .” I said. Apparently the queen and her three guards had never heard this tongue twister. Their jaws dropped down, and they listened, spell bound. When I was finished, the favorite guy, the one the queen had so openly kissed, yelled out, “Do it again.”
7.22 The Pooka’s Bride
Timothy: The rage I felt had no cap on it. I was a seething mass of fury so explosively wrapped, I could barely see the space in front of me without the tinge of red. That Queen Moragana would steal my bride, there was no revenge sweet enough to prevent my cutting into the woman’s delicate neck with a very dull knife the moment I found her, no matter how many guards she surrounded herself with. The Faery court be dammed. The Queen had brought this onto herself. I’d earlier forgiven her for her interference at the wedding, even for the necklace that frightened my bride, but this . . . I thought I had long ago given up my violent side, yet such treachery has charged through me like an errant current. I swear I will pay the Queen back for this offence, and if she in anyway harms my beloved . . . “Calm down,” Daniel ordered, then began singing his meditative chant, believing that doing so might magically solve something. It couldn’t. The wolves had kept me from strangling Ben. I’d trusted the Fae not to let the Queen sway him into the Faery drama, yet, Ben must have known what the Queen was planning to do. He had to have been informed. Obviously, she knew precisely where our cabin was. They had planned the capture while we had our guard down and were enjoying the simple frivolity of a card game. The wolves should have let me end his life. It would have been quick. Now I must look at the fake worry on his traitor’s face. Ben, who had long been my friend, and a friend of Penelope, at least I believed it so. Betrayal on all sides, and my poor Penelope was the one who must pay for it. Why would they seize her instead of me? She had nothing to do with Faery, but I knew in my soul. This was about me. Why didn’t I protect her better? How could I have allowed this to happen? “Ben is not at fault,” Daniel issued the statement in a manner so calm, I wanted to slug him senseless. “How can you say that?” I roared with half a mind to ignore the wolf claws pricking both arms as they manhandled me still. “Let me go,” I shouted, hearing the treble in my throat, not from indecision, but from complete panic. Where was Andrew? I needed my friend, my only loyal friend, or had he been part of this, too jealous of my happiness to allow me mine? Had Andrew betrayed me as well? “Stop.” Daniel’s voice was no louder. He was not issuing the voluminous thunder god voice that could blast through mountains and cause redwood trees to fall. “Help me,” I pleaded. “Help my sweet love. Find Penelope. We have to get her back.” “We’ll get her back. You can count on it,” Terry said, loosening his hold on my left arm. “Yeah, Boss. We’ll get her back. No one can do this to her, to you.” Bob, being Bob, released his hold on my right. I swung about, knocked my fist into both of their jaws and leaped for Ben.
7.21 The Pooka’s Bride
I suppose I should have played their game a little more, but I was growing angry. I wanted to return to my honeymoon cruise, with my friends, and, especially with my beloved husband — my new husband, the one that I’d been expecting to climb up the stairs with and fall into bed for another wondrous night of bed play. Grr. “I want to go back to the ship,” I said. “I want to return to my husband. Right now.” The queen’s cheery face grew black with indignation. “How dare you make demands. I am the queen. I have chosen you to stay with me during my time of boredom and emptiness.” Her lips smoothed out into a wicked smile, and the line of age that had appeared on her forehead smoothed once more, so that she again appeared no more than twenty-four years of age. I felt awed by the transformation. “And if that provokes Queen Moragana, that would be excellent,” she laughed. “A ravaging war with its feast of blood and jealousies; that would bring back my nobles and soldiers. My people would revel in the competition. They would rise to the occasion and drink to my health for causing such a breach.” “My queen, your delight has brought apples to your cheeks. You are restored to youth again,” the gold Adonis said, dropping to one knee before her. She petted his cheeks, smoothed back his hair, then leaned forward to touch her lips to his. The other two men shifted impatiently. One stepped forward, as if to join in the lovefest, then he glanced at me and stopped. “Should we place the girl in the dungeon, my queen? Or do you prefer a chamber for this one?” I gasped and backed away from their madness. My eyes flitted about, wondering if there was someplace to flee from here, to hide out until sanity reappeared. The queen looked up, eyed me a moment, perhaps, noticing my desire to escape. “Do not attempt to run, my dear Penelope. We shall not allow that.” Then she sighed. “No, no dungeon. She has been rude, but she is the wife of Nardon of Donic. It is probable that he may inherit the kingdom from Queen Moragana, although there has never been a Pooka sitting in that great seat. But, no, we shall not risk the insult to his position. Place her in the Gray Room and padlock it. Position one of you always at her door, for she may be more than she seems. It is possible, I suppose.” That was the place where I should have fallen to the floor and pleaded, but I was in shock, stunned into silence. “Come,” ordered the guard who had just suggested throwing me into the dungeon. “Wait,” the queen said, perking up a moment, then smiling at me as if she’d decided I was her dearest friend. “Do you sing? Or dance? Do you have some amusing act to share with me?”
7.20 The Pooka’s Wife
I looked about for someone to help me out in the situation I’d suddenly found myself in, but there was no one around but the queen and the three guards. Shouldn’t there be a whole court of people? I remembered vaguely how I’d seen the grand hall of Queen Moragana filled with ladies and gentleman all dressed up in their ballgowns and fancy suits. They’d been dancing, celebrating something, perhaps, but did this queen not have an equal number of nobles in her court? “Where are we?” I asked. “And why is no one else here?” The queen didn’t laugh at that question. Her face grew stern, even desolate. “It is not my season. No one is here. They have gone away to their homes in the forests. Deserted me in my time of bleakness. Now there are only us five. Strange is it not how popularity wanes. Perhaps, it is as humans age, pretty in their youth, then wrinkled and decrepit in a mere breath of years.” Well, that was a cheerful thought. Of course I didn’t say so. I thought about what else she’d said. “What do you mean that it is not your season? What season is it now?” Her laughter was back. “You are an amusing child,” she said. “No wonder Moragana has adopted you. What a pity that is. I should like a fair young maiden to amuse me during the boring seasons while I await the return of frivolity.” For some reason my mind centered in on the word maiden. Did that mean what it did in my world? “I am not a maiden, you see,” I said. “I am well and thoroughly married.” Then I felt my cheeks heat and figured I’d turned pink with embarrassment. I certainly didn’t need manacle Pete to blurt out, “She blushes, my Queen. I have not seen that done before, but I have read of it.” The he-man reads? Of course, in saying that, I felt more than my cheeks burning with flames. My neck, my forehead, probably my arms and legs . . . Someone had lit a fire in the coldness of the hearth. At least it felt like that, although when I glanced over to see the fire, there was none. Behind the very elegant iron grate, the ashes lay still and seemingly dried as if neglected by months of dormancy. In fact, as I took note of the huge chamber, it all felt like that. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Dust balls had gathered in the corners of the room, and a residue of abandonment seemed prevalent on chairs and tables all about the chamber.
7.19 The Pooka’s Wife
The Queen glanced at her guard and laughed. “He’s too pretty to be mad at, Penelope.” So the woman knew my name. Of course, she knew my name. Duh. She wouldn’t have kidnapped me if she didn’t know who I was. At least, I supposed that was so. “Why have you brought me here? What have I done to you?” I asked. Again, she laughed, obviously enjoying my confusion and the anger my face probably showed as I glared at the man who was apparently her favorite guard . . . or lover? “Penelope, Penelope. What a gracious name. It sings, doesn’t it? I have a tuner who could fetch a song from it. Although, it sadly doesn’t rhyme with anything. Still, it has such a charming beat. I must see what he can do with it.” I waited, sighing. I wanted to tap my toe on the floor, demonstrating my impatience, but I’d learned enough to know from my wedding and from what happened on the plane that Fae Queens were volatile. Whatever I said or did, it must be done gently and with great humility. “Yes, I understand why the Pooka loves you so. You are enchanting. And I see why Moragana has claimed you as hers. It is not just because her Pooka has chosen you.” All three of the golden haired Viking warriors who seized me from our friendly card game had now showed up in the large room. Steffen, the one she said was pretty, had been joined by his fellow brigands. One of the men walked over to the long wooden table and picked up a pink and purple carrot. His teeth flashed as he bit down. “Yes, enticing, aren’t they? You may choose one of them to entertain you while you are here.” I gasped. “I’m married! I love my husband. I would never . . .” The queen collapsed into the largest of the red velvet chairs. She was laughing with full gusto. What should have turned her ugly, only brought out the twinkle in her eyes and gave her pale face a bloom of color. A moment later the queen motioned for me to sit down. I didn’t want to. I wanted to run, but where would I flee in a land so far from where I wanted to be? For some reason, that brought on the worries. What had happened to Timothy and the guys? Were they okay? The Viking lookalikes hadn’t hurt them, had they? I slipped into the nearest chair, not because I wanted to, but because I deemed it wise to obey the queen, and then I opened my mouth to shoot out my questions. What do they say in the movies when talking with a member of the mafia? Oh, yes. I will bombard the queen with questions . . . RESPECTFULLY
7.18 The Pooka’s Wife
She introduced herself as Queen Briana. I didn’t ask which court she belonged to. Timothy and Ben probably would have known, but I really knew nothing about the Fae, except that Timothy didn’t want me to visit here. But Queen Briana had made that a done deal for some reason. I was itching to ask her why, but, despite the long gown she was wearing with sleeves so long they touched the ground and the drape of her dress, as far as I could tell, the perfect broom for dusting as she swept along. She asked me nothing as we sped along into the castle/palace, which was a good thing, since I was out of breath and panting slightly. Part of that was because I’d been captured by her guards and hustled through space and also because the queen walked faster than I normally did. It took us a good twenty minutes to arrive at the place she wanted us to end up at. Surprisingly it wasn’t the throne room, either, but instead, the banquet room with a long wooden table set with metal plates and platters. The latter were piled high with fruits, nuts, and strange-looking flowers, that were either for decoration or part of the dinner. “Help yourself,” the queen instructed, but I’d just filled up on a lovely meal of pasta with mushrooms, sour cream, pieces of carrots and peas. My tummy was so full I couldn’t even have been persuaded to nibble on cookies if I’d seen any being offered. I explained that I was stuffed at the moment, thank you, and the queen shrugged, picked up what I think was a carrot, although its peel wore a mottled purple and pink outer skin. Queen Briana then ordered one of the guards, the one who had clamped on my wrist as if his hand were a police cuff, to pour us a couple of drinks. I shook my head, fearing that the beverage would be something alcoholic, which was the last thing I needed, having just been kidnapped by Viking-looking, Vulcan-eared he-men. Did I mention their ears? Spock would be jealous. (Yes, I’m a Star Trek fan. Isn’t everyone?) Anyway, that’s the reason when the heavy handed, vise-like jerk tried to hand me a metal goblet, I declined with a shake of my head. Then, feeling rude, I added, “No, thank you.” (Isn’t there a requirement that one must be polite to kidnappers?)
7.17 The Pooka’s Wife
Three of them flashed out of nothingness, right into the salon where we were playing cards. All four guys had their hands full of cards. Timothy, sitting beside me, had lain his cards down to help me with my hand. He wasn’t paying attention to the slight sparkle in the air that occurred right before the moment they came. Long blonde hair, tied back with a dark ribbon. Blue eyes that seemed lake water deep, and bodies that looked carved from stone. That’s all I saw before I was gone, leaving the men gasping, at least, I think that described the sound they made. Perhaps they were huffing for breath. I know I felt the atmosphere change, and where there was formerly lots of delicious air flowing in and out of my lungs, that was suddenly gone. Two of the three had grabbed my hand and were holding it. I could feel their touch. I wanted to push them away, to fight the grip on me, but I was too scared. I clung. Perhaps it took no longer than a brief moment. There is no measure on time when the coldness of despair, panic, and lack of breath are stealing away your life. Touchdown was sudden, feet on the ground, a heaviness to my feet, as if gravity was pressing down on them. I think I cried out, but it was probably only inhaling the air, the sweet smelling air. Have you ever breathed deeply of a honeysuckle bush? The fragrance, the smile of pleasure, and the headiness of its perfume traps you into fairyland, at least for a moment. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure that’s exactly where I was, for real. I would have asked one of the blonde hunks, but a woman butted into my musings over fragrances and memories of an earlier time in my life, the good times, not the day, the bee stung me for touching one of the honeysuckle blooms when I didn’t see it sitting there. “Welcome to my Court,” the woman said. “I hope my boys didn’t hurt you. You are far too pretty to be harmed.” Although that was nice to hear, my mouth, ajar like an open door, didn’t do more than sputter. Or was it my tongue that was supposed to do the talking? Neither seemed to rush forward to discuss the situation with this queenly robed woman. (I say that because not only was the satin of her dress of that realm of elegance, but because she had a crown sitting on her head that was beaming light rays from its many jewels.)
7.16 The Pooka’s Wife
Meanwhile, I’ve got to add that Phelon pampered us daily. He brought us treats, like chocolate cookies and chocolate dipped strawberries, and he made sure that we had all the sparkling water we wanted. The last item was such a simple thing, but nothing tasted better after time in the sun and having warn out muscles from the gym or the pool than an icy sparkling water. Phelon also brought us fresh towels and changed our sheets every day. And he took away our dirty laundry and brought us clean robes, jeans, and etc. If we weren’t in the suite, he even hung the things up or put them in our drawers. I wanted to know more about such a kind and hard-working guy, but Phelon said that he wasn’t allowed to talk to us about his life, not even where he was from. He wouldn’t tell us if he had a wife or children, or even about his brothers and sisters, if he had any. I thought it was a strange rule that would force someone to remain silent about their personal life, but I guess the ship had its reasons. *** French lessons, swimming, playing shuffleboard, which isn’t only for old people as Bob had told us, dancing lessons, big shows in the auditorium . . . A week quickly passed. We were by that time somewhere in the middle of the ocean, no land on the horizon in any direction. Kind of scary if you think about the Titanic, however, there were definitely no icebergs around, so I figured we were probably safe from collisions like that one. Sometimes, Daniel and Ben spent time with us in our suite. We played a couple of board games and some activities with cards. Other times, it was only the werewolves. There was some kind of rotation going on. I never understood the pattern. Maybe there wasn’t one, and they just scheduled guard duty among the four of them. One time we all got together in the suite and watched a movie. It was a comedy, so the fun part was everyone laughing at different things. The delay in getting the joke would start us all cracking up again. Especially Bob. He was always great fun, although I sometimes thought that Timothy didn’t appreciate him. But, in spite of the spat Timothy and I had engaged in over my desire for freedom, I was always guarded. Overly guarded, if you asked me. Until, the day when it wasn’t enough.